#you know the most cliché murder mystery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beanghostprincess · 2 months

Note

Trans fem buggy anon back at it again with the brainrot

Crocodile going Full Mafia Boss Husband is so near and dear to me, but like. That makes Buggy the Mafia Boss Wife.

And I dunno smth about the clichés about that is so wild to me bc I feel like she'd fit that bill so well and yet so very NOT at the same time.

There is One Woman Crocodile Listens To, and it's his wife. He sometimes listens to Mihawk as well, but for different reasons. Mihawk ALSO listens to Buggy for the same reasons as Croc. It's not that Buggy is conventionally powerful, it's a mix of Happy Wife, Happy Life, and Buggy somehow slotting so well into the fold and running the backdrop with both efficiency, flair, and endearing fuck ups.

Buggy absolutely endears herself to many of Croc's business associates, charming them out the ass, and they think this mouthy little clown is a bit of a ditz and doesn't Get It, so they talk more freely around her. None of them catch that little glint in her eye as she listens attentively, making notes to ferry back to Crocodile and Mihawk both. Oh? You have big plans in the future? A loan, you say? Oh well golly, yes, I've been there before, teehee, tell me more, mister~

She has more dirt on the underbelly organizations than most can fathom, all locked up nice and neat in a code written lovingly in her fluffy heart shaped neon blue and green notebook.

She plays the role of eye candy well, and she likens it to playing on stage.

Behind the scenes, she's mouthy, bold, sharp, and useful, learning the tells and systems, realigning her general management with this new information, much to her husbands' surprise. Crocodile absolutely spoils her and Mihawk both rotten, but it's a mutual affair.

Buggy just having these wildly powerful men wrapped around her finger.

((And her fans/underlingsbare just gobbling it up bc THAT'S THEIR CAPTAIN, yeah captain Buggy is a QUEEN and she is SO GOOD AT THIS WOOOOO-))

MEANWHILE

The world government: she's a clown. Wait she was Roger's? Okay. Alright. A threat. We can mitigate this. A warlord - shit. Fuck the warlord system is going down. Oh God. Okay. Uhhh. We'll just drop a bounty. Yeah. That's good - Oh. Oh my God. Holy fuck did she just recruit MIHAWK and CROCODILE?? Okay. Emperor, then. It's fine. This is fine - THEY'RE MARRIED?!?!? WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?

The whole mafia concept with Cross Guild just fits so well. I mean, you've seen Crocodile already, he was literally made for that scenery. Crocodile and Mihawk may handle the money and men, but Buggy as a "trophy wife who looks dumb but actually knows what's going on all the time and keeps pulling the strings" is just amazing. Crocodile listens to two people only and he trusts them with his life. Buggy might seem like only a sexy bimbo clown but she actually could murder somebody violently on the spot and both Crocodile and Mihawk would stare at her with pride and then buy her all the things she wants. She's actually extremely strategic and intelligent and she's pretty much the one who makes all the plans since she knows the most about everybody they need to take advantage of.

And it's not even the dynamic which, I mean, it's pretty obviously a mafia dynamic but-- The whole aesthetic too? These three are just constantly giving "mafia boss x femme fatale wife x mysterious murderous husband". Crocodile sitting at his desk, Mihawk by his side and Buggy sitting on his lap? The image won't leave my head. It's just so, so good for them.

Not to mention that the Marines are all extremely frightened of this trio and Buggy's history and won't even dare to come close to them because they don't even know how the hell this relationship happened. And it's concerning and scary and they might end up dead if they approach them.

But yeah, this whole thing lives in my mind rent-free all the time and this is exactly how I imagine them. Cross Guild is just a mafia and Buggy always gets what she wants because she gets the job done and both Crocodile and Mihawk genuinely love her to death. Like literally. Don't touch her. You'll die.

#fem buggy my beloved she's a failgirl but also femme fatale to me #she keeps murdering and manipulating people and then she has breakdowns and meltdowns in the comfort of their private room #girl is so mentally ill to me okay i adore her #also crocodile and mihawk genuinely falling in love with her and protecting her with their life despite saying they hated her is... amazing #one piece #buggy the clown #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #fem buggy #transfem buggy #cross guild

105 notes · View notes

thesapphicdiaries · 11 months

Text

an unhealthy obsession ;; ellie w. x abby a. x reader ;; pt. 1

and i'll get done for somethin' stupid like disturbance of the peace. | (ghostface au)

NOTES: this is entirely self indulgent tbh ,,, but fuck it !! we ball. future chapters will b linked here <3 reblg if u want to be tagged idk that's it. modern au btw. ellie might be a little ooc? for the sake of the au

TRIGGERS: murder but it happens offscreen + blackmail under the threat of violence n manipulation. there's also smoking wed

You'd be the first to admit your interests tended to ebb on morbid.

Maybe, you muse, it had to do with the source of your upbringing: Jackson. It was a stereotypical small town, where, cliché as it was, everybody knew everybody. The town's history was clean as a goddamn whistle. While places like Seattle— Abby's hometown— were a hotspot for crime due to the sheer amount of people making it slightly harder to get caught unless you were a goddamn idiot, with the close proximity of everyone within Jackson from Dina to Tommy Miller, any crime you could commit would be shut down by the local police force in a month at most.

At least— that was what you thought.

So, you indulged your macabre curiosity elsewhere: you binge watched slashers despite your parents' vehement protests and you researched the violent happenings that often took place outside your sheltered hometown. Hell, you'd even indulged in one of those stupid fucking murder mystery games with some of the allowance you'd managed to spare that wasn't spent on various branded paraphernalia... and the other kind, but nobody needed to know that.

You weren't exactly surprised at how others seemed to be creeped out by you: Friday the 13th wasn't exactly a commonplace interest. Even so, you'd managed to make a few close friends whom you considered enough to get you by.

You jolt as your locker slams shut beside your head, and Abby's cackling is all too familiar.

"Fuckin' dick," you groan, feigning your exasperation— you'd finished putting your stuff away, anyway. "What happened to 'hello'? 'How was your day, Y/N?'"

"Your day's always the same," Abby provides helpfully, and you roll your eyes. "You wake up, come to school, indulge the same 3 people—" Her, Ellie, and Dina— "in the same rotation of conversations until they leave, go home, get violently high, watch whatever weird slasher your fancying that night, and then go to bed."

You blink owlishly. "Got my schedule memorized down pat there, Abs. You been stalking me?" You smirk, playfully, but your brow arches when she falls suspiciously silent. "Uh... alright."

"Anyway, you're having a change of plans," Abby finally says, and your eyes widen as you pipe up to speak. "You'll still get violently high and watch a slasher, don't worry. You'll just be gracing me and Ellie with your company while you do." She finishes, and you fall silent.

'Alright," you mutter. "Do I get to pick the slasher, or are you gonna pick some cornball shit like Chopping Mall?" You huff. Abby begins to answer, but your phone suddenly chimes with a notification from your news app.

Local man found dead from apparent stabbing.

Your mouth falls open slightly as Abby reads the headline over your shoulder. You fail to notice her nervous expression.

"Huh," you mutter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. "Something interesting finally happened in this town. Neat."

The choice in film, much to your chagrin, was Chopping Mall. Fortunately, you were too far gone to care.

Your head lolled of the side of the bed, your back strewn across Ellie's legs as you barely manage to register the words spewing from her mouth as you take another hit from the blunt she'd rolled.

"I just don't get how you like these," she complains. "I mean, it's the same damn formula every time. Does it not get boring?"

"That's the pointtttt," you groan. "The more formulaic they are, the better. Sure, some newer takes can be good: but sticking to the classics is a good play. Better safe than sorry." You wave off her concerns.

"Well, look at this little flim critic," Ellie teases as she stares at Abby, who's staring blankly at the ceiling. You'd never fail to find her lower tolerance hilarious.

"I mean," you and Ellie wait patiently through Abby's long pause. "They're right. Formulaic can be good. Patterns are more predictable— easier to keep up." She says, and you notice her and Ellie share a look.

"But they can also suck," she hisses. "Because if you're predictable, it makes it easier to connect. Like, in these movies how they're always killing off dumb, blonde bimbos— you can tell they're all copying eachother." She complains. You squint at the both of them, but don't comment on the subject.

"There's no right answer," you shrug. "I just find the middle ground. Sure, it's predictable, and boring. But it's also the safe call to make. People criticize these movies, but they make fuckin' millions. The original ones get better reviews, but they end up falling flat in the box office."

You don't realize Ellie and Abby's argument isn't referring to movies in the slightest.

"You sound way too fuckin' smart for the both of us," Ellie says, and you snort.

"It's because I am," your eyes flash toward Ellie's clock. "Shit. I gotta go. Parents will kill me if I'm not home soon." You shoot upward, trying to adjust to your surroundings. You cannot come home looking high out of your fucking mind. "See you guys later."

You watch as the two of them give you a halfhearted wave, and once you shut the bedroom door, you chalk up the strange shuffling to... something you don't want to know, honestly.

You don't realize it's much worse than you thought.

You surmise the punishment for being late is slightly lesser than the punishment for coming home inebriated, so you take the risk to sober up in a nearby alley between a convenience store and a small restaurant.

The alley is lit up by string lights and decorated with a few benches— perfectly habitable, and it's not what scares you— what does set you on edge is the unchecked darkness of the forest beyond the alley.

You elect to ignore the unease in your stomach, instead taking a hearty swig of the water you'd bought from the convenience store before coming outside. The tension in your shoulders almost releases, then—

You hear a scream.

A bloodcurdling scream.

Every nerve in your body tells you to run the opposite direction of the plea for help, every goddamn slasher you've watched over the years telling you playing the hero always gets you killed, but it's not heroics that lead you toward the source of the noise.

It's that same morbid curiosity that gets you watching slashers in the first place.

The noises grow louder as you draw nearer, and your eyes widen as you stifle a gasp when you see the bloodied body of Nora lying at the feet of two masked killers. You sigh in relief when you realize the treeline obscures you from view, but the noise comes out far too loud.

It hits you just how fucked you are.

You've made a few essential mistakes in the laws of survival so far, but you're not stupid enough not to run: you make a mad dash, but in a sick (and ironic) twist of fate, you trip over your abandoned water bottle and wince as the solid trunk of a tree collides against with your head with a loud thunk.

Through the blurry haze that is your vision, you see the two killers standing right in front of you. You prepare for the worst, when—

"Y/N?"

Oh, shit.

"El?" You hear the panicked rambling of another woman. "Abs? What the FUCK!?"

You almost kick out when Abby covers your mouth with a gloved hand, but know better than to get violent with the woman twice your size with a fucking hunting knife to boot.

"Ellie, El, this is bad." Abby's voice is shaking. "What the Hell do we do, man?"

The forest falls painfully silent.

"Well," Ellie finally begins. "The best course of action? Kill the witness." You whimper, and mentally hit yourself for showing any vulnerability. "But," she continues. "On the other hand, I kind of like this one."

You will Abby to take her hand off your mouth with a pleading look.

"So," you hiss. "What's your plan, here? I don't have all night. Either get this over with and slit my throat or hurry the fuck up."

Ellie grins. "I've always liked that you were a little feisty, Y/N."

"I said," you grit your teeth. "Hurry up."

"Here's the deal, darling," Ellie tilts your chin up with the hilt of the knife. You look away. "You help us out. And we don't kill you." She wrenches your head forward, just enough to look her in the eyes. "You say no, or you rat us out," she mutters, lowly. "And we slit your throat. Deal?"

It hits you there's not a lot of options on the table. You glance over at Abby, clearly the more emotionally charged of the two, and wonder if you can bargain with her. But, you decide, she's probably just as crazy as Ellie or too scared to say no if her going along with this in the first place was any indication.

And, a darker part of you whispers, you wonder how it must feel, if they're willing to do such heinous things.

Finally, you assent with a shaky nod.

"Alright," you wrench your gaze away again.

"I'll help you."

WC: 1.5K

#and i sure as hell ain't your dad ;; the last of us #get out here you fucking coward ;; ellie williams #i wish somebody loved me enough to make me a stocking ;; abby anderson #the last of us #ellie williams #abby anderson #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x abby anderson x reader #tlou x reader #ghostface au #x reader

137 notes · View notes

gummybugg · 1 year

Text

37 Question Character Ask

Hi, I made a list of interesting character questions for anyone to use! I tried to make it super interactive, meaning that you can call over your character to help with some of the prompts. Some questions prompt you to write a little scene (how exciting)!

Feel free to ask or reblog!

If you can, I would love to be tagged in any asks because I really enjoy learning more about other's characters!

1. Gah! There’s a bug on the floor! How does your character react? Bonus question for characters in a relationship: who is the bug-handler in the relationship?

2. Which one of your characters is the least likely to be trusted with money? Why? Who would you trust with your credit card?

3. Pick one (1) song to represent your character! The song can be symbolic or something they would listen to.

4. Describe your character’s handwriting! Is it neat or messy? How do they dot their i’s? Do they doodle in the margins of papers?

5. Time for a toast! What would your character prefer to put on their toast? There are so many options!

6. What weapon would your character choose in combat? It can be a real weapon or something fictional! If it’s fictional, tell us more!

7. Who is the most and least likely to cheat in a game? How good are they at lying?

8. Does your character have any defining features such as scars, acne, facial/limb difference(s), etc? Optional: Is there a story surrounding the feature(s) or were they born this way?

9. What quote (from a famous person, movie, book, etc.) can you hear your character saying?

10. What does your character’s home look like? Are they on the messier side? Do they collect things? Does it feel like a home?

11. What color pallette would you assign your character?

12. How did your character come to be? Were they inspired by someone or something? Did it just suddenly hit you one day? Bonus: What is their purpose in the story?

13. What are the origins of your character's name? What vibes were you hoping their name gave off? What do they think of their name? Bonus: is there any significance to their name in-story?

14. If your character had a blog, what would one find on it? Bonus: call your character over to explain their blog for us!

15. What are the last 3 photos in your character's phone? If they do not have one, you're going to have to play pretend for us. Bonus: call your character over to explain these photos!

16. Surprise, one of your characters (A) has character B's phone! Would A look through it without character B knowing? (This is an integrity question, tweak it however you'd like.)

17. What is your character's favorite smell? What scent brings back a certain memory? Bonus: Is there a scent that brings back bad memories?

18. Surprise: your character has been convicted of a crime! What did they do and why? Bonus: call your character over to tell us their side of the story!

19. What shoes does your character typically like to wear? They say that you can tell a lot about someone based off the type of shoe they wear. (Get your mind out of the gutter, shoo!)

20. What Element of Harmony (Honesty, Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Loyalty, or Magic) would you assign your character? Bonus: what is your character’s favorite My Little Pony? Can be from any generation.

21. Your character is stuck on a deserted island! What 3 things must they bring? Bonus: describe the first 3 weeks your character is stuck on the island (if they are still alive by then).

22. A genie has appeared! What 3 wishes would your character ask it? No asking for more wishes; that's cheating!

23. Murder mystery AU! Who would be the killer, the killed, the detective, and the one who has no idea what’s going on? Bonus: write us a little scene. A little sneak-peek, if you will. :')

24. What trope(s) or cliché(s) does your character fall in?

25. If your character could interact with a fictional character outside of their story, who would it be and why? How would they interact? Would they get along? Bonus: Add dialogue! Make this a scene!

26. If you met your character in real life, how would you interact? What would they think of you and vice-versa? Bonus: Add dialogue! Make this a scene!

27. If your character got to meet a clone of themself, how would they get along? Bonus: Add dialogue! Make this a scene!

28. What is your character's love language? This can be platonic or romantic. Bonus: add a scene in which your character displays their form of affection! (you better tag me in this one, or I'm suing!)

29. Does your character have any hobbies or special interests? Tell us more about them! Bonus: call your character over here to info dump it themself! (I am begging you to tag me)

30. Does your character have a job? What is it like? Do they enjoy it? Do they have any interesting coworkers? Bonus: call your character over here to rant!

31. Time to go for a spin! Who is the last character you would choose to drive you someplace?

32. You open [the browser of your choice]. What was the last thing(s) your character looked up? Bonus: call your character over to explain themself!

33. Time to go grocery shopping! Which character would be most likely to follow the shopping list exactly as written? Who is the one riding the cart down the aisles? Who is the one on the intercom asking for their lost child to come to the front of the store? Who is the “lost child” in question? (Wow, that one was fun to write!)

34. Has your character ever stolen something? Why? Did they ever get caught? Bonus: How did they steal it/get away with it?

35. What is the most petty thing your character has ever done? I want all the details! Bonus: call your character over to justify their pettiness!

36. How stubborn is your character? What would it take for them to finally give in? Bonus: do they hold any grudges against anyone?

37. What is your character's deepest, darkest secret? Why is it so important? What lengths would they go to prevent others from finding out about it? Bonus: What would happen if the secret got out?

#writing ask #feel free to ask or reblog!#This was so fun to make #Getting to know other's ocs is so much fun!#37 Question Character Ask

9 notes · View notes

spook-study · 1 year

Text

It is no exaggeration when people say Mario Bava is the father of Giallo; the man who created the style and set the form. When one thinks of a Giallo movie, one may think of Suspiria, or Deep Red, or City of the Living Dead, but the pictures imagined are captured in their truest form in Blood and Black Lace (1964). Perhaps the most Giallo-Giallo movie of all time, Mario Bava lets you know you’re in for a visual treat. This movie is so unfathomably good, it makes all other Gialli look merely like attempts at the genre.

Okay, that is an exaggeration, but it’s impossible to deny how instantaneously captivating and daring Blood and Black Lace is from it’s very first moments. Bava drowns you in with the classic colors of the genre, rich vapid red, and cold, steely blue, but there’s nothing flat about presentation. These colors are constantly being complemented by another excellent color contrast: bright, vibrant magenta and earthy, glowing green. This latter half being used as a secondary pallet, the combination being one of the strongest most woefully underused. Even with this flooded rainbow, no color is desaturated, no subtly of tone is missed. This is all made clear in the beginning sequence- the credits.

Filmed almost as a television pre-show credit, à la The Brady Bunch, Bava displays the main players in the dark, surrounded by almost violent splashes of color. They’re Posing with plants, cages and, most strikingly, bright red mannequins. One actress mirroring hers crimson counterpart, the next actress having a mannequin’s manicured hand around her neck. These were not stills edited into the movie, these are the living, breathing actors standing as still as humanly possible. What cannot be denied, however, is that they are alive. It may be silly to say, but the decision to attack the required opening credits this way was a breath of genius. Even before the movie proper has begun, you are being introduced to an idea of a person, and by the film’s start you feel as though you already know them. They’re not just characters on a screen, they are real people.

It’s intrigue, it’s mystery. It takes its time, and what may now be considered film-making clichés, it’s obvious Blood and Black Lace is no mimicry. The same way the Godfather is no stereotypical mafioso movie- it made the mold. The revelation of drug habits and affairs, secret illnesses, extortion, scandal, the rich, the camera cutting to every single person as a diary is mentioned, the seedy jazz score delivering purposefully intense stings at the shot of each character’s face. The diary is revealed, and the movement begins.

Taking place in a fashion house, it’s no wonder Black Lace focuses on colors and intensity. A fashion house is a high-stress environment no matter a mysterious tell-all diary. It suits that the lavish views, expertly displayed by tracking shots across dressing booths and down halls, contain as much severity as the secrets the main players are keeping. The slow, still shots pull you into the depths of the screen, and Bava isn’t afraid to use the background as playing space. This allows the viewer to suffer the same anticipation as the characters themselves, offering the chance to see things our frightened model can’t. The mastery of Black Lace, however, ensures you almost never do; not until the exact right moment. Clever camerawork and cluttered, luscious spaces have your eyes darting every which way in search of a killer, amping up the mystery.

But that’s nothing compared to the mid-movie plot development that feels entirely shocking. Just as you may have thought the movie was going to follow one path, it had already misled you; unmooring you from the comfort of supposition and subsequently dragging you along for the rest of the ride. The slow revelation of the killer’s identity, the murders, and the personal lives of the cast continue the movie, and the killer, on, in a string of misfortunes and tragedy.

No one does it like Bava. If you’re looking to introduce yourself to the best of the genre, Blood and Black Lace is the place to start. If you’re a fan of Giallo who hasn’t yet seen it, what have you been waiting for! Made in 1964, what feels like ages before the pique of Giallo in the 70s and early 80s, Blood and Black Lace still surprises with the level of violence and was quite shocking at times. Due to the period there is, of course, very little gore. But that doesn’t mean you don’t feel like you witnessed a brutal killing, front to back, in graphic fashion. Every kill is ramped up to the perfect degree. The execution of each makes it feel like you have seen everything.

Not only does this movie look beautiful and delectable, Mario Bava knows how to film death. It is as though he was made for it. The sequences with the masked killer are violent and sometimes brutally realistic while still being drenched in color. There are, of course, sexual overtones, but the constraints of era serve only to benefit. It allowed the director to push the boundaries of film in the 60s, leaving a perfect amount of the risqué. While later Gialli can feel like they are verging on pornographic, Black Lace titillates and situates itself not in grimy city streets, but in the smoke-filled boudoir. Stunning women being partially exposed, revealing the eponymous black lace underclothes of the English title. There’s a sensuality, a richness, and an intimacy to the whole affair.

What’s left to say? It may well be a perfect movie. If not that, it certainly is a perfect Giallo. You’ll find no citizen detectives here, the police force investigates to great effect, even arresting every single suspect- just as you always scream at the movie for the police to do. The colors are gravitational, masterful and never overworn. The acting is well done, suffering only from the English overdub and actors learning their lines only phonetically. But the overdub too, is recorded with passion and verve. The murders are varied, unique, and violent. The camerawork is sublime. It’s delectable, it feels like a treat. It feels like a decadence.

Maybe this movie isn’t for everyone, but it’s impossible to imagine who wouldn’t like this movie. It’s to die for. Indulgent, succulent, and begging to be devoured, Blood and Black Lace (1964) may sit at the very pinnacle of Giallo film making, and is the perfect example of why Mario Bava is considered the best: he makes murder into art.

5/5

Postscript:

Gialli have a habit of losing their titles in translation, and the Italian names are often better, but is 6 donne per l'assassino, which translates to '6 Women for the Murderer,’ the better title? For once, I think the answer might be no. Blood and Black Lace is far more evocative. Score one for the translators.

#Blood and Black Lace #1964 #Horror #Giallo #mystery #mario bava #spook study #my writing #review #movie review #film review #film #movies #5/5

3 notes · View notes

agentnico · 1 year

Text

Ghosted (2023) Review

Adrien Brody’s crappy French accent in this movie I could have forgiven, if only I haven’t seen John Wick: Chapter 4 a couple of weeks ago where I experienced the most delightful Parisian mouthing of Bill Skarsgard’s villain, so now Brody’s French-ish slur sticks out like a sore thumb. And boy is this one sore thumb. Everything is not j’aime up in this joint.

Plot: Cole falls head over heels for enigmatic Sadie, but then makes the shocking discovery that she's a secret agent. Before they can decide on a second date, Cole and Sadie are swept away on an international adventure to save the world.

This is the third time Chris Evans and Ana de Armas are co-starring in a film together, following the fantastic murder mystery Knives Out and the Netflix action film The Gray Man. As such this pairing on paper seems like a natural one, however upon seeing the new Ghosted film on Apple TV+ I have made quite the peculiar discovery - these two have absolutely zero chemistry. I mean none whatsoever. All their flirting comes of as cringeworthy, the romance is none existent and I didn’t buy into their relationship whatsoever. Their kissing scenes reminded me of that Andrew Garfield/Emma Stone SNL sketch where they don’t know how to kiss on camera. It was just awkward. And when in a rom-com your central couple have no chemistry, well then the movie is doomed to fail as is. Also, talk about a miscast! Chris Evans is supposed to play a farmer boy with an inhaler having an innocent outlook on life, yet it’s so hard not to see him as the alpha male, as such making his casting very questionable. Ana de Armas is usually a likeable presence, however, again, here is very bland and forgettable. And wears a wig. A very obvious wig, made the more obvious by the Twitter community, so thank you guys. It’s a shame really, as one could have easily done a trashy silly spy rom-com with A-list actors. Just look at Mr & Mrs Smith - an absolutely stupid movie but its hard to deny the sex appeal of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie together... though obviously that hasn’t aged too well but back then they were fire!

There’s a lot of talent involved behind the camera here. Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick who are known as the writers of the very successful and entertaining Deadpool movies have story credits here, and Dexter Fletcher is in the director’s chair. Evidently all three must have been undergoing some kind of collective erectile dysfunction causing their creative juices to dry out like water in a desert, as this movie consists of all the possible Hollywood plot cliches imaginable, with a painfully unfunny script, boring direction and general nonsense. Fletcher is fresh off the heels of his previous directorial outing with the Elton John biopic Rocketman that was visually filled with colour and charm, yet here the directing is so shallow and plain. So uninspired. As for the action sequences, they are there I guess. There’s a somewhat passable fight/chase on a bus, but even then, all those stunts you would have seen before.

Ghosted would have been a perfectly acceptable affair back in the early 2000s, however in 2023 it is simply ticking off every generic cliché of a Hollywood action film, only not anywhere as good as the movies its ripping off, nor that funny either. There’s even a few pointless cameos thrown in, and I do mean pointless. So in a nutshell, not worth getting Apple TV+ for anyway, however if you’re wondering about that streaming service, there is a delightful movie about the backstory of Tetris that came out on there recently starring Taron Egerton, and that’s actually much more interesting.

Overall score: 3/10

2 notes · View notes

arcticlegend · 2 years

Note

Dante and Vergil react to demons in movies and shows 😂

DANTE & VERGIL REACT

Sebastian Michaelis

Dante thinks he's fun to watch, but thinks the whole Demon/contract thing is too cliché. Most of the demons Dante deals with are either mindless or large, intimidating foes that have no need for contracts. He does think it would be fun to fight him, seeing that he has a human form and a transformation much like Dante does.

Vergil likes the character. He likes the cool, calculated personality and appreciates his clean, well mannered behavior. Having a similar situation, forming a contract with familiars as a human, he connects with it in a way.

Annabelle

Dante thinks the whole thing is hilarious. He thinks the doll looks ridiculous and no scary, comparing it to the marionette demons he fought. The funniest thing that demon could've possessed was a doll that stinking ugly.

Vergil hates dolls. Period. This movie makes him more uncomfortable than he shows on the exterior. Annabelle freaks him out, the ugly porcelain doll reminded him of dolls that had scared him in his childhood.

Bughuul

Dante is visibly freaked out by this guy, really hating how he takes over the kid's mind and forces them to murder her family. Hates watching the families be slaughtered because it feels way too close to home. As he watches this one, his knuckles are white, wanting to kill this bastard for what he did and would probably continue to do.

Vergil is also upset by this one, but he is also intrigued. He likes the true-crime/ mystery feel of the story and likes watching the unwrapping of the demon's history. Watching the families be killed affects him a lot and surprisingly, it's enough that breaks through the cold exterior. His change in presence is subtle, but if you know him, it's so obvious.

I loved writing this! Sorry it's late and I hope you enjoyed it!

#my first ask!!!#vergil #devil may cry #dante #ask #react

16 notes · View notes

celibate-batjokes-mpreg-yaoi-911 · 1 year

Note

The early reveal is probably the result of poor mixing of multiple inspirations. Many different types of murder mysteries reveal the murder at the end (which is fantastic, I love a solid brain-teaser), but I can't help but feel there's a distinct Columbo influence with the Knives Out series, which complicates matters.

In Columbo, you know who the murderer is, why they committed the murder, and how they committed the murder from the very start. The episodes are more about observing Columbo tormenting murderers slowly through his investigation by pretending to be a confused buffoon who is steadily, somehow, getting closer to revealing their secret with each passing moment. Obviously this doesn't mix well with having an actual mystery, though.

About Glass Onion: I don't feel the setting was particularly utilized (until the very end sequence, which I admittedly did enjoy, though I also feel it could have been so much more intense and fun than it actually was), most of the twists were decently implemented but cliché, and the characters (while, again, unfortunately feeling somewhat true to life) were uninteresting and bland. I did like the main twist of the story, even though it was a bit bland, because it felt presently culturally relevant, but it really could have been done better by someone more interesting and talented than Johnson.

(also don't worry, I don't care about spoilers)

oh this makes a lot of sense!!!!!! the columbo style is just not for me i think :/ i need the constant "oh my god who was it??!!!!!!" feeling which makes me excited throughout the whole story. idk why but knowin that the culprit didnt even actually commit the murder bc it was a suicide just made me lose my interest. like if u ask "do u wanna watch a murder mystery where they r trying to find the bad guy who wanted to commit murder but didnt?" its a hard pass. im gonna watch something with an actual cool murderer in it 😭

#ask #and the way u described glass onion is a lot like how i felt about knives out too..#i just dont think rian johnson is good ive never seen him make anything good. sorry

2 notes · View notes

thephantomcasebook · 1 year

Note

I think the writers either don't know if they want to bring magic to the show or they don't know how to accurately portray the characters. I agree with you that young and adult Helaena are very different from each other. But the fact is that Viserys' vision was mentioned only once. He behaves like a normal person, while Helaena speaks in riddles and strange statements for the rest. Therefore, the question is brewing, if Viserys and Helaena are both dreamers, then why are they absolutely different in terms of the manifestation of these abilities?

Hard to say, really ...

I tend to think that it stems a lot more from the writers trying to put ambiguity to Viserys's claims and make the audience question if he really is having Dragon Dreams or if it is nothing more than a cloak for his deeper desires and ambitions.

Every time he speaks of having a vision or dream of something - allegedly - prophetic, it tends to also match his desire or want. He tells Alicent that he had a dream that he would have a son and that everyone will proclaim him King. But is that really something prophetic? Or is it something that he wanted? Or was it inevitable? Obviously, to continue the House of the Dragon he would have to have a son. Everyone one would consider him Heir. And eventually he would be king. It not exactly rocket science about what would happen if Viserys fucked enough women.

I think - and not to their credit - they wrote Helaena weird cause they didn't know what a seer or Dragon Dreamer would be like. They wanted to portray to the audience that there was something more to her but they did so in perhaps the laziest and most cliché way imaginable. They went right back to the preverbal 'well' by once more portraying people with the gift of foresight as dreamy and aloof, who speak in riddles, cause they're "Like Sooo Mysterious".

I feel that there was a much - MUCH - better way to portray Helaena's prescience rather than drag up the same old and tired creepy and strange weirdo that they've been doing since Drusilla in "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer" ... which, people get wrong all the time, because, Drusilla had foresight as a mortal and was not creepy and weird. It wasn't till Angelus murdered her family and friends systematically, mentally tormented her, and then finally turned her into a vampire that she went insane.

She was not dreamy and spacey from the begging.

And neither was Helaena. The younger actress was playing a normal teenage girl who seemed kinda bratty and had weird hobbies, but was normal. In fact, her prophies were spoken under her breath and with a kinda prissy know-it-all way that was really interesting. yet, for some reason,as an adult and mother, that was when Helaena regressed into this childlike woman who seems only slightly more mentally mature than her own children.

I couldn't say why there's a difference between Viserys and Helaena other than most likely the writers didn't know any other approach on how to take Helaena other than to make her autistic.

#House of the Dragon #Helaena Targaryen #Viserys I Targaryen

5 notes · View notes

galactic-potterhead · 2 years

Text

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ 𝐀𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋮ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ┄ Din Djarin x Female Original Character, Han Solo x Female Original Reader (platonic) ⋮ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 ┄ Star Wars

01 || The Mandalorian

Note || I am so nervous! Though very happy to post this! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. At first, I felt like writing the first chapter a bit differently but this made the most sense to me and I already had the first thousand words that I fell in love with so I'm sorry if this is cliché. If there are some mistakes, please let me know and I will happily fix them!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Naia had been captured and held captive by Nikto bandits on a mysterious planet. She reminiscences the past and feels ashamed for allowing this to happen. Then she meets him.

𝐂𝐖: This chapter will contain various scenes of graphic violence, mature content, and possibly traumatic details. Character deaths, terrorism, family trauma. Blood, gruesome injury, murder, torture, famine, trust issues, angsty Naia interactions, slight flirting, abduction {technically speaking}.

Word count: 2.8k

<- Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ->

. . .9 ABY

Somewhere In The Outerrim Territories

The cold breeze came as a surprise to her. There were not many days that she experienced the skies downpour a series if sobs that bless the planet’s surfaces, the desert planet had been dry for weeks. Naia wouldn’t have known how long her captors had kept her locked away in the very bunker she had tried to slink inside through the shadows, but the aching sensation in her stomach told her that it was long enough for the famine to take over her mind. What she wouldn’t do for a Meiloorun, or even Blue-milk waffles.

She sighed and curled her knees into her chest as best she could with the steel chains restricting her movements. The blasted binders had practically sucked the energy from her body, making it impossible to even try to shift into a different position.

The was a dark feeling that washed through her chest like the waves of Kamino; If she didn’t come up with a plan to escape, the lust she held for food would fade, her organs would slowly shut down and she’d starve to death.

It was barely noon, she could convey that by the positioning of the sun that still glared down on their surfaces.

Her eyes tore from the outside world and shifted to peer up at the binds that held her wrists securely, outstretching her arms uncomfortably. She had gotten used to the soreness that came with being cuffed up like an animal.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild protocol waiver compels you to immediately produce said assets.” The sound of a droid drew her attention from her binders, and to the droid standing in the centre of the compound.

It had been a little while since a bounty hunter had come in an attempt to seize her, and for a moment she thought that the client desperate for her company had given up. The bounty droid proved to wrong her hopes.

When her captors glanced at each other, she knew there would be a fight. They underestimated a droid and it would be a weakness that leads to their downfall.

And sure enough, the gunfire begins. The Nikto mercenaries shout in their native tongue, most likely instructions on their defence plan but she couldn’t understand it. Nor did she want to.

As one Nikto stepped into her reach, she kicked up off the floor and wrapped her legs around his waist tightly. Determination and the will to survive pulsing through her veins.

He cried something out but she disregarded it and bit down on his shoulder, pushing the disgusting taste aside. He howled out in pain and she leant close to his ear, “you will release me from these restraints and leave me your blaster.”

Her voice purred with a strong will in the force. Though she couldn’t use it to unlock her binds, this was the only other option she had left and she had to hope it’d work.

He stilled for a moment, and her heart picked up in beats. “You will take your blaster and shoot my chains to free me.” She hissed again, squeezing his waist between the grasp of her thighs and digging her heels into his hip bones.

He says something in his tongue before pulling himself free, she stared at him hard as another Nikto ran in and began closing the blastdoors. Her mind began to race and the hope in her heart seemed to diminish slightly, but then he raised his blaster and shot her free.

The other Nikto shouted at him, but She swung her leg up and kicked the blaster from his hands before throwing her fist into his gut hard. He grunted and attempted to hit back but she flung her elbow at her face, knocking him unconscious with a single hit.

The last Nikto remaining started shooting at her, but she dodged each blast by nonchalantly twisting and turning her body. Though she shouldn't, the fear that coursed through his blood made adrenaline flood through her. The sound of the large weapon shooting at the durasteel door from the outside was seemingly the last worry on her mind, and she kept advancing toward the mercenary like a woman on a mission.

Her aching fist swiftly whacked his blaster away as the door fell forward, but she kept her eyes on the defenceless Nikto. A small smirk of satisfaction painting her lips.

As she dragged a captivating finger down his temple to his jaw, her other hand secretly reached for the vibroblade on his belt. Her head tilted to the side with a coy smile, before her bladed head swiftly rose up and buried into his neck without remorse.

He gargled on the blood rushing to his throat but she merely dug it further until finally, she felt bone. At that, she removes it and allowed his body to crumple to the ground with a loud thud.

The evening breeze tickled her bare skin, as she hardly had any clothes left. The Nikto’s had stripped her down into her blacks, which were tight on her body. And the sudden movement behind her led her to spin around, sending the knife flying at the hostile target.

She watched the blade strike through the IG droid’s head without difficulty, and the bounty droid falls to the ground in ruins. A blast goes off and she jerks her body to the side, barely escaping the bolt as it skimmed over the skin on her arm. She hissed in pain as her forearm scorched in a burning sting.

“Another aggressive Mandalorian, just want I needed.” She seethed through her clenched teeth, glancing down at the wound gracing her arm. Not particularly feeling hatred toward him, but she was wary and in pain.

“Who are you?” His modulated voice asks, unsure of whether he could trust her.

She rolled her aching shoulders and glanced over at him. “You should know. I doubt you accepted this job without knowing whom you will be hunting…” She spat before her eyes dragged over to the containment to which her mission led her.

Without any other glance to the Mandalorian, she moves over to the capsule and inhaled deeply. The force was strong around the object.

She pressed on the panel and it immediately opened, revealing the tiny green creature that brought a bright smile to her lips.

His head lifted and met her warm gaze. “Hello there, little one.” She cooed softly and crouched down to his height. His ears flicked and an adorable coo fell from his lips, she suppressed the giggle that bubbled in her throat before her smile fell as she remembered the situation.

She turned to look at the observing hunter. “I don't feel like fighting another one of you, so I'll cooperate.”

Her words may have sounded conceited but she refused to allow this child to be captured by whatever Imperial warlords remained.

“But I do request that you keep me out of cuffs.” She added while standing to her 5’5 height. “I don’t trust anyone to keep me safe. I do that perfectly well on my own.”

He tilted his head at her, almost patronisingly. “That’s why you’re here?”

His question boiled her blood, but she inhales sharply and narrowed her eyes. She crossed her arms frowning. ”How I ended up here is none of your business, bucket-head.”

He shook his head but didn’t respond. And seconds later, he pulled a pair of durasteel binders from his waist. She huffed and caught them in one hand as he tossed them in her direction, “bind yourself.” He muttered before moving closer to the child in the pram.

Her body tensed and she furrowed her brows, watching his movements intensely. “'If you hurt him and I will show you how threatening I can be, even with cuffs.” She growled, clasping the metal enclosures around her wrists.

“I'm sure,” he drawled out and her brows shot up, amused that he underestimated her without even knowing her capabilities.

“Your arrogance is your weakness.” She hummed and followed closely behind him.

“Your overconfidence is yours.” He quipped back, clear amusement laced between his words and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Overconfidence…” she muttered amusedly.

He didn’t know overconfidence if it whacked him over his laserbrain head with a blaster.

The sun grew lower and her legs ached from the mileage that they covered. She still felt a twinging pain in her arm, but it was less excruciating than before. The child was peering around curiously, and it almost made her smile. But her exhaustion made it hard to find the energy to do so. The Mandalorian didn't make any attempt to speak to her and though she was originally pleased with that, it felt like her brain was melting. It had been so long since she's had someone to talk to, that she was beginning to miss the sound of her own voice. (Despite how narcissistic that may sound.)

There was a heaviness in the air as they tracked through the lower sections of the canyon, it almost made her want to beg the hunter to start digging her own grave where they stood. All the possibilities of whom were desperate for force-sensitive beings made her stomach twist with anxiety; she felt safe on Chandrila. It was her home after being on Corellia and just the open space, she felt sad about the fact that there would never be a day that she wouldn't have to hide and protect herself from those who wanted to take advantage of her.

But when she had been given the mission to save this child from ex-Imperials, there was no hesitation on her end. Though her brother tried to convince her that there was always someone else who could do the job. No, this was personal for her and he ended up respecting that after the long talks over the rotations of her preparation. Ever since the fall of the Jedi, she had been running and hiding but there was nothing she wouldn't do to help any surviving Jedi.

After a while in the sweltering weather, sweat began to form small beads on her pale skin. The act of perspiration made her cringe. The thought of the stickiness that would be a result of it made a whine conjure from her stomach. "Why does this planet feel like it's on a thermapad?" She grumbled bitterly before a sharp tingle shoots through her spine. Danger.

She frowned and looked up at the ridges of the canyon for the lingering enemies, her feet frozen on the ground. She felt the Mandalorian’s eyes shift onto her but it goes unacknowledged. “What is it?” He asked, but his question also receives zero response.

Her senses grew heavy before she abruptly threw herself forward and shoved the floating pram away. A hunter falling from above, landed just inches away from her fallen body and that evidently answered the Mandalorian's question as to why she had been acting odd.

The hunter’s axe came flying down but she rolled over on her side and allowed her legs to swipe at his ankles, making him fall onto his back hard. He grunts and attempted to sit up, but she quickly crawled over and smashed her knee into the side of his face which sends him into unconsciousness.

“On your left!” Mando hissed at her sternly, so she rounded on the enemy and threw her head into their abdomen, pushing away the dull ache that it brought to her head.

They shout in surprise, falling full force onto their back before receiving a mouthful of plasma from Mando’s weapon. Both were heavily breathing, but she couldn’t help but notice that he took down 3 hunters on his own and she only took one; two if you count the one they finished off together. (Which she wouldn't)

“Now I’m curious to how much your reward is for me and the youngling.” She huffed out while trying to wrap her burning wrists.

“Not enough.” He grumbled in return, before gesturing for her to follow him.

She shook her head chuckling bitterly. “Ori'buyce, kih'kovid.” His body spun around at the sound of her use of Mando’a. – All helmet, no head.

“What did you say?” His tone was cold and she raised a singular brow, unimpressed by his attempt to intimidate her. "Where did you learn that?” He snarled, which made her confused as to why he had been so angry about it.

“I've met many different types of life forms all over the galaxy. Mandalorians are not an exception.” She says before walking ahead of him, wanting to get out of the ravine that gave enemies the high ground.

When they didn’t speak for the remainder of their walk, she felt relieved that he hadn’t tried to fight her about what she said before. In fact, she didn't trust him at all. Mandalorians could be as slippery as a greased dug, and she was not going to be deceived by another. After a small breath, she slowly began to enjoy the quiet because it gave her time to think about her family. It felt like an eternity since she’s seen them.

“Nini! You said you’d tell me about the adventures that you’ve been on when you were a Padawan.” Ben whined from underneath his blanket.

Naia, who had just tucked her nephew to bed, froze. Her heart ached at the memories that flooded back in seconds. She sighed and smoothed out his untidy hair gently, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Ben, I don’t have many memories. I was far too young. And the memories I do have…well, they’re not happy or fun.” She murmured softly and he frowned.

“Because of the Order that killed all the Jedi?” His question made her mind spin.

"Hey—" The Mandalorian’s voice snapped her out of the daze she had been transported in, and her head peered up slightly confused by his intrusion.

“We’re taking camp here for the night.” He informed her and that made her shoulders sink. Though she couldn't tell if it was in disappointment or relief. "If you try to escape, Just know that the client will accept you dead or alive.” He added roughly, to which she rolled her eyes.

“The day I'm killed will be the day that a bounty will be put on you.” She claimed jabbing her finger into his chest plate, before moving over to the log and plopping down to lean against it.

“Who put a bounty on me anyway?” She asked, shifting around to get comfortable. She had a few hunches but wanted to be sure about who she will be dealing with.

“Didn’t ask. It’s against the Guild code.” He muttered and it drove her mad.

She rolled her eyes again and leaned her head back slightly, closing her eyes to ease the burning they caused from being open. “Yes well, I used to go by a code too. Then it was taken from me.” She announced tiredly. “Codes are only created to control its followers. It takes away the feelings of freedom.” She added bitterly.

There is silence for a few moments. She could feel the curiosity that ran through his blood. He wanted to ask questions but was hesitant to appear attentive.

His demeanour seemed to change, though she couldn’t put her finger on what he had been feeling. So after another minute, she peeked over at him with one eye and studied the way he sat tensely. His wound was clear as day and looked painful, much like hers.

“I could help with that if you want.” She suggested gesturing to his arm, but he turned his head away from her and grunts in reply.

Her eyes narrowed and a scoff pulled from her throat. “Fine, suffer.” She uttered before closing her eyes again.

“Clear your mind, Little dream. Anger is a path to the dark side.”

She recoiled at the sudden touch of a gloved hand, and her eyes snapped open in a momentary lapse of fear. But upon seeing that it was only the Mandalorian, she relaxed slightly and inhaled through her nose from the sting.

“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath but she just stares at the motion of his hands. He was tending to her arm.

“There’s no need for that. I'm sure your client won't mind if I have a graze. They're still receiving what they want.” She mumbled before turning her body to face away from him, rejecting his attempt to help and to hide the small flush on her cheeks. It was hard to distinguish whether it was from the embarrassment she felt of being in this mess in the first place, or the warmth that his simple gesture brought to her racing heart.

“It’s not like I have a choice. You should be blaming whatever it is you did to end up in this mess.” He snarked back but she chortled sourly.

“It's hard to blame my parents for ever having me when they're both stardust.” She muttered coldly before glancing over her shoulder at his observant stare.

He didn’t say anything after that. And she couldn’t tell if it was whether he was confused or just uninterested in what she said. But it didn’t bother her, the silence is what she wanted to indulge in.

|| Taglist ||

@alwayssnivellus

Next Chapter. . . Nightmares of Corellia ->

6 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 6 days

Text

Up Close and Personal (1996)

While watching Up Close and Personal, I kept having the nagging feeling I’d seen all of this before and had just blocked out most of it. This romantic comedy is so bland it’s exactly the kind of movie you would watch once, sell for $1 at a garage sale and then accidentally buy again years later, only for the cycle to repeat itself.

Miami station manager Warren Justice (Robert Redford) sees something in aspiring news anchor Sally Atwater (Michelle Pfeiffer) and hires her. She has no real experience but under his tutelage, she grows her talents as a journalist. Unfortunately, the natural drama of the news world and their attraction to each other threatens to derail her career.

The problem with the film begins right away. Robert Redford is a handsome guy but he’s not “get away with dating Michelle Pfeiffer” handsome. The dude’s 21 years her senior. It doesn’t help that he starts off as her boss, reinvents her for the television with a new name (Tally) and that when the movie begins, he’s already been married and divorced twice. Worst of all, they have no chemistry. I know the film is based on the life of Jessica Beth Savitch but between this film and Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, I think the Will Ferrell film is more accurate. I didn’t do any research and in fact, Jessica Savitch died before I was even born but I can’t believe this film has any resemblance to the truth; it’s merely a collection of romantic drama clichés floating in a soup of TV journalism jargon. This movie isn’t interested in what it means to be a news anchor, what responsibilities come with that position, or anything like that. Everything about it is surface and by the time it tries to make a point, not only is it too late but what it has to say isn’t novel or provocative in any way so it feels unearned.

The film begins with Sally already a big success and the rest of the story is told in flashback. You’re so bored by the romance you think something else is going to happen, maybe a murder mystery, or a scandal, or something. There is an off-hand remark about a cross-dresser early on, and someone whispers something about a sex-change operation. You keep hoping something will happen. Even if it's bad or tasteless, it doesn't matter. You just want some sort of jolt of electricity to zap you awake. You don’t get any. The meat of the story is the mushy stuff and Sally’s big break? it won’t engage you because you already know she'll survive the dangerous situation she finds herself in.

I can’t criticize the actors necessarily for this film’s ultimate failure. Pfeiffer and Redford are well suited for these roles - they just don’t work together. The real culprits are writers Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne or, more likely, the suits who forced them to work and re-work this story until it became this beige soap opera - Touchstone Pictures a.k.a. the Walt Disney Company. At least the film features a great musical theme by the most beloved of Canadian musical treasures the world has seen: Celine Dion.

I guarantee you I won’t remember Up Close and Personal a few weeks from now -

*Wait*

I HAVE seen this movie before! I just didn’t see the old file saved on my computer because I spelled the title with an ampersand the first time! !@#$!@#!@!!!!! (May 20, 2022)

#Up close and personal #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #john avnet #joan didion #john gregory dunne #robert redford #michelle pfeiffer #stockard channing #joe mantegna #kate nelligan #glenn plummer #james rebhorn #1996 movies #1996 films

1 note · View note

rivalriotrenegade · 2 months

Text

The Monsters Hunter.

“Holy shit, holy shit! I am going to die! Like actually die.” Chase mutteres to himself as he runs through the dense swamp. He could hear the shrieks of the drowned behind him as they quickly closed the gap between them.

It was supposed to be an easy hunt. Just a snaggletooth. Nothing a monster hunter like him couldn’t handle. But instead of the snaggletooth he was expecting, it was a group of drowned and he had been caught as people say “with his pants down.” Only he had been caught with his pants down quite literally. Admittedly it wasn’t his finest moment as a hunter. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately he didn’t have much time to dwell on that as he’s being chased by said undead horde of drowned.

Chase fumbles with his bow and arrows. He curses himself for attaching his sword to the belt of his pants. The same pants that now happened to be somewhere far behind him.

In his panic he misses the tree root jutting from the ground. It’s a classic horror movie cliché as his foot catches the root sending him tumbling to the ground, arrows flying everywhere.

Before he even has time to think one of the monsters is soaring through the air claws out and aimed at him.

He lets out a scream and coveres his head as the monster's claws came crashing down. He waits one… two…three… and… He isn’t dead? Slowly his scream tapers off as he peeks out from between his fingers to see his wife standing over him with a scowl on her face. Chase lets out a nervous cough, “Oh uh hey Tammi, funny seeing you here?” He says, giving her an awkward smile.

She scoffs. “It amazes me how you’ve managed to survive for so long. Truly, a mystery.”

Chase shrugs. “What can I say? I’m just too pretty to die.” She snorts. “You looked ridiculous by the way, running through the swamp in nothing but a shirt and heart print boxers.”

“You saw that?”

“Yup.”

“So, just to get this straight, it wasn’t a turn on?”

“Nope.”

Chase gasps and opens his mouth to say something but before he could a blood curdling scream cuts him off. Tammi looks down at him, sword in hand. “Stay here. I’ll deal with this.”

Chase watched in amazement as she took down drowned after drowned. She always looked so graceful cutting down her enemies, or well she would, that is if you took away the manic smile she wore while doing so… and the psychotic laughter… and the fact that she had no problem dropping her sword to tear them apart limb from limb with her claws… Okay so he’d admit she wasn’t the most graceful of fighters, instead preferring sheer brutality over style, but Chase supposed it was all just a part of her charm.

He watched in lovesick awe as she lopped off the last of the drowned’s heads with her sword, before sheathing it. He sighed dreamily. “You know what’s hot? Consent.” He snaps his fingers into a finger gun, pointing it at her. “And I am giving you mine.” He says seductively. Tammi stares at him blankly for a moment before her face slowly starts to turn red. “Don’t say such things!” She snaps, turning away from him.

“Oh but I mean it!” He tells her as he gets up from the ground. Tammi glares at him, her face flushed. “Careful, what would you do if I actually took you up on your offer?” She huffs. “Baby, take me up on it or not, I am all yours.” This only causes her face to grow even warmer. “I should cut your tongue from your mouth. That would shut you up.”

“You can shut me up another way, preferably with your tongue.”

“You’re the worst!” She growls. Chase hums. “And yet you still married me.” He says cheekily, proudly pointing to his wedding band.

Chase is suprised as Tammi suddenly stomps towards him, a murderous look in her eyes. She grabs him by the wrist, yanking him towards her, then pulls him up into her arms bridal style. “Wha-What are you doing!” Chase squawks as she begins to carry him. Tammi chuckles darkly as she smirks down at him, her unusually sharp canines glinting in the light. “Taking you up on your offer.”

1 note · View note

alonggoodbye · 2 months

Text

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT MEME repost. do not reblog.

FULL NAME: Halia Vasilyevna Markova (aliases: Halia Marker or Marshall) GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cis female || Demi-romantic demisexual ETHNICITY & SPECIES: Russian-Filipino American, Siberian decent. || Immortal BIRTHPLACE & BIRTHDATE: Brooklyn, New York, September 21, 1901

GUILTY PLEASURES: Walking around her lodgings in her undergarments while drinking whisky and smoking giant cigars.

PHOBIAS: Drowning, open water, abandonment

WHAT THEY WOULD BE INFAMOUS FOR: If it weren’t for history’s nack for focusing almost exclusively on men and Leon Reid's connections, Halia would be in the books for crimes of arson, murder, and bootlegging. If her past and her immortality were not something to be covered up, she would have worked her way up in the music business and had been noted among other colored singers through the jazz age.

WHAT HAVE THEY/WOULD THEY HAVE GOTTEN ARRESTED FOR: If it hadn’t been for her gang-mates, the neighborhood boys through her youth cast out by racist American views, our girl would be arrested for: several accounts of arson, breaking and entering, theft, murder accomplished through organized crime, the production, trafficking and selling of illicit goods (alcohol).

CHARACTER YOU SHIP THEM WITH: Halia was once affianced to a young man named Henry O'Ryan, but a few months after he came home from the war their relationship ended. She has many friendships but I haven’t really had a chance to have her break past friendship barriers. She loses confidence in herself when faced with romantic intent, so haha.

CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO MURDER THEM: Florian in the WWII thread probably- he’s got the the best chance.

FAVOURITE BOOK GENRE: Detective, mystery fiction

LEAST FAVOURITE BOOK CLICHÉ: “And the lived happily ever after…”, lazy writing in her opinion.

TALENTS OR POWERS: Halia can proudly flaunt her singing voice, but is much more shy about her passions for painting, or baking. The latter two talents are so time consuming that she can never find a chance to indulge or practice. She also has a talent for playing the violin, but because of old memories of her mother and father, she only plays for herself || When it comes to powers Halia has the ability to manipulate heat, though she cannot make fire out of nothing. She is immune to any form of heat and can heal when her wounds are exposed to flames. Unbeknownst to her, however, death through drowning would make her demise permanent.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Her sense of humor and loyalty make her kinda cute. She’s very patient and is the type of person to drag you back home to be tucked in bed, or sit by the toilet with you if you got drunk out of your wits. She isn't the most confident flirt, so if she starts to flirt and it is reciprocated she will get very flustered.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: She is a very good liar and she lives a life held up by many webs of lies. Halia does not take joy out of it, but unless you already know about her age, powers, or past don’t expect the truth until you’ve earned it.

HOW THEY CHANGE: After living through war after war and losing loved ones repeatedly Halia becomes better at letting go and living out of other people's shadow. After Leon Reid's death in 1929, after the stock market crash, she learns not to believe in the sunken cost fallacy (i.e. just because someone has been in your life forever, doesn't mean you should continue with toxic relationships of any sort). She eventually learns how to make friends genuinely without trauma bonding, or becoming co-dependent.

WHY YOU LOVE THEM: She’s honestly a badass grandma stuck in the body of a 20-something year old. She’d be the ultimate hipster lol

#about halia.#farewell my queue.

1 note · View note

allthemusic · 5 months

Text

Week ending: 14 January 1954

Our first chart week of 1954 - I don't know what happened to the week ending January 7th - and it's a three-song week! What a good start for the year. I'm intrigued what the British public were listening to, in the 1954 post-Christmas slump, so without further ado:

Rags to Riches - David Whitfield (peaked at No. 3)

This song starts, and I think I know it? It's a Tony Bennett original and there's an Elvis version, apparently, and I can only assume it's from that, but it doesn't seem to be one of Elvis' more popular songs, so it's a bit of a mystery why I know that, to be honest. I'm not an Elvis fan by any means. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise, as the song started.

Unfortunately, there aren't a whole lot of other points in David's favour here. It's not that the song is bad - quite the opposite, it's perfectly competent and enjoyable - but it's not very memorable, and David's delivering it in his usual slightly operatic, carefully enunciated style.

The sentiment is pretty sweet, I guess? If David's love would only pay him attention, he'd go "from rags to riches", metaphorically speaking, and "though my pocket may be empty / I'd be a millionaire". So far, so good. Okay, it's a bit cliché. But I enjoy a song that's about love trumping material concerns - call me a sap!

The line where David asks "Must I forever be a beggar / Whose golden drеams will not come true / Or will I go from rags to riches / My fatе is up to you" is a bit of a turn - he's putting a bit of pressure on his love, there, in a way that I don't generally care for. I don't know, it just feels a bit manipulative, and also very grandiose. Fortunately, the moment doesn't last long, so I can't get too worked up about it.

There's a nifty kind of almost-Latin Bolero-like rhythm on parts of this. It never quite manages it, but it's approaching something interesting, especially on lines like "tell me you're mine ever more", and in the little instrumental breaks. It's not much, but it keeps things fresh.

And then we get one of the Big Old Endings that David is so very good at. It's big, bombastic and jarringly loud, and this song, like most songs, doesn't need it. Sigh. "My fate is UUUUUUUUP TOOOOOOOOO you" indeed.

Blowing Wild (The Ballad of Black Gold) - Frankie Laine (2)

I had to check, at first, that I hadn't already covered this song. But no, that was the very similarly titled Where the Winds Blow. That was an interesting enough song, and this is cut from a similar mould, on the surface - a Western theme, with lots of plot-relevant drama, pounding drums and backing singers imitating wind.

The film this is from is also called Blowing Wild, and it sounds wild. Our main characters are Jeff and Dutch, two wildcatters (aka people who go around digging for oil in areas not known to have oil) who get entangled with two different women in a small Western town. There are bandits, oil wells blowing up, gambling and murder - Marina, in particular, the woman who's namechecked in the song, apparently kills a man by pushing him into machinery, and then is killed in an oil well explosion. Yikes.

Frankie, given this, sings with an entirely appropriate level of drama - which is to say, he hammily oversells the whole song. It's very, very dramatic, lurching from grand statement to grand statement, all over this big pounding drum beat and these dramatic horns.

It begins with an exhortation to the beloved Marina, but the singer is apparently torn between her and his need to find oil: "Marina mine / Set me free from black gold." The image of oil itself as a grasping, sinister presence that you need to be freed from is powerful.

Except it then seems like Marina's not exactly a much healthier alternative for Frankie? She's described as a sort of sinister presence throughout, and compared to a spider: "I was caught in her web / Just like the spider catches the fly". Yikes.

In fact, Frankie then declares that "I must leave her or die". Double yikes. Clearly not the most stable or healthy romance for Frankie.

And then, as suddenly as all that got set up, we end, with a bunch of backing singers pretending to be the wind. Which worked really well in Where the Winds Blow, but just sounds a bit silly in practice here. I don't know it it's because the "wind" goes up and down more? It sounds like the sort of noise you'd make if you were pretending unconvincingly to be a ghost. The overall effect is very much reminiscent of "Marley and Marley" from the Muppets Christmas carol, which I don't think helps this song.

Admittedly, the rest of the instrumentation is pretty effective at creating a tense, obviously Western atmosphere, full of menace. Which is all a Western theme needs to do, strictly speaking.

Overall, it's just a bit of a chaotic mess, though. You can't follow the story, it's not quite clear how or why Marina's meant to set Frankie free, and the instruments often overpower the singing, a bit. Plus those very silly ghosts at the end. Dramatic, but a bit too much - Where the Wind Blows is superior in just about every metric.

Cloud Lucky Seven - Guy Mitchell (2)

Hey, it's the ever-unreliable Guy Mitchell, whose songs I regularly enjoy and/or loathe! He must be the most-featured artist so far, or at least one of the most-featured artists, and I do feel like I'm getting quite a good feel for him, for better or for worse.

Thankfully, this is Guy in his chirpier, light-hearted mode, and he's even left the period-associated racism/misogyny at home, which is nice for once!

There's some super 1950s vocal harmony in the background of track, which I also really like, especially with all the "ooooh"s. It's tight and fun, and very vintage.

Lyrically, it's a very happy, simple song, the main idea simply being that when you're in love, "you're walkin' on cloud lucky seven". The backing singers particularly love this idea, and chip in regularly with a repeated cry of "lucky seven, lucky seven".

I particularly enjoy the development in the second verse, as Guy desribes the process of falling gradually in love, and how "When you meet someone new, / You're on clouds one and two" but how "As you see more and more / Of the one you adore / You're on clouds three and four / And bells are ringing". We then proceed through all the levels of falling in love, before - you guessed it - you end up back on Cloud Lucky Seven. It's cute, and I enjoy the acknowledgement that it's a thing that develops, and not love at first sight. I don't know, it feels a bit more nuanced and mature than some songs have been - for all that this song is a piece of sugary fluff.

I also appreciate the bells that come in - I'm a sucker for the trope where songs mention an instrument and then you hear that instrument playing, and church bells are rarely a bad addition to a song. They give it that sort of more epic vibe, and here, they're also brief enough to add some interest without outstaying their welcome. We get a similar thing happening later with a glockenspiel, too, but it's different enough not to feel repetitive. Nicely done.

This song is a guilty pleasure, because it's really very sappy, but it is quite a fundamenally likeable golden retriever of a song. Nobody's claiming it as a lost classic, but it's nice enough.

Well, that was about what I expected. I've got a decent sense of what to expect, with all three of these acts, and boy did they deliver here. Exactly the songs I expected to hear, kicking 1954 off well. Nothing stunning, but nothing completely dire.

Favourite song of the bunch: Cloud Lucky Seven.

#uk charts #1954 #david whitfield #frankie laine #guy mitchell

0 notes

buzzdixonwriter · 10 months

Text

The Client [FICTOID]

“Are you a detective?”

“I am.”

“I want you to solve a mystery.”

“Okay, what mystery?”

“Why did I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Kill my wife.”

I took a long draw on my cigarette. “She’s dead?”

“She will be.”

“Then why not save her?”

“It’s fatal.”

“What is?”

“AIDS.”

I took another long draw. These things will kill me. Eventually. “You gave her AIDS?”

“No.”

I stubbed my cigarette out. The client -- the would be client -- proved irritating. “Let’s stop talking in circles. What did you do?”

“I encouraged my wife to have an affair.”

“Ah. Because she was unhappy, or you were guilty?”

“Both.”

“Let’s start with her unhappiness.”

“I’m a businessman. I work hard. I make a lot of money -- but I don’t have time for love.”

“Old story. Kind of cliché. To be frank, pathetic.”

“Yes. Pathetic is the perfect word.”

“So you encouraged your wife to play around, to get her jollies behind your back, but with your permission.”

“Yes.”

“Did she pick her lover, or did you?”

The client-to-be hung his head in shame. “I did.”

“Somebody you knew? Or somebody you both knew?”

“Somebody I knew…mostly. She met him once or twice. He worked for me. A rough sort, muscular. In the shipping department.”

“And he had AIDS?”

The client hung his head again. “Yes.”

“Did you know?”

The client looked out my office window for a long, long time. The view was the alley between the buildings; the day was cold, wet, and grey.

“Yes,” he said at last.

“What do you gain through your wife’s death?”

“Millions,” said the client. “My wife stands to inherit a fortune. It’s in a trust, so it can’t be denied her.”

“Does she know you know her lover had AIDS?”

The client closed his eyes. Tears leaked out. “Yes.”

“So why doesn’t she divorce you? Or at least rewrite her will?”

“She loves me,” he said, voice cracking.

“Are you worthy of her love?”

His voice cracked again. “No.”

“Then either kill yourself, or prove yourself worthy.”

“How?”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Don’t you solve mysteries?”

“This isn’t a mystery,” I said. I wanted another cigarette badly but I told myself I needed to wait at least half an hour.

“You murdered your wife -- “ here the client sucked his breath in harshly but didn’t deny it “ -- because you hoped to gain from it.

“Now she’s dying, or at least cursed with a potentially fatal disease she’ll never escape.

“You could divorce her, give her a generous settlement, but that will only be more pain and suffering inflicted on her, dragging out over weeks or months, and you’ll still keep some of your wealth.

“Or you can devote yourself to her, make her happy, brighten her days, make her glad she is alive.

“Or you can kill yourself swiftly, make the shock sudden but final, and leave her everything to comfort her last days.

“They’re doing a lot with AIDS treatments these days,” I said. “She could still have many, many comfortable years ahead of her.”

“What do you recommend?”

I decided not to wait. I shook the last cigarette out of the pack, tapped it on my desk, lit it, and drew in a deep lungful before answering.

“That you even came to me -- that you came to anyone -- reveals volumes.

“’Why’ you did this is easy enough to explain. You love money. You thought you loved it more than your wife. You realize this might not be the case, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. It’s dawning on you what you might really lose, and you can’t weigh that against your greed to decide which matters most to you, so you’re looking for outside help.”

Another long drag. “Have you spoken with a therapist? A psychiatrist? A doctor? A lawyer? A priest or a rabbi or a minister?

“Yes,” said the client. “Yes, yes, and more yes.”

“And they gave you the same answer, didn’t they?”

He gulped and nodded.

“One of the answers I gave you, right?”

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “Only two of the three options you offered.”

“So there you go,” I said, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs. It felt good. It felt clean. Certainly cleaner that this client.

“Don’t speak in riddles,” he said. “What should I do?”

“Do you go hunting?”

“Occasionally. Pheasants, mostly. Why?”

“Make sure you get your whole head over the barrel of the shotgun.”

#fictoid

0 notes