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agentnico · 4 months

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Top 10 WORST Movies of 2023

For every good movie there’s always a dozen stinkers, and 2023 brought out a lot of turkeys, and I’m not referring to all the poor birds that ended up in our bellies this Christmas season. It’s become a tradition for me every year to do a top 10 best and worst movies of the year list, and I tend to leave the top 10 best list till later as I catch up will the awards potentials, however with the bad list I get right on into it. There are of course many bad movies this year I didn’t see, as I don’t actively seek out to watch the bad ones, but I have heard that these following haven’t been the best: Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, The Marvels, Indiana Jones 5, Shazam: Fury of the Gods, Expend4bles, Children of the Corn, Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey…… damn, a lot of films got a bad rep this year. Yet I have 10 other ones that I’ve seen that I thought were crap. Don’t worry if a film you loved ends up on this list, it will simply mean your opinion is wrong and your have to live with that. With that in mind, here’s my humble list of the shit-fest Hollywood had to offer in 2023…

10) ANT-MAN & THE WASP: QUANTUMANIA - Everything that is wrong with the current state of Marvel is exhibited on full display here. Lacking a sense of direction and exploiting the idea of the multiverse just for the sake of it, the movie is a dud. It feels like whilst trying to focus on going bigger and bolder, the movie lost the sense of fun that elevated the earlier instalments in the tiny hero’s franchise. Paul Rudd is still as charming and likeable as ever, however the introduction of Kang as the next MCU Big Bad is pointless seeing as this big baddie can be defeated by a bunch of ants. Don’t make no difference now anyway with Jonathan Majors losing the court case, but who in the first place thought “oh yeah, Kang is a badass who killed many Avengers, but a giant head of Corey Stoll should weaken him no problem”. Look, there’s no sugarcoating it - this movie is bad. Also, Bill Murray appears in this because…?

9) THE BEANIE BUBBLE - Zack Galifianakis without any facial hair is truly a sight to behold, but that’s not enough to make this fluffy yet bland behind-the-scenes look at the famous Beanie Babies toys even remotely interesting. It’s as if this film can’t bear (thank you) to show the creepier side of these toys, as this should have been a more darker and messed up tale, especially with the lightly implied institutional sexism. Oh well, that’s that then.

8) WE HAVE A GHOST - If ever there was a movie that fit more to the phrase “Netflix & Chill” then this is it, as you will be too busy banging your partner or your sock than caring about a silent speechless David Harbour creeping about Casper-like and being all quiet and mysterious. To be fair he’s the only redeemable quality as the rest of the movie is a mishmash hodgepodge of genres that is neither funny, nor effective in its family drama dynamic. At least seeing Jennifer Coolidge jump out a window was mildly amusing. Mildly. Anyway, where’s that sock?

7) THE OLD WAY - It is truly fascinating that after starring in over 100 films, this is Nicolas Cage’s first ever western. Aside from that mind boggling revelation, this movie comes out with less than a bang. I don’t know, I was hoping for something a bit more mad, especially with Cage’s involvement. Heck, in the movie’s opening sequence Nicolas Cage is introduced with a sprawling Poirot-like moustache, and immediately I assumed that I am in for something ridiculous. However following that scene the movie cuts to 20 years later, and with that both the moustache and the hope for something exciting or weird is diminished to singular unseen atoms.

6) FOOL’S PARADISE - The directorial debut from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia star Charlie Day (who also writes and stars), misfiring Hollywood satire Fool’s Paradise wastes a strong ensemble cast that also includes Adrien Brody, Jason Sudeikis, Jason Bateman, Kate Beckinsale, Ken Jeong, Common, John Malkovich and the late Ray Liotta. Look, in a way I feel bad about including this film on this list, as you can tell this is a true passion project for Day and one that has good intentions by attempting to go back to the old-school slapstick Charlie Chaplin-era of comedy, with a lighthearted satire on the way the film industry works. In this case the result is neither sweet nor funny enough, and as such it’s an unfortunate misfire, but easily the most disappointing inclusion on this list.

5) GHOSTED - Adrien Brody’s crappy French accent in this movie I could have forgiven, if only I have not seen John Wick: Chapter 4 a couple of weeks prior 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. What else sticks out is that Ghosted feels like a film from the early 2000s, featuring every cliche of the genre and with a romantic pairing of Chris Evans and Ana de Armas whom share zero chemistry. Their kissing scenes reminded me of that Andrew Garfield/Emma Stone SNL sketch where they don’t know how to kiss on camera, only in this case it’s unintentional. Also featuring a slew of pointless cameos, and I do mean pointless, this is a throwaway campy spy-action flick that is destined to be forgotten.

4) THE EXORCIST: BELIEVER - Billed as the true sequel to William Friedkin’s original horror masterpiece, it really shouldn’t have strived for that. Ellen Burstyn’s return is a waste. For those excited to see her, she’s only in 3 or 4 scenes total, and the creative choices made with her character are such a disservice to the original movie. Without spoiling, it’s a choice that seems to be inspired by the modern woke culture, with Burstyn’s Chris having being studying the art of exorcism ever since the events that transpired with her daughter, and then when questioned about why she herself did not partake in her daughter’s exorcism she blames the patriarchy. The choice of bringing her into this narrative and then what happens to her…it’s basically taking a classic character and making them dumb. I must say though that the only actual shocking moment in the movie comes in a scene involving her character, and though that moment itself is memorable, the build up towards it is so stupid. Also, with the return of Burstyn it comes as no surprise within the movie when a certain other character pops in for a cameo. Does it add anything to the movie’s story? No, it’s just there for cheap fan service. As for the movie itself, the horror hardly works. It’s not scary at all and you really shouldn’t believe in this one.

3) THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE - Yeah, I know, my inclusion of this film on the list will rattle some feathers, but I don’t care, as for any of you pricks out there thinking that stupid “Peaches” song deserves an Academy Award nomination, you guys are stupid and must be high on some very powerful shrooms. If so, I hope you’re having a great trip, but the fact stands that this movie is bad. Simply doing fan service for the sake of fan service don’t make for a good narrative. Me and my friend were bored throughout, as this movie is 100% for kids. There are nostalgic elements to it all, but I do believe that Illumination and Nintendo should have followed more in The Lego Movie’s footsteps and targeted the film for audiences of all ages, due to the fact that many who grew up with Mario are now adults themselves.

2) LEAVE THE WORLD BEHIND - So much wasted potential. A long drawn-out slow shuffle to Nowheresville. A movie that offers so many ideas, plot points, and thread lines that are never answered or go anywhere. In Leave the World Behind things are truly happening under the motto “just because” and “why the hell not” and it makes the viewing experience immensely frustrating. Especially when the movie is nearly 2 and a half hours long and the anticlimactic abrupt ending is a slap to your face for wasting your time. Oh, and if I weren’t a fan of the Friends show before, now more so than ever.

1) 65 - Right ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to ask you all so kindly to rise up from your seats and give a humongous round of applause to 65 - the 2023 film to exhibit qualities of a top contender of the worst movie of this year. Look, I’m disappointed as you are. Adam Driver fighting dino-dinos’?! You’d be a madman to not want to see that! However here’s 65′s first mistake: there actually aren’t that many dinosaurs, let alone fights with them. I know right, I can sense the resounding aura of you, my kind audience, in unison thinking “what the f***?”. Exactly, what the fudge indeed. No, instead what we get is a couple of somewhat thrilling dinosaurs interactions, but overall the movie is just Adam Driver and this little girl walking. Just walking. Walking and whistling. Bunch of jackasses.

That’s it - we did it! Now I can happily forget I ever watched any of these and mentally prepare for what wonders of stupidity 2024 will bring to the big screen. As for my Best Movies of 2023 list, don’t worry, it’s a-coming. Still need to watch The Boy and the Heron and Poor Things and then all will be revealed…

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binaural-histolog · 4 months

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Erickson was a Creep

I had not planned to write this blog post or milkshake duck a popular hypnosis hero, but I went down one rabbit hole too many and something snapped into focus.

Milton Erickson was a creep.

There's no way to sugarcoat this. If he was practicing today, he would almost certainly be reported for his practices. Even for his time, he was thought of as creepy.

Richard Bandler notes in Trance-formations that Satir thought Erickson was creepy.

Virginia [Satir] had met Milton and thought he was creepy and didn’t want anything to do with him.

But we don't need to rely on Satir's personal opinion of him. We can cite sources.

Hilgard thought the same thing, although he is more indirect about it. From Milton Erickson as Playwright and Director / scihub link, Hilgard starts us off with a case where husband and wife pees the bed, and his solution is to have them deliberately wet the bed every night for two weeks.

You have your instructions. There is to be no discussion and no debating between you about this, just silence. There is to be only obedience, and you know and will know what to do. 1 will see you again in five weeks’ time. You will then give me a full and amazing account. Goodbye! [Volume IV, 1954, p. 100, emphasis in original].

It gets worse.

We have this example of what Erickson would do when his patient was sexually attractive, emphasis added in places.

One such pair of cases is provided by two disheveled girls with poor self-images, who were treated at different times. These patients differed in that one of them, although slightly overweight, he saw as sexually attractive, even in her present physical condition. The other, extremely overweight, could not appeal to him as sexually attractive, and these differences between the two influenced his choice of scenario. The first, the basically more attractive one, he prepared for the fact that he would shock her, but it would be helpful, dramatically so. “I will outline a course of behavior for you, and this you are to execute without fail. Do you give me your absolute promise [Volume IV, 1930s, p. 485]?” He then referred to her pubic hair as the pretty patch of fur between her legs, and requested that she look at herself in the nude that night before the mirror, examining herself particularly from the waist down and to be pleased by what she saw. “Try to realize how much you would like to have the right man caress your pretty pubic hair and your soft rounded belly” [Volume IV, 1930s, p. 486] The next night she was to examine the upper part of her body, admiring particularly her breasts. In each case she blushed profusely at the suggestions, but was then given amnesia for them, and carried them out, with additions of her own which she was not asked to describe. In the next session, Erickson, after having built her up, attacked her severely for her appearance, her lack of cleanliness, her unkempt hair, and the stains on the dress she had worn each time she came to see him.

When the patient is unattractive, there is no attempt to get her to caress her pubic hair and carry out unnamed additions in front of a mirror, and deal with resistance by giving her amnesia. It's right on to the abuse.

The second patient, the overweight one, he approached immediately with a severe and brutal tongue lashing about her homeliness and fatness and unkempt appearance. Note that in the first case this attack was delayed until some self-confidence had been restored. He was confident that in the second case, the only way she would know that he would be honest with her was to speak out harshly and aggressively. After listening to this onslaught, she agreed to go on in therapy. The behavioral practices assigned to her were numerous library assignments. One had to do with searching out anthropology books to find out how all kinds of misshapen women were able to find someone to think them attractive and marry them. Other assignments opened her eyes to practices in orthodontia, plastic surgery, cosmetology, and hair dressing. The treatment of these two patients with somewhat similar symptoms had in common only the shock of brutal assessment of their deficiencies, delivered at different stages of treatment, and the referral to store clerks to improve the manner in which they dressed.

Hilgard stops here, but the implication is clear: if Erickson thought a female patient was sexually attractive, his approach would include sexual elements.

This is further borne out by My Voice Will Go With You. Let's start by picking out Erickson's intervention with a "sexually numb" woman. It turns out that all she needed was for Erickson to describe a penis, and this is enough to give the woman her first orgasm.

A woman had secured a divorce because she went all numb sexually and this had troubled her husband very much. He couldn't stand living with an unresponsive woman. Then she had a number of boyfriends. She was now living with a man who was separated from his wife—a terribly sordid life. He wanted to have her as his mistress. He placed his children first, his wife second, his mistress third. And she didn't have any response at all. The man was a wealthy man. He gave the woman a lot of things she liked. And she said, "I'm just plain cold. I have no feelings. It's a mechanical thing For me." In a trance, I explained to her about how boys learn to recognize different feelings in their penis—when it's limp, a quarter erect, halfway erect, fully erect. How it feels when detumescence occurs. How it feels when the ejaculation occurs. And I explained to her all about wet dreams in boys. I said, "In every boy half of his ancestors are feminine. And what any boy can do, any girl can do. And so you can have a wet dream at night. In fact, you can have a wet dream any time you wish. In the daytime you may see a handsome man. Why not have one then? He doesn't need to know about it. But you can know about it." She said, "That's an intriguing thought." I noticed that she became abnormally still. Her face flushed. She said, "Dr. Erickson, you've just given me my first orgasm. Thank you very much."

There's another case that starts with a girl farting in the classroom. Erickson shows her his anatomy book, shows a cross-section of the rectum, and tells her to eat beans and start farting.

Then I told her, "Now, I want you to demonstrate earnest, honest respect for God. I want you to bake some beans. They are called whistleberries by the navy. Flavor them with onions and garlic. And get in the nude and prance and dance around your apartment, emitting loud ones, soft ones, big ones, little ones ... and enjoy God's work."

A year later, she's married and gets her breast to nurse her child in front of him. Success!

And she did that. A year later she was married and I made a house call to check up on her. She had a baby. And while I was visiting her, she said, "It's time to nurse the baby." She opened her blouse, exposing her breast, and fed the baby and chatted casually with me, A complete change of reference.

It gets worse.

A twelve old girl phones up Erickson and says "I had infantile paralysis and I have forgotten how to move my arms. Can you hypnotize me and teach me?" I want to know how she picked up the phone and called Erickson with her arms not working, but let's take this at face value, and assume this happened just like Erickson said. What does Erickson do? Have her strip to the waist in front of her mother.

I told her mother to bring her over and her mother brought her over. I looked at the girl. For a twelve-year-old girl she had a very well developed bust, except that the right breast was under her arm, I had the mother strip the girl to her waist and I looked over her entire torso to see what the muscles were.

Then he had the girl make faces repeatedly. No, really.

Now, when you start one muscle moving there's a tendency for that to spread to other muscles. You try to move just one finger. You start to spread the movement, unintentionally. Her arms began to move. Now, the right breast migrated from under her arm to one side of her chest. She is now a lawyer, practicing law.

So, the cause was that she had a breast under her arm. and it caused her arms to stop working. She needed Erickson to explain this. And the solution was to make faces. Can you imagine someone doing this in 2024?

He also asks his wife to check out his daughter's breasts.

In watching my daughters I discovered that happened somewhere around ten years of age. When, for example, Betty Alice was about ten years old and had to pick something off the bookcase or radio, she lifted her arm this way (as if to avoid a large breast). I told Mrs. Erickson, "When Betty Alice takes her bath have a look at her breasts." Mrs. Erickson came out and said, "There's just the beginning of a change in her nipples."

By all accounts, Erickson was driven by a deep-seated need to control, to the point that it damaged his relationship with his daughter. In Cardeña's review of Wizard of the Desert, he describes a section of the DVD.

One of Erickson’s daughters (and executive producer of the documentary) relates with sadness that growing up she could not have just a normal conversation with either her mother, who hyperintellectualized everything, or her father who, although not fully stated, seems to have been in therapist/teacher mode 24/7. Erickson is also described as punishing and sadistic in the demands he imposed on some of his clients, and it is evident that he blurred the boundaries between personal and professional life that therapists are expected to maintain.

Cardeña also says that maybe, just maybe, we should consider that a man who was known to lie to people for therapeutic goals might possibly be lying to his colleagues and students.

To muddy the waters even more, why have not some of the followers of a therapist known to fabricate false past stories to achieve therapeutic goals wondered whether he used that same technique in his writing and teaching?

There's more than this than just the personal creepiness, of course. Erickson's definition of a cure was essentially to conform into society, and you can see that in his definitions of success. Became a lawyer. Got married. The success and meaning is external. Bandler refers to it.

In many ways Milton was one of the most directive hypnotists you would ever want to meet. He only had five goals for people to get well: get out of the hospital, get a job, get married, have children, and send him presents. That was his definition of a cure.

And Erickson was not shy about taking credit for things that he should not have taken credit for. Going back to Hilgard, he describes the case of a WWII vet who Erickson touts as a success.

Harold was a veteran of World War 11 who entered treatment at the age of 23 with a poor background and a bad image of himself as a moron. He changed during treatment from a miserable unskilled laborer through a series of transformations, all the while convinced by Erickson that he was succeeding despite the fact that he was feebleminded. So powerful was Erickson’s strategic control through distorting his self-perception by way of hypnotic amnesia, distractions, redirection of attention, and confusion, that after learning shorthand and typing, serving as a private secretary for 18 months, and making A-grades in college, only then was he given permission to discover that he only thought he was feebleminded.

Erickson's priority was in getting this man fitted into society, and then dealing with his mental issues. And Erickson took credit despite the many, many people helping this man.

As I have noted earlier, despite his strongly authoritarian position as playwright and director, Erickson typically set the stage and the strategy, but left the tactics up to the patient. What is not so evident is the role of many others in producing the therapeutic successes: Joe, who enhanced Harold’s use of the library beyond the reading of children’s books; the married couple who befriended him at the trailer court; the friend who taught him to drive a truck; the transcriber and annotator of rare manuscripts with whom he lived and talked for a year and a half; his teachers (shorthand and typing, piano, guitar [?]), and his college teachers-all of whom are missing from the case study except for the briefest of mention of the piano teacher because she was a woman. [...]

Hilgard goes on to say that Erickson may have had a very direct warping presence on his patient through his control.

Harold’s life away from Erickson may have been very different from the way he appeared in Erickson’s presence. We do not know how fond he became of his teachers or they of him. Although he occasionally asked about Harold’s daily activities in detail, Erickson appears to have been more interested in his own cleverness than in finding out how Harold was perceived in the context of his daily life.

Hilgard says Erickson was essentially given carte blanche to behave however he wanted.

His hypnotic authority allowed Erickson to play the theatrical game of distortion and deception - insisting on Harold’s prolonged compliance with the belief that he was feebleminded. I cannot image any nonhypnotist attempting this, or, for that matter, any other hypnotist. This insistence appears to be specifically Ericksonian, fitting his love of dramatic strategies.

And Hilgard specifically calls out Erickson as doing this for his own personal gratification.

Was Erickson perhaps in some manner overcompensating for his physical weakness by enjoying the power that he achieved over his patients, and gaining vicarious satisfaction over the encounters he assigned them in the real world, some in areas denied to him?

And potentially not only misleading or misdirecting his peers, but also himself.

Had Erickson’s own dramatic way of planning and promoting his own cases led him to some self-deception in the cases as reported? He was unusually good at rationalizing whatever he happened to do, and occasionally appeared to justify failures by converting them into planned successes, as in the case of Harold’s failure in algebra.

The fact that so many of his stories include salacious and unnecessary details is an indication of what Erickson wanted from his patients: unquestioning obedience, humiliating and degrading instructions, gratuitous exposure of women's bodies, and all of it putatively for the patient's benefit.

Even at the time, people knew Erickson's behavior was creepy. As Hilgard notes, if Erickson did not have the stature and the myth associated with him that he had, he would have been treated very differently. His privilege and power protected him from consequence and enabled his behavior to go unchecked.

It is very doubtful that Erickson would have been able to do this in modern day times. He would have been reported, his instructions and conduct recorded. If a disciplinary board didn't deal with him first, he would be showing up on Youtube as a comedian's punch-line.

But the next time you think "What would Erickson do?"

Maybe don't do that.

#hypnosis #erickson #binauralhistolog

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horse-girl-anthy · 9 months

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Hyperreality and Ikuhara: Art for the Postmodern Age

hyperreality, a term coined by Jean Baudrillard, describes the state of people living in postmodernity, where we are so inundated by signs, symbols, and representations that we have lost touch with the real. I was born in 1997. since I was a baby, I have seen advertisements every day of my life. I was watching TV before I understood what TV was. under these conditions, simulations begin to feel more real than reality.

for those trying to make art, hyperreality has been a challenge. this video uses the American cartoon The Simpsons as an example; the show had a subversive edge when it was first created, but capitalist forces pulled it away from that direction. there is the contradiction that any TV show must face: it needs to be produced and then be aired by a TV station, and it has to make a profit. the more money The Simpsons made, the less meaning there was to the story.

the video discusses how under hyperreality, the "code" is substituted for the "reference." in the case of Homer Simpson, his characterization originally had ties to reality. his character was a subversion of the typical sitcom father, and he was portrayed as lazy, ignorant, and incompetent to make a point about American culture. however, as the show became iconic, it was increasingly self-referential, and thus Homer's traits grew to be mere symptoms of who he was rather than satire.

referentiality was the death knell of parody. as the video discusses, the media landscape of the 21st century has collapsed in on itself. when The Simpsons began, there was a clear cultural script it was parodying, as well as a sociopolitical hegemony it was subverting. the world of today is too confused for that; there is no norm to imitate, as everything is already an imitation. thus, there is an infinite regress of self-referential media, a black hole of meaning.

perhaps this is why Ikuhara was so worried about RGU being seen as parody. he didn't want it to be written off, easily categorized, meaningless and part of the status quo. at first, he tried to make the work "like nothing you've ever seen." this, however, wasn't easy, nor was it what he actually wanted. he decided instead to try to "round up all the animated stories made with girls as the main characters up till then into one story." This meant that the visuals of RGU "must be parodies."

to keep his story from being subsumed into the hyperreal, Ikuhara created his own style, one which turns referentiality against itself. all Ikuhara works are metatextual and heightened. rather than portraying a "reality" to the viewer, they communicate directly by playing on recognizable scripts, symbols, and signs. consider this brief exerpt from a Be-Papas interview:

Interviewer: Are you being playful with the visuals using Chu Chu? He seems like a relaxing distraction. Ikuhara: I didn't put much thought into it. I figured it's an anime so there'd be a mascot.

Chu-Chu has no explanation in the "reality" of the story, no origin. he is there because of the medium of anime. as in, Chu-Chu exists because he is the kind of character that appears in these kinds of stories.

that artificiality is absolutely everywhere in Ikuhara works. many events are conveyed through canned representations, signifiers which communicate by rote. for instance, in Yurikuma, domination is expressed by a girl putting her leg in between the legs of another girl. this is a recognizable action which communicates both the plot and affect of the scene. however, the action itself is determined by the work's genre. in Utena, the scene would look more like Touga pushing Utena up against a tree and getting into her personal space, which is what would happen in a shoujo. the act itself has no meaning outside of being a referential symbol.

without this style, I don't think Ikuhara works would be as subversive. firstly, by making a point of their own artificiality, they can break through hyperreality. secondly, there are moments when the artificiality shatters. even in those moments, his style is still there. for instance, in Penguindrum, the "child broiler" scenes are communicating to the audience through recognizable signs; there is no diegetic level. but the most pivotal, emotional moments in Ikuhara works do not follow cultural scripts. the "it's that way because it is that way" mentality falls away.

Ikuhara characters follow the opposite tragectory of hyperreal characters. they start out as floating signifiers, characters who are parodies of themselves. Anthy is the shy, quirky girl who must be protected. Himari is the cute, innocent little sister. the fact that his characters are meant to be walking tropes is self-evident--it's blatant, a constant in-joke. but then, the stories broaden, developing the characters and complicating their narratives. this cuts against the grain of hyperreality, forcing the audience to consider how they may have let their lives be scripted for them, how they may be living in artificiality, "dying without ever being born."

#ikuhara #commentary

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mlm-writer · 4 months

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Synonyms for Penis (Shrek x Deadpool)

Pairing: Shrek x Wade Wilson aka Deadpool Rating: Explicit Words: 1361 POV: Third Summary: The Big Tober Day 28 - Annual Shrek fic Note: DID NOT EVEN PROOFREAD THIS BECAUSE I DO NOT WISH TO READ THIS AFTER WRITING IT (Pic credit I am so glad someone else had the same idea) Tags: Shrek's [insert synonym for big] [insert synonym for penis], satire (or is it), 4th wall breaks, there is a little angst at the beginning for some reason, belly bulge, manhandling, unprotected sex, he growls uwu and cumflation

“Don’t you think it is… odd?” Shrek questioned as Wade pushed him into the armchair. The light from the fireplace made the merch seem like just a silhouette as the red-clad fool made himself at home in the ogre’s lap.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Wade cooed, before grinding all over his green companion. “Why would anyone want this? Who wants Shrek smut and who would ship a sexy, sturdy man with a green daddy? Well, let me tell you, papi, sometimes it is irony that drives the mind, but there is no telling when irony becomes something more.” Shrek had no fucking clue what Wade was on about. His facial expression said it all, but as per usual, Wade paid it no mind.

Wade nuzzled Shrek's muscular neck. Shrek could feel the rough material of the mask against his sensitive skin. This was not their first time, but Shrek also felt like they had not swapped enough bodily fluids that it was his place to question the mask. He had seen every other part of his friend and he thought it was safe to assume the scarring extended to the human's face. “Hey my honeydew melon, stay focused.” Shrek blinked and hummed, mentally pulled away from the questions that plagued his mind. “I know that look my delicious lime.”

Wade booped Shrek's nose. The ogre looked up at the human in his lap with his big, chocolate brown orbs. “You do?” The merc couldn't help but think that the man whom people referred to as a monster looked nothing but cute. Unfortunately, he knew that look too well. Shrek wanted more. Not in the sense of a relationship - or maybe he did what did Wade know anyway - but something that felt much more intimate. If Wade thought about it for more than a second, there was no reason to assume Shrek would be repulsed by his face. However, Wade had never had a single thought in his life.

Wade reached behind him to start unzipping his suit. Shrek immediately reached out to help. The ogre might be better at freeing Wade from the costume than Wade himself. Marred skin appeared from underneath red fabric. Wade had to stand up for a moment to remove his boots so he could get rid of the suit. “Another time, ok?” Shrek understood. The mask was the last line of defence, the barrier that held together the pieces that made up the merc with a mouth. The ogre gave a nod. Then the human was on his knees, helping him get rid of his pants. Wade was not even attempting to fully undress Shrek. As soon as the deep green, hefty pole was revealed, Wade had his tongue on it, lapping at the onion-flavoured precum staining the thick, mushroom-shaped tip. Shrek’s grip on the chair tightened, his mud brown eyes focused on the bit of skin that was revealed from Wade pulling his mask up just below the nose. He had seen that textured chin before; it drove him crazy.

The edge of the mask scraped along Shrek’s long dong as Wade ran his tongue over the entire 10 inches and counting. The ogre was not at full hardness yet, but with the way Wade’s scarred hands glided over his member slick with the merc’s saliva, it would not be long until Shrek was at his full 15 inches. Shrek rid himself of his shirt. His thick fingers fumbled with the laces on his clothes, but he managed. He couldn’t see Wade’s eyes, but he sure could feel them latching onto every sliver of exposed, chartreuse flesh.

The contrast of his dad bod against Wade’s toned form used to make the sensitive ogre self-conscious, but with his chest exposed, the human on his knees sounded downright pornographic. Wade had never been subtle about how horny he was whenever Shrek showed some skin. The human seemed to be impatient, forgoing the rest of his blowjob and making himself at home again in Shrek’s lap. Shrek put his huge hands onto Wade’s slim waist. “What are you doing?” He inquired in near panic, the idea of Wade taking him without any prep chilling him to the bone.

Wade reached behind him, holding Shrek’s long John in between his luscious cheeks. “Don’t you worry about a thing, daddy,” Wade cooed as he rose as high as he could to press the emerald tip against his puffy wet hole. Shrek tightened his grip onto Wade’s hips, firmly asking him to let him at least finger him a bit. Wade sighed as dramatically as it was loud. “Shrek, babes, it’s the 31st of December and this was supposed to happen on the 28th of October. You realise how overdue our fuckfest is and now you want to keep the writer from joining his family on the couch just for a little fingering scene? Fuck that, let’s get to the real deal; it’s overdue.”

Shrek had once again no fucking clue what Wade was on about, but he could not exactly protest. The head of his massive schlong slipped right into Wade’s tight hole. The green hunk let out an inhuman growl, perhaps because he was not a human. Wade rode the head with no problem as if he had been stretched already. However, Shrek had no memory of Wade ever having the time to sneak off without him to do that in the past hours they spent together. “How?” he grunted out in the split second of clarity he had to speak. Right after that single syllable left his exquisite lips, he could not say anything, only moan in ecstacy.

“Fanfic logic, baby,” Wade replied with a shit-eating grin, before pushing himself down onto Shrek’s enormous plonker. He was barely halfway and he already felt like that green baguette was about to exit through his throat on the other side. He rose up a little, trying to coax his body into taking more, but it wouldn’t give.

“Where is your fanfuck or whatever logic now?” Shrek growled impatiently. Wade huffed and prepared to give it another shot, but Shrek gripped him firmly and lifted him all the way off his piss weasle. “Since you’re so eager to get speared through like a shish kebab, let me help you.” Shrek stood up, kicked his shoes and pants off and manhandled Wade face down ass up onto the cold floor of his swamp estate. He grabbed Wade’s back melons, spreading them wide. The merc’s hole was gaping wide, but they both knew Wade could do better. He guided his pickle back into the winking shithole in front of him.

The angle was better, but now Shrek could also use his own strength to shove his colossal meat stick inside his human fuckdoll. Wade gasped as more and more green sausage was forced inside him. Just when he thought he had it all, he didn’t feel hefty balls pressing against his backside. It was never-ending, exquisite torture. Shrek seemed to not care about Wade’s pleasure at all, a single focus on making the shreksiest merc ever envelop his entire spawn hammer.

And when he did, both men were delirious with gratification. Wade collapsed, unable to keep his body up, but fortunately Shrek had him. The ogre moved his hands to get a better grip, only to feel the clear outline of his immense piston through the sweat-slicked skin of his personal whore. His last grip on humanity left him, hips rapidly moving on their own to feel that outline move with it. He didn’t know how long he was railing Wade when he felt semen cover the hand feeling up the outline of his love rod. He didn’t know how long he kept going after that like an animal.

“Just fucking cum already! We’re running out of synonyms for penis over here, unless you want the writer to start using things like baloney pony,” Wade wailed. It was shortly after - for my own sanity - that the outline of Shrek’s flesh flute became less and less obvious, Wade’s belly expanding due to the copious, excessive load being dumped inconceivably deep inside his guts.

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

#shrek #deadpool #wade wilson #shrek x deadpool #shrek x wade wilson #shrekpool #kinktober #gay #shreksy #daddy shrek #i hate myself #this hurts me too #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #imagine deadpool getting railed by shrek what

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 7 months

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Earlier today, I was struck by a sudden memory: I think Rob Brydon did a really weird in show in 2006 that was in the same sort of fiction-reality blend as his The Trip movies, where most people play ficitonalized versions of themselves (they’re reading a script and not improvising, but also those characters have the same name and jobs and basic persona as the real person), but also some actors play fictional characters, and it’s made by the BBC in reality but also the fictional world is about a show being made by the BBC. And there’s a show within a show, a panel show within a sitcom. Sort of near Amstell’s Grandma’s House levels of fictional. Almost exactly The Trip levels of fictional, which might be why I remembered it today, because I was downloading Alan Partridge things today and remembered that Steve Coogan exists.

Here's what I thought of today without looking it up: It's a sitcom about Rob Brydon hosting a really shit history-based panel show, with Dave Gorman as a team captain, and we see the making of the panel show as well as little clips of the panel show itself, and there are lots and lots of celebrity guests because people keep turning up to play themselves as guests on the panel show. One time, Rob Brydon ends up nearly having a threesome with Eamonn Holmes and his wife, I think? At some point James Corden shows up, playing himself, as is gay with Russell Tovey, even though James Corden and Russell Tovey are the only two people from the entire History Boys movie who did not appear to be gay with each other. Also, there’s a whole long storyline about Rob Brydon falling in love with Russell Tovey. And even though it’s 2007 (in season 2) and this is a satirical comedy show where nothing is real, it’s not treated as a joke. I mean, they make jokes about it, it’s not a romantic drama or anything, but it’s like a genuine romantic subplot and not just a joke about how it would be funny if Rob Brydon were gay.

I remembered that today, and then I thought that’s an interesting fever dream I had a few years ago, I wonder why I came up with that. But no, I took the internet and confirmed that this did happen. That shouldn’t really have required confirmation, since it’s only been a few years since I watched it and that shouldn’t be long enough to forget it exists, but it’s such an odd thing that I did briefly, honestly wonder if I’d made it up.

I downloaded it today, thought I might re-watch some. Because I recall it being pretty funny, but I don’t recall much else about it even though I watched it fairly recently (early 2021, I think, maybe late 2020), probably because most of it would have gone over my head. I know it’s full of self-referential in-jokes about the British TV industry/comedy industry/celebrity world circa 2006-2007 – possibly enough in-jokes about that sort of thing to be annoying to the average discerning viewer. But I am not the average discerning viewer, and I tend to like that sort of in-joke thing even though I know it’s not the exactly the highest form of comedy, and for some reason I also happen to have an obsession with British comedy circa 2006-2007. I’m sure I missed a lot of references when I first watched it that I’d be more likely to get now that I have spent more time obsessively learning about British comedy circa 2006-2007. Also, I have no TV shows to watch at the moment, and I don’t really want to start one I’ve not seen before right now because that would require focus, so this seems like a fun thing to re-watch. Not necessarily in its entirety, but at least skimming it enough to confirm it happened.

Does anyone else remember this? Has anyone else seen it? Are we sure it’s not a fever dream I had? Because what I’m remembering, particularly that business in season 2, was really quite strange.

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beauty-and-passion · 1 year

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Eurovision 2023: 38 songs, first impressions

Wake up, bitches, it’s Eurovision time… AGAIN!

There’s only one word I can use to describe my first listening of the year of those 38 songs and it’s “surprising”. I was surprised. In more ways than one.

So let’s not waste any more time and let’s talk about these songs.

As per every year, obligatory disclaimer: I have listened to these songs just once, so do not take my words as my final decision. I can still change my mind, after listening to them more times. But for now, here are my thoughts.

__________

ITALY

I know half of Italy will kill me and the other half will tell me I understand nothing, but I don’t particularly like Mengoni. He’s not a bad singer, he has a good voice and the song isn’t bad either. It’s just... okay. Maybe the chorus could’ve been more powerful. Maybe he could’ve written something different than another love song. I just don’t particularly vibe with it.

Vote: just okay

__________

LATVIA

Well, since he asked so kindly, I won’t wake up and I’ll keep sleeping during this boring song.

Vote: Be careful what you ask for

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UNITED KINGDOM

Here’s the first surprise of this year. The UK sent a great song: not just a good one, not just an okay one. A great one. And I love it! It has a lot of 90s dance vibes, but only the best ones and I approve.

Also, I love that this song is a revenge. Why feel bad or make a scene, when you can expose your cheating boyfriend through a song everyone can listen/dance to? Way to go, queen.

Vote: Revenge is best served in the UK

__________

SLOVENIA

Last year’s song was a snoozefest, this year is way better. I still forgot it after my first listening and it’s not in my top 10 either, but at least I can listen to it more than once without falling asleep.

Also, extra points for singing again in their native language. Great job, Slovenia, you deserve points just for that.

Vote: singing in your language should automatically give you access to the finals. That’s the rule, I decided it

__________

ICELAND

That’s not a bad song, but it’s something already listened to. I mean, at first I thought it was Sweden’s entry, because of how generic it sounded.

At least it’s better than last year.

Vote: I miss the BDSM club from two years ago

__________

CROATIA

A sudden vibe. Mentions of mothers and tractors. Armageddon-granny. Morons. I glanced at the video and saw a Stalin-looking guy. Funny weirdos dancing. The fricking alphabet. The war. And then, the line: “That little psychopath”. And I was like: wait, is this a parody of Stalin?

And then, I started laughing.

It was pretty clear that there’s more than meets the eye in this song. So I searched for the meaning and found an interesting article on the Eurovision website, in which the band explained just a few details - like the tractor line: it is actually a reference to Belarus and Russia’s relationship (read it, it’s quite interesting).

I know some stupid people (read: the jury) won’t appreciate this song and that’s a shame because it deserves love. It follows the “Keep the Eurovision weird” memo, it has funny people, biting satire and all the vibes. What else do you need?

Vote: top 5 because I Say So

__________

PORTUGAL

Please remember that, when I listen to these songs the first time, I put the playlist on and do my chores while listening. So when I listened to this one, I thought it was very interesting and what a nice rhythm! That’s definitely an east European country. But which one?

And then, to my utter surprise, I checked the video title and saw it was Portugal’s entry.

I’ve always hated everything Portugal sent, because if it wasn’t bad, it was the most boring thing known to mankind.

But this year, a miracle happened. They finally (FINALLY!) sent a good song. A song with a rhythm and their own language.

I am baffled. What happened in Portugal? Did they wake up from a dream? Did everyone just regain their hearing? Did someone teach them what “rhythm” is?

Vote: A Christmas miracle in May! A Christmas miracle!

__________

MALTA

The sax got my attention, the rhythm kept me around.

Good job, Malta boy.

Vote: Maltese people are sorcerers because they always bring a good song.

__________

ROMANIA

Just to give you an idea of how forgettable is this song: when I finished listening to all 38 songs, I forgot it even existed. And I didn’t even realize it was Romania’s entry, until I checked again to write this post.

Vote: I miss the vampires

__________

POLAND

It’s not a bad song. It has a good rhythm, but it’s not this incredible. It’s just... okay?

I know I said this before, but this song also sounds like something I listened to before, so it’s only fitting.

Vote: I thought it was a bad entry from Spain. It ended up being a mediocre one from Poland

__________

SAN MARINO

That’s very kind of San Marino to bring something that will go to the bottom of the chart.

Vote: Someone should occupy those positions, after all

__________

AUSTRIA

A song about Edgar Allan Poe: this alone deserves top 5.

But if that’s not enough for you, the lyric is also a satire of the music industry and the rhythm is just too catchy to ignore it. Everyone should appreciate it.

Vote: Top 5 now

__________

AUSTRALIA

The song was bringing me joy, then the screamo moment gave me even more joy.

Great singer, great rhythm, great band, great everything. After some weak years, Australia brought back a great song and I’m in love once again.

Vote: the most European country of all shows us why we made a good choice inviting it to our party

__________

SERBIA

This is the second song about sleeping but while the first one made me want to go to bed, this one got my attention.

Also, it’s probably a reference to the current political situation - so the feeling is much more understandable.

In addition to that, the song has a perfect mix of creepiness, awareness and weirdness. And the lyric isn’t entirely in English either, which is always appreciated.

Vote: What did I say before? Native language -> instant finals. And this one is weird and interesting, so it deserves a good position too

__________

CZECH REPUBLIC

My sister won't stand in the corner Nor will she listen to you

I think these first two lines are enough to explain this song, its meaning and why it was blocked in Russia and Belarus 4 hours after the premiere.

If it’s not enough, consider that this song isn’t just in Czech, but in FOUR languages. It has parts in Ukrainian, Bulgarian and English too. It’s a literal Slavic hymn to the Slavic family.

And if it’s still not enough, then there’s also a great rhythm that will instantly get your attention.

This song doesn’t deserve the top because I say it, but because it’s a magnificent love letter to a Slavic country from its sister and a powerful scream against war.

Vote: This should be the winner. Period

__________

ISRAEL

The first mention of a unicorn made me think maybe I heard it wrong. The second mention left me puzzled.

And in the end, she didn’t even end up with a unicorn horn on her forehead. I’m disappointed.

Vote: I miss Czech already

__________

SWEDEN

As said before, when I listen to these songs for the first time, I don’t check the name or the country: I just put the playlist on. So when I listened to this one, I thought: “man, this is bad. The poor singer can’t even spell the words or reach her notes”.

Then I glanced at the video, read the name and found out it was Loreen.

I know half of the world will probably kill me, but I don’t like Loreen. I don’t think she’s this good. I’d much rather listen to a singer who can spell words and not mumble them for three minutes. She has good vocals, fine, but the words - or even the letters are non-existent. I have to read subtitles to understand what she’s trying to say. And she’s talking in English, not in some weird language.

But even if she spoke in another language… how’s that possible I can’t understand A SINGLE LETTER? I can understand letters in languages I don’t know, why she’s the only one I can’t understand? What, I’m deaf only to her? Or she’s the one who’s not able to properly spell words?

And before any of you says anything: I know she did the same during Euphoria, but at least I could get some words during the chorus. This time? I literally have no idea what she said. I can’t even tell you a single letter. Not a word, a LETTER. To me, she sounds drunk. Or like a person who doesn’t know English and is trying to repeat the words of an English song, without knowing them.

The world loves her and she will probably get a high position in the final chart because her and because Sweden is everyone’s favourite even when it brings trash. But if someone from another country brought this, they would never go past the semifinals. Just saying.

Vote: stop mumbling, sis, I can’t understand a single thing

__________

FRANCE

Great song, again! Amazing rhythm, lyrics in French (as they should rightfully be), and a singer with a lot of style. It deserves a good place and lots of love.

Vote: flat hat my beloved

__________

THE NETHERLANDS

The Netherlands did a miracle last year and brought a wonderful song in their own language. This year they forgot everything they learned and brought a generic ballad in English.

Next.

Vote: :(

__________

ARMENIA

She wrote a song for her future lover. And maybe it’s her voice, maybe it’s the softness of the chorus, but I like the soft, innocent vibes it gives me.

Not my personal favorite, but it’s a heartwarming song with a nice rhythm and I don’t feel like making too much fun of it.

Vote: we can have a soft song, once in a while. As a treat

__________

FINLAND

Thank goddess, one of the Nordics got the memo to sing in their language and Finland delivered it with a great song!

The rhythm is on point, it makes you want to dance and the lyric is in Finnish, which makes me very happy, because I don’t remember having listened to it before.

Vote: what a pleasant surprise!

__________

SPAIN

The title itself is a noise, the song contributed to it.

It gave me a headache and it’s a shame because the rhythm is good, it’s in Spanish and it could’ve been way more enjoyable with fewer vocals.

Vote: EYAYAYEYAYYEAYEAYEYAEYAEAE

__________

GEORGIA

I had the biggest deja-vu while listening to this song because it sounds like something I’ve already listened but I don’t remember exactly when.

I just remember it sounded better from start to end and not only during the chorus.

Vote: could’ve been better

__________

LITHUANIA

Thank you, Lithuania, for bringing your language once again. I truly appreciate it - even if it’s mixed with English.

If you bring a good song too next time, I would be even more grateful.

Vote: after Portugal’s miracle, I believe everyone can bring a good song

__________

UKRAINE

When I listened to it, I thought it was Sweden. And then, to my utter surprise, it was Ukraine.

The guy is a good singer. And I checked the lyric too: pretty good, message loud and clear.

But that’s not the Ukrainian rhythm. It has nothing of Ukraine, except for a few lines. And I know they probably wanted something different, but this… this is too bland and generic. This is forgettable, while the previous years have been amazing.

I don’t know, maybe they didn’t want to win again, but just to deliver a powerful message?

Vote: it could’ve been way WAY better, considering it’s coming from Ukraine

__________

SWITZERLAND

Last year, Switzerland brought a song that was more of a torture, rather than a song. This year, they learned from their mistakes and gave us something amazing.

The singer is young, but he has a mature voice and a powerful message. The lyric is perfect in its simplicity. And the rhythm isn’t bad either.

Vote: good job, Switzerland! A couple of years like this and I may forgive you for that torture you brought last year

__________

AZERBAIJAN

And there it is, my second deja-vu. I am sure I already listened to this song once, the rhythm is just too familiar.

Vote: Not cool, Azerbaijan. Not cool.

__________

GREECE

Greece should be banished from Eurovision, until they learn they should bring the Greek language and Balkan rhythm back. Until that moment, they don’t deserve anything, especially if they deliver this boring ball of nothing.

Vote: at least this guy seems Greek, unlike the Nordic girl from last year

__________

CYPRUS

It’s another English song and it has nothing of the Balkan rhythm. AND YET, it’s better than the Greek one.

Vote: it’s still possible to write a good song if you try. And at least Cyprus is trying

__________

ALBANIA

It’s very... Albanian. And not in a bad way! The rhythm, the lyric, everything screams Albania and it does it in a way that makes this song interesting and worth listening to more times.

Vote: maybe not my favorite, but definitely more interesting than Greece and Cyprus

__________

BELGIUM

90s vibes again. And, once again, the best ones only.

Vote: Belgium always makes something worth the finals

__________

GERMANY

Germany finally realized what Eurovision is about: blood and glitter. And rock. And fire. And weirdness. And a surprisingly wholesome song.

I am in love with everything.

Vote: Germany is finally learning and I am proud of them

__________

IRELAND

Man-Curtain left Australia to reach Ireland and brought a song much more interesting compared to last year’s.

Vote: Ireland and Belgium, they always have an interesting entry

__________

MOLDOVA

And here to the left, you can see two of Eurovision’s most beloved traditions: Moldova bringing something weird/good and a song about a rave in the forest.

Moldova delivered hard and this song is immediately top 3. The rave, the vibes, the rhythm, the flute, accompanied by a good-looking guy and stunning women: everything is on point.

I'm in love.

Vote: Moldova always understands the assignment

__________

NORWAY

Two months ago I was on the internet, minding my own business, when I saw an AMV with a great song. I immediately fell in love and put it in my personal playlist. It was interesting and with great vibes how could I ignore it?

Now imagine my surprise when this song started and hey, the first notes sound familiar. Then the singer drops the first “she” and I immediately jumped up and said: “Wait, is this Queen of Kings?!”

So… do I like it? Heck, I liked this song even before knowing it was Norway’s entry, of course I like it! It’s one of my favorites! And yes, I still love it.

Vote: my opinion might change about the other songs, but be sure it won’t change about this one

__________

DENMARK

This guy is apparently a Tiktoker and this explains why the lyric sounds so perfect for that app and so bland in general.

It doesn’t explain why he looks so bored, tho.

Vote: when he bit his lip I cringed so hard, it went around the world and hit me again in the back

__________

ESTONIA

She has a great voice. But hey, some years ago Estonia sent a female soprano singer, so I suppose that great female voices are a must for them.

Also, the song is very nice, the rhythm is good and the message is good too. I would like to see it in the finals.

Vote: the piano isn’t on fire. But hey, at least it’s covered in roses.

#beauty talks about stuff #eurovision #eurovision 2023 #this year is going to be good #or at least decent #Ithere are very faw bad ones #the others are mediocre or acceptable #so it won't be a snoozefest #I hope

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adultswim2021 · 2 months

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Paid Programming: "Icelandic Ultrablue" | November 3, 2009 - 4:30AM | Infomercials

At this time I was a very diligent Adult Swim recorder. The idea that the network might, at any time, air something weird caused me to record entire blocks, “just in case” on my TiVo. I would then scan through everything and save anything that looked interesting or novel to a DVD-R. For a short time, I archived bumpers as completely as I could.

I would also pour over schedules and look for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. I can’t say this with certainty, but I feel like I must’ve seen “PAID PROGRAMMING” on a schedule or maybe on my TiVo program guide and thought “wait, Adult Swim doesn’t air PAID PROGRAMMING usually. I wonder if that’s going to be something?” And so, I recorded Paid Programming and, eventually, I watched it, and a few minutes in I heard what was clearly David Cross’s voice and thought “oh, okay. I get it. He’s trying to do something here.” And that was roughly how I’ve felt about this ever since.

This one is fairly auspicious for the fact that it's technically the first entry into Adult Swim’s celebrated (but wildly hit-and-miss) “Infomercials” series. The concept was that people watching at home would see “PAID PROGRAMMING” in their cable guide while flipping around and, of course, they’d turn right to it, awaiting an earnest infomercial trying to sell them the Phillips CD-I or something like that. But instead of that, you get something CRAZY and WEIRD and HILARIOUS! Is this crazy and weird and hilarious? Well, I guess those descriptors are in the eye of the beholder. But since this blog is about my beholding eye, I will answer: “nah, not really”.

The content is, roughly: an infomercial for what appears to be a miracle drug, whose applications are somewhat vague, other than it making you feel better or solving whatever terrible personal problem you have. This is hosted by a “doctor” (admittedly he’s just dressed as a doctor, and refers to his experience as “36 years” ”spent hanging out in the medical community”), who eventually introduces a jingle contest for the wonder drug. This leads into clips of various entries, which eventually leads to a video of the producer of the most professionally produced entry talking about the importance of air-filtration while producing music. This leads to an extended pitch for the Icelandic UltraBlue air-filtration system, which is illustrated with a cartoon where good air particles round up bad air particles in an over-the-top, Nazi holocaust-esque cartoon.

This is roughly how the rest of the show plays out: a commercial for one aspect of the Icelandic UltraBlue empire suddenly turns into a different commercial, usually for a different iteration of Icelandic UltraBlue. The previous sketch segues into a sketch about a cash-for-Nazi-gold place, which segues into a sketch about a medical office that specializes in removing splinters (the owner of this establishment casually wears a diaper, and it’s treated as a very normal thing. It’s one of two times I laughed), which segues into a commercial for an embalming fluid that keeps your beloved’s remains fresh for up to three months after passing, so you can continue hanging out with their corporeal form. This segues back into a jingle entry, which turns into a sketch about chest-rash cream set at a gay guy bar. There’s gross zoom-ins, awkward acting, macabre premises, sexual inappropriateness, transgressive invocations of touchy subjects, and, uh, well? Maybe two laughs. If you’re wondering what the other, non-diaper-related one was, it was the racial slur. I’m sorry.

The problem is, this very much feels like the writers (David Cross and H. Jon Benjamin) are trying very hard to approximate Tim & Eric’s entire carefully cultivated style of humor. The casting of awkward, borderline-amateur actors, the jokes about consumerism, the attention to verisimilitude, etc. There’s a little more Mr. Show-style satire thrown in, but the entire thing comes off as a pale imitation of either or both of those things. If one can glean a set of objectives from creating this (other than “it’s called PAID PROGRAMMING and it’s gonna MESS with people, man!!”) one could also easily observe Tim & Eric accomplishing those things much better, in a less forceful way.

The casting in particular is far less inspired than Tim & Eric’s; it runs the gamut of people who either seem like they themselves are trying to imitate pre-existing characters from Tim & Eric’s wack pack or at worst seem like they were poached from a low-level UCB class. Not that Tim & Eric are exactly pure in their intentions with their cast of “outsiders”, I sense more mean-spiritedness in hiring some guy, calling his character “Fatfuck” and having him wear a diaper.

This was retroactively deemed the first episode of “Infomercials”; a proof-of-concept that, for my money, exemplifies the worst aspects of the “miss” installments in the “hit and miss” tapestry of the Infomercials milieu. Wow, what a great, non-pretentous sentence I just wrote. Anyway, it feels especially pathetic to me that David Cross had previously put Mike Lazzo on blast for taking the concept of Paid Programming and running with it. I too, would feel wronged, but feigning any kind of pride over this is, well, I already used the word pathetic. But it’s pathetic.

David Cross is a person who I still respect and think can be brilliant. I even watched a few of his new video podcasts on YouTube. It was nice, like checking in on an old friend. Cross is one of those guys who, when many people discover him and become fans, seems impossibly funny and almost infallible. The more you become familiar with the whole package, the more you realize that he’s a pretty regular guy, who is capable of turning out bad work. He’s also not a particularly friendly person, and can rub people the wrong way very easily. I am not trying to damn him here; I find him to be uncomfortably relatable. Many of his flaws are also my flaws. I should basically be best friends with him. Unless he reads this, that is.

An illustrative example of his humor to me is the embalming fluid sketch. In it, a man uses it on his wife, who dies of a splinter. They both lay in bed, and he takes her hand, puts it in under the covers, and uses it to jack himself off with. I’m not knocking it for any other reason that I just found it to be not particularly funny; it’s an easy vulgar laugh.

A sketch from Mr. Show featured a similar gag; a riff on the song Monster Mash about a guy who is working through a traumatic mental breakdown from experiencing this horrifying monster party. While he’s confessing some sexual encounter or something, we cut to an “expert” who has been seen in talking-head segments watching this footage, furiously masturbating. I recall Cross proudly inserting this joke into the sketch, noting the big laugh it gets from the studio audience, despite apprehension from the other writers. Even as a teenager, I remember seeing that and thinking “I could do without that joke”. It’s too easy, and it just makes ME want to masturbate.

The episode ends (after a sketch set in a gay bar that already felt stale in 2009) with the “doctor”/host ominously talking into a wrist microphone that “phase one is complete”, and then it cuts to a “To Be Continued”. I reread the back-and-fourth between Cross and Lazzo, and he actually does mention his plans for the series arc: it’s aliens. Cool!

I don’t mean to minimize the Lazzo-theft accusations or imply that they aren’t valid. I also don’t mean to imply that David Cross is completely in the right, either. If I were in either of their shoes I’d feel like the other guy was slinging at least a little bit of bullshit at me. Cross’s specific gripe is that he pioneered the concept of airing the thing at 4AM with a deceptive title, which does make a little sense. Lazzo’s defense is tenuous at best, and sorta clouds that main issue.

But, I don’t know. It does sorta seem like the kind of idea a lot of people have had, but then deemed impractical. I’m sure other people have thought “wouldn’t it be cool to air a parody infomercial at the time actual infomercials air?” I guess I can’t think of anything else that’s really done that. The closest I could come up with were tongue-in-cheek infomercials that behaved like parodies of infomercials, but actually were unironically selling something. In 2003, The Ben Stiller Show came out on DVD, and they produced an infomercial called “Wake Up Your Smile”. The Beastie Boys did one in 1998 for Hello Nasty. Mystery Science Theater did one in 1996 hawking their mail-order VHS tapes. Hell, Adult Swim did actually produce an infomercial for Williams Street records, as noted on this blog. It sorta seems like the ingredients were all right there, man. You know?

Mr. Show did a fake infomercial too, as a best-of special for season one. Damn. I guess David Cross really did invent this shit.

MAIL BAG

handbananad writes:

I am so genuinely sorry you're stuck in titan maximum hell. At least it's almost over? Is it almost over? Was this one of those early 2000's shows with a 40 episode season and you're going to be here forever?

Thank you. The show is only 9 episodes (including a half-hour first episode), so that's a silver lining. But yeah, it feels much longer. But it is nice having a show that I can outwardly hate and gloss over defiantly. It also makes me appreciate Robot Chicken more, which is tough to do.

On the other hand, I'm real glad to be watching Venture Bros, but those write-ups are much more demanding. What's a blogger with readers in the single-digits to do?

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #paid programming #icelandic ultrablue

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kjwald · 2 months

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Kojiki, Phoenix Vol. 3

So it seems that Tezuka is criticizing Kojiki again and the idea of divine power. I feel like this volume of the Phoenix was much more interesting than volume 1. I was actually invested in the relationships. I was shipping Kajika and Oguna, so I am glad they ended up together in the end, but dang were there are a lot of problems.. like Oguna killing her brother and them dying in the tomb. Yikes. I also found that Kajika was dressed quite scandalously. I feel like this is yet again another instance of a female dressed this way in media, which I do not enjoy. She also is kind of seen as weaker, but I guess there was that one scene where she holds the sword to that guy. Anyway, as much as I shipped them at first, I'm surprised that she still loved him after he killed her brother.. like wow. I personally do not think I could do that.

Tezuka's criticism of the prince is quite obvious. The king is shown trying to built a tomb with many sacrifices, and it is seen as futile and almost evil. The protestors are shown, and the king's greed is also conveyed when he says that he was tourists viewing his tomb too. Tezuka also directly says that if Takeru publishes the historical account, then the King's people will look like "the laughing stock of the world." He is commenting on how the greed and absolute, divine power the rulers had were not of any actual power and would be seen as unserious.

We even see references to modern technology to satirize this history. For example, Kajika's brother wants PR and commercials to promote allies.

You can see how Tezuka thought of Kojiki and historical records as one-sided and bias. They do not truly represent history. There is the idea that you only see the winner's side of history, and that is true most of the time. Another example of this can be seen with Queen Himiko. Scholars from long ago and those from other countries wrote her as someone who only got her power through divinity, manipulation, and her brother, when in reality, this could be completely different and only the views of those that did not believe in or like female rulers.

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heartbeatbookclub · 2 months

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It's 2 am as I start this, and I feel the need to put pen to paper on this thought, so to speak, because it's something I think about with relative frequency.

This is going to be more of a personal musing on my experience with Doki Doki Literature Club, and why it had such an impact on me when I first played it, as opposed to any more concrete analysis, so I guess you can keep reading if you want to know more about me as a person and my overall personal relationship to it.

Something I think about often in reference to DDLC is its status simultaneously as a satire on visual novels and all of the tropes therein, as well as a love letter to that genre, explicitly. It's very readily apparent if you've played a good few "weeb" visual novels that it very much fits that bill. I think my first experience with it makes it especially funny in that respect.

To give context, I first experienced Doki Doki Literature Club like a month or two after it came out, in a Skype call (shows how old I am) with 2 or 3 of my friends. During this period of my life, me and this small group of friends spent lots and lots of time just hanging out in Skype calls like this, doing whatever we pleased, spending time well into the next morning just enjoying each other's presence and seeing what fun shenanigans we could get into on the internet.

One frequent passtime of ours was playing visual novels. Not just any visual novels, no; we went looking for the most low effort, mediocre, low hanging fruit of visual novels we could download for free. The goal wasn't to enjoy a good story, the goal was to find something amusingly bad, whether in cliched, awkward, lazy writing, or in sheer absurdity. I still do this sometimes, though it's admittedly with a different thought in mind now.

I don't think this perception we had of visual novels, being that they're typically sloppy, cringe-inducing messes is necessarily uncommon even now, but it was especially common back then. It was "weeb shit", simple as, but even deeper than your typical weeb shit. The perception was something like watching High School DxD unironically; it's just weird.

And I don't really think the perception of visual novels being that way is necessarily inaccurate; there is a very low bar to entry to actually creating a visual novel just by the nature of the medium, so really, anyone with enough passion for a project and time on their hands can make one. As a consequence, there are a few egregiously bad visual novels, there are a few really excellent visual novels, but there are a great many just sort of okay, somewhat mediocre visual novels, and lots of visual novels created with not so honorable goals in mind.

And one thing we really enjoyed was just exploring what existed in the depths of unpopular visual novels slipping through the cracks of what people saw. For most of it, we were making fun of it, but there were a lot of points where we found stories which were mediocre, but ended up really enjoying our experience with it. I think an important thing to understand with that lower barrier to entry is that it enables people who really are passionate about telling a story to tell a story that has a lot of heart, and you can see all of that heart as a diamond within the rough of the actual construction. Even in VNs with more polish, typically there are still cracks right around the edges, where you can see just a little bit of the humanity that goes into it. It's sort of magical.

And Doki Doki Literature Club was an odd edge case, which successfully played with all of my perceptions of it. DDLC is probably the only game whose story is reliant on a plot twist where I actually went in completely blind. By all appearances, it was a silly little visual novel made with no sense of irony, and I spent a great deal of time laughing at its contents, completely unaware that they were in on the joke.

And my perception of it being this way I feel like colored a lot of what happened next when I looked into it. I forget exactly when our playthrough ended--we didn't make it to any of the deeper stuff, I watched a Let's Play for that--and I forget how the whole series of events following that went, but somehow or another, I learned of some of the true nature. Namely I saw what happened to Sayori.

It reminded me of Corpse Party, when I actually thought about it.

I'm not going to go deep in depth on all of my thoughts about Corpse Party nor any of its history, but to be frank, Corpse Party reeeally sits in that realm of "mediocre, but lots of heart" to me. I don't really think Corpse Party is very good, particularly elaborating on a lot of the lore, but I really enjoyed it when I first experienced it, and it's still something I occasionally like looking back over. It's deliciously dark, and is extremely effective at creating an oppressive atmosphere out of what's ostensibly a collection of happy warm anime character tropes with little serious personality outside them.

So when I say that Sayori's death reminded me of Corpse Party, I mean that the way it paired playing the happy warm visual novel setting straight with extremely grim subject matter was done well.

Really, there were only a few other examples of this kind of media I could think of that really effectively utilized the exact kind of gut punch that DDLC did. Everything about the way the game framed itself around it, up until the final plot twist, really did feel like they were just elements of a visual novel playing themselves out. Sayo-nara really sets that tone for me--it still gives me chills sometimes when I hear it, because it sounds perfectly like what a "Bad Ending" theme for that kind of ending would likely sound like. It plays itself remarkably well into creating the setting, it really effectively feels like it is a normal visual novel falling apart at the seams.

I think that, more than anything, is why DDLC made such an impact on me when I first experienced it (which is remarkably different than the kind of mark it leaves on me now), it played so effectively with a genre I was so familiar with, and simultaneously played "mediocre visual novel with lots of heart" straight while also completely knocking "deep and terrifying existential horror" out of the park.

It's hard to truly describe, but there's just so much that feels so right about DDLC just being as it is. There's such a unique quality to the way it's written, to the way it's constructed, that goes down to its bones. It feels like that exact brand of junk food media you go to visual novels for. You don't necessarily want to think too deeply about the characters, or the setting of the story, or any of the deeper themes surrounding it; you just want to experience a nice story with some anime girls.

And then it yanks the rug out from under you, and makes you think it's junk food media with a side of deep and disturbing horror.

And then it yanks the second rug out from under that one, making you realize it's something much, much deeper.

I think something else it really appealed to, to me, was just that sense of being on the edge of the world which most indie games of that sort always give me. There are a shitload of examples I could give for this, but this sense I'm describing is the opposite of the sense which games like Undertale give me. Undertale's world feels lived in, it feels like it exists in a much, much wider concept of a great, sprawling world where billions of people live.

DDLC feels like you and the 4 girls in it are the only people in the universe. There are all of these environments you inhabit which ostensibly have other people who pass through them, live in them, there are implications of people, but inside this world, there's only you.

I think it just appeals to my desire to be transported to a complete other world for a little while. A limited space, where only things important to this experience exist, for this pure feeling of emotional catharsis. And that's something a lot of these sorts of simple visual novels appeal to; the goal isn't necessarily to tell some deeper story, it's just to present beats as they happen. DDLC takes that, and plays with it, both in a textual sense, as though these fictional characters exist and are somehow aware they're fictional, and in a meta sense, by directly playing around with your expectations and the way the entire thing is framed.

Or something like that.

Fun fact 1: Doki Doki Literature Club (specifically Sayo-Nara, still one of the few songs I can play entirely by memory) is what got me to start learning piano. I taught myself to play, and started mostly with the DDLC soundtrack (Which is very simple to play by ear, by the way, it's pretty much entirely C major.)

Fun fact 2: What initially inspired this thought was this video, which really reminded me of other visual novels we/I played that would utilize this particular style of music.

#musings #it's hard to really put into words the vibe i always get about it #it's something i'd really like to just capture in a bottle and keep stored somewhere #there's something to it that's inextricably tied to a lot of what my life was like when i was a teenager #there's a lot which is tied to what my relationships with people when i was younger is built on #there's a lot which builds the kind of person i am today both in writing and in personality #we're sort of just on this earth to experience shit #and this sure is something to experience #i think this is why i typically have such a 'meh' opinion about a lot of specific details to how things are constructed in fanworks #like dialogue and actions not being perfectly suited to how it would be written if it was canon #and i'm not saying i write like canon or that those are bad because they're not canon or anything like that #it's just like #i want SPECIFICALLY more of ddlc. so if you aren't specifically more of ddlc and are instead your own thing i'm not really that interested #not typically anyway #i feel like i'm losing a lot of what i want to say in translation #but i hope i've sorta conveyed a lot of my thoughts on the matter #as a visual novel i really enjoy ddlc and it really does play its genre well #and also as a story outside of the visual novel part i enjoy ddlc a lot #more regular analyses & thoughts coming soonish.......#shout out to me as a teenager lying on the floor listening to sayo-nara and feeling The FeelsTM for hours

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mastomysowner · 7 months

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Prequel to a movie about Ken

This is a translation of this Barbie review. I think it's funny, and it matches with my impressions of the movie in many ways. Ken was certainly done dirty. So the movie starts with kids smashing the heads of child dolls. Yeah, I got the reference, but I also saw how in the very first frames children smash children's heads. Well, that is, this is how the movie which takes place in the land of living dolls begins. The pointless reference is over, we can move on to the next scenes. And then we see Barbie. Well, we’ll never know what kind of Barbies there are for the most part, but the main Barbie is a smug fool completely devoid of empathy. Let's say she should be like that, OK. There is an interesting paradox here - this Barbie begins to feel discomfort only because someone in the real world (as it later turns out) is playing with her and GIVING Barbie this discomfort, but Ken, for example, feels discomfort without any outside manipulation. And when you suddenly realize that in the first scenes Ken already looks much deeper and more interesting than Barbie (because he suffers without “outside help”), you can’t help but think: who is this movie about?

Next, the situation becomes even more interesting. Barbie continues to be an object of manipulation, while Ken, changing according to his own (!) desire, is trying to fix something in his world! So, once again: who and what is this film about?

And then it gets even more interesting. World of Kens. OK, satire, I understand; it's good and of high quality. But notice that we see different Kens. Moreover, Kens quarrel, fight, dance (their dances are one of the most striking scenes), and... they themselves find a way to not escalate their conflict, while Barbie (both the main one and others) turns out to be incapable of anything like that! Is this really a movie about Barbie? Because if the authors thought it is “about Barbie”, then no, Barbie is boring, Barbie is a hysterical fool, incapable of anything on her own. Maybe this is some kind of complex satire on Barbie? I suspect it's not satire, it's just poorly thought out. This is an unprofessional lack of thought, stuffed with scattered “iconic references”.

OK, let's look at this from a different perspective.

Let's say Barbieland is an anti-our world, doll matriarchy. This already smacks of satire on the ideas of matriarchy, but oh well. Let’s say that by matriarchy we mean patriarchy, and the men "there" are kinda like the women "here". But the men “there” - represented by Ken - don't want “different professions” or “freedom of elections”, no - they just wanna hang out with women. And if in “Barbie” by men they mean women, then... The story is stepping on its own tail again. Or is the “re-seizure” of power another satire? This time on a society where half the population is not taken into account when voting, so the “other side” of the population wins. But isn’t there too much satire that leads nowhere? (Which, again, is not satire, but just the authors' inability.) OK, let's say that none of this matters, and “Barbie” is just a cute nonsense with dancing and running men, but... then how and why did this simple buffoonery include accusations of fascism, pretentious monologues about the purpose of women and children smashing children’s heads? Did the authors really want to make a post-modern farce where they make fun of literally everything? I seriously doubt it. That’s why it doesn’t work out. Nothing adds up: no satire on the “cult of Barbie,” no denunciation of the entertainment industry, no condemnation of "patriarchy"/methods of combating it. It's not even just a funny film with stupid jokes. I wonder why, did the filmmakers want to please everyone too much, without forgetting about themselves or current trends? And yeah, about “fascism”: feminist Barbie sounds as cringe as Zionist Hitler. PS

If the filmmakers had any wit, then after escaping from Barbieland, Barbie would have met in the “real world”... a doll gynecologist. Screwed by the Matrix, in short. But again - no.

There are also a few interesting lines from this review that I wanna quote:

In the beginning, Ken is a synonym for slave. He only has good days when Barbie turns her gaze to him.

In the middle, “- What time is it? - You respect me?" speaks volumes about Ken's psychology, built over the years in Barbieland. *TL note: that was ultra sad to watch. Such a crushed self-worth goes far beyond patriarchy this, feminism that (worth noting that he has no female counterpart in this regard). Btw, after returning to Barbieland he's wearing three wrist watches.*

“Ken isn't something we're worried about. Ever." from the lips of the company's management adds color.

And at the end, Ken returns back to his slavery, in the world where Barbie/women reign supreme.

Ken is not liked by Barbie, not liked by his creators, and not even liked by himself. *TL note: It's nice that he was told at the end that he's enough, but is this really enough to make up for the damage already done? Barbie freed (for lack of a better word) him, among other reasons, because she didn't want to live as part of the Barbie and Ken franshise and didn't want to reciprocate his feelings. Kens have tasted power, so Barbies are going to make some concessions, but what exactly will change in Ken's life and the attitude of others around him? There are states from which it's very hard/impossible to pull yourself out by your own hair, like Baron Munchausen. Maybe Ken'll be treated like Gloria's husband, who gets cheated on, scolded like a boy by his wife and daughter and left behind when they're having an adventure of a lifetime? Well, he's Kenough, so he can now be sold as his own doll line, duh.*

At the same time, he is presented as the main antagonist with a distorted perception of a man - both by himself and by women.

#barbie 2023 #barbie movie #ken barbie #review

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not-a-space-alien · 2 years

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All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 2: Doxxed

There's a good reason why you're not supposed to feed the trolls...

As always thanks to my collaborator @static-stars and my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight! <3 And special thanks to @ratcatcher0325 for some beta reading as well!!

Story masterpost

AO3 link

P.S. To stave off the inevitable tidal wave of references to this I'm sure is coming: Yes, Mr. Crocker from Fairly Odd Parents exists, hahahaha hilarious

Thistle’s phone sat in the center of the table, with Marcy, Teddy, and Colin sitting at the chairs on three sides. Thistle sat at the fourth place, sitting on the table with his wings folded close to his body, shoulders hunched. His leg bounced nervously.

Marcy had a stormy look on her face, hands clasped in front of her.

“Okay, so he doesn’t know exactly where we live,” said Colin. “Right?”

“I don’t think so,” said Marcy. “But the incident at the electronics store was so nearby, it’s–”

“I’m sorry,” said Thistle, for the millionth time.

Marcy held her hand out. He shut his mouth.

“What were you thinking?” said Teddy.

Thistle found his shoes very interesting. “I–I don’t know. I’m sorry. I guess–It just made me nervous to see–that he was telling everyone, and–and I guess I thought I could get him to take it down–”

“All right,” said Colin. “It’s already happened, so now we just have to deal with it.”

Marcy said, “We deleted all his comments, and we combed through everything on all his profiles on every site for identifying information.”

“We deleted a lot,” said Thistle shame-facedly. “I never posted anything about my location though. I swear.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but who knows what those computer people can do these days.” He stroked his chin as though he’d said something particularly insightful.

“Who is this guy?” said Teddy. “You said the employee who saw Thistle was being interviewed?”

“He’s a conspiracy theorist of some kind,” said Marcy. She’d watched a few of his videos, but had to stop because it felt like her brain was melting. She picked Thistle's phone up, scrolling. “It’s all bullshit, but there’s no way this is satire or a joke. He’s too committed to it. But I don’t know how anyone believes it. I mean, look at this stuff.”

“Oh god,” said Teddy, “he has multiple videos about how Trump won the 2020 election.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Colin, “What was that about–stem cells from abortions being used in–”

“That’s antisemitism,” said Teddy, pointing to a video Marcy nearly scrolled past. “That’s a dog whistle in the title.”

“That’s what most of it is like,” said Marcy, taking the phone back. “But he has a few videos about the ‘truth’ being hidden from the public on supernatural creatures. Mostly it’s about demons, but there’s some other stuff too. This is his first video about fairies. Or more specifically, 'tiny people in the walls.'"

“What was that?” said Colin. “The thumbnail was a snake skeleton.”

Marcy rolled her eyes. “He claims to have a naga skeleton.” She brought up the clip and paused it, zooming in. “How are there so many people eating this dumb shit up? This is clearly some sort of monkey skeleton put onto a ball python. There was a fake mermaid in the Barnum museum made the same way.”

“Actually,” said Thistle, very quietly, “Those are real.”

All three giants looked down at him incredulously.

“Once when I was young, a snake monster found our nest and ate two of my older siblings. We were able to drive it off, but we had to just up and move to a new tree miles away to get away from it. That’s what it looked like. Torso like ours. Snake instead of legs. They’re about that size, too.”

Teddy burst into nervous laughter. “Oh great. Great. Some batshit insane conspiracy theorist happens to be right about our particular slice of the unbelievable.”

“We don’t know that he’s going to come here,” said Marcy hopefully.

“He was here,” said Teddy, almost hysterical. “Look, he’s in the shopping center in this video.”

Colin put an arm around her. “It’s all right, Teddy bear, don’t freak out. We can deal with this.”

“There’s no way he could get our address,” said Marcy. “Right? Unless…”

“It’s on your mobile account,” said Teddy. “The one you added Thistle to, right? Does the employee he interviewed have access to it?”

“He–he’s surely not supposed to give that information out,” said Marcy.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t.”

They all grimaced.

“Well… his branding is good, I’ll give him that,” said Teddy.

His logo was a cartoon alligator with a magnifying glass, with the word InvestiGator underneath of it. It was so ridiculous that Marcy couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

“This is fucking stupid,” she said. “I can’t believe this.”

“Aaaaand of course he’s into cryptocurrency,” said Teddy with a scowl.

“It’s–it’s called fucking—” Marcy was having trouble getting words out between peals of overwhelmed laughter. “Fucking–TruthCoin, and–and he’s selling alligator NFTs.”

“How did someone so wrong about everything else get this one specific thing so exactly right?” said Teddy.

“I don’t like this one bit,” said Colin. “This guy is nothing but trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” said Thistle, voice wobbly.

The laughter stopped at his serious tone, and all three giants looked down at him again.

“If–if–if–if it’ll fix this, I’ll leave if–if you want me to.”

Marcy's looming hand reached over to Thistle. He shrunk back a little. She picked him up by the back of his shirt and plopped him into her outstretched hand. “I think you're a little too eager to sacrifice yourself at every opportunity.”

“But I made–but I put everyone in danger.”

Colin rolled his eyes. He got up and walked over to the front door, pulling it open. “Well, go on, then. Leave.”

Thistle's face crumpled.

“I'm kicking you out. We hate you now, and we think you deserve to get eaten by the neighbor's annoying dog.”

Thistle stared at him, baffled, eyes glazed over. “You–are you being serious?”

“Of course not!” He slammed the door shut. “Does that sound like something any of us would say? No? So stop treating us like we're heartless monsters. You’re our little buddy. We’re not going to kick you out.”

Thistle wiped his eyes and looked down.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” said Teddy gently. “...Even if it’s a stupid mistake, it doesn’t mean you deserve to be abandoned.”

Marcy brought her other hand over and folded it over him, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It isn’t the end of the world, Ardo. We’ll deal with whatever happens together, okay?”

He grabbed her pointer finger, giving it a squeeze back.

***

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Marcy tried to ignore Colin’s increasingly annoyed shouts from upstairs as the neighbor’s dog continued to bark intermittently. “I get one day off to sleep in with my girlfriend and you wake me up! Shut up!!”

Marcy laced her shoes up, looking down at Thistle, parked by her ankle.

“Okay,” she said. “Teddy and Colin are both home today, so if anything happens they can deal with it. Okay?”

He nodded. “Right. I…I think I’m going to go upstairs to their bedroom until they get up for the day.”

“Good thinking.” She brushed his jaw delicately with one finger. “There might not even be anything to worry about, okay?”

He nodded.

Marcy reached over and held Thistle’s phone up. “Now do you want me to leave this here today?”

He wrung his hands. “Uh…No, I think–I think you take it with you again.”

“Okay.” She slipped it into her bag. “Have Colin and Teddy text me occasionally to check in, then.”

“I will.”

There came a holler from upstairs: “Marcy, when you go out, drag that stupid dog back to Kristi’s house.”

“Okay, Colin!” She leaned over and plucked Thistle off her pant leg, where he’d started to climb up. She gave him a kiss on the top of his head. “Have a good day.”

“You too!”

She set him on the bannister, and he scrabbled up it into Teddy and Colin’s bedroom. She watched him go, then turned and opened the front door.

There was a man with a white van parked nearby their driveway–just enough that he was still technically on public property. The neighbor’s dog was standing in front of him, tail wagging, occasionally barking.

Marcy stood frozen in the doorway. Oh God. The beard. The stupid beard. It’s–

“Hey!” said the man, giving a friendly wave. “Is this your dog?”

Marcy stepped out onto the porch and slammed the door behind her, locking it. She saw that the adjacent window was open, so she quickly stepped over and shut it, too.

“He’s cute!” said the newcomer as the dog stood with paws on his thighs, jumping up on him.

Feeling numb, Marcy drew near. “Uh–No–No, he’s–he belongs to the neighbor.”

“What’s his name?”

“B…Buster…”

“Cute. He’s cute.” The man lifted the dog gently and plopped him onto the ground. “Ahem, ah, are you Marcella Lester?”

“Uh…” Marcy broke into a cold sweat. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

He put a hand to his chest, smirking. “Not formally. My name is Robert, I host a show on YouTube where I go on fact-finding missions. Can I ask you some questions?”

Marcy decided that the distance she’d already walked was close enough, and stopped. “What–What kinds of questions?”

“What’s the stuff in this truck bed? This yours?” He tapped Colin’s truck with his foot, nodding towards the grass-stained equipment in the back.

“That’s–That’s Colin’s, he works in landscaping.”

“Really? That’s cool. A likely story. It’s interesting that you’re both at home and not at work at 9AM on a Monday. Courtesy of the taxpayers, I’m sure. Will you tell me about your work?”

Marcy’s heart started to pound. “Uh, mine?”

“Yeah! Unless you have something to hide about it?” He leaned in. “Do you?”

Marcy’s voice squeaked despite her best attempts to not be intimidated. “Excuse me for one moment I need to go to go I’llberightbackstayrightthere.”

She sprinted back to the porch, jamming her key into the door and whirling back inside. She did up the deadbolt, then walked over and locked the window and pulled the curtain shut. “Colin!” she yelled, moving to the living room and locking the windows there. “Colin! Teddy! Help!”

Colin appeared on the stairs in a flash. Marcy turned back around when she saw he was only in his boxers, hairy chest fully out. “Woah!” she said, covering her eyes.

“Dammit Marcy, don’t yell like that unless someone is actively attacking you.” Colin darted back upstairs. “I’ll be right there.”

Thistle’s face appeared at the top of the stairs, peering over the top step.

“Go hide in the sock drawer,” said Marcy. “Don’t come out until I come get you. Don’t look outside. Don’t come out. Don’t make a sound.”

He darted away, zigzagging to avoid Teddy’s feet as she came out next. “What is it?” she said, drawing her robe around herself.

“He’s here,” said Marcy. “YouTube guy. Crocodile guy. Fucking guy.”

Teddy’s eyes boggled. “Well, tell him to leave!”

“But how?”

“Just go outside and say ‘Please leave!’”

“But what if he gets mad?”

Colin reappeared on the stairs, this time in pants. “What did he do so far?”

Marcy started to drape the blanket from the couch onto Thistle’s little house and his craft station in the living room, to hide them. “He just kinda asked me to talk.”

“Well, why don’t you go talk to him?”

“Are you crazy?” said Teddy. “No, nope. Talking with those kinds of people always backfires. Just politely tell him to leave. Ah!”

This last exclamation was prompted by the appearance of the newcomer’s face in the little window at the top of the front door. Marcy whipped around, suddenly worrying if she’d shouted at Thistle to go hide loudly enough that he could hear.

“Just tell him whatever it takes to get him to go away,” said Colin. “Go on.”

Marcy bit her lip. “Uh. Okay.”

Drawn by the commotion, Mochi was stretching in the entryway when Marcy walked back over. She picked Mochi up to stop her from darting out, then opened the door a crack.

“Woah, cute cat!” said Robert. He extended a finger and rubbed Mochi’s head. Mochi leaned into it, eyes squinting. Traitor.

“All right,” said Marcy. “Look, I’m sorry but I’m really busy, I was just on my way to work–”

“It won’t take long.” Robert put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any of my videos?”

“Uh…”

“Well, I’m just putting together a follow-up to an interview I had recently in this area. It was pretty closeby to where I live, so I figured it could pop over for some fact-finding.”

“I don’t think I can–”

“Sure you can!”

“But-”

“What exactly do you study at your job? You work for the government, don’t you?”

Marcy rubbed the back of her head. “Look, I’m not really comfortable answering that.”

Robert nodded, tongue in his cheek. “Mm-hmm. You have an NDA?”

“A–A what? An ND–No, I don’t have one. Look, can you, can you please leave?”

“Sure, I’ll be out of your hair fast enough. Have you seen anything unusual in this area recently? Have you ever seen–”

“For God’s sake!” Colin’s shout echoed distantly. Marcy felt him before she saw him, shoving past Marcy to lean into the doorframe. “Get off my porch!”

Robert’s hand came from out of his pocket where it had been resting, holding a phone that was already recording.

Oh of course. Of course. Now he starts recording.

“Sir, I’m just asking questions,” said Robert. “What’s wrong with that? You don’t think freedom of speech should be–”

“Go speak freely on someone else’s porch,” Marcy snapped. “Leave me alone.”

“Aha!” said Robert. “You seeing this? This government scientist refusing to answer my questions, avoiding the issue, harassing me, threatening me, covering up the truth. I’m getting this all on film. You’re being filmed.”

“This is private property,” said Marcy. “Please leave. I’m not saying you can’t ask questions, but–”

“I am,” said Colin. “Get off my property.”

“Call the police then,” said Robert. “We’ll have a nice discussion with them, I’m sure.”

“If you don’t get off my fucking porch soon you’ll wish I’d called the police instead of what I’m about to do to you,” Colin hissed with shocking venom, getting right up into Robert’s face.

“I got this all on video, you see this? Threatening me over just looking for the truth.” He said this with the same amount of bravado, but he’d begun to slowly back down the front steps off the porch.

Colin grabbed Marcy’s arm and pulled her inside, slamming the door and locking it. “Jesus Christ,” he said, rubbing his temples. “What part of ‘tell him to go away’ didn’t you understand?”

“I did! He didn’t listen!”

“Whatever.” In the ensuing pause, Robert could be heard talking to his camera, but his voice was gradually getting further away as he presumably moved back towards his van. That was a relief, at least.

“Sorry,” said Marcy awkwardly.

Colin sighed. “Okay. Whatever. Teddy?”

“Yeah?” She was still standing at the top of the stairs. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“You’re right as always, dear. Is T okay?”

“He hasn’t come out.”

“I’ll go get him,” said Marcy.

Teddy padded down the stairs to stand next to Colin, who was watching out the window through parted blinds. Marcy paused to peek out the upstairs window; the interloper was sitting in his parked van, still talking to the camera. Overwhelming, irrationally intense hatred boiled over inside her immediately. She walked forward and closed that curtain.

She made double sure that her bedroom blinds were closed and closed her door before doing anything. “Thistle, it’s me, it’s safe to come out.”

When she got no response, she extended a hand and gently rolled her sock drawer open. Thistle was hard to spot, but there was one particular pile of socks that quivered slightly. She reached down and touched it gently, and it jumped. “Are you okay?”

Thistle rose up from under the pile. His face was splotchy, his cheeks streaked with tears, ugly-crying with snot running down from his nose. “N-no.”

Marcy gave a tsk and scooped him up. He balled up in her hand, shaking. “It’s okay,” she said. “We got him to leave.”

“Please don’t kick me out,” said Thistle. He was in the throes of a panic attack like he hadn’t had in a long time, imagining how much easier it would be for Marcy to just open the door and toss him out to face the consequences of his own actions than it would be to try and untangle the mess he’d made. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

“Hey, hey, hey, relax.” She wiped his cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I’m not going to kick you out.”

“But-but I–I f–I led a predator back to the nest.”

It suddenly snapped into place for Marcy–Thistle’s seemingly overeager offer to sacrifice himself by leaving, the paranoid hysteria over being kicked out. It was the same reason he staunchly refused to let any human, even one he trusted, near his family. Leading a predator back to the nest was one of the worst offenses possible in his mind. Putting others in danger by being careless was a fatal mistake. He expected to suffer new consequences on par with not being able to go back to his original home, the exile he’d been enduring, and was waiting for the hammer to drop.

Marcy sat down on the bed with him cupped to her chest. She did something that she’d discovered often calmed him down once they’d established the requisite level of trust: being careful of his wings, she squished him between her hands, pressing down carefully with enough force to act like a weighted blanket, but not enough to hurt him. His lithe frame trembled, warm and vibrating against her skin.

She lifted her hand, to see him splayed limply out in her palm, facedown. She felt a slick spot where his face met her skin. “Better?”

“I’m sorry,” said his muffled voice.

“We already went over this. You made a mistake, but we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you because of it. We’ll deal with this together, okay?”

“Okay.”

She rubbed his shoulder blades with her finger. “You think we’d kick you out? Is that what your family would have done? I know you love your family, but….they sound so cruel. They would just kick you out of the nest for making a mistake like that?”

Thistle pushed himself up to kneeling. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t. That’s what I’m saying. Would they really abandon you? They wouldn’t want you to return?”

Thistle wiped his face. “Of course they would want me to come back if it was safe. They love me. You make them sound so mean.”

“I’m not trying to, I just…”

“It’s different. It’s different for us. We have so much we need to be careful of. It’s not a matter of what you deserve, or what you want…it’s a matter of what you have to do to make sure your family survives. The world is so much more dangerous for me than it is for you.”

Marcy put him down on her lap. “Is it really that hard out there for you guys?”

“Marcy,” said Thistle, voice breaking, “do you not remember what I said about the snake monster that ate some of my family?”

“Well, yeah but…”

“If the entire group risked itself for the sake of one individual every time we were in danger, our nest would have been wiped out a long time ago. We are not humans. We have a different way of thinking. We all understand that it is not cruelty. It is being careful, and if you fail to be careful, you have to put the family’s best interest first at whatever cost to yourself.”

“You make yourself sound so disposable,” said Marcy coldly.

“They would do anything for me, and I would do anything for them. If any of them were in the same situation, I know they would do the same to keep me safe. That is what family means for a pixie.”

“And yet you started this by begging me to not do what you think is best for the group.”

Thistle raised himself up to all fours, still facedown. His arms trembled, and tears rolled down his cheeks. “I–I–I know it’s selfish, but, but, but, I just can’t–”

Thistle looked up and was shocked to see that Marcy was crying too. “Well, you’re not with a family of pixies anymore,” Marcy said. “You’re with a family of humans now, and we don’t need you to do that. Please be selfish. Please. Please.”

Selfish. It was one of the worst things a pixie could be. A selfish pixie was what caused hives to be destroyed in one fell swoop. He still had the image embedded in his mind, of his older brother wrapped in the coils of a snake monster, fighting it with all his might as the rest of the family escaped. How could a hive even function if its members were selfish? Thistle had been struggling ever since he got here to have a sense of self outside his hive, his identity as an individual and not part of a group.

Marcy wordlessly tilted his head up to make eye contact. “I promise we can handle it.”

But that’s right. He was part of a group. He wasn’t alone.

“Thank you,” Thistle wept. “Thank you. Thank you, Marcy. I do think I want to go back in the sock drawer now, though.”

She smiled at him sadly. “Okay. Whatever will make you feel better before I leave.”

***

Despite Marcy’s reassurances that the guy in the van was gone, Thistle stayed hidden in the sock drawer for the rest of the day, until she came home from work and discovered him there with a sad gasp. He mostly just wallowed.

He had people in his corner, he had a group, it was true. But everything was still such a struggle. All it took was little mistakes here and there to bring on such terror. He was operating completely in Marcy’s world, one he still didn’t fully understand and had few ways to interact safely with.

He didn’t even miss his phone or talking to Sierra. He’d been staving off loneliness by supplementing his friendship with Marcy and Teddy and Colin with online socialization, but that had all just turned sour in his mouth. All he could think of was how disastrous it would be if he ever actually met any of the people he’d been talking to online. None of them could ever know the simple truth of what kinds of microscopic fingers typed those messages, or just how close he had to stand to the mic when he voice chatted to sound normal-sized.

He thought of Sierra’s pictures of her holding kittens and cats and small bugs, and the way she would certainly gasp with delight upon seeing his real person, and imagined her enormous fist closing around him. They talked as though they were equals, but if they actually met, she could do whatever she wanted to him and he couldn’t do anything to stop her except ask Marcy for help.

He would never be a person to any of the humans. It had taken ages to establish any sort of rapport with the three humans that were on his side now, after a period of terrifying uncertainty and danger, and he’d only done that was because he was forced to. It seemed like an impossible task imagining all the effort it would take to meet anyone else new. He was just some particularly interesting animal to them, to the other 7,999,997 billion humans he shared the planet with.

And maybe he was just some animal. Humans didn’t spend all their time worrying about being eaten. They didn’t hide in a sock drawer all day, powerless to defend themselves. They didn’t have anxiety about being stepped on or squished or grabbed or avoid meeting new people because they were afraid of being put in a jar. They didn’t revolve every waking decision around the risk that it would expose them to predators. They didn’t skitter away reflexively at loud noises or sudden movements. They didn’t worry about coming home to find that their entire family had been eaten. They didn’t conduct themselves like a neurotic prey animal, safe from all manner of garden-variety monsters by virtue of their sheer size. They didn’t have nightmares nearly every night about being tortured and gutted by their friends.

They didn’t have nightmares about being eaten by a snake, which was a nightmare Thistle hadn’t suffered since childhood, but which had resurfaced to come torment him that night.

It was a snake with a human face, which made it even more disturbing when it unhinged its jaw to swallow Thistle. Thistle scrambled backwards to try and escape, but it felt like he was moving through molasses, his limbs sluggish. By the time the muscular coils encircled him, squeezing him, his pleas for mercy had already been exhausted.

He woke up crying, relieved that the horrible situation disappeared into the blackness of Marcy’s bedroom. The feeling of skin pressing in on him remained though, but after a moment he realized it was because Marcy’s hand was on top of him, pinning him to the pillow where he’d fallen when she rolled over.

Even with Thistle having to occasionally wake up and shift positions to avoid being squished as Marcy moved restlessly in her sleep, he still consistently slept better in bed with her than he did alone. It was the swarming instinct. He’d never slept alone in the hive, not once since he was born. They were safe in a group, the more the better.

But he was alone now. A lone pixie was basically a dead man walking. They rarely survived for very long after getting separated from their hive. Despite Marcy’s presence, he still had nightmares.

Thistle shifted under Marcy’s hand, pathetically trying to imagine the warmth radiating from her was coming from fellow pixies sleeping peacefully next to him. He buried his face in the pillow, squeezing taut fistfulls of the fabric beneath him.

Wait a minute. He’d just gone over this. Thistle wasn’t a lone pixie… He was alone as a pixie, but he wasn’t alone.

For the first time out of all the times he’d had nightmares, it occurred to Thistle that he should wake Marcy up.

He scooted out from under Marcy’s hand, which plopped limply down behind him. Marcy let out a snoring breath. Hugging his arms around himself, Thistle wiped his face on the back of his hand, sniffling, and leaned over, shaking her hand. “Marcy.”

No response. He raised his voice and shook a bit harder. “Marcy?”

She jerked slightly, eyes just barely cracking open, voice heavy with sleep. “Hm? Mhmmmmwha? What is it?”

He suddenly felt very silly and self-conscious. What did he really expect her to do? “I, um…”

She blinked sleep out of her eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“I…I had a bad dream.”

She made a sympathetic sound and curled her hand around him. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

Thistle leaned into her hand, hiding his face. “I got eaten by a predator.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Marcy gathered him up, curling her fingers around him to form a protective wall. “That’s not going to happen.”

He hugged his arms around himself and gave a little tremble.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I–” His voice cracked. “I don’t think so… It’s just…”

“Are you scared of that guy?”

“I’m scared–I’m scared of every guy. Every human. They’re–” He broke eye contact, looking down. “It’s–it’s stupid.”

“It isn’t stupid.”

“I…I’ll never be able to–to just meet new people like you do.” That was definitely wholly inadequate to describe his entire train of thought, but it was what he managed to choke out.

Marcy rubbed his hand with her pointer finger. “Do you want your phone back now?”

He shook his head. “No. I…I don’t think I want it back.”

Marcy frowned. Thistle wiped his eyes again.

Marcy reached over and retrieved Thistle’s device from where it sat charging on the end table. She held it up to him. “Unlock it, please.”

He swiped in the passcode unenthusiastically. Marcy lifted it up and away from him, scrolling and pressing buttons.

She looked at him, then held the phone up. He sniffled and examined what she was showing him.

It was his DM with Sierra.

Is everything okay?

When you get the chance, can you let me know you’re okay? I’m starting to get a bit worried about you.

Please don’t ghost me. I really like talking to you. I know you’re busy. I’d just like to know you’re okay.

Do you want to voice call?

Thistle looked down, lip wobbling. “Marcy, you know I can’t actually be friends with someone like her for real.”

“Why not? You’re friends with me.”

Thistle squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping his hands around his knees. “You know why!”

Marcy removed the phone. “Have you ever voice chatted with her?”

“Once or twice.”

Marcy pressed some buttons, then set the phone down. To his horror, he saw the phone was ringing. “You can’t call her!”

But after a few shuffling noises, a woman’s voice crackled out through his phone speaker. “Hello? Hey, Thistle? Can you hear me?”

“Hey, this is Marcy.”

Sierra’s voice ratcheted up with excitement. “Marcy! Hi! Oh my gosh, the famed Marcy!”

Privately, Marcy thought Sierra had the voice of a particular kind of young adult who was very, very annoying, and would leave her out of inside jokes in college. She tactfully set the thought aside. “Sierra?”

“Yes! Thistle’s told me about you! I’m so happy to finally meet you!”

Thistle had folded himself up on Marcy’s thigh, hiding his face, wings vibrating. Marcy said, “All good things, I hope.”

“Yes! Is–is he there? Is everything okay?”

Marcy slid the phone over to Thistle, putting the mic right next to his head. He looked up at her with watery eyes, face stretched taut with anguish.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Thistle choked out.

“Hey! You sound so upset! You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“There’s…Everything isn’t okay.”

“Oh no!”

“But Marcy is helping me.”

“I wish I could help.”

“Sierra,” said Marcy, sliding the phone back over.

“Woah,” she said, “for some reason you’re so much louder than he is, can you lean away or something? Sorry!”

Marcy gave a small smirk and pushed the phone back towards Thistle. “Sierra, Thistle is upset thinking he has no friends.”

Thistle hid his face, going red, ears pinned to his head. “M-Marcy.”

“What!” said Sierra. “I don’t count?”

Thistle started to sob, shoulders wracking.

“So, so Sierra. Thistle hasn’t sent you any pictures of himself because he thinks you’d treat him differently if you knew what he looked like.”

Thistle let out a choked gasp, absolutely mortified.

“What?!” said Sierra. “No, of course not! I–Why would I? I’m not shallow like that! You’re my friend!”

Thistle slammed his whole hand down on the end call button. He looked at Marcy with angry tears in his eyes. “Marcy, you know she thinks you mean I’m ugly or something! You know what’s going on here! It’s pathetic! I’m pathetic!”

“You aren’t pathetic.”

“I can’t ever actually meet her,” said Thistle. “What’s the point? I have to hide behind a phone and a screen, no one can ever get more than just my voice, and even then I have to stand right next to the mic to make sure they don’t hear that I’m five inches tall!” Tears streaked down his cheeks.

The call icon lit up again, indicating Sierra was calling again, but he ignored it. “I can’t ever meet anyone else! The whole process of meeting you, and Colin and Teddy, it nearly killed me! I can’t do anything! I can’t go back to my family, I can’t meet new humans, there aren’t any other pixies around… I can’t–I can’t go outside and explore–and I’m not the kind of guy who always wants to be leaving the nest–I–I’m okay with staying inside most of the time, but I–it feels so so bad to–to know that no one will ever see me as a person–because even you didn’t at first, and…”

He trailed off as Marcy’s hand made comforting circles on his back. “Thistle, listen. Listen to me.”

His ears twitched.

“The way we met, and the way you and Teddy and Colin met. First of all, that was my fault completely.”

“But–but that’s probably what everyone else would do, too!”

“Listen, let me finish. I promise you–I promise–you will never have to go through that awful experience again. You’re braver than when we first met. You learned how to shout. You know how to tell others what you need. You can introduce yourself now. And you have me to help you. You can do anything you want to.”

Thistle sniffled. Marcy had used her fingers to hold his hands, so they were trapped.

“You’ve powered through some extremely scary stuff way, way better than I could have.”

“But–But, but you’re not afraid of anything.”

Thistle was jostled slightly as Marcy laughed. “Thistle, you haven’t seen me be scared of anything you’re scared of because that stuff isn’t scary for me. If I were your size, I would be terrified of everything you’ve been dealing with. I wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“...really?”

“Really. I did a study abroad in Germany in undergrad, and I didn’t speak a word of German. On my first day I got lost on the way home, took the wrong bus, and ended up on the other side of the city. I had to call my host family to come rescue me at like 10PM. It was one of the scariest things in my life. And everyone else was the same size as me! There weren’t monsters prowling around that wanted to eat me! You’ve gone way further out of your comfort zone than I have.”

Thistle flittered his wings. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“I know you can handle anything this big wide world can throw at you.”

Thistle blushed, squirming.

The call icon lit up on the phone again. Marcy gave him a reassuring pat. “Now…Do you want to try this again?”

He gave a tearful smile and answered the call.

———————————–

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