athousanderrors | Jan. 8th, 2018

Jan. 8th, 2018

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pristinepastel said: Hey, i know you like the first mummy, but what about the mummy returns?

I HAVE RETURNED…after like a day.

but what the people want, the people get!

RIGHT SO THE MUMMY RETURNS!

aka the only sequel that is 1000% just as good as the first one. like holy shit.

ten years later and we meet our heroes again. rick and evie are happily married, going on adventures, and evie’s dream of becoming a respected scholar has come true and they’ve made a tiny human!

the only unrealistic part being that they only had one kid, i mean they are still all over each other ten years later and you’re telling me they only had ONE kid.

okay. sure jan.

but boy o’ boy is that one kid awesome!

alex o’connell. this kid is literally:

50% evie super-klutz-genius.

50% rick screams-at-things-that-are-illogical-to-scream-at.

50% uncle jonathan’s sheer dumb luck and wit.

10% i’m really bad at math.

you get the point. HE’S GREAT. also the actor passed on harry potter because, JUST LIKE ME, the mummy 1999 was his favorite movie and he just HAD to be in the sequel. alex is just such a smart-ass little shit. that much like his mother, accidentally brings about the apocalypse by opening something he shouldn’t have:

ARDETH BAY TIME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. he has a much bigger role in this one. GOD BLESS. (because he was supposed to die in the first one, but test audiences loved him as much as we do, so they kept his fine ass around) he still looks prettier than everyone and is still so done with white people once again.

*after almost being killed on he bus* “this was my first bus ride.”*after realizing they’re gonna make him fly again* “why can’t you people ever keep your feet on the ground?”

he’s just such an awesome A+ friend goals, because while he probably needs to go be with other medjai to prepare for battle against anubis’ army (yikes), he stays with the fam to rescue alex. it wasn’t even much of a thought for him really, rick and evie just batted their eyelashes and he was like: *sighs* “these white people are always messing my shit up, but they are my white people.”

jonathan: still beautifully the same as ever. witty, clever, and would do anything for his family.

“be quiet alex! if there’s going to be any hysterics, they’ll come from me!”

“if you see anyone come running out screaming, it’s just me.”

when he boasts about being a good shot and ardeth is internally like “i’m gonna die.” THEN HE SAVES ARDETH. hell yeah.

rick: he’s still screaming at things. BUT IN DAD MODE. he’s the ultimate dad.

“you, lighten up. you, big trouble. you, get in the car.”*sweetly* “honey, what are you doing, these guys don’t use doors.”“knowing my brother-in-law, he probably deserves whatever you’re about to do to him, but this is my house and i have certain rules about snakes and dismemberment.”

evie: still a super-klutz nerd, but with C O N F I D E N C E. little baby librarian is now a honey badger of ASK ME IF I GIVE A FUCK! and also a re-incarnated princess

“no harm ever came from opening a chest.”

rick: “i swear that kid gets more and more like you every day.”evelyn: “you mean more attractive, sweet and devilishly charming?”

we meet izzy, another one of rick’s ex boyfriends, who is a much more reliable mode of transportation than previously mentioned murder buses.

imhotep: still emo. still wants to make out with his gf.

anck su namun/meela: hella good villain. she bomb af and 100% wants to take over the world. amazing. she actually has like a really cool role this time too!!! like so much screen time.

the rock…i mean the scorpion king, he’s another emo villain with goofy cgi rendering and like 4 million terrible made-for-TV spin off movies that you are lying if you haven’t watched at least one of them and felt that utter disappointment. but who cares the rock is pretty. and this was his first acting role and the reason we have him where he is today.

thank you mummy returns for giving the world actor rock johnson #blessed

THE ROMANCE AGAIN:

normal action movie sequel romance: same guy. different girl. repeat of first movie’s romance. hehehehhehehehhEHEHEHEHHEHH.

not here bitch.

rick and evie’s love has only grown stronger. they still bicker like old ladies at bingo night. the still look at each other like they hung the moon. they’re still disgusting jonathan because they CANNOT KEEP THEIR HANDS TO THEMSELVES. one kid my ass. they still support each other and protect each other like crazy. they love each other so much and it’s so healthy and pure and there is some good in this world mr. frodo.

the bottom line here is. what’s the point of watching the mummy 1999 if you aren’t going to watch the mummy returns immediately after?

JUST DO IT.
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mystictrashheap:

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A small list of random ass sites I’ve found useful when writing:

Fragrantica: perfume enthusiast site that has a long list of scents. v helpful when you’re writing your guilty pleasure abo fics

Just One Cookbook: recipe site that centers on Japanese cuisine. Lots of different recipes to browse, plenty of inspiration so you’re not just “ramen and sushi”

This comparing heights page: gives you a visual on height differences between characters

A page on the colors of bruises+healing stages: well just that. there you go. describe your bruises properly

McCormick Science Institute: yes this is a real thing. the site shows off research on spices and gives the history on them. be historically accurate or just indulge in mindless fascination. boost your restaurant au with it

A Glossary of Astronomy Terms: to pepper in that sweet terminology for your astrophysics major college au needs

Adding to this since I’m working on a shifter au one-shot:

Canine Body Language

Feline Body Language

More:

Cocktail Flow: a site with a variety of cocktails that’s pretty easy to navigate and offers photos of the drinks. You can sort by themes, strengths, type and base. My only real annoyance with this site is that the drinks are sometimes sorted into ~masculine~ and ~feminine~ but ehhhh. It’s great otherwise.

Tie-A-Tie: a site centered around ties, obviously. I stumbled upon it while researching tie fabrics but there’s a lot more to look at. It offers insight into dress code for events, tells you how to tie your ties, and has a section on the often forgotten about tie accessories

Even more:

Types of High Heels: A page describing twenty five different types of high heels. It gives a description and pictures. Shake it up from just “stilettos and kitten heels”

Random Job Generator: Exactly as it says. The site offer more generators like characters, plots, or town names.

Glossary of Hosiery Terms: Figure out what is what on a pair of stockings.

Men’s Dress Shoe Guide: A quick guide describing the eight most common types of men’s dress shoes. Pics included.

Types of Women’s Coats: Descriptions and pics of various different types of coats.
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Otters Pile Up for a Nap in Their Ottertube

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deadhpool:

Chris Pine photographed by Blair Getz Mezibov for DuJour magazine (2016)
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tomboyluce:

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axmxz:

The reason why NBC’s Hannibal found such a huge female audience is because Fuller’s/Mads’ Lecter is not a male power fantasy: he’s a female power fantasy.

He’s not a broody snippy git whose appeal is assumed apriori and who in real life would drive away absolutely everyone he met (e.g. any sad manboy ever trotted out as a lead by Moffat).

He’s not an “aspirational” over-muscled hulk.

He’s not a fighter for ‘truth’ or ‘justice’ for whom bodies are just collateral on his path to heroic self-actualization

This Hannibal is the Head Bitch In Charge.

He is independent to the n-th degree. He lives to please himself and no one else. He is fabulous. He shamelessly geeks out over obscure and refined pastimes and shares them with friends. He is the Queen Bee of his social circle. He takes any excuse to treat himself, but he also has perfect self-discipline: gym is not optional. His time-management skills are superhuman. He can decorate and keep a house like Martha Stewart, hold down several jobs, and practice multiple hobbies daily.

(And what are his hobbies, aside from slaughter? Cooking, foreign languages, drawing, playing musical instruments and composing. And clearly clothes shopping. He is probably on first-name basis with the best tailors and cordwainers in town. Contrast with Will, whose hobbies are stereotypically masculine: fixing motor boats, fishing, playing outside with his dogs.)

Hannibal is not young, but he wears his age gracefully. He regrets nothing, like an embodiment of Piaf’s “Non, rien de rien”. His hair is perfect because he clearly spends time in front of the mirror styling it, not because the show’s producer wanted him to look effortlessly cool (*cough*Sherlock*cough*).

He never, ever loses his temper in public, as if he knows that the world/audience will not fawn over him for trying to assert himself through vulgarity, posturing, or volume - all the typical ways in which men like to hijack and dominate conversations.

He can dispatch a creepy stalker like Franklyn with a single neck twist, with no consequences. A sweet fantasy, indeed. If only real life stalkers were so easy to dispose of.

Hannibal’s victims - those who were not killed in self-defense or as ‘murder presents’ for Will - tend to fall into two categories: other killers who act like *they* are the baddest bitches in town (Gideon, Tobias, the mural guy) and people who disrespect him. Of those, there are surprisingly many. In fact, it seems like the very esteemed pillar of Baltimore society Dr. Lecter goes through life constantly being dissed. This is rather puzzling. Hannibal is a tall good-looking white gentleman who speaks like a professor, dresses like a count, and drives a Bentley that costs more than people’s houses. And yet something about him prompts many people, especially in the service industry, to be rude to him.

But he doesn’t confront these “pigs” (already a gender-loaded term, even though it gets applied to victims of both sexes) in a head-on, macho way. Instead, he bides his time and dispatches his prey through some kind of a sneak attack. His preferred philosophy of fighting is “feminine”: assume your opponent is physically stronger and don’t try to out-muscle them. (Even if his opponent is much smaller and weaker, like Chilton.) Subterfuge, ambush, sedatives - Hannibal wins his fights by fighting on his own terms. Nevertheless, if a man should come at him with a weapon, he defends himself with perfect adroitness: Tobias, Jack, Mason’s henchmen, etc.

Even some aspects of Hannibal’s relationship with Will would make more sense if he were female. In particular the issue of, well, issue. Hannibal is clearly Not Okay with Will having children with anyone but him. This is somewhat odd for a man, especially one who seems to have never wanted kids before this. But it makes sense for a woman just past menopause: fate finally delivered her dream partner, but it’s too late to have a family. And so Hannibal sets up the dominoes for Margot’s pregnancy to be terminated practically as soon as he learns of it. If he can’t have Will’s kids, then no one can. They may be adopted, but they have to be *theirs*.

It also makes sense that when Hannibal discovers Will’s treachery, he goes full Medea on him. Killing the man’s children is common to cultural narratives of wronged women all over the world. It’s often the only leverage they have over the men, the only way they can exact revenge. Hannibal can take much more than Abigail from Will, but she is the only thing he can take that truly matters.

Bonus exercise for the reader: imagine a version of the show where everything is the same, but Hannibal is played by Meryl Streep.

Or even just swap Mads Mikkelsen & Gillian Anderson places. Let her be Hannah Lecter; let him be Dr. Bennett Du Maurier, her wary shrink. Both the characterization and plot still work almost 100%.

I wrote this before season 3, and I just want to point out something that happened on the show afterwards. We saw Hannibal engage in more stereotypical male combat: protracted, hand to hand, with improvised weapons. Once against Jack and once against The Great Red Dragon.

Both times, Hannibal was smaller and physically weaker. In Mizumono, he only got to Jack through cleverness; physically, Jack could throw him around like a rag doll. When they met again in Italy, Jack kicked his ass so thoroughly Hannibal had to save himself by falling out the window and hobbling off. Same with the Red Dragon: had they gone head to head, Hannibal would have been thoroughly pwned.

Bryan Fuller described Hannibal and Will fighting to “two jackals trying to take down a rhinoceros”. He might as well have said “two women trying to take down a man”.

So are you saying that they are a gay couple who is in the same time a lesbian couple

yes.

I love this. It’s a woman’s show in so. many. ways.

For me (apropos of nothing), the scene in Antipasto when Prof. Sogliato humiliates Hannibal is EVERYTHING. In that moment, Sogliato is every dick who name checks a badge at an academic conference and dismisses you with a glance. Who doesn’t take you seriously because you’re ‘just’ a woman. And when he turns around and starts reciting Dante… in that moment, he is me and I am not prepared to get too worked up about Sogliato’s inevitable demise.

this analysis is SO spot on! OP’s comment about Franklin really struck me - I could never pity him like so many in the fandom do, because that’s what I saw him like: the creepy, obnoxious dude you were taught not to antagonize just in case. His demise at Hannibal hands was… cathartic.
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laureljupiter:

laureljupiter:

I’m looking at screenshots of this horde of furious girls and women destroying Joss Whedon on twitter and it’s so great

Motherfucker you knew you were a misogynist and a fraud in 2002 when you wrote the autobiographical Buffy episode about Andrew the filmmaker fetishizing the pain and hero stories of the house full of women who despise him, and now it’s finally coming crashing down on you and happening in real life.

I sincerely hope some of those girls calling him a piece of shit and a trash can and demanding, “fight me” shook him; this has been his deepest fear about his behavior towards women for over a decade now, but he hasn’t made a change, and he’s always known on some level that he deserves to be hated for it.

BUFFY: Are you still filming me? Stop.
ANDREW: But it’s a valuable record. A-an important document for the ages. ‘A Slayer in Action.’
BUFFY: ‘A Nerd in Pain.’ Would they like that? Cause we could do that.

BUFFY: When your blood pours out it might save the world. What do you think about that? Does it buy it all back? Are you redeemed?
ANDREW: No.

Ugh ok ok I actually have a ridiculous amount of words about this (hi ocelot, can I post those emails from 2012??) But I wanted to say that this… idk. This has been a long time coming for Joss and it’s absolutely a bed he made for himself, and it makes me gratified on a brutal visceral level to see it coming back to bite him, but a lot of that anger is watching an artist I loved curdle into his own self-hate and turn into the kind of awful man he used to write about. Joss…Joss has had a recurrent fantasy of self-loathing and shame about his treatment of female characters and actresses that started, afaik, in season 6 of Buffy, with the introduction of the three nerd villains Warren, Jonathan, and Andrew.

The initial patriarchal villains of the Buffyverse were men who abused women using either brute strength or political power: Angelus, the Watchers, the Mayor. The three nerds introduced another kind of misogynistic male antagonist that grew to dominate and completely consume Joss’s work in the 00s: the nerdy, story-obsessed guy who used his intelligence and mastery of technology to abuse and control strong, heroic women. Nerdy men who, like Joss, either created or tampered with the women they wanted total control over, either by building androids or altering existing women, usually via invasive medical torture. Joss the writer invents the character of Buffy while having workplace clashes with her actress Sarah Michelle Gellar; Andrew, Warren, and Jonathan drug their girlfriends into compliance and create the BuffyBot to obey their will. This villain character would show up again and again in Joss’ later works: the scientist who had, thanks to his technical and storytelling skills, been given custody by higher powers over women who would normally be far out of their range of influence. And, uncomfortably, all of the actors cast for these roles bore a striking physical resemblance to Joss.

When Joss aired “Storyteller”, I was surprised and impressed. It was penned by Jane Espenson, Buffy’s strongest staff writer, and was a story about Andrew the Joss doppelganger filming the house of potential Slayers for a series he called “Buffy, Slayer of the Vampyres.” A major theme of “Storyteller” was Andrew’s intrusive use of the Buffy cast’s personal lives and pain to make a good story, his refusal to acknowledge their privacy, and possibly, as Anya kept insisting, to use his videos as masturbation material. It seemed like a huge moment of self- awareness and self-reflection about the relationship Joss had to the real and fictional women who worked for him, especially given the conflicts he had at the time with actresses like Charisma Carpenter over her character Cordelia and personal bodily autonomy (pregnancy).   It was self-critical and raw and I was incredibly proud of Joss for being willing to go there in such a public way.

Buffy ended, and Andrew redeemed himself, but the misogynist-nerd-self-loathing metastory intensified. One of the aspects of the Three Nerds villain arc that had always made me profoundly uncomfortable was the way Joss positioned the boys’ nerdy pursuits and lack of traditional masculinity– not just their treatment of women– as something inherently repulsive.
Viewers were supposed to be disgusted by the sight of three dorky boys nerding out over Star Wars figurines. Buffy and the house full of potential slayers call Andrew vile names for being a nerd, not in response to his behavior; by the end of his run, I felt the urge to protect Andrew, not from the girls, but from Joss, who was clearly using him as a punching bag onto which he was projecting his own self-loathing. (Eventually Joss was quoted saying that Andrew was, as had been hinted, gay, but would remain in the closet indefinitely “because it’s funny,” something that horrified and enraged fans, but which Joss seemed to view, appallingly, as as an ultimate emasculation.)

The next major Joss project was Dollhouse, with evil scientist and Joss lookalike Topher Brink programming, manipulating, and violating various women into playacting roles he’d scripted for them. It was such a blatant story about Joss and his actresses it was difficult to watch. Like, My Feminism Is Just An Excuse To Exploit Hot Actresses, I Am Such A Disgusting Creature!!! Coming soon to the CW! His next project, the webseries I Am So Horrible And My Feminism Is A Sham, featuring NPH as the Joss stand-in, was similarly cringeworthy.

A big outlier here is Wash, from Firefly and Serenity, who almost fit the pattern, but not quite, and that “not quite” was enough of a problem that, like the similar character Oz, he had to be written out of the story. Alan Tudyk had the same general physical resemblance to Joss and the same dress sense as Andrew, Topher, and Billy Horrible. His dinosaur theater sessions looked and sounded like the action figure games the Trio played, and the blurb for Joss’s media company, Mutant Enemy. But unlike all the other nerdy blond men of the Whedonverse, Wash was in a equal and loving relationship with the strong soldier woman he adored. Other characters in the series were preoccupied with the traditional gender role imbalance in Wash and Zoe’s marriage and questioned whether Wash felt emasculated by his wife being stronger than he was, but both Wash and Zoe were completely above and untouched by it. She was a warrior woman and she was married to a dorky guy who told stories and who wasn’t the most physically powerful man on her crew. She could have broken him in half with her pinky and they loved and respected each other and had a happy, healthy marriage. This was, somehow, too much for Joss to handle, and so Wash had to die.

When venting about Joss I want to say that the problem isn’t that Joss was always terrible, or that all of his work was tainted or had a poisonous message from the beginning. It wasn’t; Buffy was and still is incredibly important; it had the kind of powerful emotional intelligence that burrows into your heart and stays there and I think it still stands by itself, years later. Buffy still stands. Charles Gunn still stands. Anya still stands. When my mother passed away last year, I watched “The Body” like a ritual, and I know I’m not the only person to have done something similar. That canon isn’t going anywhere.

The problem is that at some point in his career, Joss became so intent on the masochistic fantasy of being hated by strong women for being a nerd that he spent a decade writing stories about violating those women to ensure they would hate him. I wish Joss had ended that obsession with “Storyteller.” I wish he had talked about the feelings that made him want to make “Dollhouse” with his therapist and tried to make things right with Charisma Carpenter instead of turning those particular personal demons into a bad TV show. I wish the ideas of intimacy and equality weren’t so threatening to him that he had to write men like Oz and Wash out of existence instead of trying to evolve into them. I wish he hadn’t let himself fall into that pit of destructive self-loathing back in 2002, and I wish he hadn’t stayed there so long that he started to turn that hate outward onto the women he perceived as loathing and rejecting him. I wish he hadn’t turned, in twenty years, from the man who wanted to see the blonde girl in the horror movie survive and thrive into the rich bastard who thought it was funny to call Natasha Romanoff a cunt on IMAX and who called her a monster for being the victim of medical abuse.   I’m still laughing angrily at Joss being driven off twitter by a mob of angry, betrayed female fans, because wow does he ever deserve it, but man, Joss. It didn’t have to be that way.
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roachpatrol:

Here’s a story about changelings:

Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch.

She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage.

Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings.

“Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child.

Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin.

“I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.”

“I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.”

“Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.”

Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine.

“We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…”

“Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.”

Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has.

“Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.”

Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project.

She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still.

“Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once.

Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.”

Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion.

They all live happily ever after.

*

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