If you think “Let This Be Your Last Battlefield” is heavyhanded in its final form, be glad it was toned down by the time it got to air.
Gene Coon’s original treatment, titled “Down From Heaven” featured the Enterprise rescuing an alien that looks like the literal devil (complete with red skin, horns and a forked tail) named Satrana. Satrana is being pursued by Mikel, described by Gene Coon thusly:
Standing tall in the center of the bridge, dressed in blinding white robes, his features actually glowing with a shimmering radiance, is a tall man with a white beard, a stern but just look on his face, and, incredible and shattering, two feathered white wings coming from his shoulder blades. Anyway you look at him — the racial myths, the stories, the legends come sweeping back — this is an angel.
Coon’s original ending, which was deemed anti-climactic by the time Oliver Crawford started scripting, featured the two hate-filled characters arriving on their home planet Charon, where racial harmony between their respective forms had been found during Satrana and Mikel’s wanderings. The two are confronted with the futility of their strife and find themselves heartbroken at their wasted lives.
Arya stood on the balcony overlooking the common area outside of her home, standing where here father once had as she watched you train-her face as stoic and impassive as ever.
Her sister slowly headed her way, not wanting to startle Arya-unaware the dark haired girl had already noticed her presence the moment she had climbed the stairs.
“You look as though you are deep in thought,” Sansa commented gently.
Arya didn’t bother turning to face her as she rested her hands against the railing, squeezing it tightly as her eyes continued to follow your movements. “What do you want, Sansa?” she questioned, not in the mood for her sister’s company.
“Nothing,” the redhead claimed. “I was just…concerned.”
“Concerned,” Arya snorted. “What for?”
“For you,” she replied quietly. “You seem distracted.”
Finally, Arya turned her attention on her sister, her eyebrows raised, “I am not distracted.”
The Fallout series is one of our all time favourite games and we have paid tribute to it in multiple posters in the past. This time we wanted to focus on something a little different and create an ad for Three Dog the Newscaster / DJ / Truth-teller from Fallout 3.
For the design we wanted to feature a traditional microphone that is doubling as a transmission tower. At the Top the radio waves emanate out to the people of the wasteland. Below the tower lies the ruins of Washington and clouds that appear to almost make the city look on fire and in chaos. The tower is the only exception to this.
At the bottom of the design we decided to place the Title treatment with some light nods to Americana. The bulk of content featured within the border treatment of the poster has been given a suggestive shape implying a bomb with the Title Treatment being the tail.
Prompt: “Could you please write an imagine where you’re one of the cheerleaders on the bus. And when Jerome comes in and freaks everyone out you are just silent and don’t scream at all. He takes interest in you and takes you with him. He tries to get you to speak or scream or make any noise but instead you keep quiet which makes him even more interested.” Requested by Anonymous.
Warnings: swearing, almost death, hostage situation
A/N: Thank you all for following me! Sorry for the delay, I was having technical difficulties. Also, Y/E/N means Your Enemy’s Name.
Love and insanity, ~Hatter 😁🔫
Cheerleaders suck. You hated being on the team, you hated being flyer, and you definitely hated bus trips most of all. What’s that? If you hate being a cheerleader so much why are you on the team? Two words. Your mother. She was star flyer and little miss perfect in high school and now she expects the same from you. Ha! Like that’s gonna happen. Now, you sat alone in the back, waiting for a.) something exciting to happen or b.) your chance to escape. Or both. Both works too. The bus stopped as a truck pulled up in front of it. Four men got out, wearing straight jacket uniforms. You know who they are, you’ve seen them on the news. They’re the Maniax. And out came Jerome, the leader of the group. You leaned forward in your seat and watched him. Out of all the Maniax, he interested you the most. His carefree demeanor, his hair, his eyes, his laugh. You watched in amusement as all of the cheerleaders on the bus started to scream and cry for help as Jerome chained them to their seats. He locked eyes with you and smiled.
“What do we have here?” He crouched down so he was eye level with you. “Everyone else here is screaming and crying and you, my dear, have a smirk on your face. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Your smirk grew into a smile as you made a zipping motion across your lips.
“Silent treatment, hm?” He stood up. “Okay then.”
He whipped out his gun and pulled the trigger. You felt the wind whistle past your ear as the bullet embedded itself in the seat behind you. You didn’t even flinch. In fact, your smile only grew.
“I like you.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you up out of your seat. “You’re coming with me sweet cheeks.”
He began to drag you off the bus when someone grabbed your other wrist. Your smile fell as you whipped your head around to find the source. It was Y/E/N, of course. Rather than a little smug smirk like usual, her face was filled with fear.
You ripped your wrists from both hers and Jerome’s grasps.
“I’ve waited a really long time for this.”
Then you punched her square in the face and laughed. Jerome laughed with you.
“Y/N. The perfect name for a feisty girl like you. Come on, Y/N.”
You followed him off the bus. The other cheerleaders pounded against the windows, begging for your help.
You smiled sweetly at Jerome, “Do excuse me for a moment.”
He gestured for you to go ahead. You turned towards your fellow cheerleaders.
“You know what? Fuck every single one of you who ever purposely injured me in any way, which is all of you. I hope you all burn in hell.” You turned towards Jerome. “By the way, GCPD is here.”
His smile fell, “Get behind the bus.”
You scoffed, “I am not some prissy princess who sits on the sidelines. Give me your gun and let me show you what I can really do.”
When he hesitated, you simply grabbed the gun out of his hand and began firing at the police with expert skill. Your father taught you how to shoot before he up and left. You got at least three officers in the shoulder before they realized it was probably a good idea to hide. When you finally ran out of bullets, Jerome dragged you onto the truck and yelled, “Light ‘em up!”
As the truck began to speed away everything that just happened finally began to sink in. You watched, with a grin, the chaos before you and listened to the sound of Jerome’s psychotic laugh as you held on to the side of the truck. You were in for a wild ride.
Caleb repeated the name Sybil a LOT in a single scene in this episode. It’s a direct reference to the book titled “Sybil” about the treatment of a woman with dissociative identity disorder by her psychoanalyst. Sybil had 16 different personalities (from Wikipedia):
The book begins with a list of Sybil’s “alters”, together with the year in which each appeared to have dissociated from the central personality. The names of these selves were also changed to ensure privacy.
Sybil Isabel Dorsett (1923), the main personality
Victoria Antoinette Scharleau (1926), nicknamed Vicky, self-assured and sophisticated young French girl
Peggy Lou Baldwin (1926), assertive, enthusiastic, and often angry
Peggy Ann Baldwin (1926), a counterpart of Peggy Lou but more fearful than angry
Mary Lucinda Saunders Dorsett (1933), a thoughtful, contemplative, and maternal homebody
Marcia Lynn Dorsett (1927), an extremely emotional writer and painter
Vanessa Gail Dorsett (1935), intensely dramatic is the musical one of them and fun loving.
Mike Dorsett (1928), one of Sybil’s two male selves, a builder and a carpenter
Sid Dorsett (1928), the second of Sybil’s two male selves, a carpenter and a general handyman. Sid took his name from Sybil’s initials (Sybil Isabelle Dorsett)
Nancy Lou Ann Baldwin (date undetermined), interested in politics as fulfillment of Biblical prophecy and intensely afraid of Roman Catholics
Sybil Ann Dorsett (1928), listless to the point of neurasthenia
Ruthie Dorsett (date undetermined), a baby and one of the less developed selves
Clara Dorsett (date undetermined), intensely religious and highly critical of Sybil
Helen Dorsett (1929), intensely afraid but determined to achieve fulfillment
Marjorie Dorsett (1928), serene, vivacious, and quick to laugh
The Blonde (1946), a nameless perpetual teenager with an optimistic outlook
The book’s narrative describes Sybil’s selves gradually becoming co-conscious, able to communicate and share responsibilities, and having musical compositions and art published under their various names. Wilbur attempts to integrate Sybil’s various selves, first convincing them via hypnosis that they are all the same age, then encouraging them to merge. At the book’s end, a new, optimistic self called “The Blonde” emerges, preceding Sybil’s final integration into a single, whole individual with full knowledge of her past and present life.”
SO many of these personalities are similar with traits we’ve seen of A over the years. There are also a lot of traits and interests listed that are similar to the Liar’s traits and interests. For example, Marcia Lynn Dorsett an emotional writer and painter, similar to Aria, or Sid Dorsett/Mike Dorsett (Sybil’s male personalities) who are both carpenters, builders and general handymen much like Toby. Not casting any particular suspicion on these two characters, these are just two examples. There’s also a personality called “The Blonde” who is described as “a nameless perpetual teenager” this could represent the third blonde who was buried and misidentified by the police as “Ali”. So far this individual is nameless and a “perpetual teenager” because their life ended while they were a teen keeping them suspended in their teenage years.
Perhaps Dr. Rollins represents the psychoanalyst and this reference is directed towards Charlotte, however I doubt it.
Either way, there is DEFINITELY a MAJOR connection to this book and the show. Make of it what you will :)
I am not a trained industry film professional, but I am a writer who scripted
a short “fan video” for a convention. My husband is a video editor, was
excited by the script and agreed to help put the film together. This
would be the first time we’ve ever worked together on a ground-up
creative project. We shot original photography, and I took on the task
of collecting additional photos to flesh out the content. I found music
tracks, title treatments, did the narration audio, and created a logo by myself. All fun! Having a great time!
And then we
got to assembly. He refused to review the raw material together (”Just
let me do this”). He “forgets” about the script that he said he loved,
and doesn’t follow it. He listens to nothing that I say, or does the
exact opposite. When I question what he’s doing or criticize it, I’m
failing to be “grateful for all that hard work he just did” ignoring my
requests and doing whatever he feels like doing. And all of this is done
while he tells me that he’s a great collaborator, working with people
and taking criticism all day and never has problems, so obviously any
issue I’m having here is my own. Take a guess as to the gender of the
vast majority of his coworkers.
At this point, I feel
completely defeated. He and I have both read things on your Tumblr and
been appalled, yet here it is happening in my own home, from a person
who says he respects me and my ideas but is doing everything he can to
override them. I might as well be a nodding bobblehead that occasionally
chirps a compliment.
Upside? I am going to learn how to use
Premiere. I will never again let my ideas be beholden to someone who
can’t respect them when I can realize them myself.
Back when I was first starting out, I wanted to get some notes on a treatment I had written for a feature film. I sent it to two guys I worked with who had made a couple of short films. These were men who described themselves as “progressive.” I was expecting constructive feedback.
I took a meeting with them and they both laughed at me, made fun of my treatment and told me I had no business directing films. That I should give up before I further embarrass myself among the “big boys.” One of them then stole the (very unusual) title of my treatment and used it as the title of his first feature. (Karma: That film bombed in the worst possible way: no one saw it, critics lambasted it as painfully boring, it did not get any real distribution and he hasn’t been able to get another film made since. The other guy has no film career at all.)
These two shitheads ridiculed me, stole from me, told me I should give up and continued to attempt to undermine me at every turn.
I ignored them and went on to direct films anyway.