“The way Aloha, Scooby-Doo!’s script handles the first clash with the monsters is... interesting.”
Carl the Animator: “Why? Something wrong with it?”
Ted the Animator: “It just throws the monsters out randomly, right at the beginning! There’s no buildup, no tension… I mean, just compare it to the original Scooby-Doo episodes.”
Carl the Animator: “Oh c’mon, they were hardly screenwriting masterpieces themselves.”
Ted the Animator: “Well, yeah, sure… I’m not saying the structures were genius works of fine art or anything, but they worked. They were simple and cheesy, but understood how to build atmosphere and make things creepy.”
Carl the Animator: “True that… the astronaut skull/ghost/skost episode always unnerved me, even as I drew it.”
Ted the Animator: “…wait, did you just say ‘true that’?”
Carl the Animator: “No.”
Ted the Animator: “…anyway. Where were we?”
Carl the Animator: “Monsters. Scripts. Excitement!”
Ted the Animator: “Right. Those old shows needed to be tame enough to not give kids nightmares, but yet they still knew how to create a nice tension to the story. Proper pacing, an ominous tone, and a creepy buildup are what make y-
Carl the Animator: “OOH! Like the second Wallace and Gromit with the robot pants! It super freaked me out as a kid.”
Ted the Animator: “They’re trousers, thank you very much, but that’s actually a great example.”
Carl the Animator: “You know it.”
Ted the Animator: “The antagonist is a freakin’ penguin, but there’s always this captivating sense of forebode as the story builds, and as the audience uncovers the mystery. It never plays its hand too early.”
Carl the Animator: “Well said, Ted–… oh, that rhymed.”
Ted the Animator: “Thanks.”
Carl the Animator: “So… compared to all that, how does Aloha, Scooby-Doo! do the big monster reveal?”
Ted the Animator: “A bunch of characters that we barely know surf a bit, complain… and then the monsters all run at them 3 minutes 17 seconds into the movie.”
Carl the Animator: “…oh.”
Ted the Animator: “Yeah.”
Carl the Animator: “Well, then. Great, I was in the middle of animating that scene and hopin’ it was gonna be cool, but I guess not.”
Ted the Animator: “Sorry to burst your proverbial bubble.”
Carl the Animator: “Sheesh. After that, I’m not even gonna bother drawing in the mouth when it jumps at the camera.”
Ted the Animator: “That’s… that’s an odd stand to take, but y’know what? I support you for taking it.”
Carl the Animator: “Thank you, Ted… if we don’t fight for artistic quality in cheap direct-to-DVD kids movies, who will?”
AN: I wrote this some time ago and felt like sharing it because it’s not too bad. While reading, please keep in mind that English isn’t my first language, so excuse any possible mistakes.
The way he looks at me is irritating.
His eyes never seem
to leave me. They’re following me through the room, a solid blue
wall. Blue as crayons. They’re extraordinarily ordinary.
I try not to let him notice how he
unnerves me. I try to ignore him and his stupidly blue eyes. His
tawny skin and his unruly curls. Everything about him is golden and
so bright that it looks like he belongs in space. Somewhere far away.
Definitely not here.
This boy looks like he belongs to
another planet. His skin is an indescribable mixture of reds and
browns and it shimmers like pixie dust. His hair is dark and way
longer than mine and it falls over his shoulders, framing his face,
making it look at least a bit softer. Because his cheekbones are
sharp and his eyes are hard and he scowls all the time.
He should make me feel uncomfortable.
I should be scared by him.
But I’m not.
He seems to be
drawing me in. I can’t stop watching him, how he moves around. He
talks to no one and no one talks to him. Does he feel alone? It seems
like there are galaxies between me and him.
I finally know where he belongs. He’s
the sun that is missing in the galaxy I call my life. He completes my
very own sun-system. He still hasn’t stopped looking at me.
And when I hear people slowly leaving
the room, I decide that I should be brave once in my life.
I turn and look at him. Right into his
ridiculously blue eyes.
My breath catches and for a moment, he
is all that I can see. He’s the centre of my everything. He’s
every nice thing I can think of.
But then he looks away and the moment
His grey eyes seem to have unsettled
something deep inside of me. Something I was afraid do wake,
something I never wanted to think about. He’s still holding my gaze
and it hurts, looking at his face hurts. It makes me think of how
much I want to talk to him, screw his intimidating looks.
So I break the eye-contact.
Then I stand up.
And start to make my way towards him.
Within seconds he’s in front of me,
making my stomach turn. I can’t name the look on his face. Is he
angry because I stared at him? Shouldn’t I be the one who’s
But then he interrupts my thoughts by
saying: “You don’t talk to anyone.”
It surprises me. It’s not even a
question, it’s a simple statement. What am I supposed to answer to
this? I don’t want to scare him away, he’s even more beautiful up
“That’s none of
your fucking business.”
He spits out a rude answer, but I
can’t really blame him, since my question was probably the least
eloquent thing I could have said.
stutter, trying to regain my composure. “I just wanted to ask if I
could sit with you.”
There’s a flicker of something in
his eyes and I hope that he’ll say yes.
This boy is going to be the death of
me. Now that he’s standing right in front of me, I can see that his
face is sprinkled with tiny freckles. There’s an edge of one of his
teeth missing, which makes him look way younger. He’s making me feel
sick. But the good kind.
He asked if he could sit with me and
if I weren’t so absolutely incompatible with human beings, I would
have said yes by now. But I still haven’t answered his question and
he’s still looking up at me with his blue eyes, chewing on his plump
Before I can think to much about this,
I feel my mouth opening.
you insist,” he mumbles and for
a moment, I’m worried that he’s irritated by me and is just
surrendering because he wants me to stop talking. But then he shoots
me a half-smile and it feels like gravity has lost its hold on me.
smile back at him, already planning to tell Penny all of this as soon
as I enter our flat. Although he seemed so far away at first, almost
like he lived on another planet, I can’t feel the galaxies dividing
us any more. Now we’re circling around each other. As if he’s as
focused on me as I am on him.
But then he frowns.
He beams at me and I can’t help but
try to memorize all of his expression, in case I’m not seeing it
again. Or at least, not directed at me.
We’re both silent for a moment,
standing in the middle of the empty room and staring at each other.
Then I remember that I don’t even know his name.
His face falls when I stop smiling and
I immediately want to comfort him, tell him that I didn’t change my
mind, that I’m just thinking, but I’m not exactly known to be
empathic in public.
your name?”, I ask, cringing internally at how emotionless my voice
He relaxes, ruffling his curls as his
Oh well, at least we both have
He grins when he hears my name, and I
immediately feel self-conscious. My name is one of the things I will
never not be embarrassed about.
I have already opened my mouth to say
something when he cuts me off.
worry, I’m not making fun of you. Would be a bit hypocritical if you
consider that my name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You can call
me Baz though.”
I snort, feeling relieved. His name is
as extraordinary as he is and even though there’s no way I’m going to
remember all of it, I still like it. It sort of fits him.
My stomach does a somersault when
Simon says, “We match, I guess.”.
We do not match, we absolutely don’t.
But that doesn’t stop me from trying.
Between the ages of 2 and 5 my family lived in a house that a family friend was renting out. It was a nice house; three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a big kitchen. The whole package deal for only $250 a month- and that included the utilities. We were told when we moved in that there were only two floors. The ground floor and the upstairs floor where the bedrooms were.
I remember when we first moved in and I was exploring the backyard I had seen a window down at the very bottom of the house. For some reason it had unnerved me so badly I immediately burst into tears. Since my parents couldn’t get me to explain what had spooked me, they simply took me inside to calm down.
This window was a source of fear and unease for me until we moved out when I was 5. My parents assumed that I would grow out of it; and I did, but not until we moved out. I could never place why it creeped me out so badly but I avoided that part of the yard like the plague.
My most vivid memory of my childhood happened in this house. I had been asleep in bed one night when a strange thump from downstairs woke me up. I’ve always been a light sleeper but I fell back asleep too quickly for the thud to really make any difference.
I woke up again to a heavy, awkward breathing in my ear and someone kneeling next to my bed. When I opened my eyes, I saw the pale, thin face of a man peering back at me. I screamed, he booked it, and my parents brushed it off as a nightmare, but let me sleep in their room for the rest of the night.
A week later my 13 year old sister woke everyone in the house by screaming at the top of her lungs. She claimed that she woke up to a man matching the one I had seen crawling into her bed. She described his breathing exactly as I remembered it, causing me to burst into tears. My parents we not pleased. My sister and I slept in their room.
Food disappeared really quickly. Mom always just said that it was having two growing children and my dad in the house. Sometimes things would be moved from where we left them the night before, but that was also brushed off. My sister assumed the house was haunted. My parents assumed she was just being paranoid.
For the next couple of years this continued on. Food disappeared, things were moved, and we occasionally had ‘nightmares’ about the same strange man. When we tried to convince our parents that we weren’t just dreaming they brushed us off and insisted we were. This obviously caused a lot of tension between my sister and my parents.
The night of my sister’s 16th birthday came the encounter that brought about the end of our stay there. My sister woke us again screaming at the top of her lungs but it cut out too quickly to be normal. My parents, concerned, went to check on my sister and found a strange man in dirty clothing pinning her down and covering her mouth with his hand.
A fight broke out between the man and my dad but the man was nearly 72 and weak from starvation. It didn’t last long and soon enough the man was subdued and the cops were called. My mom kept my sister and I in the living room while the cops checked the rest of the house for more people and signs of the man breaking in.
Instead, they found a door leading into an unfinished basement. When closed, it blended in with the wall enough that unless you knew it was there you would never see it. We had never even noticed it, and apparently the family friend who owned the house hadn’t even known about it.
The one little room was full of pictures of my sister and I in the yard, taken from that basement window. The reason I had always been so frightened of that window came to light. The man had been taking photos of my sister and I for years. That first day I must have seen a flash of some kind, or maybe the man himself.
The man was mentally unstable and claimed that he was 'in love’ with my sister and that I was their 'perfect daughter’. He also claimed that since my sister was now 16 that she was old enough to give him another child. I’m not certain what happened but I do think that he was sent to an asylum instead of prison.
Out of the many fucked up things to happen to me over my life, this one still takes the cake.
As someone who grew up in a community laden with families who struggled with citizenship and getting a window into their unique culture and aspirations, this (U.S.) election has been particularly unnerving to me – on many, many, manyyy fronts – even as someone natural born, so I can’t even imagine what those whose safety is on the line must feel like. Not to mention the state of immigration and refugees the world ‘round – this is for you guys: for your families, for anyone who fears for their own safety or the well-being, dreams and hopes of those around them.
Things You’ll Need
A small object from the country of origin (dirt is ideal, but anything else small will work – something that conjures up memories of home is best)
Dirt from current country
Begin with the item for your home country. If it is dirt, add a few drops of water to turn it into a pliable, clay-like mud. Roll this into a small ball (no larger around than a dime) and allow it to dry. To expedite the process, you can place it in the oven on a low setting (200 degrees or under). Don’t fret if there is some cracking, you’ll be covering it up anyway.
Take then your dirt from your current country and do the same. Wet it, and then, with the previous ball, roll the wet mud around it, forming a larger orb. This will act as a sort of shell, disguising and protecting the the “core.”
When the mud is still damp, roll the outside in salt – another layer of protection. Again, let this dry (or throw it in the oven: though the cracks this time may prove to be a problem. Monitor it closely. If fissures begin to form, remove from the oven and let cool naturally. These cracks can be filled by mixing more dirt with water and packing it into the spaces, scraping off any excess – make sure to sprinkle a little salt on the area so as not to leave any “chinks on the armor,” so to speak).
When the ball is completely dry, lay it upon the cloth and gather the corners and tie around with the red string. Some words may be spoken over it, asking for protection and discretion – once in your native language and then in the language of your new country of residence (if possible). This should be carried with you or buried in your yard, though if you apt for the latter, you should recreate the bag with every move to ensure maintained protection.
If you can, I’d create one for each member of the family to further ensure your collective protection.
He thinks he is being sneaky. Does he assume I cannot smell him? That I cannot hear him, circling, sniffing? Every second he spends underestimating me, I grow more and more angry. I am growing impatient, anxious… perhaps he is doing this on purpose. Perhaps he is hoping to unnerve me, catch me off guard, perhaps–
– perhaps I give him too much credit.
I admit… not the most threatening, uh, threat. But, even in the gloom, I could tell he was much larger than I. I hoped I was as intimidating, as I was intimidated.
Call it pity, call it foolishness, but I allowed him to stay. For the time being. He may come in handy while gathering food, if nothing else.
Veeto is… a professional cleaner. He loves mopping, sweeping, dusting and everything connected to cleaning in any way. Other than that, he’s chill and fun guy to be around.
Now a little explanation. Because I wanted to pre-order Andromeda, I started to look after a weekend part-time job, and ended up as a cleaner in the nearest H&M store. It’s nothing terrible and the payment isn’t bad at all, but since I spend two hours in the morning hoovering and scrubbing those large floors - and Andromeda keeps me unnerved lately, as I crave for any information about Jaal in general - I dedicate those two hours to my thoughts. Angara seem amazing so far, and it was only a matter of time until my first OC was born. And, well, this came to my mind. Not that I would overly enjoy any cleaning in general, but an Angara that would? Priceless.
Genuinely the scariest part of the winter trailer was the scene with Dom and Isaac where Isaac is softly saying “Dominic dumped Isaac. Dominic is alone. Dominic will always be alone.” Because it screams emotional abuse and I have disliked Isaac for a while and now this cements my hatred of him. I’ve never really been terrified of a fictional character but his cold and calculating manner has really really unnerved me.
It’s really unnerving and uncomfortable for me when people draw happy and complacent/subservient homeworld Pearls especially when you see how freaking scared and stressed Yellow Pearl gets when Yellow Diamond just talks to her.
This is not how you look at someone who you admire and respect.
This is how you look at someone who holds your existence in the palm of their hand and can crush it at will.
Anyway it bugs me when people depict Homeworld Pearls as loyal and subservient to their ‘superior’ gems and it’s really uncomfortable for me when people depict them as happy in their gem-dictated positions..
Nevermind Robert, I'm bloody unnerved! She's clearly crazy! Can she leave now? and take Lachlan with her.
I’m not judging until I see the actual episodes cause they can play differently but yeah she is making ME nervous. She doesn’t feel bad about what she did? Like that is what unnerves me. She was mad Robert “used” her (*rme* ffs) and suddenly the victim in all this. She is all like “look what you made me do to this nice guy!” BUT – I see nor hear ANY KIND OF ACTUAL REMORSE from her. Robert is seeping guilt everywhere.
None from her.
So…it’s all feeling a little calculating and creepy?