Louis, thinking: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀👀 👀 👌👌Good shit
This is a study in the power of the gaze. Who is really observing whom? Is it creepy Santa spying on a little girl? Is it the girl with her materialistic lust in her eyes? Or is the doll the true observer, shaming the others by her awareness that they can each only find fulfillment in the control and possession of others’ emotions?
past me: canon is sacred I must carefully fact-check everything to make sure it is canon-compliant
present me: canon is a box of scraps in a cave I’m gonna tear that shit apart throw away 90% of it and out of the good bits build something absolutely beautiful and amazing
i keep thinking about that tribe of baboons where all the alpha males died from eating poison garbage and then the baby boy monkeys were taken care of by the lady monkeys and never got socialized to be aggressive so they all just live peacefully and groom eachother instead of fighting and killing eachother and its been generations of that, it only took 1 wipeout of the aggressive males to change the whole social order of the species i am crying they must be so much happier
There are a number of spooky tales from Louisiana, but one of the most enthralling is that of Manchac Swamp. First of all, Manchac is rumored to be haunted. It’s also rumoured to be the haunt of Rougarou, the Cajun werewolf. As well as that, it’s said to be haunted by Julia Brown, a once practicing voodoo priestess, who put a curse on the entire town the day she died. Legend says that on the day of her funeral in 1915, a deadly hurricane ripped through the town, destroying three villages and killing a number of people. A number of curious visitors to the swamp have reported hearing shrill screams from a disembodied woman.
^This could be the swamp from IWTV! It’s in Louisiana, it stretches to Lake
Pontchartrain.
“Claudia had wrapped Lestat’s body in a sheet before I would even touch it, and then, to my horror, she had sprinkled it over with the long-stemmed chrysanthemums. So it had a sweet, funereal smell as I lifted it last of all from the carriage. It was almost weightless, as limp as something made of knots and cords… I went deeper and deeper in with Lestat’s remains, though why, I did not know. And finally, when I could barely see the pale space of the road and the sky which was coming dangerously close to dawn, I let his body slip down out of my arms into the water. I stood there shaken, looking at the amorphous form of the white sheet beneath the slimy surface. The numbness which had protected me since the carriage left the Rue Royale threatened to lift and leave me flayed suddenly, staring, thinking: This is Lestat. This is all of transformation and mystery, dead, gone into eternal darkness.” – Louis de Pointe du Lac, Interview with the Vampire
I-want-my-IWTV 