DRACULA (1931)
seen from Portugal

seen from Argentina
seen from China
seen from Netherlands

seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Russia

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from China
DRACULA (1931)
CRAZY HANDFUL OF NOTHIN'
Breaking Bad - Season 1 Episode 6
GILLIVERSE 1 YEAR CELEBRATION Will (@quincybf) — Favourite Symbol: Zafiro Añejo
People complaining that Mike is being written inconsistently it's hilarious to me cuz he's clearly a middle child from a loveless marriage that desperately wants to be needed.
Soft brown paint smears, carefully and freely, beneath their forefinger.
Back in the cave, all they had was that curious red clay. It was hard to curl into lines, terribly staining, and they never really liked how their pieces turned out. But this paint (Will called it acrylic, but they don’t understand what that means) flows and follows their hand closer, more forgiving than the clay.
A head dips into four legs, spaced by an abdomen decorated in decor. Flowers spill across the flank, made by dabbing fingerprints of brilliant shades over where a terrible wound would be. They tilt a finger, drawing only the edge of a silicone pad for long strands might burst out.
Their mark, a faintly-coloured handprint, presses into the paper beside their drawing. Carefully, they peel the thin paper away from the easel and set it to hang, magnetizing it against a easy-to-clean wall.
“Y’know,” Will pipes up from his spot against the wall, tablet in hand. “When we get to Alpha Centauri, your art will probably be pretty popular. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want to to be, of course, but I bet enthusiasts will love your glyphic style. It’s really unique.”
They tilt their head to that. It doesn’t make much sense, just like so many of these tales of Alpha Centauri, but Will seems happy with the idea. There must be something good to all of it if he likes it.
“I swear, if I hear one more quiet comment on how robots are untrustworthy and creepy, I can’t be held responsible for what I’m going to do.”
A quick disconnect of the wires on the Hub’s lighting array sets the stage. Unlike Earth, where there’s always light pollution, space tends to set things into an inky, strange sort of blackness.
There’s light here, yes, but it’s intermittent. A quick blackout sheet hides the other source of light, from Engine-Glimmer to screen. Little Will even wrapped a bit of cloth around his wrist, to mask his comms.unit.
Someone walks by, patting the switch to flick the lights on. The sound of that attempt grows louder, from a soft pap to an almost thud. On the third attempt, they spring into action.
Bam go the lights, shining bright enough to piece the blackout curtains. The effect is rather spooky, what with the light dulled into this ethereal, filling shape around their head and chest.
It’s very disconcerting, really. Will hopes that whoever just got hit with a straight up UV-grade LED has a good sense of humor.
[ Unit: has an idea for a Joke. ]
“Is it a mean one?”
[ Assumption: No. ]
“Is someone going to be hurt?”
[ Assumption: No. ]
“Will anyone be really scared?”
[ Assumption: No. ]
“Will anyone be kind of scared?”
[ Research: Implies Briefly. ]
“... who is your intended target?”
[ Situational. Will not Activate on Poor Subject. ]
“And what if you do, and that person doesn’t find it funny?”
[ Unit: Shall Apologize.]