#... Disturbingly Tangible

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Josie Pinup for @thedeafprophet ;) (full nudity below the cut)

i think october wants her cloak back josie 🤭

(based on this:)

[neyafromfrance95]

"if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."

oh and gaze back into her he does.

when the abyss she has gazed into with hatred for so long gazes back into her with love, what does that say about the complex depths of her own identity and feelings?

galadriel basically wills sauron into life after she turns her back on heaven for him, and then she calls for him to bind himself to her.

and bind her to himself he does. over and over again. just like she has devoted herself to slaying the darkness of him, he now covets to own the light of hers he worships. her obsession became his yearning. they were already bound cosmically, by the sea and by nenya, by connection they share. but it was not enough, he intended to merge their beings, to become intrinsic parts of each other. so he binds her by the blood in an act that is disturbingly erotic, a symbolically sexual act, as it is consummated through violent penetration. he opens her up and slithers in, consuming her.

and there are dimensions to this. sauron still wants her to give herself to him willingly when he asks for nenya. this is his ultimate goal, he is desperate for her to let him "heal" her, to the point he is brought to tears. pain -> reward is his love language, and i'd say he hates hurting her while she refuses his gifts, and yet he still gives them to her in the form of binding her to himself, his darkness, and most likely to her greatest desire - power.

galadriel is metaphorically ravished and reborn, she is both killed by sauron and birthed by him into something new, his mirror, drowned witch thirsty for power. the symbol of their bond both on her finger and just above her heart - his eye, always with her, perceiving her.

now they are bound for all eternity, and those indeed are the seeds galadriel herself has planted.

all of this is of course a metaphor, a narrative device. as sexual subtext is an effective tool of storytelling, a tangible way of showing galadriel's complex relationship with the darkness, ambition and power. and on a more metaphysical scale, a metaphor for an eternal push and pull of the dark and the light, for the intertwined nature of these concepts.

[rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world]

Repost from @jewishvoiceforpeace (with a side of @ jenanmatari and @EoghanGilmartin on twitter)

Neo-Nazis and Zionists collaborate to attack student protests against the genocide in Gaza.

It might come as a surprise that Neo-Nazis and the far right, who have a long record of stoking antisemitism, are joining anti-Palestinian demonstrations, but for those familiar with the long-standing alliance between Zionists and antisemites, this is disturbingly predictable.

Zionism is the ideology that the Israeli government rests upon. It claims Jewish safety requires a Jewish-only nation-state. Zionists use the strategy of violent ethnic cleansing to ensure their goal of “maximum land, minimum Palestinians.”

Antisemitic Zionists, or people who both hate Jews and love Israel, are common in right-wing movements, and are the sources of the most tangible threats to Jewish people. Depending on their ideology, white nationalists may admire Israel as a model ethnic supremacist state, share its Islamophobic and anti-Arab views, and/or want Jews to be corralled in their own state far away from the US. This worldview is gravely dangerous to Palestinians, Jews, Muslims, and people of color.

Neo-Nazi groups such as the Proud Boys and individuals carrying hate symbols like the Confederate and Gadsden flags have been spotted repeatedly at the violent pro-genocide protests harassing peaceful student protestors.

The agenda of white nationalists, war profiteers, and anti-Palestinian individuals and organizations has nothing to do with protecting Jewish people, and all to do with harming our intersectional movements for justice.

White supremacy anywhere is a threat to us all. That’s why we stand in solidarity with Palestinians and all people struggling for liberation.

[banjjakz]

notes: parasocially relational infidelity; implied stalking/harassment

➡ Go back the way you came.

Well, if you’ve gotten this far with your undoubtedly ridiculous lucky streak, it shouldn’t be so far-fetched an idea that you could just waltz out of the backstage area the exact same way by which you’d initially trespassed.

With Geto’s LINE ID stored squarely away in your phone and a post-coital pep in your limping, bruised, wobbly-kneed step, you proceed to walk down the dark, desolate corridor as though you actually belong here.

It is not long before you’ve made your way past the genesis of all this chaos to begin with: Yuuta’s dressing room.

Wow, you can’t believe what brought you closer to ShinShow was, in the end, ultimately, your connection to and passion for Yuuta… even though Geto was the member who, in the end, was more forward in proving his tangible desire for you, you will always remember Yuuta: your first love.

Lost in reverie, you stop in your tracks, pausing to admire the door…that happens to be ajar…with light leaking through the sizeable gap…seeping out around a conspicuous silhouette…with a familiar stature…and wardrobe…and morose, gaunt, haunted-looking face…

AH!!

Yuuta looms in the doorway like a ghoul materialized out of bereft nothingness. Backlit by the cheap, fluorescent lighting of the dressing room, Tall, broad in the shoulders, disturbingly lithe everywhere else, he appears to you less as a man and more as a specter.

…Creepy.

“Y-Yuu-chan…!!”

His usual droopy expression seems to be even more downcast than usual – and that’s saying a lot. Onstage, he looks like he’s delivering a eulogy. That’s a part of his unique and special charm.

The very same charm that ensnared you in the first place…

Ugh, what’s this gross, syrupy feeling welling within you, webbing across your chest in a terminal infestation of guilt?

What had you been thinking?

Regret holds you close, tight, intimate, like a lover gone rogue. You don’t want to be here anymore. You can’t bear the thought of standing before Yuuta after what you’ve just done – after your unabashed infidelity.

Worse still, why is he looking at you like he knows where you’ve been?

Yuuta’s eyes are heavy with unspoken feeling, which on the one hand feels nice, because he’s even looking your direction at all holy shit, and on the other hand kind of brutal, because you feel like you’re in a lot of trouble.

“…”

Before you can even begin to try and come up with a lie to justify your presence in the restricted backstage area, Yuuta beats you to the punch, breaking the silence with his characteristically somber, soft-spoken timbre:

“You look like you need a hug.”

The words hit you like a slap to the face. More impactful than any rough treatment of Geto’s, you reel back, blinking hard as tears spring to your eyes, unbidden. “Huh? I don’t understand—I’m sorry, I j-just, um, I’m lost—”

Yuuta’s chuckle is almost bittersweet. You have to strain to hear the sweetness in that hollow, forlorn whisper. “You’re so cute, even when you lie.”

“E-eh—”

“Here.”

Pure instinct drives your hands up to catch the foreign object tossed at you with lightning-fast precision. Instead of the hard impact you’d been expecting, what meets your awaiting palms is soft, fuzzy, and almost soothing to the touch.

“A gift.”

Peering down, you discover that Yuuta has thrown you a blanket. It’s pitch black with wide, blue eyes that yearn towards you, sucking in your attention, blocking out all external stimuli, seemingly multiplying in number the longer you stare into their cerulean depths. Are you blinking? Are they?

“You might be interested to know it originally belonged to Geto-senpai,” says Yuuta, voice oddly flat and numb, affectless in a way that feels like a foreign object has been inserted underneath your skin. “He’s slept with it at least several times. I know that much. Eventually, he got bored, and now it’s mine. Senpai used to say it was good for comfort. Something about always feeling watched over. I hope it brings you that same stability.”

Confused, and still quite teary, you cock your head at Yuuta, trembling in your shoes. Why is he doing this? Why?

“As long as you’re happy,” he mumbles, smile almost as watery as your eyes are. “That’s all that matters to me. I’m glad.” Okay, the last part is uttered through gritted teeth – but you can tell he’s really trying to mean it.

“Um…I’m really grateful for Yuu-chan’s care and support—”  

“Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

In an odd moment of denial of fanservice, he cuts you off before you can finish your grateful platitudes.

Why does this strangely feel like a break-up?

Nodding, you decide that you have no choice but to accept the consequences of your actions… while you’d come to this ShinShow performance as a dedicated Yuuta oshi, you’d left as a Geto-sama devotee. You suppose it’s only fair that you’ve forfeited any right to call Yuuta by his wota-given name.

“Many thanks to Yuuta-san, then.”

“Take care of yourself…and be well. You never know who could be watching.”

The dressing room door weeps quietly shut behind his skulking form.

Have you made a mistake?

Before you can dwell too deeply, your phone pings with a new LINE message. Hurriedly, you fish the heavily keychained device out of your pocket and swipe on the notification to see a new message from Geto. It reads:

Geto-sama wwww 23:55 someone needs to train you how to perform worship properly. I guess that particular burden must fall upon me.

Despite the chill in the unheated building, your face erupts with flames and the wet, soppy spot between your thighs is reignited with renewed heat.

This is your choice. You’ve dug your own grave.

And you’ll be buried in it – quite happily.

ENDING ACHIEVED: GETO SUGURU NORMAL END

SECRET ROUTE UNLOCKED: FUSHIGURO TOJI.

> PROCEED TO ROUTE [coming soon!]

[hikarry]

Living in my little bubble, surrounded by wonderful queer, left-leaning friends and allies, it's easy to believe that the world is progressing toward a more inclusive and understanding future. Within this sphere, love is celebrated in all its forms, acceptance is (almost always) a given, and societal advancement feels like a tangible reality.

But recently, I stumbled across something that shattered this comforting illusion I was trapped in—a surge of young, right-wing extremist voices emerging here, in Portugal. Yes, you read that right. Portugal. The very country people think it's pacific and everyone is vibing and "CRISTIANO RONALDO" and "FOOTBALL" and "WHORES AND WINE" and what not.

I was browsing through the depths of social media when I came across a series of podcasts led by disturbingly young and fervent right-wing kids. Legit kids. These aren't fringe, obscure channels, but rather platforms that are gaining alarming popularity among teenagers and young adults and what they say is...is simply absurd. Their messages are a chilling echo of the far-right rhetoric we’ve seen spreading across Europe like wildfire. They are just, what, 19 year olds spitting ideas from our dictator 50 years ago? There's literally a girl saying women are born to be at home and raise kids. A GIRL.

And it’s not just Portugal. Look at bloody France, for crying out loud. Across Europe, there's a disturbing trend of young people being drawn to extremist ideologies. Countries once celebrated for their progressive values are now grappling with a resurgence of nationalism, xenophobia, homophobia, and ultra-conservative agendas. The rise of far-right parties in countries like bloody Germany. Fucking Germany. Germany. Someone fucking slap me.

For a long time, I believed that each generation since around, idk, after WWII, was stepping forward, breaking down barriers and forging a more equitable society. But these young podcasters are a stark reminder that we are not all moving forward together. Instead, it seems that for every step forward, there are forces pulling us ten steps back.

It's easy to feel insulated when everyone around you shares your values. The idea that young people—the supposed torchbearers of future progress—are espousing such regressive views is not just disheartening; it's terrifying.

Cause, yes. I'll confess. Since the last presidential election here in Portugal (2020, I believe? Fuck me, I don't know politics, I'm just ranting alright?), the guy running for the extremist right got 3rd place with a really small difference from the woman in second place and I thought "There we go. The old uneducated folk trying to fuck this up. Fucking Salazarists. Just fucking die already." but little did I know a lot of his votes and one of the reasons why that party is now the 3rd strongest force in the Portuguese Assembly it's because of people my fucking age. Or even younger than me. People that grew up with information on their fucking fingertips.

If we want to truly advance as a society, we need to understand why these ideologies are taking root and work tirelessly to counteract them. The bubble of comfort and progress we live in is not representative of the world at large. And if we want to protect and expand the values we hold dear, we need to step out of our bubbles and confront the darkness creeping in at the edges.

[mifhortunach]

Reading Horror in Architecture a decade after its first publication is particularly compelling. With additional environments rendered freakish by free enterprise rigor, the evidence for Comaroff and Ker-Shing’s observations proliferates in cities and suburbs alike. Reading it as a Gothic scholar who regularly considers how horrific cultural productions instruct us, revealing our anxieties and providing cautionary tales, has transformed how I see human-made environments. Comaroff and Ker-Shing use horror as the lens through which to view these structures and the language by which to describe them—aptly so, because the conditions that summon their rise (often from the unhallowed grounds of stolen or abused land) are themselves horrific and, importantly, foster yet more horrific conditions. Horror may seem a bit melodramatic until one recalls the hypnotic and numbing flicker of fluorescent lights stacked upon each other in gray corporate skyscrapers, reddening eyes and blocking stars. Or perhaps, more disturbingly, one witnesses news stories featuring the remains of Gaza, consequences of settlement colonialism and global complicity. The horror of those settings lies not in exaggerations but rather, as the book proclaims, in the tangible—and accurate—expression of extremes, for we live in an era of extremes. As Comaroff and Ker-Shing note, “Horror is one by-product of modernity and thus mimics its advanced forms”; it manifests immoderations and indulgent extravagances. Hence, when we see buildings bloated, deteriorated, mutated, duplicated, or dislocated, often a dereliction of ethics is the remodeling contractor at work. By interpreting buildings in horror mode, the authors unveil the systemic greed, unsustainable growth, and unchecked power embedded in their foundations.

[nickmpreg]

it’s also disturbingly funny how these are the exact people who want us to maintain a patriarchal structure where men are at the top and don’t show any sign of emotion to the outside world , saving it all for their wives at home who they can beat to a bloody pulp and then rape her body later and then have the GALL to talk about men’s mental health . you don’t care about the complexities of mental health or the real , tangible effects that it has on our society at large you just want some lousy excuse to come home every day and treat your wife like a hunk of plastic that pops out a baby for you once a year . how are we expected to set aside our time and address the ‘male loneliness epidemic’ when these violent fantasies are what drive their own loneliness . it’s hard to care about someone when they don’t see you as a human being , but what do i know

[cloisfics]

STAY

She was running...where exactly, she couldn't fathom, couldn't bring herself to care about the fact that she, being defenseless could potentially get murdered in cold blood, not when she felt that sensation of impending doom suffocating her, the terror running deep in her veins, her heart pounding.

Lois Lane was not one to shy away from danger. It was what excited her, chaos was what she was used to thriving on, it was what defined her life- what made it worth living for. But this was different - of course it was - she could feel it..the last thread of hope -slipping away from her clutch, the flashing lights from the battlefield nearly blinding her. She found her breath coming in pants, her eyes tearing up, limbs shaking..her entire world crumbling down into pieces, right in front of her eyes- and yet, she was totally and utterly helpless to do anything about it. Her frantic eyes had found the read and blue mass lying in the corner, right next to that terrifying beast- most disturbingly, motionless.

" Clark!"

Lois was so horror struck for a moment that she could only stay rooted to the spot, praying that her bloody mind was playing stupid tricks one her. This couldn't be real. She wouldn't allow it...

She finally willed enough strength to move to him, dizzy and feverish, for the first time-petrified of the unknown, of what awaited her. She managed to turn him around onto her lap, shaking hands immediately finding the face she loved so much. His skin was so frigid, and clammy. He had never felt so cold before. The soundless scream erupted from her throat of it's own accord...

Like a bucket of ice-cold water had been splashed on her, Lois jerked awake. She felt her forehead, feeling sick, her heart pounding loudly against her ribcage. She instinctively reached out next to her, and was further anguished on discovering the cold side of the bed. Slowly, she took in the familiar surroundings- the comfy bed with the silk comforter she was tangled in, the walls coated in warm beige illuminated from the table lamp, the cozy decor, the tall mahogany cupboard and the frigid bay windows against which snow was falling, heavily.

No. She kept telling herself. It was just the usual nightmare- her worst memory, in fact- the one which took pleasure in constantly haunting her..and yet- it had been so real, she could feel her throat constricting, her chest tightening. Her restless mind began conjuring up such bone-chilling imagery she couldn't manage to shut out.

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to pull herself together somehow and failing miserably. He would be here, he had to be here, or was he?

Tired of her internal debate, she decided to put an end to the dilemma; she was even more frustrated to find out the amount of effort it took to sit upright against the headboard, and that was when she was suddenly alerted to the wound on her left shoulder, the pain so tangible she was forced to recollect the unpleasant scenario she had found herself in before the bullet had brushed past her skin.

As if on cue, the door opened- and there stood Clark- in his casual flannel, looking quite worn out with dark circles quite visible under his eyes- he never got dark circles, he was Superman for God's sake- but alive. Miraculously, right in front of her. Unharmed.

The fatigue weakening her body, and her wobbling legs which threatened to give way beneath her, forgotten- all of a sudden, she collapsed straight into him, wrapping her petite frame against his muscular torso, arms wrapping around him as tight as she could muster.

"Lois!" He breathed into her hair.

She felt his steady heartbeat, as she buried herself deeper into him, letting his scent wrap around her- healing her. She once again reminded herself of how much her life revolved around him, and him alone.

"Honey.." he gently peeled back away from her, concern pooling in his mesmerizing blues, as he took in the sight of her, hand trailing down her cheek.

"Hey.." she managed weakly, instinctively melting into his touch.

"Is everything..."

"I'm fine.." she assured him, and herself, arms circling his neck, leaning her forehead agaist his, "Just a bad dream.."

He held her close, kissing her forehead as he murmured, "You scared the hell out of me.."

She knew they had to talk it through. She sensed apprehension, fear and worry- all in that one simple sentence, and felt the guilt creeping up her veins, already. But not right now. It had to wait.

"Clark..."

"I know." He whispered, delicately stroking an arm down her back, perfectly aware of her need for comfort.

"Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere, Lo!"

[denimbex1986]

'Andrew Scott did not receive an Oscar nomination, more disturbingly not even a BAFTA, I mean what the hell, for portraying Adam in All of Us Strangers.

All of Us Strangers tells the tale of a middle aged writer starting a new relationship while seeming to be able to visit his deceased parents as he knew them as a child.

Andrew Scott plays the writer as we open the film in his lonely room in a high-rise London apartment complex. Scott's performance in the opening is a man operating in his loneliness as the innate state of being. I think what is essential in his performance is he doesn't open with some overwrought note of suffering, rather what Scott portrays is almost a, not quite comfort, but a settled state of being as he moves around his apartment thinking about life, occasionally writing but also just listening to music or inane television. Scott's work has much within the silences about this as Adam goes about in his way, that just is, it isn't happiness he's exuding, nor is it this constant sorrow either, it is rather this long state of being where Scott alludes to as being something years the making. The first time we see him speak is when he opens the door to find seemingly his one neighbor Harry (Paul Mescal) knocking at his door, seeking company, romantically likely but also more directly just connection. Scott's performance in this scene portrays Adam's state for likely years at this point as he greets Harry with a very kind of reduced delivery. It isn't that he is being rude, or aggressively dismissive towards the man, he's rather being in this state of the self that feeds into the state of being alone. Scott responds just enough to everything Harry says, but only just enough to just be as pleasant as he'll be, until Harry tries to invite himself into Adam's apartment. Scott's reaction in this moment is genius in a way because there's so much there, even as it is relatively modest in terms of the "loudness" of performance, but there is so much texture. There's a glint in his eye of being intrigued, then in the same second there's a tightening, a sense of a man avoiding any potential wound the man could suffer from opening himself up to connection again. Scott shows in this moment Adam choosing to stay lonely but lonely in this way he's come to understand.

The crux of the film comes into being as Adam begins to think of his childhood for his writing and begins to visit his old house. Scott's silent work is consistently great in creating a tangible sense of the emotional state of Adam in each instance, and doesn't allow any dead air of pensive staring. Scott always develops this with purpose, and in the initial scene it is with this sense of confusion mixed in with a kind of pondering discovery as he, perhaps fantasy literally or metaphorically, sees his father as he knew him as a boy who beckons him to come along. Scott's performance is so important in not making this silly, because he creates this sense of discovery as he goes about it and this is a real man entering into this dream. Which initially it is as his family welcoming home as though he'd been on a long many year long trip away coming home after so much time. Scott's performance is so good by making it always so unbearably tangible in every conversation we see between him and his parents. The way he reacts to them is with this interest initially, this sense of "what is going on" but also the embracing of a discovery in the moment. In his initial scene, Scott's performance brings a nonchalance initially that in itself works so well in the man essentially trying to explain his life to his parents, who beam with pride at hearing that he's in London and a writer. Scott brings this simple modesty about Adam that is able to articulate both the son who doesn't want to seem boasting about his parents, perhaps even feels he hasn't lived up to enough dreams at times, while also not sure yet to make sure of this situation he finds himself in either. Scott's delivery of explaining himself not be a writer of particular note of any kind, with a blunt honesty about it, that reflect a man who still isn't sure of himself in so many ways, that contrasts so beautifully against his parents who are just in love with every word he is saying, as he seems to be living above and beyond the dreams they might've had for him. The scene being the ideal support for Adam to open new pathways for himself.

Meanwhile back in his apartment it appears as though Adam is finally opening himself to anything as he tries to incite Harry into an invite again, which seemingly he rejects at first before later accepting and the two do begin a relationship. These scenes where I think Scott very much gives purpose for every encounter that we see between Harry and Adam, because there is more going on with the man. As what Scott performs so well is showing the way the lonely man who had settled opens himself to this experience. He articulates through every step so well, as even in the first encounter with the fairly direct, though not aggressive Harry, Scott has these perfectly implemented subtle moments where you do see surprise, a little hesitation in the man, before giving into the idea showing the man basically needing to learn to make connections again. Scott gives such a weight to the progression of each scene with Harry because he shows just how deep of a hole Adam was in, and slowly but surely we see Harry push him out of it. He and Mescal have great chemistry with one another, by the connection being a given but more so the dynamic that is crafted between the older gay man who lived through the far more prejudiced and dangerous era to Harry who could be more open in his life and experience. The scene where they speak to their mutual experiences, Scott's performance is again outstanding in underplaying the emotion while finding so much truth in it, because the past of his experience as a gay man is in the past, yet it isn't at all gone from his mind. Rather what Scott is able to portray is this sense of reasoning the past from himself, there's so much pain in Scott's expression but pain he's held in, he's adjusted, he's calibrated to where he is now, but still pain all the same. While never wasting hearing Harry's own story, as more accepted yet still an outsider, where Scott articulates every thought Adam is going through in his own experience, understanding and even falling into the memories of his parents.

His next return to his parents is when only his mother (Claire Foy) is home, who at first is just excited to see her son again and commenting how much he looks like her father now that he is all grown up. Scott's performance again is so great because he not only makes the fantasy tangible, he makes it so strikingly powerful. In this case we have the son discovering his mother best he can and trying to reason with her, as she quickly comes to ask about his relationships, where Adam essentially comes out to her where she is taken aback, almost acting in denial to the statement. Scott is so great in the scene because his reaction in part is holding a lot in showing the man trying to almost forgive his mother for not accepting him right away while also being so evidently frustrated all in the same momentary reaction. His delivery is so good as he challenges her each time because Scott really brings this sharpness while not becoming overly aggressive. There is this sense of disbelief in every line that his mother can't accept him, but also this painful sense of almost an expectation as well. Scott articulates the moment so effectively because he is playing so much at once in trying to break down his mother's constrained perspective. Scott is challenging but challenging in a way in which he's almost angry at the whole prospect of having to ask. There's so many amazing moments as you just see Scott trying to not hate his mother, while wanting to entirely hate his mother at the same time. His eyes do so much in going between each phase, and his way of explaining every question of hers, as an almost "well duh" way of pointing out the obvious, while also kind of going slightly mad at the same time when having to have this conversation with his mother. The scene could've been easily overwrought if it had been just one note, but Scott goes through so much life, that every second of it feels brutally honest.

The next moment he visits home he sees his father (Jamie Bell) alone rather than his mother. Where his mom was so blunt in her emotion he's instead dealing with his father who actually offers initially some comfort by saying his mother will get over it. Scott's great in the more guarded way he comes in first in his way in just asking as he can, which his dad bluntly breaks when saying he knew because "he couldn't throw a ball for shit". Scott's reaction with Bell, as fantastical as the situation is, feels so natural as they manage to naturally laugh in the moment even if the rather brutal reasoning on his dad's part. Scott's amazing though in the way he speaks to his dad so differently, where Scott shows in some ways trying to be more controlled, more direct, more like his dad's expected son. His delivery is more precise, more short, his attempt to hold the emotion in is more exact. His way of trying to peer into his dad's thoughts while also maintaining a certain control. Even when asking why he didn't come into his room when he heard him crying, Scott holds in so much anguish in the moment, and in such a bluntly convincing way in showing the man putting on the brave face for his father speaking so much to their relationship rather than his mothers. When his father attempts to offer his own apology in his way, Scott's shift to the good things they had in his memories, Scott speaks from the heart with such warmth to just the simple memories of enjoying the family Christmas decorations and trying to ease the tension in such a natural way. The two kind of maintain their distance, then proceeds to tear my heart out, as both break as his dad apologizes for not comforting him as a child, and Adam trying to say it is okay. With both actors bringing such beautiful honesty and comfort to the scene, of the father and son embracing after so many years of distance.

Meanwhile we see the progression with Harry's relationship where Scott's performance articulates this gradual removal from himself from that self-imposed exile of self from connecting to others in each subsequent scene. Scott always being so genuine, such as a simple moment such as requesting Harry not watch him undress, despite the two having had sex already, filled with sincerity that speaks to Adam as very much finding a pathway out of his shell he's put himself into. The moments of them speaking growing in the sense of comfort in their interaction, and that malaise that had defined Adam before that point in being lost as he is alone. There's a simple power in the moments of the two speaking to each other in their tender calm they have in their experience with one another. This opens up as we watch the two go clubbing, which could just be a scene about direction and visual imagery, but Scott's performance still stands out within this. As in every little interaction we see through the sequence speaks so much more to the sense of Adam going to go enjoy life in a way he hasn't in some time, or maybe even simply hasn't it. Scott's great because he doesn't play it with a simple ease, rather he shows the man discovering every moment of each experience, and embracing it that builds this at first little bit of joy that expands. Expanding in a way that is so potent in Scott's performance because we've seen where this man was in the opening scenes, and he shows this growth in such a natural and wholly captivating way.

There is a shift though in the scenes with his parents which is a kind of regression for Adam as we see him with his parents, and Scott's performance again takes a big risk that if not pulled off perfectly, would be kind of terrible, of course it's the former. That is portraying this almost infantile manner he begins as he returns to his parents again in Christmas, as his physical performance is much smaller, emphasizing more of a child's size but also deferring state to his parents, and looking up to his parents celebrating Christmas, with both of them wholly embracing him, Scott manages to show Adam kind of giving into the pleasantries of the past by indeed being a child again. Scott makes a heartwarming moment in the way you see how much Adam appreciates getting to live this experience again with the sense of nostalgia in his eyes, while also showing the danger as he is indeed giving into the idea of the fantasy. With the moments where now his traveling between the kinds of worlds he's experiencing he's in a way much more lost and needing than he had been in a way, as he becomes dependent on the visits. His moment of trying to stop his parents from going out, where they are destined to die in a car accident, Scott's delivery of "promise me you won't go out", is incredible work as again it is the combination between the sort of child's worry in his voice but with the sense and knowledge of the adult. Scott manages to be neither purely one way or the other, and is both at once in a way that shouldn't work perhaps, though entirely does.

The following scene with his parents Scott is magnificent in his ability to be able to kind of show both the dangers and beauty of being stuck in the past, and the struggle to reckon with it. The scene where he explains to his own mother, his life after he died, his initial delivery is so poignant because he does speak like a little kid just recounting something to his mom in the night, yet with so much more emotion of the man who knows so much more behind each word. Scott brings this unique vulnerability as his mother apologizes to him for her actions, and he tries to comfort her. And another scene that perhaps also just rips out my heart once again, when Adam tells his mother what he would've done with his parents through his life if they had lived. Scott's performance is so heartbreaking because there's such a wistful dreaming quality that speaks so much to the boy just wishing for the simple joys of a family. Even noting they had to fight but with a smile as just part of being a family and being together being the important point. Scott's kind moment of realization of the pain within it all being so heart wrenching as again his performance, just uncovers the level of vulnerability as the man needing to realize the truth of his loss. His breakdown back as the "adult" Adam being just all of the blunt sorrows in a moment that Scott opens up as the most tremendous wound being opened up. His detailing of the entire death is great acting, as again the adult, where the adult tries to distance himself from years past, where Scott is carrying so much shaking horror of every thought of thinking of the terrible death of their parents. Scott putting the years into it with every word filled with all of the searing pain beneath it, but the man attempted to articulate his defense of being isolated from his parents.

A merging occurs where Adam brings Harry in an attempt to meet his parents, though his parents refuse to let him enter. Scott's extraordinary in the scene in showing sort of the mania of Adam on the brink of trying to deal with the loss of his parents again in his experience. Scott being filled with the manic desperation attempting to be the young man attempting to bring his loved ones together. Scott shows the man trying to live all his lives at once, and becoming lost. Which leads to a great scene with both parents trying to be tough love of having them say that they have to let him go and he has to let them go in order for him to be able to move on. Scott is so great in the scene because through every moment you see in his eyes a man trying to live out the joy of his parents, and just closing himself up from the reality that he must separate from this fantasy. Scott brings within his performance this aggressive force of the man just trying to hold off on the pain just that much more, being almost brat in a way when physically trying to silence his dad as the boy who doesn't want to have to grow up. As natural though in so meekly delivering "it's not been long enough" as still the little boy just hoping to be with his parents just a little more time than he had been able to be granted in life. Scott again being so outstanding by being the man and the boy, not as two separate parts but as one going through the grief. To ease the blow, the parents invited him out to the mall for one more time together. I love Scott's reaction to their invite, as he shakes his head stubbornly as the child, but the man's eyes recognize it as what needs to happen. Scott decides to rip my heart out one more time for good measure in their sequence of a final goodbye, where every moment of Scott's performance is some of the most moving acting of 2023. As every moment of realization of his loss again, with just the simple appreciation of being with them, and articulation of the mix between the man trying to hold on yet realizing he must move on. Scott's fluctuation between what should be such unbelievable extremes just are the most genuine sincerity that deliver every bit of poignancy to this moment of the man and the boy accepting their deaths finally, as best as he can. Scott's "I love you very much dad" and comfort to his mom, as she finally comforts him, is wonderful as it has such complex emotional truth to the interaction yet feels effortless in Scott's devastating performance. Scott showing every bit of love that was there from the son to the parents, as a boy, as a man, but with every sense of the loss interwoven innately in one final stunning tapestry of the relationship with his parents. Scott never shying from the beauty of the simplicity of the love of parents and child, but also finding every hint of nuance in the complexity of it all the same. It is never just one thing, but everything, that delivers such a tragic poignancy and not only makes the fantasy tangible, it makes it so powerfully incisive.

The final "twist" of the film, which I think is necessary from how Harry is written in what comes out, though I don't think was entirely necessary in terms of the overall film, that spoilers being Harry is also dead the whole time and has merely been speaking to his ghost as well, as just this film really isn't about the "gotcha" to begin with, regardless, it still mostly works for me due to the performances of Mescal and Scott. What Scott uses in this moment is to articulate the final true growth of Adam in the moment in trying to finally embrace others out of his loneliness despite having in fact lost another opportunity to do so. Scott's great by very much playing the reaction to Mescal's performance, of the dying man destroyed by his own loneliness, while Scott brings such a poignancy in his understanding, comforting and alto together self-actualized manner as he explains his earlier fears that prevented from reaching out. Scott's "I found you" to give any sense of care to the man in his final moments brings such a beauty in just the idea of human connection in any way, and Scott's expression that shows the power of in a way simply being seen and acknowledged. The final scene shows Scott embracing fully another, even within these circumstances, as someone who can reckon now with his past, and embrace his life even as he helps yet another dead person move on. Speaking now with this certain emotional confidence that is life affirming with each word, and his look into the other man now fully being without fear or being stuck within his terrible grief. This is masterful work by Andrew Scott, as there simply is not a false moment in the entire film. And this is a performance that manages every difficult emotional scene, every strange shift in style or circumstance, that not only makes them work, it makes them feel entirely profound and only ever intensely impactful. It is very complex work in terms of all that Scott needs to portray, take in and illustrate, yet never does feel anything but wholly genuine in its simpler core elements that binds everything together. It is a tremendous performance in every sense, that breaks my heart in a way few performances ever do.'

[spartanblacksmith]

As a kid in from the 90's, this is true, in a disturbingly accurate sense. @just-your-average-tangerine almost described my own childhood. The only difference being I didn't have a therapist because they're too expensive and my family was just in the middle ground between poor and middle class.

To be fair, I'm not a party animal. Never have. I didn't like the noise at wild parties, what some call music, that was loud enough to shake your teeth and pound your head.

I much prefer to enjoy gatherings, where we just hangout. We play on the console the party games like Smash Bros, Halo, Mario Cart, Etc. in the living room TV. Perhaps a game of poker for the players not currently holding a controller to keep them entertained.

I've never smoked cigarettes, and seeing everyone in my extended family above 30 hopelessly addicted to them, I never wanted to. Nor was I ever interested in Alcohol, seeing it's killed 2 great aunts, an uncle, and 2 cousins. And would later claim my father. And I did listen when D.A.R.E. explained the effects of drugs. I would rather have the cognition to daydream rather than be out of it for a while.

Twas the life of a sober person for me, and it's not like I regret it.

And there's also the point of kids losing their mobility outside the house. I wasn't allowed past the immediate neighbors house, and they were good friends with my parents. My sister's kids nowadays aren't even allowed past the front lawn, under supervision.

The world has gotten terrifying. Kidnappers will just scoop up your small child and you'll never see them again if you're not vigilant. Too many have experienced this dreadful situation.

Then when the kids get older, there's nothing for them to do outside the house, unless they got money. And it's largely our previous generation to blame for that when they were having fun. Because as they got older, the stuff they got into was outlawed or banned. And then they changed how it worked, thinking they're "improving" efficiency for the younger kids.

The Mall? If there even is a mall, "No loitering!" unless you're buying something, and at these prices? Forget it.

The local McDonald's? Buy your food and go, we got more customers.

The park? Everything is rusty and poorly taken care of.

The bowling alley? Where? So many are gone.

The skate rink? You mean the one 3 towns over?

The bar and their pool table? Not for anyone under 21. And those prices? Not even as an adult would most people buy drinks there.

The ball park? Are you an official team who can cover the entry fee?

The arcade? Unless you're okay going into Chuck e Cheese, the only arcade you'll find is that hole in the wall kind in the side of a supermarket.

And when you're an adult, it's hopeless. So many have been given rides into college, and the retirement age keeps going up, that the job market for degree carriers is not just filled, it's saturated. Colleges being completely fine with giving you a degree they know a very large percent of their graduates can't/won't be able to use is terrible and greedy, but we're here.

Then there's the economy. Years of stalling wage increases has had a tangible effect on most people. No large disposable income? Got to go to work more. Got to work more? Less time with friends. And you have to sleep longer to ensure you stay healthy because Good Lord, you're not affording health care these days.

And finally, social media. It's not the big boogeyman some people make it, but it has given its users a big label maker and convincing people you have to stay within your cliches or be punished.

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.

[thebadwriterdiaries]

Dreams of love

Once, I had a disturbingly vivid dream. In it, my friend and colleague stood waiting for me in a dim, seemingly endless corridor. Dark wood-paneled walls enclosed the space, lined with doors bearing brass plaques engraved with names and titles—presumably those of university officials or forgotten scholars. The atmosphere was steeped in an oppressive quiet, almost monastic in its restraint.

I made my way down the corridor toward him, only to realize, with an abrupt urgency, that I needed to relieve myself. Badly. My gaze swept over the doors, searching for any sign of a restroom, yet none bore the familiar marking. Not daring to open any of them, I pressed forward, though my steps grew heavier with each passing moment.

My friend, meanwhile, was dressed as though he’d walked out of another era: a bowtie, crisp shirt, slacks, and a blazer adorned with elbow patches—looking every bit the somber history professor. He stood motionless, gazing toward me with a patient intensity, his figure almost blending into the shadows of the corridor. There was something timeless about him, as if he belonged more to this dimly lit passageway than to any waking reality I’d known.

In the silence stretching between us, my heart began to thud with a strange, insistent urgency. Every step, every measured breath heightened that peculiar sensation of being poised at the edge of something momentous and irreversible.

When I finally reached him, I was struck by a desire so swift and so vivid it nearly startled me awake. Without thought, I found myself whispering, almost pleading, as though bound by some half-forgotten ritual, “Kiss me.” The words hung in the air between us, suspended in that dim, heavy space, and I felt the weight of them settling over me, as if they were part of the very fabric of the dream.

His eyes met mine, a glint of understanding—or perhaps something darker—flickering within them. He moved closer, his presence radiating a familiar warmth that was almost tangible, grounding me even as the world around us seemed to dissolve into shadow.

In that instant, the need—the unbearable urgency I couldn’t quite name—was met, absorbed in the solemn quiet of that endless corridor.

The dream held a quiet intensity, a tension that could not be ignored. The corridor, long and shadowed, felt like a place suspended in time, a space between worlds where rules no longer applied. The dark wood-paneled walls, heavy with history, seemed to close in with every step, and the names on the doors—titles and occupations of people unknown to me—only added to the sense of mystery. But it was not the setting that captivated me most; it was the presence of him.

My friend, standing at the end of the corridor, was more than just a familiar figure. He was transformed, caught in an era far removed from the present, his appearance so precise—his bowtie, his elbow-patched blazer, the polished quality of his attire—that he seemed to belong to a world of intellectuals, of old-fashioned romance, where feelings were buried beneath layers of decorum. The very sight of him invoked something forbidden in me, something that whispered of longing yet never voiced aloud in waking life.

As I approached, an unexpected urgency stirred within me. The dream had started to reveal itself not just as an exploration of desire but of a longing that could not be contained—an ache that surged with every heartbeat. And then, suddenly, the question of the kiss arose. It was not simply an impulse, but a need that felt more significant than the act itself. In the context of the dream, the kiss represented a crossing of boundaries—both emotional and societal. It was forbidden, in the sense that it was something I could never truly ask for, could never fully express in the real world. But within the space of the dream, within the silence of that corridor, it became a way of breaking free from the constraints that separated us, a moment where the tension between us could finally resolve.

The kiss was not just a simple act of affection; it was a symbolic breaking of the rules that governed our lives. It was romantic in its forbidden nature, a declaration that in this fleeting moment, nothing mattered except the connection between us. There was something timeless about it, a kind of defiance in choosing to act on a feeling that, in waking life, might have been repressed or denied. In that moment, we stepped outside the boundaries of time and propriety, surrendering to the pull of something more visceral, more raw.

It was a kiss born of longing, of two souls reaching for each other in a world where connection was rare and fleeting. And though it existed only in the realm of dreams, it was as if it had the power to transcend the boundaries of that space—to speak of a yearning that could not be denied, a romance too pure to be confined.

[filmfanaticfables1990]

Exploring The Haunting Depths: Talk To Me (2023)

In a landscape inundated with horror films that often prioritize cheap thrills over genuine psychological depth, Talk to Me (2023) stands as a beacon of innovation. Directed by Danny and Michael Philippou, this movie offers not just a chilling narrative but also an exploration of our deepest fears and desires.

The Anatomy Of Fear

What Talk to Me does exceptionally well is delve into the anatomy of fear. It's not just about the spirits that the characters conjure using the embalmed hand, but about the internal ghosts they battle. The supernatural elements act as a catalyst, bringing to light the psychological and emotional struggles of the characters. The film expertly balances these elements, making the horror personal and intimate.

The Human Connection

At its core, the film is a study of human connection. Sophie Wilde's character, Mia, becomes a conduit through which we explore themes of loss, grief, and the desperate need for closure. The movie prompts us to ask ourselves: how far would we go to connect with those we've lost? This universal quest for connection is what makes the horror elements even more impactful. They serve as a dark mirror, reflecting our deepest anxieties and vulnerabilities.

Practical Effects And Realism

One of the standout aspects of the film is its use of practical effects. In an era where CGI often dominates, the tangible, tactile quality of the practical effects in Talk to Me adds a layer of realism that's both rare and refreshing. The ghostly encounters feel disturbingly real, pulling the audience deeper into the film's eerie world.

A New Era Of Horror

Talk to Me is not just a horror movie; it's a commentary on the genre itself. It challenges the tropes and conventions we've grown accustomed to, offering a fresh perspective that is both terrifying and thought-provoking. It's a reminder that horror can be more than just a genre—it's a lens through which we can explore complex human emotions and societal issues.

In conclusion, Talk to Me is a must-watch for anyone who appreciates horror with depth. It’s a film that doesn’t just aim to scare but also to make you think long after the credits roll. It’s a testament to the power of horror when done right, proving that the genre has much more to offer than just jump scares and gore.

[rpgsocialservices]

The Core of 'The Crooked Man'

The Crooked Man is the first game in the strange man rpgmaker horror game series. It is perhaps the scariest rpg horror game I've ever played, thanks to the disturbing body horror, game pacing, and timely jump scares. Admittedly, that may partially be because of my own disposition and personal weakness toward body horror and jumpscares (I also have not played the last two games in the series, one of which has stronger content warning than The Crooked Man does). While I am not someone who likes essays explaining why society or some such is the 'true horror' in a piece of horror media, I do think that the best horror pieces use horror as an exaggeration of evils we already deal with in real life, their consequences, and as a way to showcase a tangible defeat of intangible evils.

VERY quick summary: David the protagonist of The Crooked Man, and is introduced during a period of self-isolation when his relationships are suffering and in some cases falling apart altogether. He begins to be haunted by a frightening apparition, and follows a trail to various locations as he attempts to get rid of this haunting. He meets other people who are also more or less at rock bottom, and finally finds the body of the Crooked Man [Duke McGahan] who has been haunting him and can put him to rest. I don't want to recap the entire game here or spoil everything, so this will overall make more sense if you have played the game before.

On the surface, the horror of this game is largely body horror, as the titular character is indeed disturbingly physically crooked, along with the jump scares and chase scenes. The anticipation of meeting the Crooked Man again as he chases you down is matched by the visceral revulsion you feel when you see him. There is also the general atmosphere of the game, as every place David has to travel through is empty except for one other person in each place who is at something of a dead end in their own journey. This creates a pervasive sense of desperation both for the characters to not fail in their darkest times and for David to find some companion so he isn't alone against this monster. However, none of our new friends follow us beyond their individual maps, so each move along the plot brings a loss of companionship even as it brings a new character for us to meet. This too contributes to the desperation that drives the game. The dread of facing the monster again is only matched by the twin contradictory fears of facing it alone or of it hurting someone you now care about, and all the while you are terribly aware that you are on the run.

But how did this happen in the first place? Why? This is only partially a case of 'wrong place, wrong time'. The core of The Crooked Man is not the body horror and the chase scenes, and it's not David's own problems, even though avoiding them was what drove him to the location where he first met the Crooked Man to begin with. The core of the The Crooked Man is the human need for connection. David's spiral is ultimately caused by his self-imposed isolation. Duke's suicide which lead to him becoming the Crooked Man was caused by his despair after a lifetime of abandonment, failure, and loneliness. Every character that David meets in each new location is desperately lonely, and this loneliness is mirrored in David. For brief periods of time, David seems slightly revitalized as he focuses on his companions over his own despair, but ultimately this is fleeting. Once we learn that these characters are only facets of Duke, the reality hits full force that this horror has narrowed down to encompass David alone as he faces Duke.

It is what comes after we walk away from the final confrontation that makes human connection the true core of this game. We've learned that Duke lacked any real safety net or network, and he succumbed to his despair and his own crooked man. David, by contrast, has a network of people who care about him, but has spent the game up until this point rejecting them, and has almost gone down the exact same path that Duke did. The foils of Duke and David's respective stories combine to one conclusion: your relationships with other people cannot save you, but they can make it easier if you let them. Loved ones cannot fix your problems for you. They cannot take away your depression. Importantly, they also cannot help you if you do not want to be helped. By the same token, if you are willing to reach out, they might be able to help you, and maybe make things a little easier and a bit more bearable. Maybe Duke wouldn't have become the Crooked Man if he had a network, or maybe he would have. David almost did because he isolated himself, which left him vulnerable to external and internal threats. We don't know how long it took for David to get better after the game, or what role his friends played in helping him bear it all, but we do know that in later games he reaches out to others to help them with their problems when he can. We know he learned how important that human connection is when facing trials and tribulations, and that he was willing to offer that to others.

[out-of-heaven-and-hell]

@exalted-slaughter sent; A bloodied and disturbingly raw heart is inexplicably somehow left on the window to Charlie’s penthouse in the top of the hotel. It was fresh, seeing as it was still dripping with fresh blood, and tangibly slimy to the touch, resting on the windowsill as if it were a pie cooling and waiting to be eaten.

It has a small string wrapped around its dripping frame, and attached to said string was a note.

“From Lute.”

Charlie was starting her day off like she often did, singing!

"GOOD MORNING BAAAAALTIMORE! EVERDAYS LIKE AN OPEN DOOR! EVERY NIGHT IS A FANTAAAASY! EVERY SOUNDS LIKE A SYMPATHEEEE-!!"

Cue a very high-pitched note that was hard for even her to hit.

"What the actual fuck-" the heart is seen, the princess would have been horrified to see it regardless, but the fact it's right outside her window just makes it worse. She gets closer, peaking her head out to inspect it further.

Lute did this? What was this? A warning? A threat? Just wanting to mess with her? Charlie is stunned, not quite knowing what to do with this, but she knows she can't just leave it here. She goes slowly...take it, pinching the edges of it, then lifting it while keeping it as far away from her as possible. She immediately books it inside. She has to figure out a way to dispose of this....respectfully of course.

[safesthaveninexistence]

Each and every planck length inch of their tattoos on their body are energetically loyal to solely and exclusively me and they absolutely know it like they palpably and tangibly feel it in such a disturbingly undeniable way

[bearsuitrecords]

New review of the Eamon The Destroyer album, "We'll Be Piranhas" from DMME.net:

Still nothing like anything: a second bout of beautiful noise deepens the mystery in the most predatory ways.

Following this performer is like walking blindfolded on a tightrope because the listener can never be sure whether they’ll reach the other side of the aural abyss he’s offering or fall into whatever trap he’s set. So while the trip the Scottish enigma took his flock on with "A Small Blue Car" in 2021 felt beguilingly mournful, his sophomore adventure should seem disturbingly entertaining, if no less introspective, as promised by “Humanity Is Coming” the first time around. Possibly inspired by the detour into remixes, “We’ll Be Piranhas” has much more assertiveness about it, yet Eamon’s romanticism upped the ante too, in terms of both sonic spectrum and melodic meander, although The Destroyer’s avant-garde leanings are still tangible here. And that’s exactly where the album’s thrills reside.

Yes, imagining strings being tuned up and electronic lines being bent down may help eager ears locate a proper wave to ride into “The Choirmaster” whose solemn orchestral soundscape and soft instrumental purr provide the artist with space to spread his vocal wings and fly towards alluring guitar riffs and effervescent swirl of synthesizers before alighting back on solid surface to contrast acoustic strum of the angry “Rope” and see it tighten for a shoegaze dance and suicidal shimmer. But then, there’s hope throbbing in the veins of “Sonny Said” which bulge with folk groove that’s woven into cosmic raga and exquisite psychedelia – only “Underscoring The Blues” adds gloom to this reflective, faux-symphonic yet exhilarating, space, so the platter’s pseudo-patinated title track isn’t intimidating despite the sinister fairground organ bolstering voice and licks. Unsurprisingly, the chamber atmosphere, warm choruses and flamenco lace of “A Pewter Wolf” exude sympathy for familiar predators, and the thick textures of “A Call Coming” beckon them home until “My Stars” shapes a tranquil finale out of muscular twang and half-spoken lyrics – and appends a hidden hypnotic coda to the record’s agenda. https://dmme.net/eamon-the-destroyer-well-be-piranhas/?fbclid=IwAR3a-wfAW-AqT7BFgbPc_Qd870xVYfuO8SVsyXTXEmenLM4TXvJxufmFRjY