#m night shyamalan sucks

[talesfrommedinastation]

I found what made me so mad about Tech/CX-2's ending, too.

Buckle in, folks, this is gonna be a ride.

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I want us all to go back to the year 2004, when a certain movie came out....

The Village (2004) - Check Trailer (youtube.com)

Please watch the trailer, and tell me what you feel.

Because, for those of us who had seen The Sixth Sense, we were excited beyond belief when this trailer premiered.

The Village promised to be a genuinely scary fairy tale in 19th century America, directed by the guy who made one of the best ghost movies of all time. What could go wrong?

To hype things up, I was in rural Michigan when it came out. The woods around my dad's house looked JUST like the woods in the film where the monsters lived.

So, off my girlfriends and I went to see it. And I'll never forget waiting to watch it: we were all talking about what the monsters might look like, what they did, what would happen. We were ready to be scared.

But then the previous showing of The Village finished (it was a small theater with only a couple of screens), and we watched the audience walk out.

I'll never forget their faces.

The collective audience that was leaving was PISSED. Angry. Saying they felt cheated, that they felt dumb, that M. Night Shyamalan was personally making fun of them.

I took note of this, and went in, wary, with my friends to take our seats.

And the movie did a great job of setting up the terror. The scenes where the monsters showed up genuinely scared the audience. We were screaming. My buddy Katie had her eyes covered and Teresa was actually yelling at Joaquin Phoenix the whole time.

We were reacting in real time with strong emotions.

And then the ending happened. Another famous M. Night Shyamalan twist.

And that twist wasn't clever, or interesting, or engaging.

That twist was MEAN.

The monsters were never real. It was a series of costumes and ruse designed by other characters in the movie as part of an elaborate plan.

So the things that had been scaring the audience? The terror we genuinely felt? All the screaming and hiding? All for nothing. It was all fake. It was a farce within the movie. We were screaming at NOTHING.

Our actual emotions felt like a joke.

That we were delusional and stupid for believing something that we had clearly been led to trust

Sound familiar?

I found myself agreeing with the people I had heard earlier. That the director and writer was giggling somewhere at his funny little prank, seeing the audience get invested and engaged, only for the rug to be pulled out. That we were all dummies for believing him.

This was actually one of the first times I got involved in fanfiction as a result because I was so angry. I heard of fanfiction.net, and immediately searched for ones of The Village.

And guess what I found?

Every. Single. One. Fixed. The. Director's. Choice.

They made the monsters real.

They acknowledged what we felt, what we expected, what we wanted. They wanted us to trust our feelings, and they wanted to deliver. Hell, most of them were better written then that movie, too!

(I'm so glad this was the beginning of the end for M. Night Shyamalan. I've refused to watch any of his movies since.)

All of this goes to say...directors, showrunners, and writers who choose to do this suck. It ruins experiences for the audience.

It feels as if we are being mocked. That a prank is being played on us.

And it ruins the legacy of the show, too.

Dragging on the hopes and expectations that a dead character was coming back (a common trope in the Star Wars franchise) and then ending it unceremoniously was unnecessary and cruel.

I was never fully on the CX-2 is Tech train, but I had my moments. I even did art of it. But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking....

..."It's been 20 years since The Village, surely, writers are beyond pranking their audience?"

Whelp, I was wrong.

For everyone who was hurt by this, I'm sorry to hear it.

You deserved better as a fan and as a viewer. We all did.

Okay, this is likely the only thing I'll post on the Bad Batch finale situation:

Tech fans, I would like you to stop calling yourselves "delusional." (Or delulu, or any variant.) I would sincerely ask others to stop as well.

It is both ableist and quite literally inaccurate from a storycraft standpoint.

(Especially because we're talking about a likely neurodivergent character and definitely many neurodivergent fans.)

You weren't. We weren't. The signs were there. The foreshadowing (falling into clouds, the goggles, CX2's Everything) was real and consistent and *intentional.* You are not delusional for LOGICALLY FOLLOWING writing convention patterns and leading where the writing is directing you. (If there's something the majority of autistic story-enthusiasts are good at, it's logical storycraft and pattern recognition, both in creating and consuming! We know how to follow basic steps!)

They can say "oh it was just a red herring", and that is Technically (ha) true, but it is one of the most blatant and frankly cruelly marketed ones, that smacks of stringing fan emotions along to keep us watching when they know many would stop watching if they knew what lay ahead. (Using a basically-confirmed-autistic character's death for shock value and little else, and then using the ambiguity of Is He Really Dead Or Is He This Extremely Similar Looking Guy We Brought in Right After' to keep churning up social media buzz. I might have.)

You were not delusional to have hope - that's what Star Wars is about.

You are not delusional to think this is wrong, a writing fumble, or simply them yanking the football away when *it was there all along.* The road signs were clear, they were just... lying, for lack of a better term.

You're not wrong for being upset about this, the latest in a long history of autistic characters treated as plot devices and catalysts for neurotypical characters' development rather than their own, and fans taken advantage of.

Please treat yourselves better. And if you're on the outside, or neurotypical, please treat us better. I promise, we have actual reasons for feeling pain right now, and delusions are not at all among them.

Thank you.

[swiftzeldas]

James McAvoy as Kevin Wendell Crumb

Split (2016) dir. M. Night Shyamalan

[rosegoldcas]

Longlegs (2024):

Starts with a T Rex lyric

Plays three T Rex songs

Features Nic Cage singing a T Rex song

Has a T Rex poster on the wall in two scenes

Trap:

(2024)

I know you’ve seen Trap now so I hope your opinions have changed but let’s compare:

Longlegs:

All that stuff about T Rex

Good performance from the main actress

??? uhhhhhhh

Trap:

Features an album’s worth of original music from the ICON that is Saleka (AKA Lady Raven)

Features a hot serial killing dilf as the protagonist (and he’s actually a really good dad so points there!)

Features not one but THREE (3) fake popstars, one of which is played by Kid Cudi in a fuckass blonde wig

Speaking of the Kid Cudi character, he is also gay as hell, drops maybe the most (intentionally) funny line of the whole movie while bitching to his assistant about his drink order, and shamelessly thirsts over hot serial killer daddy literally one second later

Reads like a fanfic I would’ve written at age 13 in terms of absolute insanity (HUGE compliment)

No two characters have a normal interaction for the entire runtime to the point where the whole thing feels like some kind of parallel reality that’s just slightly off (another huge compliment)

Features Jamie, the only merch seller who’s ever been happy at work <3

I could go on

[ferocity-flynt]

.

[ubourgeois]

After Earth (2013) dir. M. Night Shyamalan

[serenity-the-firefly]

sometimes i get sad that nobody really makes movies in/about philadelphia. then i remember m. night shyamalan and im gonna be honest that doesn��t make me feel better.

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 3)

part 1 here | part 2 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Eddie is a superstitious person, always has been. Avoids cracks in the sidewalk, refuses to walk under ladders. Says ‘bless you’ despite his lack of goddamn faith (well… scratch the god, keep the damn). That’s why, when Eddie wakes up at 11:11 that morning, he takes it as a sign. A good one too.

Okay yeah, it’s a little gross that he didn’t wake up until now. But he spent most of the night tossing and turning. A thirstfest visual loop of Steve Harrington jerking it to him. Or just his voice. Maybe both, but Eddie would be a conceited fuck if he were to ask for clarity on Steve’s preferred fantasies.

Look, he makes a lot of digs about his appearance because it’s harmless fun. In reality, Eddie is aware that he’s not an un-attractive person. Could he put a little more effort into his skincare routine so that it doesn’t peel off of him anytime he’s in direct sunlight? Sure. But his features are decent enough to get him matches on that dating app he used for exactly four days before deleting. 

Steve, though… Steve is something conjured up by a young adult novelist - creating the dreamiest boytoy for the angsty yet endearing protagonist. Steve is that. He’s something from a fictional world of hotness. And somehow, he exists beyond coffee-stained manuscripts and bestseller lists.

He’s real. And Eddie Munson has a fucking date with him in exactly eight hours.

Holy shit.

It takes two hours for Eddie to decide on an outfit. He facetimes his audio engineer/closest friend after the first hour, because his room is starting to look like an M. Night Shyamalan adaptation of Grey Gardens. 

“Show me the jean options again.” Chrissy’s tone is all business, staring intently on the other side of the phone screen. 

They met at an escape room right outside of the city. After setting a record-breaking time at that location, they got to chatting and quickly discovered they were both in the audio production business. 

Each of them lives the freelance lifestyle now. Highly ideal for their competitive escape room fixation.

Eddie holds up the three pairs of jeans. One pair is his favorite, well-worn and loose around his thighs, just how he likes them. The other two, are pairs that Chrissy bought for him last Christmas.

Lets just say… he only wears those when she’s offering to pay for dinner on their weekly hangouts. 

She hums for a while, twisting her mouth side to side before speaking again. “The dark blue with the gray crew neck. Final answer.”

“These?” Eddie holds the skinny jeans up to his hip bones. He tugs on the waistband to show how very little movement will be possible in these pants. “My dick cannot breathe in these, Chris. It’s like you want me to embarrass myself on this date.”

“I’m doing you a favor.” She shrugs, concealing a smirk behind her water bottle as she takes a sip. “Those pants are so snug, he’ll have no choice but to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

“Are you insinuating that I put out on the first date?

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“I’m insinuating you put it in on the first date.”

“How dare you.” Eddie points at his phone screen. Sucks in his laughter because yeah. Props. That was a good one. He can’t admit that though because no part of him wants to wear these boa constrictor jeans.

“You were just telling me how you fucked him with your words last night.”

“Fair. But I also explained that I was clearly possessed by the spirit of Blanche Devereaux.” Eddie slips out of his lounge tee, pulls over the one Chrissy picked out for him instead. “I swear, that woman had quite the knack for dirty lingo.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes and gives Eddie a halfhearted salute. “And that’s my exit cue.”

“What? Why?”

“Because anytime you bring up Golden Girls, we start arguing over who would play them in the gender-swapped remake.”

Wrong. Totally false. There’s absolutely no argument to be had. Eddie knows exactly who he’d cast right off the top of his head. Joe Pesci, Michael Caine…

Chrissy must see the gears turning in Eddie’s head because she hangs up before he can launch into his well-rehearsed presentation. Which isn’t a joke, he has a PowerPoint on this particular topic (with cited sources and fancy transitions).

Eddie does one last glance in the mirror before heading out. The pants make his waist look slender, nice. His skin is being squeezed in too many areas, but that’s kind of the point. At least the shirt is loose, albeit a little short. Reveals a patch of his lower tattoos every time he lifts his shoulders.

Okay damn, Chrissy probably knew that too. Maybe she’s the one possessed by the horny spirit of Blanche Devereaux. 

Spiritual possession or not, Eddie ruffles out his bangs one last time. Heads out feeling much more confident than he did after his initial interaction with Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees to pick Steve up at his last photoshoot of the day. It’s close to his side of town, which means he doesn’t have to fight his way through LA traffic. 

A good sign sent from his lucky wake-up time, no doubt.

He doesn’t expect the photoshoot to be at an amphitheater, but it is. A small one, probably only used for local productions. There’re cameras lining the outer rim of the stage, shuttering and flashing like headlights on a highway. Eddie can hear the director and photographers spewing directions from his car. There’s an audience of producers and crew members, seems like a big fucking deal by the looks of it.

The set is, well, breathtaking - way better than that knockoff fantasy shit from the cologne ad. It’s full of greenery. Trees swaying with the breeze and ivy carpeting the stage floor. A forest that’s almost too beautiful to be synthetic. Eddie wonders if any of the plants are real or if the props department was just that damn good at finding fake ones.

After a few minutes, he checks the time. The shoot is running long. No biggie - Eddie is enjoying the view anyways. Especially, when he finally spots Steve. The view is exceptionally priceless now.

Steve perched on top of a tree trunk, feeding some other model grapes. The dark and stupidly jealous part of Eddie hopes they choke on those grapes. 

His costume almost blends in with the backdrop, dark hues of green. Subtle shades of browns. Perfectly camouflaged by nature. There are vines wrapped around his bare arms, leaves tucked into his tousled hair. 

Honestly, he looks a lot like a wood nymph that Eddie would selfishly design for a DnD campaign. Better, actually. Eddie should take notes. Steal the designer's sketches when nobody's looking.

He’s positively itching to get out of his car, get a closer look at Steve in all his botanical glory. But that might come across as too impatient. Or worse, too presumptuous. So Eddie picks one of his lengthier playlists and settles into his seat.

There’s a tap on Eddie’s window, startling him out of his nap. He must’ve dozed off about twenty minutes ago because the last song he remembers listening to was from the mid-90s section of the playlist. Now, they’ve moved into early 2000s territory.

Seriously, math is way easier when music is leading the equation.

Steve is right there, peering in, still tapping incessantly. His eyes are wide, concerned maybe. Which, yeah. Concern makes sense, considering his date is yawning before the date has even started. Fucking yikes.

Eddie rolls down the window, gives Steve a toothy grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Heya, FernGully.”

Steve doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s costuming reference. Probably missed out on that era of cult classic cartoons. “Up late?” He leans against the car and smiles, far more dazzling than the sun setting behind him.

“You would know.”

Oh, and that earns Eddie a wink from Steve. The nun-converting wink he saw months ago and still thinks about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve reaches into the empty space, pushes the latch down to unlock the front door. “Come on.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve gotta change before we head out.” Steve swings the door open before Eddie can protest.  “Unless you want to have dinner with me dressed like this.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

If there were a Renaissance Festival in town or a Medieval Dinner Show still in business, Eddie would definitely trick his way into getting Steve to go dressed like that. But he tucks the idea away for now, walks down the hill with Steve to the amphitheater. Does his best impression of a civilized human.

“So… what are you supposed to be exactly?”

Steve points to the body glitter on his cheeks. “A fairy.”

Yup. A new file of woodland fantasies starring Steve Fairyington have downloaded into Eddie’s mind. If voice acting didn’t pay so well, he could make an impressive career out of his whimsical porn concepts.

So he deflects. Humor is the only solution to keep the conversation PG-rated. “Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you’ve gotta use outdated terms like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve knocks an elbow into Eddie’s arm. “I’m a literal fairy.”

“Are you implying that literal fairies exist?” Eddie teases.

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“I can tone it down.”

Steve stops walking, places a hand in the center of Eddie’s chest to stop him too. His playful energy fucking warps into something new. Savory and seductive. Bewitching.

“Don’t even think about it.” He answers, slipping his hand down a little, almost between Eddie’s ribs. The motion sends static through Eddie’s core, up his spine. Raises the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t be alarming that Steve’s touch is powerful. Look at him. 

Eddie has a hard time focusing on the conversation after that. Luckily, the timing works out for him to get his shit together, as Steve heads into the trailer that's parked next to the stage.

He tells Eddie he can take a closer look at the set that he suddenly can’t seem to shut up about. It really is stunning. The size, the details, the color choices. Eddie is fairly certain this is the closest he’ll ever be to experiencing Endor in real life.

Most of the crew members are gone, a few still packing up equipment while Eddie observes a variety of plants used for decorating the wooden platforms. Learns that some plants are real and some are fake, which is actually genius. The mixture of the two distract from the plastic-y finish on some of the vines.

“This is for a special-edition cover of some Shakespeare script.” Steve says, joining Eddie at his side. His outfit is rather colorful. It checks out that he's one of the few people that can pull off a purposeful athleisure aesthetic (Eddie hates that he knows what that style looks like, ugh). “Hence the fairies and forests and shit.”

“Wait.” A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head. “Is this for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That’s the one.”

Eddie does a sharp turn, starts shaking Steve by his shoulders. Absolutely bursting with excitement. “Steve literal fairy Harrington, this is ridiculously cool! Like… the history-making kind of cool!”

“If you say so.” Steve agrees calmly.

“How the hell are you not more jazzed about this?”

“You sound just like my manager.” Steve mumbles. “Truth be told, the only Shakespeare play I’ve ever read is Macbeth.”

Eddie gasps, sucks in enough air to fill an inflatable kiddie pool. “We’re on a stage, you can’t just blurt out the Scottish Play like that.”

This is not good. Horrible, even. Not a damn chance that Eddie can be mellow about this. Superstitious person, believer of traditions, blah blah blah. 

And while hiding that piece of his personality should be a simple task, he cannot blatantly ignore such a major fuckup on Steve’s part. No matter how accidental of a fuckup it might have been.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” Steve asks. Still calm. 

“It’s bad luck.” Eddie explains. “The closest thing to cursing a theatrical production.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t a theatrical production then.”

And as Steve laughs off the thoughtless joke, a loud thud is heard at the back of the stage. 

There it is. A warning of impending doom in the form of a loose stage light, hanging by a few loose wires. 

Almost everyone is gone, only two crew members remain on the sidelines. One of them gets on their walkie talkie, mumbles something about a safety hazard incident.

Pfft, not just an incident. A fucking threat from the ghost of theater, that’s what it is.

“See?” Eddie waves both arms at the light structure swinging upstage. “You’ve pissed off Thespis with your loose lips.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re so-” 

A high-pitched scream cries out from a nearby street. Both Steve and Eddie jump at the sound. It’s a long, frightening scream. Something straight out of a slasher film, which is a likely possibility, for sure. Things are filmed out on the streets of Los Angeles quite a bit.

But the fear ringing out from this particular scream sounds real. Gritty and hoarse.

Fucking terrifying. 

Once the screaming stops, no sign of returning, they share a look. It’s not an ‘I’m gonna jump your bones’ look either. It’s awkward. A fine line between guilt and ‘I told you so.’

“That was just a coincidence.” Steve waves off the scream like it’s just a daily occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Curses aren’t real.”

Eddie doesn’t want to shout ‘you’re wrong’ from his metaphorical megaphone. Not on a first date, at least. Outright dogmatic behavior shouldn’t come into play until like… the end of the third date.

All he can do is shrug, swallow back the urge to correct this beautiful person standing beside him.

He’s so rigid now, almost timid from the lingering anxiety that more freaky shit is about to happen. 

“Come here.” Steve motions his head to the side, peering softly at Eddie’s expression. His shoulders are relaxed, arms reaching out for Eddie to follow. Join him.

Which he does. Can’t help it. Fully dazed by Steve’s patience, legs moving without a chance to reconsider.

“Wanna get out of here?” Steve thumbs over Eddie’s cheek, skims his nail against the scratchy bits of stubble along Eddie’s jaw. His movements are slow, precise. Only a smidge of pity in his smile. 

Yup. That’s what this must be - Steve probably thinks Eddie is being dramatic. Must assume he can smooth over Eddie’s knotted nerves by just touching him. Tracing hypnotic patterns over his skin.

Eddie is mildly irritated that it’s working. If he can’t find the strength to look away from Steve’s sunny-tinted eyes soon, he’ll float away. Slip through the air as particles. Dust. Nothing but his slutty wishes will remain.

“Not yet.” Eddie gulps.

“No?”

He can’t in good conscience let this theater stay plagued by Steve’s words. This place is on verge of being the location for a Final Destination sequel.

So Eddie removes Steve's hand from his face, squeezes once before returning it back to Steve’s side. “Gotta reverse the fuck out this bad omen first.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Don’t.” He pleads. “Put my superstitious mind at ease. Can you do that for me?”

Steve at least has the decency to look away while he rolls his eyes. Pretty and considerate. “Fine. How do I break the curse?”

Eddie has spent enough time in theaters to know there’s a few variations on this process. Changes from director to director. The most common one is going outside and spinning in a circle three times, then knocking on the door till someone lets you back inside.

But that’s where the problem comes in. They’re already outside and there’s no door to knock on, while pleading for forgiveness.

Hmm…

It’s a good thing Eddie remembers a few adjustments to the protocol. It’s an even better thing that he was captain of his improv troupe for three years back in college. Thinking of solutions on the spur of the moment? Adapting for the sake of the scene? Eddie lives for that shit. Comedy fucking chameleon, that’s him.

And what’s better than all of that? His leftover luck from waking up at 11:11am.

Guess it pays off to be a superstitious person. Sometimes.

Eddie clears his throat, delivers the instructions with a southern drawl. Fucks around with it because he can. “So first, you have to walk around the theater three times.”

“Okay.”

“Backwards.” That’s definitely not part of the procedure, but oh well. Steve doesn’t have to know that.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck that.”

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules, gorgeous.”

Except he does make the rules. Currently having way too much fun watching Steve squirm at the stupidity of it all. He’s quickly learning how easy it is to push Steve’s buttons. That shouldn’t be so thrilling for him but whoops. It is.

“Whatever.” Steve kicks a piece of gravel off the stage and sighs. “Then what?”

So he wants more? Eddie can do that. “You have spit on the ground to show your remorse.” 

“This is a bunch of shit.”

“I said spit, not shit.” Eddie leans into Steve’s ear, uses his studio voice, watches as Steve turns pink all over. He lowers the volume down to a whisper. “Try to keep up.”

“Asshole.” But there’s a grin plastered all over Steve’s face as he grumbles. Eddie’s chest is fizzing, total carbonated joy inside him knowing that Steve is a vicious little monster, just like him.

He shoos Steve off to complete the reversal process. Sits on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the rim, fingers fidgeting with a thread on his jeans.

He’s so smug, watching the prettiest boy on the planet become the grumpiest goofball. Steve might look like an angel, but he has the aura of a full-bred Pomeranian left in the rain.

“I’m making a new rule!” Steve shouts from the back of the theater. 

“How ambitious of you!”

Eddie swears he can hear Steve growling in response, which fuck, that shouldn’t be such an adorably hot combo. But Eddie pictures the curve of Steve’s upper lip as he snarls and the zigzag of his arched eyebrows, and that’s exactly what it is. Hot. Adorable. Sensational.

Steve Harrington is a game of Mad Libs. Every adjective, every word that invokes head rushes and heart flutters, they’re all about him.

“As I was saying before you rudely mocked me,” Steve is in Eddie’s peripherals now, still stepping backwards. Toe to heel, hands loosely in his pants pockets. Not fair that he can make walking backwards look slick and cool. The nerve, the gall. “My new rule is that I get to ask you a question each time I get to the front.”

Eddie pulls one knee up to his chest, lets his chin rest over top of it. “Well then... ask away, o’ cursed one.”

Steve stops at the front of the stage. He doesn’t turn all the way around or start walking forward again. He turns just enough to look at Eddie. Focusing on him.

The sudden attention to Eddie’s face gets him all stuffy. He tries to hide the color that’s surely settled on his cheeks by digging one side of his face into his kneecap. It’s a dopey move. Too bashful, even for him.

“Alright.” Steve says. “How do you know so much about theater?”

An easy question with an easy answer. Relief surges through Eddie. “Most voice actors start out as stage actors. Not always, but a lot of us do. Gotta start somewhere, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve nods, and continues with his second lap.

Once his footsteps are far away enough for Eddie to think properly, it dawns on him - they’re getting to know each other. Like authentic people would do.

Like… an actual date.

Shit, it’s been so long since someone in this artificial fucktown has wanted to know things about Eddie beyond hookups and screenames. A genuine moment was right in front of him, and he almost missed it.

That sobers him up. Eddie shoves away his need to Cause Chaos and accepts the sincerity. Gives it right back to Steve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did the modeling gig start?”

“Agents found my instagram again.” Steve replies. “Liked my pictures enough to offer me some shitty jobs to build up my resume. The usual story these days.”

“Right.” 

Eddie can’t fathom being that attractive. So attractive that people seek him out. 

Different worlds is an understatement. Different realms is more like it.

“Next question.” Steve says, arriving to the front again. “Would you rather visit the beach or the mountains?”

Eddie has to think about that one for a minute. He doesn’t take many vacations, can’t afford to on a single artist’s income.

But he remembers a trip to Colorado that he took as a teenager. Vaguely recalls not appreciating any of the landscapes because he was too busy texting his new girlfriend during the whole damn trip.

“The mountains.” Eddie answers, just as Steve begins to walk again. “The Rockies and I have some… unfinished business, if you will.”

Steve chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe I’ll get to hear it sometime.”

“If you want.” Eddie says, beaming at the implication. 

Steve’s footsteps stop. “Like I said on the phone, Eddie. Hearing you talk is...” The Earth feels silent. But the tension in Eddie’s ears is audible. “Well… I'm into it, I guess.”

Eddie has to switch knees to ease the thump in his dick. “And is Steve Harrington a mountain man or a beach bum?” 

“Depends on the season.”

“Such a diplomatic answer.” Such a vague answer too, Eddie thinks. 

“Okay. Last question.” Steve arrives at the front, shorter of breath than he was the first two laps. He hesitates for a second, then takes a couple of steps towards Eddie. “All those tattoos you have… did getting them done hurt?”

“Like a bitch.” Eddie bunches up his shirt to show off the sleeve of ink he has on his left arm. Took years for it to look this intricate. This complete. He’ll never get tired of staring at it. “Why? Itching to get one or something?”

“Nah. Never got the appeal of putting yourself through hours of pain or whatever.”

“It’s all about the art. The memories. The stories.” Eddie stretches out his bent knee. Lets it drop back down, relaxing into his explanation. “All of those things stitched into designs that I get to admire every damn day for the rest of my life.”

“Art, huh?” Steve takes a few steps closer, close enough to touch.

“What can I say?” Eddie is shamelessly studying the specks in Steve’s eyes. How all the colors blend and separate the closer he gets. Can hear himself grinning as he speaks. “I’m a big fan of gazing at pretty things.”

He’s so tempted to reach out, pull Steve in. Have him straddle his waist while they taste each other for hours.

But he’s still mooning over those eyes - the ones that deserve myths and legends to be told about them for ages. Centuries. Whichever is longer.

“Um.” Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his spell. “So… spit?”

“Sorry what?”

“The curse.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to spit on the ground, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Uh huh.”  Eddie rambles, still internally choking on the fact that Steve just said spit to him. In public.

Steve backs away, puts some space between them. He begins making this nasty, gravelly side with his mouth. His jaw sags slightly as he does it, the lump in his throat bobbing the whole time. 

Eddie gawks, fully unable to look away while Steve swishes the spit around. Filling one cheek, then the other. He’s getting harder with every noise, every swish.

All at once, Steve forcefully hocks the stream of spit onto the ground. It goes diagonally, lands way closer to Eddie than he was expecting. Gets some goddamn distance, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll back. He’s pretty sure he lets out a wobbly ‘fuck’ at how obscene it all looks.

Steve wanders back over, avoids stepping in the wet mess he made on the ground. He places a hand on Eddie’s knee, works his way up the rough edges of denim.

Eddie’s vision is still spotty from what he just witnessed, so he decides to talk until everything clears up. Steve is into that right? The talking bullshit?

“There’s one more step to complete this.” Eddie watches the blurry outline of Steve’s hand rubbing his thigh, slowly blinking the image into full focus.

“And what’s that?” Steve’s voice is low, eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth.

“You gotta…” Eddie licks his lip. Places a hand over top of Steve’s. Moving where it moves. Going where it goes. Buys himself some time to get the words straightened out. “You gotta kiss the nearest sewer rat loser.”

“And if I don’t do that?” Steve leans in till their noses touch. “Then what? The curse won’t be broken?”

Eddie nods. Only able to give a thin ‘mhmm’ in reply. He wraps two fingers around Steve’s wrist, the hand that's still trailing heat along his thigh. Needs to press against the pulse there, feel it jump. Spike.

Steve is so quiet. So controlled compared to his pulse. “Can’t have that then, can we?”

His lips part, hovering over Eddie’s mouth. The kiss starts out like that. Lips treading, only meeting between breaths. Neither of them pushing for more than seconds of warm contact, brief and sweet. 

That is until Steve’s free hand starts twisting into Eddie’s shirt, tugging him along by the soft fabric. Eddie sinks forward, dives fully into the kiss. He holds his breath or maybe it just gets caught in his lungs from how good it all feels. How Steve touches him like he's captured. How Steve kisses him like he’s dessert.

Eddie can't help but smush their lips together, forcing their faces closer than faces can scientifically be. He hears the wet smack of their tongues echoing underneath the amphitheater, waking his lungs the fuck up. Lets out the weakest sigh, hopes most of the sound gets trapped between Steve’s lips. 

Oh god, his lips. They’re fuller than Eddie’s, puffier now from kissing this hard. He wants to squish them around with his fingers, push them into pout so he can suck on them. Turn them nice and red. Eddie gets his hands tangled in Steve’s hair, knots them up enough to resist the lip-squishing temptation that’s burning him up inside.

“Here.” Steve exhales, hooks one of Eddie’s legs around his waist. 

That… okay, fuck. That’s so hot, so unexpectedly assertive and right. Eddie takes the hint, wraps his other leg around Steve. The heel of his scuffed boots is digging into Steve’s ass, not too hard, but enough to earn a dirty whine out of Steve. He pushes them together, clothes rubbing back and forth, scratching loudly. Muffles their mouth noises though.

“Can we…” Eddie wants to move this elsewhere, anywhere less public. He’s so fucking selfish for that. Needs to swallow every sound Steve makes, secure every expression with a lock. Nobody else should be allowed to see Steve like this besides Eddie.

He lets one hand unravel from Steve’s hair, glides down to the collar of Steve’s tank top. He yanks the material lower, presses his lips against the new area of exposed skin. Sips and sucks over that spot, claims it like he could extract a piece of Steve’s soul if he sucks hard enough.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Steve responds, whimpering into the top of Eddie’s hair. Not entirely clear if he’s saying that out of pleasure, or agreeing with Eddie that they should relocate, but whatever. It's all too good to overthink the meaning.

Eddie unhooks his legs and kisses the deep purple mark he just made. Too fucking proud how easily the color spreads into reddish tones around the edges. 

His vision goes fuzzy again as he stands upright, has to blink away all the white specks of dizzy lust. Eddie offers a hand to Steve, but there’s no damn point for that. Steve is already hopping up onto the stage, makes it look effortless. Cool as shit.

“Follow me.” Steve grabs the crook of Eddie’s forearm, pulling him into the forested scenery.

As if there were any need for Steve to request that. Eddie Munson would follow Steve into the sketchiest alleyway of Hell, if it meant they could kiss like that some more.

They duck underneath a few tree limbs, weave through the maze of green. A few leaves get into Eddie’s mouth, but he hardly notices anything besides the dent that Steve’s fingernail is leaving in his arm. It would make the sickest crescent moon tattoo, inked and perfectly shaped. 

Damnit, Eddie’s thoughts are getting more fucked the deeper they hide. Steve slams Eddie against the trunk of a large tree. He realizes with the thud on his back that it’s plywood, not tree bark. Doesn’t care one bit if his shirt tears from the nails jutting out. Cares even less if he gets splinters from the slow grinding of their hips, hitching his shirt up further with every thrust.

“These are sexy.” Steve tugs at Eddie’s empty belt loop. Didn’t need an actual belt with how suffocating they are. “But they’ve gotta go. If that’s cool.”

“Get them the hell out of here.” Eddie is subconsciously thanking Chrissy for suggesting these stupid pants. She’ll be insufferable when he tells her about the jean's success rate. But right now? Worth it.

Anything seems worth it to have Steve popping the button out, ripping the zipper down. He’s so focused on getting these pants off that his forehead wrinkles, little beads of sweat gathering on his temples. 

Eddie can’t resist any longer, not after seeing Steve equally covered in desperation. He palms the front of Steve’s pants, wants to give him some relief for this valiant jean-removing effort.

“Steve.” Eddie huffs, brushes his lips over Steve’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” He bites over the skin, nibbling carefully with the tip of his teeth.

It must tickle because Steve laughs while shrugging the jeans lower, boxers going with them. 

“So tell me then.” He kisses Eddie. It’s harsh, mostly panting into his mouth. Steve sinks to the floor and looks up. “Keep talking.”

This. This goddamn view. Eddie wasn’t expecting to get a view of Steve on his knees tonight. Wasn’t expecting his head to go limp, looking up at Eddie the way he eyefucked the camera on the day they first met. 

Only difference is, Steve’s not acting - not pretending to be needy.

He just is. He’s all of those coy and sinful things, exclusively for Eddie this time.

“Spit in my hand.” Steve stretches his hand up towards Eddie’s chin - gives him those big, midnight eyes that could make dormant volcanoes erupt instantly. Defy physics, end climate change. 

Eddie doesn’t use brain cells anymore, just does what he’s told. He gathers enough spit in his mouth, then watches it trickle out. Pooling in the center of Steve’s hand. It’s gross, sure. But also, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. 

Gross and hot. Those sensations are fucking synonymous right now.

“Tell me, Eddie.” Steve gets his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the warm wetness makes it twitch in his hold. Apparently, no part of Eddie’s anatomy can believe this is really happening, not even his dick.

“Uh-”

“You said you’ve thought about it.”

“Lots.”

“So tell me while I get you off.”

“Oh.. god, okay.” And Eddie is good at that. Talking nonstop. Revealing all of his filthy secrets when asked so politely. He did it last night, slipped into his darker persona with ease so Steve could feel good.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Eddie would say a flurry of fuckery for Steve Harrington’s approval. Get him to come until he shakes because Eddie wants that. Wants Steve to feel like liquid gold dripping between his fingers. Wants Steve to bend and break under his words and touch.

Talking dirty to get himself off is new territory. Eddie is a perpetual giver, loves being that way most of the time. Especially for someone as spectacular as Steve.

“Go ahead, babe.” Steve urges, licks the muscle of Eddie’s inner thigh till it tightens.

Right, he can do this. Even if he is short of breath. Eddie can be as confident as he was last night while Steve strokes him. “Thought about you since the commercial production.”

It’s a start. He bites his lip and keeps going. “All I could think about was… fuck. Opening you up. Leaving my fingerprints on your hips.”

“What else?” Steve purrs, working Eddie roughly with his spit-slick fingers. Sounds just as ruined as Eddie does.

“Wanted to fuck you in my lap.” Eddie pauses to moan, chest falling hard. He gets another glimpse of Steve’s hand on him, picking up the pace. A tempo so delicious that it shuts off Eddie’s judgment skills. His mouth running wild. “Let you ride me just like that. Use me till your legs go weak.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. His grip gets a little firmer, loosening up between strokes. Makes a fucking pattern out of it, has Eddie craving it. Needs more.

“And what if I wanted to fuck you, huh?” Steve’s question hits his ears like a whip. Cracking every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“I’d let you.” And it’s true, so very true. Eddie’s mouth is still going rogue, uttering truths like he’s on trial. Ready to testify all his desires to Steve. Sign his name on the dotted fucking line. “You could wreck me any way you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie seems to have found the secret words to Steve’s wild side. He’s taking Eddie down his throat, almost too fast. So fast that drool forms at the corners of his stretched lips, mouth gurgling already.

Eddie is swearing, not even real words half the time - just moans that sound explicit enough to get bleeped out on public access television. One hand goes over his own mouth while the other keeps combing through Steve’s hair.

It’s so damp now, sticking out erratically at the sides. Eddie curls a few strands over his thumb, watches the color drain from his finger. So demented, so good.

Steve is taking his cock so damn well, so Eddie tells him. Truly, all that he’s capable of is sex-drunk praise. Letting Steve know how gorgeous he is, how bruised his throat will be from sucking this much cock, how swollen and sore his lips look at this angle.

Eddie can’t stop because every phrase makes Steve get messier. Whining and whimpering each time he pulls off. Looking up at Eddie before taking him in again. Getting louder. Loud enough that sidewalk pedestrians definitely could hear him if they linger nearby for too long.

Eddie's knees buckle as he gets close. Doesn't have the energy to straighten back out, let alone warn Steve that he’s about to come. None of that seems to matter though. Steve nods twice, still bobbing around Eddie, like he just knows. Knows Eddie is there and is fucking willing to work him through it.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Which yeah, Eddie gets it. Uttering someone’s name while he comes in their mouth is a little tacky and cliche. But saying it is involuntary, totally out of his control. Truthfully, Eddie relinquished all control to Steve hours ago.

Steve swallows, cleans Eddie with a few swipes of his overworked tongue like it’s nothing. No problamo. Like that’s the only way to handle the aftermath of an orgasm. In the most delightful way, or whatever musical shit Mary Poppins sings about. 

He gives the laziest, dreamiest grin as Eddie collapses down to his level. Both of them heaving, kissing with aching lungs. 

“Fucking fantastic.” Eddie whispers, brushes his knuckles over Steve’s pink-stained cheeks. Hopes his rings don’t hurt too much, absently forgetting how chunky they are.

Steve leans into the small touch. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re fantastic.” Eddie clarifies. Means it more than any superstition he’s ever heard in his life.

He’s more than ready to get his hands all over Steve, make him come until he faints. But Steve is adamant that he’s chills with waiting. Says he actually enjoys the buildup from staying horny for hours and hours. Mentions something about that being a new discovery that he wants to explore. 

With Eddie. 

Steve fucking Harrington wants to explore new sides of himself with Eddie. That sends him reeling. Smitten and spiraling.

“Are sure?” Eddie paws at Steve’s hard-on, ready to jump in and save the day via orgasm.

“Very sure.” He lifts Eddie's hand away, snickering as he lays a quick kiss on each finger.  “I like being around you. That’s not gonna change overnight.”

“Like being around you too, Steve.” He takes Steve’s face into his hands, smushes it back and forth until Steve smiles. “Crazy about it, actually.”

The sun is low, barely any light left in the sky. But as Eddie holds Steve’s face, watching him smile, he notices that Steve is glowing. Not beaming, actually glowing. Even through the dimness of sky and the shadows formed by tree limbs, Eddie can see all of Steve’s features.

How is that possible?

They each look up and see it. Taking it in, this mysterious glow.

“Wow.” They say in unison, almost matching pitch. Matching levels of disbelief too.

Between the branches and leaves, they are tiny lights. Floating, orb-like lights. The brightness shining off of them is warm, soft on the eyes. They’re scattered high over the forested backdrop, orange and yellow hues twinkling against rich greens. 

Enchanting is the only word to describe this new addition. Incredibly and unbelievably enchanting.

“Set designer really popped off with this cover shoot, I guess.” Steve throws the theory out there, barely sounds like he believes it himself.

Eddie rubs his eyes. His voice comes out hushed, doesn’t really mean for it to but it does anyways. “Steve… those aren’t attached to anything. No strings, no wires. They’re just-”

“Floating?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Be serious, dude.”

And Eddie is. Completely serious. No jokes or snarky replies in his system right now. He points to the nearest light, then back at Steve. “You broke the curse, right?”

“Apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“So maybe Thespis is showing his forgiveness.”

“Who the hell is Thespis?” Steve pinches the skin between his eyes and groans - acting like Eddie’s hypothesis is giving him a migraine. Honestly, it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time Eddie worked someone up to the point of desperately needing tylenol.

He switches tactics, nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder with his nose. Attempts to lighten the mood with at least one joke in these trying times of bad luck and headaches. “Or he’s giving us his blessing for copulating on his holy grounds.”

The lights answer, flaring out all around them. They pulsate for a minute, maybe two, before returning back to their normal glow. Eddie tucks in a grin because Steve’s gorgeous little head looks like it’s about to detonate off of his gorgeous little body. So if he smiles right now, Steve will undoubtedly explode on this very flammable set piece.

Which would be a wicked awesome way to die. Post-orgasm, then up in flames. But alas, they have dinner reservations. It would be rude not to show up.

Really, it’s no surprise to Eddie that the ghost of theater is into partial voyeurism, signaling his approval with twinkling lights. Semi-public sex probably classifies as its own unique strand of performing art in Ancient Greece.

Or the dead dude is just into taboo stuff. 

If so, good for him. You do you, Thespis.

“Look.” Steve says, standing up. “Maybe it’s… an optical illusion.”

“Or magic.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand to Eddie. Pulls him up in one swift motion. Doesn’t let go of his hand afterward either. “How about we drop it and go get some dinner?”

Typically, Eddie is all about a verbal bloodbath. But Steve laces their fingers together, connects them in a way that has Eddie forgetting all about his need to be right. 

“Consider it dropped.”

The lights flicker out as they walk further away from the stage. And as they get into Eddie’s car, they go out entirely. Steve flicks on the radio, defaults to the classic rock station, which is playing “Magic” by The Cars.

“It’s a sign.” Eddie sings to the tune, poking a finger at Steve.

“Just drive, you big dork.” Steve swats him away, placing a hand on Eddie’s thigh while he drives. He turns up the volume, surprisingly knows every lyric by heart. Belts them out. Full on screams the parts he likes best.

Which Eddie totally can relate to. He wants to scream about all the parts he likes best about Steve. About their date that’s not even finished yet.

On their way to dinner, Eddie avoids the cracks on the sidewalk. On the drive home, he taps the roof of his car whenever he makes it through a yellow light at an intersection.

And when he drops Steve off at his apartment precisely at 11:11pm, he doesn’t say a damn word. Keeps his mouth shut, only opens it to kiss Steve goodbye (with tongue, obviously).

Sure, it’s just a dumb superstition, Eddie can admit that to himself.

But tonight… it feels like more than that.

More than a coincidence.

More than a good omen.

He sends a ‘got home safely’ text to Steve as he pulls into his designated parking spot. Totally obsessed with how fast Steve texts him back, it’s too fucking cute.

Steve: glad :) had a great time btw

Eddie: really?

Steve: yes *really*

Eddie: i had a great time too

He quickly taps the voice-record button before Steve can respond:

“Actually,” Eddie sneers. Uses the voice that Steve goes crazy for. “I had a magical time.”

Steve: ugh

Eddie: ;)

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

they managed to massacre Aang's character and all the struggle and importance of his choice in the finale in a SINGLE page, and yet there are people who think the comics are good

and of course Katara's would have nothing to say on the matter, toootally in-character

Not to mention: yes, Zuko is right that a lifetime of indoctrination won't magically stop affecting him just because he's aware of it now, but the way the comics really said "If you're not perfect, you deserve to die. Not rehabilitation, not even incarceration despite it being an option, just straight to violent, lethal punishment" is horrying.

And lets not forget the blatant abuse apologism of having Zuko, the kid who was told by his abusive parent that his disfigurement and banishment was "for his own good" after he made one "mistake", turning to his closest friends and asking them to be his "safety net" by MURDERING HIM IF EVER STEPS OUT OF LINE - and said friends then agree to it.

Are you fucking kidding me? The real Aang would have double-down on the "You're NOT your father" bit, and the entire friend group would have been super concerned about Zuko because a victim of abuse saying they're as bad as their abuser thus deserve to die is one hell of a red flag as to how their mental health is going.

Speaking of mental health: I talk a lot about how Azula was constantly being abused by the supposed heroes in the comics, and how the justification of it is rooted in ableism, but this nonsense with Zuko asking to be put down like a dog is also peak victim blaming, and one of the few moments in which one can actually feel bad for comics!Zuko.

And it ties into a disturbing pattern I noticed among Avatar fans - and mainly Zuko fans. They don't truly understand that what Ozai put his children through was wrong, they simply think he chose the wrong kid as the escapegoat. They think Azula should have been the one that is constantly punished just for existing, while Zuko is the golden child that can do no wrong - or else.

This moment right here? With the people that he trusts agreeing to inflict violence on him if he ever makes a mistake? This is that "or else". This is literally the same mentality that led to Azula's breakdown because NO ONE CAN SURVIVE UNDER THAT MUCH PRESSURE.

And that leads us to the main reason why the comcis suck: Yang was using Zuko as a self-insert.

"Zuko‘s relationship with Ozai is something we – Mike, Brian, Dark Horse, Nickelodeon, and I – talked about extensively when we first started working together. There’s this strange thing that happens to people in power. The pressures of power often blur the lines between enemies. That’s part of what happens to Zuko here. Ozai is the only one who knows what it’s like to be Fire Lord, the only one who has the wisdom of experience. I also looked at my own life. I used to clash with my dad quite a bit when I was a teenager. However, as I grew up and found myself in roles that he used to have, I began to understand more and more of his decisions. My father isn't thoroughly evil, of course, but I imagine Zuko feels a little of the same pull."

Yang. My guy. My dude. The words "Ozai" and "wisdom" should NEVER be in the same sentence. Every single action of Ozai's as Fire Lord was based on him being an abusive piece of shit that finally got access to absolute power. He is not a stern dad, he is abusive. He's not misunderstood, he needed to be stopped and locked away. He is a human being with feelings and motivations, yes, but he is WRONG ABOUT LITERALLY EVERYTHING EVER. He NEVER had a point. Zuko has nothing to learn from him except what NOT to do. That's why he looks like an older, unscarred Zuko. A version of Zuko that never changed.

This is the core issue of the comics, and why it had so many moments of unintentional abuse apologism: they say Ozai is a villain, but they're going out of their way to constantly make the characters come dangerously close to saying "Maybe he had a point." That's why they have Zuko turn to Ozai for advice despite claiming he wants to avoid becoming like him - because the guy writting them couldn't understand that the bad guy was, in fact, bad and in the wrong and has no wisdom to offer to anyone.

Avatar, the series, is about the world moving past from the sick mentality people like Ozai had, and about his son realizing that he did not deserve to be abused. The Avatar Comics are about telling Zuko (and others) "Ozai isn't wrong actually, you'll understand when you're older."

No, Yang, they won't. Because there's nothing to "understand" here other than THE GUY THAT ABUSED HIS CHILDREN AND COMMITED GENOCIDE WAS WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING, YOU DUMBASS!

Saying "the villain had a point" does not make a story better unless it is true - and in Ozai's case, it simply isn't. Insisting otherwise doesn't make the story and characters more mature, it just means you couldn't understand a cartoon aimed at 7-year-olds despite being a grown-ass man.

And I won't even get into Bryke approving of this bullshit otherwise I'll start tearing my hair out in rage at how badly they seem to have lost touch with the message of their best work, so let me just use a simple statemet to make everyone understand just how much of a disaster this is:

Even M. Night Shyamalan didn't misunderstand ATLA to the point of thinking Ozai wasn't actually wrong, but Bryan, Mike and Yang did. The comics understand the show less than M. Night Shyamalan did.

I rest my fucking case.

[james-stark-the-writer]

alright. fuck. time to sit down to watch M. Night Shyamalan's Glass (2019). i know this one is really polarizing, i know there's a Folding Ideas video on it about how much it sucks bc it was recommended to me for like three straight weeks at one point (obviously haven't seen it). Split was more compelling than it was "good" so i have tempered expectations, but hopefully at least it's enjoyable? i mean i cannot imagine Samuel L Jackson — if he's back, why would he not be back — not being fun but after Split, i don't fucking know. i'm just holding my breath and hoping for a fun time. here's to hoping this is more Unbreakable than Split or that it finds new ground for itself that manages to synthesize both feelings and thoughts into something cohesive. what will be god this time?

[artist-issues]

look I know he sucked at adapting Avatar but I want to talk about Signs by M. Night Shyamalan. Am I too late to talk about Signs?

[the-acid-pear]

y'know there's... like something to be said about the alienation from being plural and born and raised latine ✌ and stuff bc, there's so few resources. Almost none. So you're kind of just, depending on the other person to either be a professional or to give a shit enough to read it in english. Which is a tall order. And reduces the circle of people you expect to understand you veeery fucking small. And its just pretty upsetting, personally, because, like, at the end of the day my nationality does matter to me. This is were i was born where we live even if dissociation has be getting shocked at the sight of our own flag its, where i am and where i'll stay least idk a fucking bomb drops and im forced to evaquate. So there's this fear that my fellow man will never understand me and worst of all will not CARE or BOTHER to understand me. Which speaks less about the resources more about the attitudes of a fellow citizen. I guess i'd do my part start... building resources in spanish. But... You know. I'm just One Guy. In that sense. Just two hands and one brain. I cannot re-educate a whole country. A country who probably the more they've ever heard about this disorder is that movie with professor X that you'll catch on cable and go oh this is so good bc M. Night Shyamalan is a great director (even if this movie made me uncomfortable before realizing i was a system). Like it's just frustrating, and scary. It's the idea not only that nobody will understand you but that nobody will BELIEVE you. Chalked up to loquito de mierda. If they even give you that dignity. Maybe they'll just treat you like a teenager girl. I don't know if my worries have a basis or if im just being paranoic. Some basis they have. But i just needed to vent this bc it's... It sucks. i love my international friends and the community but i don't want to feel like i don't have a home in, well, my home.

[simplylove101]

2024 Horror Challenge: [28/?]

↳“I think you're looking for me.” Trap (2024) dir. M. Night Shyamalan

Plot: A father and his teen daughter attend a pop concert only to realize they've entered the center of a dark and sinister event.

Starring: Josh Hartnett, Ariel Donoghue, Saleka Night Shyamalan, Hayley Mills & Alison Pill (and featuring Kid Cudi & Russ)

Last catchup review for the day (even tho I definitely have other horror movies I watched lately) since these were the big four that I wanted to type up on here. I saved this review for last because I actually went to go see this one in the theater. Yeah, a M. Night movie, me, in the year 2024. Who would have thought? Mostly because as I previously stated in my reviews of Old, Knock at the Cabin & The Visit (and his daughter's The Watchers), my track record with him is, quite frankly, not the best. lol But hey, I love Signs. I was mildly amused by The Visit. Split, while problematic, is pretty entertaining imo. And I've actually never properly watched The Sixth Sense in its entirety (I already knew the plot twist so lol) but hey, that's considered a classic. So, I don't hate M. Night. Just not all of his movies are my cup of tea BUT I was actually pretty excited for this one. The premise intrigued me, despite there not seeming much elsewhere for the story to go based on the trailer. And a chance to see Josh Harnett as a villain, hello??? Sign me up! Also, I just really love the idea of a horror movie at a concert. Now, while I didn't hate this... I gotta get into the negatives. lol Overall, it is kinda mid. BUT it's because while there are some twists near the end in typical Shyamalan fashion, most of the first half was already spoiled for us in the trailer, so that's a bummer. Basically trailers these days suck because they think we actually want the whole story told to us before we see it when um, no. We want to be surprised. Now, as I said, there are some surprises later on, but those do seem a bit contrived as well. But also, the movie itself felt incredibly longer than it needed to be. We're at the concert quite a while considering plenty of the movie takes place outside of it in the second half. Not to mention, there's actually a good portion of it dedicated to the musical performances instead of plot. Now I will say, the music was good ngl, at least to me. lol So, that part is a positive. But that also brings me to one of the big negatives: This is a definite nepotism movie. XD The focus on M. Night's daughter's character grows in the second half in a way that had me go, hmmm interesting because it's not remotely believable. Partly because, sadly, Saleka's not a very strong actor imo. She tried her best but making her have a bigger part in the story was definitely a choice (not a very good one) Now, to the biggest positive of the movie: Josh. HE CARRIED THIS THING ON HIS BACK. Like, he was soooo good. He's very much why I can't say I hated this watch. He's what makes it work at all. Definitely my fave performance by him I think. Just deliciously evil. I will say, Allison Pill was really good with what she had to work with too. And you know, props to Ariel Donoghue really being dedicated to playing up the fangirl role as much as she did. She committed. Also, shoutout to Kid Cudi. He's really just a cameo but he def ate his small role. I love him. lol So, at least, acting-wise, there were positives. The concept was cool, it's just the execution (kinda as per se usual why M. Night's movies tend to be a miss for me because they're slightly off in a way that isn't always my thing) but it is decent. I didn't even mind that I paid money seeing it in the theater since it was enjoyable enough. Also, I watched it with an interactive enough audience that it felt like a pleasant experience. Now, I just gotta know, that ending... is M. Night just being silly or is he hinting at a sequel?? Because honestly, it did keep feeling like he genuinely didn't know how to end the movie because it just kept going. There were certain beats where it felt like we reached a conclusion and then, nope. And then we got that. Like, what??? LOL okay. Anyway, this one was interesting. I still have thoughts. So, yeah. That's all.

[peysk]

Watched the new M Night Shyamalan. What's the point of horror movies like this. I agree it would suck if there was a bad guy who kills people. Glad we're on the same page mister Night

[nek-ros]

m night shyamalan's greatest plot twist (becoming not the only person to make an avatar adaptation that sucks ass)

[iantimony]

hurricane-core twednesdaypost

I am in FL this week visiting my grandma! oopsie! disclaimer that I somehow managed to be in a teeny tiny window of No Hurricane At All which I am very grateful for so I am totally safe, it's not even raining where we are lol

listening: Cowboy Malfoy and Laufey type of jazzy chill music. my "I miss my boyfriend and I'm sad" playlist that I'm too self conscious to link.

reading: my torah portion for Saturday! I initially had the thought of like, well, my flight on Thursday back might get cancelled so I may not actually make it to temple to read … so I definitely didn't study as much as I should have, which may have been a weird reverse manifestation thingy, the universe going "well you're not prepared so now you'll definitely be home in time" typa beat. ah well I have time to cram

watching: saw "The Watchers" this evening with my grandma on hbo. I'm gonna be so real with y'all, this movie sucked. it was not good! I understand and like the vibes they were going for but the script was bad, the acting was stilted because of the bad script, the plot was not good, characters were not compelling, THE TWIST WAS NOT WHAT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN … spoilers, but the twist ABSOLUTELY should have been that the main character had been a changeling the whole time, not the old lady. which, like, maybe the point is that's what we're supposed to assume…? but they don't make it explicit which I think was a mistake because it just makes a lot of it feel out of place. I really loved the themes of twins/duality running through it that really just. carried zero weight ultimately. the redeeming factors of this film were the setting (which carried a lot of the cinematography, really atmospheric forest) and Olwen Fouéré who is extremely sexy. she is apparently largely a stage actress which makes a lot of sense, she really was the only one Acting acting which just made the underacting from Dakota Fanning so much flatter. mega nepo baby vibes from this (m night shyamalan's daughter), though I guess I could be nicer because she's my age and I doubt I could do a better job. shrug.

spent a large part of today watching Ryan Hall on youtube tracking the hurricane progress.

playing: fallow :-( I miss minecraft.

making: also fallow oughhhhh. I Miss My Apartment And Craft Table !!! I've started crocheting another grocery bag which I guess is SOMETHING but ugh.

eating: Deb smittenkitchen has done it again. I made her brisket recipe and honey cake for Rosh Hashanah last weekend. great success, I might toss some baby carrots in with the brisket next time, I feel like it needed more veg, but otherwise was perfect. I got to bring honey cake to my grandma who probably hasn't had any in like 50 years and she loved it :) I really want to try making her Russian honey cake recipe but I didn't have the time or energy this year. I also picked up some "goldee" apples on a whim from a local orchard farmstand and they are soooooooo good 10/10.

misc: by some miracle I should be able to catch my scheduled flight despite mr milton, please everyone think affirming thoughts really really hard at [airport redacted] to keep it all moving tomorrow.

[suometar]

Scifi/odd/mystery indie film rec list

Someone asked me to create rec list of less known/indie scifi/odd/mystery films, and, well, it kind got out of hand. Oopsie. You can thank my hubs who writes a review of all films we've watched. These all have been given at least 3/5 stars from me and/or him. Enjoy!

I'm not fully sure if these films are all indie, but I'm quite convinced you at least haven't heard about most of them:

Another Earth (2011)

Archive (2020. On my Top 10 forever fave film list)

Automata (2014)

Boss level (2020)

Brainstorm (1983)

Breach (2020)

Coherence (2013, SO GOOD)

Color out of space (2019)

Coma (2019, russian, is available with english and german dubbing. Effing gorgeous film)

District 9 (2009)

Donnie Darko (2001)

Dual (2022. Fun fact: it was shot in the town in Finland where I was born)

ExistenZ (1999)

Gattaca (1997)

Girl on the Train (2016, mystery)

Hardcore Henry (2015)

High-Rise (2015, also highly recommend the J.G.Ballard book the film is based on)

Ink (2009. On my Top 10 forever fave films list)

Intrusion (2021)

Lobster (2015)

Melancholia (2011)

Memento (2000)

Minor premise (2020)

Moon (2009)

Oxygen (2021, French)

Pi (1998)

Poor Things (2024)

Predestination (2014)

Primer (2004, can’t emphasize enough: this is a MUST for every scifi film buff. Goes without saying, on my Top 10 list)

Prisoners of the Ghostland (2021)

Splice (2009)

Sunshine (2007)

The Blackout (2019, Russian)

The Discovery (2017)

The Endless (2017)

The Invitation (2015)

The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)

The Repo-men (2010)

The Trip (2021)

Upgrade (2018)

Upside down (2012, technically fantasy but what the heck. Pretty as hell)

Vivarium (2019)

Westworld (original film from 1973)

Scifi/horror:

Blood red sky (2021, German)

Cube (1997) & Cube 2 (2002) (the rest are meh)

Event Horizon (1997, I wrote a homage to this film into my book :3)

Kyrsyä - Tuftland (2017, Finnish, it’s available online somewhere and en subtitles are available. Might require some digging though)

Additional mentions, not necessary indie films but MUST SEE:

12 Monkeys (1995)

Contagion (2011)

Dune (1984 + the new ones)

Ex Machina (2014)

In time (2011)

Logan’s run (1976)

Old (2021)

Prospect (2018)

Soylent green (1973)

Tetris (2023)

The Andromeda Strain (1971)

A Quiet Place (2018, 2020)

Split (2016, also the whole film series)

In general worth a watch (all basically under odd at least):

All Darren Aronofsky films

All M. Night Shyamalan films

All Yorgos Lanthimos films

TV shows (not indie, just worth the watch):

Dark Matter (SYFY, 2015-2017. First EP sucks, then it's absolute golden. A kin to Firefly)

Dark Matter (Apple, 2024. Based on a book with the same name by Blake Crouch)

The Expanse (Originally Netflix, moved to Amazon. Both TV show AND books. Oh the books are SO GOOD and better than the show imo)

Severance (Apple. I can't yell enough of this. It's just mindbogglingly good)

The X-Files (duh)

Star Trek: The Next Generation (yeah yea, I'm a trekkie)

Star Trek Picard

Resident Alien (SYFY, 2021-)

Foundation (Apple, 2021- *chef's kiss* goes for the books too)