#really incredible to capture the essence of being a child as an adult | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weirdochick56 · 5 years ago

Text

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Ten

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. Explicit language cause of course. Mild fluff. SMUT. Mild smut.

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind this is for entertainment purposes only. Angst.

Word Count: 3, 716 words

A/N: omg Mr. E I is almost coming to an end!!😭😭😭

Read Chapter Nine Here!!

(GIF is not mine!)

“I want you to make love to me.”

He pauses at this, brow furrowed. A switch, faster than you can comprehend, happens and suddenly the raw look of lust evaporates from his face and he’s pushing you off of him softly.

And what he says next falls over you like a bucket of ice cold water. Shaking you awake, breaking you out of a dream-like state.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I-I can’t. Feel free to sleep in my bedroom, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room.” And before you can so much as react, he’s rushing off, shoulder brushing lightly against yours on his way out and jolting you into awareness.

You’re too shocked to do anything at first. Maybe still lost in the feeling of his touch. Or maybe what could’ve been one of the most incredible experiences of your life. Because God, you knew it would be the most deliciously fulfilling experiences of your life. In your very bones, you fucking knew it would be.

But he can’t. Not even won’t, can’t...

His scent lingers, embracing you and comforting you a bit amidst the loss of his warmth.

You feel cold, empty. Rejected and pushed aside.

Your hands reach out to grab him, but all you get is air. The lust within you, the heat of the moment softly dwindles down, suppressed into your gut once more. Locked up into your chest and now only lightly-throbbing body. Unable to be released and felt and experienced fully. Unable to make you see stars.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins disperses and you suddenly feel like your legs can’t support your body weight. Too heavy. Too shaky. You stumble on your trembling legs and your back hits the wall behind you.

Your eyes flutter shut. You run a hand through your face as the fog clears from your mind.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You should have never asked him that question!

What have you done?

That night, you make your way to the house’s master bedroom- Mr. Evans’s bedroom.

You don’t need him to confirm to you that it’s his because it’s painfully clear as soon as you walk in, flicking the light on.

A small sad smile slowly tugs at your lips as you take in the room around you. It’s spacious and stays true to the rest of the house’s minimalist style but somehow feels warmer to you. Like home. Maybe it’s because it captures Mr. Evans’s essence so well, you can’t help but immediately feel safe and comforted.

He had three bookshelves filled to the brink with works of literature you’d heard him go on and on about during class.

With a tiny sigh, you drag your heels along and plop onto the soft mattress of his bed, staring deeply at the white wall in front of you.

In there, his scent was everywhere and it didn’t help your heartbreak whatsoever.

Because fuck, your heart was shattered.

He couldn’t go through with it. And now you don’t know if he even planned to from the beginning.

Your head spun with thoughts of what was about to happen but didn’t.

Were you just not pretty enough? Was your inexperience a problem for him? Why couldn’t he just have made you his? Nothing was holding him back, goddamit!

You sigh, more than just a little upset because you had to stay here when all you wanted was to leave with your tail tucked between your legs.

Now that you could think clearly, you realized what you were more than ready to give up. What you were wordlessly begging to give up to him.

Like some fucking bitch in heat.

He probably knew that you were more than willing to give yourself to him and had lost all respect for you and was pushing you-

Okay, Y/n. Chill. I mean, it doesn’t matter either way. You’ll get over the most embarrassing moment of your life eventually.

Yeah, sure, you chide sarcastically.

Wow. Is this really what it’s come to? Having conversations with yourself, Y/n?

You take a deep breath and groan when your dress insistingly itches and you just want to melt into the mattress and not have to think about anything anymore or you’d literally drive yourself nuts.

But that can’t exactly be helped when you don’t know what to do with yourself. This frustrates you endlessly. Y/n Y/l/n always knew what to do with herself. And the fact that you’re frustrated at something so fucking stupid and out-of-character just angers you.

So you furiously get up, throwing your heels onto the cream rug beneath your feet and briskly tugging your dress off, fingers shaking with rage.

You have no idea who you’re more pissed at, truthfully. You or Mr. Evans. I mean, it was partly his fault for making you feel so out of control, for chrissake! You- you couldn’t control yourself when you were around him, which is why you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Which just means you let your emotions control what you do and not your head.

And that’s why you say dumb shit like “I want you to make love to me.” Like, really?! What in the actual fuck were you actually thinking when you said that?!

“Stupid fucking-” you grunt when the dress gets stuck and tug harder.

“You’re gonna break it if you keep pulling on it like that, sweetheart.”

You jump at the sound of his velvety smooth voice, immediately spinning around to face him.

“W-what?” you sputter, cheeks reddening.

Mr. Evans sighs, closing the door behind him as he walks further in. “Here, just let me help you.”

“Don’t,” you whisper instinctively. “I got it.”

His gorgeous face falls into a sad expression. He steps forward again, hands slightly outstretched. “Sweetheart just let me help-”

“I’ve got it!” you snap.

He flinches at your outburst and you immediately feel bad. Here he is, lending you his place to stay in and here you are being a resentful, immature, child.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to make love to you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes and tipping your head back. “I just-“

You bite your lip, contemplating whether to tell him or not. Finally, unable to keep your hurt on the down-low much longer, you explode.

“Why couldn’t you go through with it? Is it because of me? A-am I that undesirable?” You feel pathetic for practically whimpering the words out. So desperate to feel like you’re enough for a man like Mr. Evans when you know you’re not.

“Don’t,” he snaps intently, but once he sees your face, softens, exhaling heavily through his nose.

His face crumples and his shoulders sag, and yet his cool blue irises look at you in the eye with such a fierce kind of determination, goosebumps rise in your skin and your very bones heat up with their conviction.

“Don’t you ever think that there’s something wrong with you sweetheart. I just-“ his beautiful eyes flicker to your dress. “Here let me just help you out of that so you can get comfortable and we can talk, okay?”

You silently nod, spinning around as he walks towards you. Your heart races with anticipation for his touch and you fist the fabric of your dress into your hand tightly, scolding yourself for being so drawn to him. So instantly ready to give into him.

“Thank you.” His mumble is low and rough and his warm breath hits the back of your neck so softly, you can’t help but shiver under its feather-light caress.

His fingers are deft but hesitant as they loosen the bow of your dress. You wait for him to speak, heart racing at his proximity.

“I didn’t go through with it because I didn’t want to,” he finally whispers quietly, fingers pushing apart the dress.

At the newly exposed skin, Mr. Evans pauses, breath hitched. Your back is pressed against his firm chest so you can feel him when he shakily breathes out.

“Trust me, sweetheart. All I wanted to do was fuck you against that wall until you couldn’t walk,” he rasps.

You gulp harshly, feeling your cunt already beginning to throb back to life. “Then why didn’t you?”

It was insane how easy it was for him to drive you over the edge. All he had to do was say something like all I wanted to do was fuck you against that wall until you couldn’t walk in that powerful, husky voice of his and you were already more than eager to jump his bones.

His fingers trace delicately over your skin and you have to bite your lip in order to hold back a gasp of pleasure from escaping you. He touched you with such care--like you were a porcelain doll prone to breaking and he was terrified of being the one to ruin you.

If only he knew how much you fucking needed him to ruin you.

“Aside from the obvious? That what we’re doing is so fucking forbidden it’s literally against the law and that going through with what you make me feel could end me?”

He chuckles softly and without a trace of humor as he feels you tense under his touch.

“I already told you; you’re intoxicated, sweetheart. I couldn’t do that to you,” he whispers, fingers undoing more of your laces. “I couldn’t take advantage of you like that,” he whispers keenly and for some reason, you get the sense he means it in more than the present context.

Somehow, you think he means this in a more general sense.

You bite your lip harder, letting your head gently fall onto his shoulder. His eyes peer down at your and you look at him through your lashes innocently.

“Couldn’t you?” You inquire, cautiously pressing your ass to his dick.

He gasps at the sensation, soft pink lips parted in an almost scream.

Your panties soak through at the sight of him so affected by the mere press of your clothed skins.

“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers digging into your back.

You hiss with pleasure, trailing your hands in a deliberately gradual manner, creeping up his thigh higher and higher, inching closer and closer to the part of his body you craved most and craved you most.

“Because,” you purr. “I don’t feel so intoxicated.” You haze flickers it’s his mouth. So soft and tempting. So wet...

You barely recognize the person doing this. This person who’s letting her emotions guide her. Maybe you were still drunk (you were) or maybe you just couldn’t hold back on your feelings anymore. More so not that you knew they were reciprocated.

He bites his lip, eyes screwing shut as you barely graze his clothed cock with your fingertips.

“No,” he exhales through gritted teeth, firmly seizing your hand in his. His eyes look down at yours and you’ve never seen anyone look so delectably tortured in your life.

Your chest tightens with delight and you don’t understand why you like having this power over him so much.

“I can’t,” he murmurs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His eyes are alight with that same fiery emotion you seemed to bring out on him every time you were together.

That fire you wanted to burn you. That fire you craved to hurt you so good, all you’d want afterward was to feel its flames heating your skin.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful and tempting as hell, sweetheart. All I want to do is feel your warmth wrapped around me. I ache for my name to come from that pretty little mouth in screams. I want to leave you so spent, you won’t even be able to remember your own fucking name by the time I’m done with you.”

Your jaw drops and the pulsating of your pussy only intensifies at his words— so raw and filthy dirty and passionate. The picture he has painted for you is so utterly erotic and untamed that it only makes you crave the feel of having him inside you, stretching you, even more prominent.

“I want you. I want you in every way possible, you have no idea,” he breathes heavily, using his free hand to continue gently taking your dress off.

“But I can’t. I fucking can’t and it kills me that I can’t because for the last few weeks of my miserable life it’s all I can think about. All that fills up my brain is you. On my desk, on your knees on my bed...in my arms afterward. Full. Satisfied. Pressed against me, cuddling me. Holding eachother.” He speaks in curt sentences-- as if it’s laborious for him to describe.

Too much and too indifferent to your current situation to describe, almost.

Your chest aches with tortured sweetness and it also swells with an emotion far too overwhelming to describe.

You wanted him. All of him.

He presses a gentle kiss against your shoulder and reluctantly steps back as he undoes the last button.

You immediately yearn for his warmth, your skin exposed to the cool temperature of the house, but you hold onto the front of your dress so you don’t flash him as you turn to look at him.

You freeze when you see his face. It’s unexpectedly unguarded, distant, vulnerable. His brows are furrowed and his lips set in a straight line.

His eyes are devoid of much emotion, but they’re unwavering as they pin your own gaze down.

“If you want the blunt truth; I haven’t made love to anyone in a while, sweetheart. I’ve fucked, but that’s different. I simply don’t feel ready to make love yet,” he admits quietly.

You think about it for a second. He doesn’t want to do it the wrong way with you, you think. But that would imply he wants you for more than fucking and-

Stop overthinking, Y/n.

He sighs, looking down at his hands, which tremble in the slightest. “Every time I’m around you, it’s like I can’t control myself,” his voice shakes and he licks his lips nervously. His gaze drags right back up to yours. He’s concerned. Scared. “I just don’t want to do something that could end up hurting us both in the future.”

You contemplate this for a while, and nod in understanding, a soft smile on your face. You may not like it, but you understand it. Him. You always do.

“Hey,” you gently take his hand in yours and smile sweetly up at him. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry.” He smirks softly. “Sleep. You can use my clothes if you want to be comfier. They’re in the third drawer to the right.”

You nod, thanking him.

You expect him to leave but when you look up at him expectantly, he’s still in the same spot. His eyes are half-hooded, tracing over your exposed back with a silently lustful gaze.

You raise a smug brow at him, your lips quirking into a smirk.

He frowns confusedly at first but his face shifts into an expression of realization. He flushes and it takes everything in you not to burst out in a fit of giggles.

“Oh! Uh- yeah. Sorry. Uhm, sleep well, then sweetheart. I’ll be two rooms over i-if you need a-anything.” He goes to awkwardly shuffle out of his room before you stop him, hand gripping his bicep firmly.

He raises his brow questioningly down at you.

You smile shyly, biting your lip. “Sleep with me?”

He clears his throat, too taken aback for a few seconds to respond right away. “Uh- sweetheart I thought we went over thi-“

You rush to clarify, laughing bemusedly. “No. I mean sleep next to me. No love-making involved.” You hold your hands up in mock-defense. “Promise.”

He runs a hand through his beard. “I don’t know about this sweetheart... I mean, do you really think we can-”

You pout cutely, batting your lashes. “Please? I don’t wanna be alone.”

You really didn’t. Especially in a new place.

He’s very clearly hiding a smile at your antics when he clicks his tongue, acting like he’s seriously considering it. After a minute he sighs half-heartedly. “Fine.”

You beam, spontaneously grabbing his face and planting a kiss on his stubbly cheek without thinking.

He chuckles, shaking his head and delicately tracing his fingers over the spot where you kissed him. “I’ll let you change, then. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” And then he walks out.

Chris’s POV

Do you ever just make a set of small decisions that- before you even know it, build up into one huge snowball of an I’m-so-completely-fucked decision?

And these small decisions, they’re -- not so big at first. Don’t seem all that dangerous or like they’d build up into a whole avalanche of your worst mishaps falling on top of you and burying you up to your neck.

Like hugging the student you’d been having a weird attraction to from the moment you laid eyes on her to help her through a panic attack. Or kissing her afterward. Or maybe you showed up to a teenage party where literally anyone could recognize you to save her from a possible-rape because she called you drunk...and kissed her afterward. Or perhaps you’re so nice you offer her a place to stay for the night-- your home.

It’s innocent enough, but in the back of your mind, you know that it won’t end innocently. Or well, for that matter. Because you’re so attracted to her you literally can’t focus on anything else.

The thing is, I can’t call all these things mistakes. Mistakes aren’t purposeful, they don’t happen when you have all the information you could possibly need on the outcomes of your actions.

Y/n Y/l/n was not a mistake to me.

I knew exactly what would happen if I brought her over to my house. Hell, I knew what would happen if I continued being in the same goddam room as her.

It was this thing with us-- you just knew. No words needed. In the back of your mind, you just knew.

I tried to ignore that voice most of the time...because most of the time it said things that gave me false hope for something that could never happen.

Things like, we would end up together because that’s just how right it felt.

But I knew, the rational part of me knew, that that could never happen. It never would.

And yet- that little voice- it insisted. It was especially strong when it was just her and me.

Because she brought something out of me that I didn’t even know existed. Something that had been dead for a while and was now suddenly revived. A much more primitive instinct within me.

To protect her, to hold her, to want her like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.

And when something is instinct, it’s in your nature. And your nature is a part of you and I guess that meant she was...a part of me now.

I didn’t know what that meant, exactly. All I knew was that I was fucked.

Royally fucked.

She only proves me right though, when she comes down the stairs, clad in only my old Led Zeppelin band tee. The shirt was too big for her, falling softly against her milky thighs, hugging her gorgeous curves as she timidly walked towards me.

I wanted to chuckle at how adorably tiny she was in comparison to me. God, I just wanted to protect her from the ugly world we lived in. My chest clenches with an emotion yet unfamiliar to me. I didn’t know how to describe it, all I knew was that I suddenly had a sudden urge to hold her in my arms and never let go. To have her as close to me as possible for as long as possible.

This urge is overwhelming enough to make me have to shove my hands in my pockets.

Her make up was softly smudged and her hair was messy but framed her delicate face so perfectly and made her look so sexy, I could feel the breath get knocked straight out of my lungs.

She was perfect and it literally stumped me every time I saw her just how much.

God, I was so gross for feeling like this. For wanting to make her mine like this. And yet, I’d never felt so right and alive in my life.

Never felt so much that I could touch the sky with pure ecstasy.

“Mr. Evans?” her angelic voice interrupted my guilt-ridden thoughts.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” I smiled softly down at her.

She bites her lip and I can feel myself regret not taking her on the goddam wall as I feel my dick get hard again.

She hesitates to ask the question, and I see her pretty eyes flicker over my face— trying to read me —before she sighs.

“I just-“ she licks her lips. “Are we crazy? For this, I mean. Are we absolutely insane?”

I think about it. Yes. Yes we are. But I’m not letting her know I think that.

“No,” I respond, keeping a straight face.

She raises an unconvinced brow, studying me closely. “Really?”

She knows me so well, it’s actually a bit scary.

I smirk. “No, yeah. We’re definitely insane,” I nod vigorously.

She snorts and quickly thereafter falls into a fit of giggles. “Yeah.” She smiles sweetly up at me and my insides melt.

I feel like a teenager all over again. Nervous, insecure, and completely whipped.

We stare at eachother for a long while.

I smile softly down at her. ��Let’s head to bed, sweetheart.”

I don’t know why, but something about that makes my heart skip a beat. Maybe because it implies the bed is ours instead of just mine. Maybe because for one night I’ll get to feel her inviting warmth close to me.

Or maybe because just for tonight I choose to ignore how completely wrong it is to want her warmth.

Either way, I can’t suppress the excitement I have brewing within me despite knowing that no matter how good it feels right now— it’s just a matter of time before chaos reigns all around us and our perfect, forbidden little world comes crashing down.

Because even if it’s just for tonight I get to pretend I’ll have her like this forever.

Read Chapter Eleven Here!!

***

I know, I know. There was no smut in this and I keep holding back on giving it to you.

But that’s because when it happens -and it WILL happen- you’re gonna spontaneously combust from wherever you’re watching.

(A visual for your viewing pleasure):

A Special Thanks to:

@bombsandsparkles

@meowsekai

@godohammers

@sp2900

@multifandom-foreverx

@missbosstown

@supernaturalyloki

@jungkooksbowlingskills

@spettrocoli

@woodworthti666

@tshollandlove

@weirdvishy

@buckysrcse

@doritoevansxwinterschildren

@superwholockwannabe

@emmiejames

@rissamonique97

@zofty15

@sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack

@sydneynix8305

@badkatthings

@pinnedandneedled

@taliarosej00

@lowkey-love-loki

@tomoyaevaans

@dontstopfreddienow

@littlecherrydoll

@notbexmader

@panic-naran

@celestiial-angel

@primavera-nymph

@chljmntgy

@phanmatch

@Neverforget-whereyoubelong

@moonlightimagination

@cap-just-said-language

@covergirl122

@buckysthighsstuff

@whereeverythingisbetter

@nizxle

@sarcasticvodka

@humandasaster

@tomshelbystits

@peach-acid

@roonyxx

@faithmichaluk

And of course my lovely forevers!

@jessikared97

@ladyofletters67

@lilypalmer1987

@meowsekai @sammykb1994

#Mr Evans #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #teacher x student #teacher!chris evans x student!reader #teacher au

254 notes · View notes

eraserhead-baby-girl · 4 years ago

Text

I’ve been tagged by total cutie @c0ttagecorew1re to share ten songs I’m obsessed with at the moment. Prepare yourselves for an incredibly sexy deep dive into my psyche via my current musical hyper fixations 💖

Smog - Natural Decline

I’ve had Rain on Lens playing pretty much none stop for the past month so it was really hard to narrow it down to one song but Natural Decline really captures the essence of the album as well as typifying Bill Callahan’s output under the Smog moniker. A song that both acknowledges the absurdity of life whilst laughing into the void.

“I see the night sky as a jewelry store window And my mind is half a brick”

Mariee Sioux - Bundles

An exquisite exploration of the intersection between femininity and Native American ancestry, that’s both gentle in sound whilst containing some of the most viscerally unpleasant imagery of the commodification of the body I’ve ever heard. Sonically manages to be both ancient and totally in keeping with the mid-2000′s Nevada city folk scene (yes i’m a JNew stan). Honestly the entirety of Faces in the Rocks is such a delight.

“I'm eating my own hide to hide in my own skin 'Till I am left a hanging Upside down and draining Like skinned does a dangling From a hunters oak limb Like my sisters those does, woven in red shrouds Wearing bare ribbons of tightly wrapped muscles”

Shampoo - Bare Knuckle Girl

The perfect song for when you're drunk, pissed off at the world but also feeling sexy as hell (a niche emotion I seem to inhabit most nights). Glorifying whilst satirising the idea of the fucked up young girl. Really good fun.

“Her Skin Is Dead Pale She's Broken All Her Nails And She Spent All Her Life Just Going Off The Rails”

Sufjan Stevens - Eugene

Sufjan Steven’s album Carrie & Lowell has been a constant in my life for years but until the last month this was a song I always skipped. But sometime in the last few months, during a middle of the night sad song session™, listening to it was like a revelation. It sits at the intersection of pain and joy that surrounds childhood memories; the joy of loving and being loved, the emptiness of knowing it has passed and complex grief of seeing yourself slipping into the role of adult and how that interacts with our understanding of our own mortality. There’s a real sense of fragility, weariness and resignation in the vocal that both mirrors and enhances the lyrics and makes for an incredibly powerful listen.

totally don’t listen to it thinking of my fav child from my old job or the passing of my grandmother

“What's left is only bittersweet For the rest of my life, admitting the best is behind me Now I'm drunk and afraid, wishing the world would go away What's the point of singing songs If they'll never even hear you?”

Angel Olsen - So That We Can Be Still

An understated lament for the passing of time and the way in which the diminishing of memories creates a twofold death; a cessation of the past interactions of self. The vocals on the entire ep (Strange Cacti) seem to coming from somewhere beyond the veil and make this song in particular especially evocative.

“Must all of my memories drown into infinity? Try to grasp them, but I always miss Time goes by so fast as if it hardly wants to exist”

Courtney Barnett - Pedestrian at Best

High energy bop about female success and self image. I defy anyone to listen to this and not want to throw themselves around the room and possibly kick the coffee table. Perfect for anyone who thinks they are the both the best and worst at the same time.

“Put me on a pedestal and I'll only disappoint you Tell me I'm exceptional, I promise to exploit you Give me all your money, and I'll make some origami, honey I think you're a joke, but I don't find you very funny”

Lloyd Cole And The Commotions - Rattlesnakes

Whenever my mother feels particularly tenderly about me she plays me this, pats my hair and tells me it could've been written about me. As such, it’s my ultimate pick me up song and I’ve been playing it constantly the last couple of weeks. A tribute to every confused young woman, wrapped up in philosophy, flightiness and an unending sense of her own boredom. also feeds my ego that my mother genuinely thinks i look like eve marie saint

“Jodie never sleeps 'cause there are always needles in the hay She says that a girl needs a gun these days Hey on account of all the rattlesnakes She looks like Eve Marie Saint in on the waterfront As she reads Simone de Beauvoir in her American circumstance Her heart, heart's like crazy paving Upside down and back to front”

Manic Street Preachers - Builder of Routines

There’s never a point where I’m not overplaying at least one of the manics songs and at the moment it’s Builder of Routines (Rewind the Film is criminally underrated in my almost humble opinion). Perfect exploration of the tension between the safety adult life provides and the suffocating nature it has on the soul.

“Builder of Routines It makes me safe and clean It crucifies parts of me But never seems to make me bleed”

Golden Shoulders - the Honey, the Power, the Light (Kyle’s Blues)

As an obsessive Joanna Newsom fan, I thought I’d heard everything she’d ever done. So discovering her pre Milk Eyed Mender work with Golden Shoulders was probably the most exciting thing to happen to me this month. A pertinent rally cry against the soul sucking nature of capitalism with a sound redolent of Bright Eyes’ Landlock Blues.

“I cannot be swayed and I will not be quiet, Tell the fat cats and big wigs to go on a diet. They're taking up space that has better uses, So let's jump the tracks and unhitch their cabooses.”

Sibylle Baier - I Lost Something in the Hills

As soon as the weather turns, I play Colour Green on a loop whilst sitting on my windowsill, coffee in hand, staring out of the window blankly. It’s basically an autumnal tradition at this point. I’ve spent my entire life living semi rural on one side on a steep and densely wooded valley and I Lost Something in the Hills perfectly encapsulates the unique feeling of growing up somewhere that’s beautiful yet remote and enclosed. A song for autumn days spent in moments of abstract yearning and formless nostalgia.

“I grew up in declivities Others grow up in cities Where first love and soul takes rise

There where times in my life When I felt mad and deprived And only the slopes gave me hope”

Why did I write this like I’m being paid by vice to self indulgently talk about my own music taste??? Who knows. is it obvious i miss being a lit student?

I’m tagging @lipsticktraces and @ki-flor as I’m pretty sure they have solid tastes in music and I’m always after song recs.

#smog #bill callahan #mariee sioux #shampoo #sufjan stevens #angel olsen #courtney barnett #lloyd cole #manic street preachers #golden shoulders #joanna newsom #sibylle baier

3 notes · View notes

13parkfilter · 4 years ago

Text

a wangxian playlist no one asked for

These are track notes for a wangxian playlist no one asked for, because CQL / mdzs fandom ate my life and I somehow needed to make a super dramatic 28 song playlist that follows wangxian’s love in (extremely loose) chronological order, from their first meeting as cute battle teens all the way through the depths of angst and eventually to becoming cultivation partners and (I’m positive) really great co-parenting dads.

Because I’m like that ™ , you can find notes for each and every song below. Any weird song choices are entirely my fault. Spoiler alert: Frank Ocean.

This is a real long playlist and you could definitely break it into shorter stretches by mood. For the happiest and most in love vibes, hit the first 6 songs and the last 6 songs. Dramatic Burial Mounds vibes are from 7 to 13. It may be very satisfying to go from the depths of sadness and grief (~16) through to the end.

1. Don’t Know What to Do | BLACKPINK

Inspired, of course, by WYB and XZ’s demonstrated love of Blackpink in the CQL BTS videos. For a little while Stay was on this list instead, but I kept coming back to this song because to me it gets at that excited “everything is new and I’m young and so in love” feeling. Two people could certainly have a playful duel under the moonlight to this song, if they wished.

2. A Loving Feeling | Mitski

Something about Mitski’s melancholy, slightly maudlin and self-deprecating vibe in this song is just peak “I wasn’t flirting… unless…?”

3. Self Control | Frank Ocean

Somehow this playlist ended up structured around two overlapping arcs carried by Frank Ocean and Lykke Li, respectively, which makes no sense in theory but maybe kind of works? Idk, let me know if it works. If it does, maybe it’s because so many Frank Ocean songs are incredibly raw love songs about loss and the work that memory does to keep your love alive, and so many Lykke Li songs are about trying to slog through all the pain and bullshit without losing sight of that kernel of untarnished brightness, whatever it was that made you want to love in the first place.

I love this song for many reasons, but in no small part for the sorry-not-sorry vibe of apologizing for making someone lose their self control.

4. Look After Me | Cub Sport

This song is real honest and tender about people taking care of each other and it messes me up.

“There's something in the way you look at me

Like I've never done wrong

There's something in the way you look at me

When I was wrong all along.”

5. We Could Run | Beth Ditto

Ok, imagine this playing in the background during LWJ and WWX’s first meeting with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. A good song to play as you run into the sunset holding hands with your cultivation partner, is what I’m saying.

6. Unconditional Love | 椎名林檎 (Shiina Ringo)

This is just a super sweet and painfully dramatic love song, the kind of song that plays for a man who makes grand unsung gestures like composing magical love songs and secretly adopting your child after you’ve died. This is before the latter part of that, though.

7. Bad Religion | Frank Ocean

This is the first turning point on the list, the fading of youthful optimism and the start of choices that there’s no going back from. This is when you start to realize that you really can’t please everyone, and you can’t do what you believe is right without someone hating you for it. It’s also the point at which your neuroses and blind spots start to go from being quirky and cute to a cage of your own making. You have to deal with the bad shit you inherited from your parents eventually. If you don’t you’ll either make the same mistakes they did or make different mistakes because you’re fighting so hard to keep your head above water.

I really like the part when Frank Ocean asks his taxi driver to outrun the demons. Feels like something a modern AU WWX might say.

8. Silent My Song | Lykke Li

I didn’t want to go full angst here because this playlist is about *cue Westley bellowing in the Princess Bride* TRUE LOVE and so I didn’t go as hard as I could here, but this is the start of the golden core + first Burial Mounds arc.

9. Figure 8 | FKA twigs

I can hear the resentful energy swirling in this one. This is probably the most abstract choice on the list but to me something in it evokes the curdled rage and seething of an unquiet spirit.

10. Fantasmas | Ambar Lucid

This is a song about living with ghosts: of a failed relationship, and the mistakes that it took to get there.

11. Green Grass | Cibelle

I love this song because it’s a little sweet and a little scary at the same time. It’s gentle and haunting and the lyrics are as unforgettable as poetry.

Is this a love song that a corpse is singing to someone visiting their grave? I like to think so.

12. I Bet on Losing Dogs | Mitski

In spite of the dog reference (lol) this whole song is a super WWX trying to live with the Wens in the Burial Mounds mood in my opinion. It has turnip energy. Trampled yet undefeated lotus energy, if you will.

13. Godspeed | Frank Ocean

This song is the essence of heartbreak and knowing that you have to finally let go of someone. Am I imagining LWJ and WWX singing this back and forth to each other at the Burial Mounds, depending on which line it is? Am I crying about it a little? Maybe.

“I let go of my claim on you.”

“There will be mountains you can’t move.”

14. I Know Places | Lykke Li

This is the “Come back to Gusu with me” song, even though it’s coming later in the timeline than it should. (I sort of compressed all the Burial Mounds-set songs together for a better flow). Anyway I feel like this captures all of those unspoken desires, that frustrated feeling of caring about and believing in someone so much without being able to protect them from all the people and powers that want to hurt them. But you have to try.

15. Deeper Than Love | Antony and the Johnsons

This song is almost. Too dramatic. This is meant to be at Nightless City / WWX’s fall. I originally had 2 completely different songs here but I ended up liking the arc of this song and where it ends up. The two songs I originally had here were a much more bitter feeling, but I like that this song is tragic and painful and is still a kind of love song at the same time. I really wanted this playlist to be all love songs, some very different from each other, some more about pain and loss and regret than the good parts of love, but still love songs.

“And I have tried to shine in the darkness

Entertaining vanities in vain…

Hold on

And hold on

And let go

Let go

And fall deeper

Even than love.”

16. Days of Candy | Beach House

To me this song is very evocative of the mingled feelings of grief in the immediate aftermath of a loss. Grief is never a pure, singular feeling, but a sticky amalgam of missing and wanting and sweet memories and a deep pit of pain. The sort of slow, half-asleep sadness full of watery light that this song evokes really takes me there, to the place where the grief is real but the loss is still almost unreal, where the feeling of that person still hasn’t left, your senses are still full of them, you just heard their voice yesterday, they might come into the room at any moment. It’s the almost— joyful?? part of grief that you don’t realize has any joy in it yet because you haven’t yet started to forget. You can’t imagine being able to forget, and you have no idea how much worse it will be when you can’t immediately evoke their presence anymore to comfort yourself. When you can’t pretend anymore that you’ll be able to see them again.

17. Last Song | Gackt

Idk why exactly but Gackt is very yearning LWJ vibes in this song. Is it the earnestness? The intensity? The incredibly romantic lyrics? The deep, smooth voice?.. All of the above?

Anyway, if the previous song was nonverbal grief, this song is the start of the solidifying of grief, moving past rage and disbelief and self-destructive denial and gradually into a crystallization, a narrative of what the loss meant. Instead of a great crushing thing that blots out the sky and swallows your entire life, the grief becomes just another part of you— a defining part, maybe, but still part of a greater whole. And you move on. Or you try to.

18. Sleeping Alone | Lykke Li

This is 13 years of going where the chaos is, searching and playing Inquiry and never giving up, resigned to sleeping alone in strange places but still just never ever giving up.

“Now was not our time, no, I let you down.

Someday, somehow, somewhere down the line… we’ll meet again.”

19. Busby Berkeley Dreams | The Magnetic Fields

Does every deep-voiced man singing a dramatic love song remind me of LWJ now? Maybe. At least I refrained from filling the entire playlist with Stephin Merritt songs.

“I should have forgotten you long ago, but you’re in every song I know” is just… the most Wangxian sentiment.

This is a bit of a modern AU LWJ, one who would definitely cry into his True Romance magazines. I do still think that this song very much captures how he must have felt hearing the song he wrote played on a terrible flute after 13 years, though. It definitely doesn’t have a flute solo in it, either.

20. Ivy | Frank Ocean

This song is peak WWX in a mask, trying to hide from LWJ and his own emotions at the same time. But also, maybe, the start of some emotional awareness and genuine communication. Thanks to Frank Ocean for this entire playlist, practically.

21. Fireworks | Mitski

Another song about memories and dealing with the past even when it comes back to stab you in the side. (s/o to Jin Ling, low key my favorite character, never afraid to cry in any situation)

“I will be married to silence

The gentleman won't say a word

But you know, oh you know in the quiet he holds

Runs a river that'll never find home.”

22. Hell | Waxahatchee

This is a song about apologizing to someone for putting them through hell. To me it’s a very adults-in-love song, and there’s a sort of gentleness to acknowledging the pain and mistakes of the past while still having hope that maybe love is really worth it after all— especially if you’re “one of those who canonize a love so true it never dies.”

23. A letter to my younger self | Ambar Lucid

I have to admit that the title of this song makes me think of yiqie’s truly excellent time travel fic that is very heartbreaking and very beautiful. I don’t want to spoil it if you haven’t read it (go read it), but it’s safe to tell you that it grapples with and transcends all the reasons I usually avoid time travel fics, like the idea of helplessness in the face of fate, and how much control we really have over our own decisions, and what it means to let people make their own mistakes.

24. Let’s Pretend We’re Bunny Rabbits | The Magnetic Fields

This one really speaks for itself.

Besides, “Let’s pretend we’re bunny rabbits until we pass away” is just a cuter way of saying “Everyday,” right?

25. ”愛してる”からはじめよう (“Let’s start from ‘I love you’”) | Miyavi

I personally feel that Miyavi has big sunshine WWX energy. This is just. A very cute and soft love song. Feels like napping in some tall grass in the summertime. Waking up next to your lifelong crush and remembering how lucky you are. Wandering from town to town with your true love and your donkey. That type of energy.

26. Angels | The xx

The last three songs on this list never fail to give me Big Dramatic Feelings.

I think what this song captures well is the feeling of just drifting along, lost in your thoughts, showing up somewhere— and suddenly seeing the person you know to be the love of your life at an unexpected time or place, and being struck all over again with… all of it. Your heart stutters, everything slows down, and for a second you forget to breathe. Like: Oh yeah. Oh shit. I remember why I love you. I remember how it felt when I was first falling in love with you. And I never want it to stop.

“And with words unspoken, a silent devotion. I know you know what I mean.”

27. Love Me Like I’m Not Made of Stone | Lykke Li

I think of this as the quintessential WWX love song, from the title to the sentiment of the lyrics to the moody burning joy of the sound of it. It’s demanding and soft and confident and raw all at once.

Props to Lykke Li for the redemption arc of this playlist.

28. Good to Love | FKA twigs

MAKE MY BODY COME ALIVE. This is the song that really says the most to me about the pain and beauty and the vulnerability and intimacy of being in love. What I love about all of FKA twigs’ music is how beautifully she merges and intertwines the messy physical and spiritual aspects of love. Her music is a sexy secular prayer to Eros imo and I’m here for it.

#cql #playlists no one asked for #dramatic love songs #idk #this is how i deal with my obsession #wwx #lwj #wangxian #i guess

2 notes · View notes

killscreencinema · 5 years ago

Text

Secret of Mana (SNES)

youtube

I have a tense history with Secret of Mana.

When the game was first released by Squaresoft in 1993, the commercial (above) really captured my interest. The luscious visuals of the commercial and the simple premise of a boy finding a magic sword - it all reminded me enough of Zelda to be worth looking into!

I didn’t get around to renting the game until about a year later, after we had moved to a small town in Kentucky called Lewisburg. This town was in no way, shape, or form a “burg” - it was hardly even a hamlet. It consisted of a Piggly Wiggly and a gas station - that was it. So you can imagine how boring it was to live there as a child. My adolescent brain was starved for imaginative storytelling, so it was at this specific point, when I was at my most receptive, that I dived into the world of J-RPGs, beginning with Secret of Mana.

The moment I turned on the SNES, I was captivated by game, from its curious use of whale song during the Squaresoft logo to the gorgeously cinematic title screen accompanied by some of the most beautiful music I’d ever heard in a video game (then one day in the near future I’d play Final Fantasy III, the music of which would blow my mind apart). I loved everything about this, and I hadn’t even begun the game yet. This was a good sign.

The game begins with your main character, Randi (which is an odd name to give a sword wielding fantasy hero), finding an old sword by the waterfall in his village and pulling it from the stone. This act allegedly unleashes hordes of monsters, earning Randi a one way ticket to banishment from his village. Randi quickly gets swept up into a quest to save the world’s “mana” from being exploited by an evil Empire, who plan to resurrect the Mana Fortress that could potentially destroy the world.

When I finally got into the meat of the game, I must admit I had struggled with it. Keep in mind this was my first RPG, of any sort besides Zelda, and unlike A Link to the Past, this game didn’t hold your hand when it came to letting you know where to go next or even the basic mechanics of the game. Playing it again as an adult, it’s a lot more linear than I remembered, but I can still see how the child version of me could get lost. For one thing, you don’t meet your two companions in any particular order. You can meet the sprite, Popoi, first or you can meet the girl, Primm. Figuring out how to navigate their menus and control their actions was a whole other learning curve I probably never mastered as a kid.

Anyway, at this point, you’re probably wondering “So why is your history with this game tense? It sounds like you rather liked it.” True, I did like it, despite not having a clue what I was doing and progressing through the game’s main quest at a snail’s pace. Bare in mind, I had rented this game, so if I wanted to make it far, time was of the essence! So I had finally, ARDUOUSLY made it to the Witch’s Castle, the first major dungeon of the game. After hopelessly wandering around for so long, I was excited and proud to have finally made it this far. I took a break from the game to watch TV, while my little brother invited a neighbor kid over to play video games (I want to say the kid’s name was David). I could hear them playing Secret of Mana in our shared bedroom, so I yelled a warning from the living room to NOT save over my game.

At some point, I got bored and decided to watch them play the game. I got to my bedroom just in time to witness David, that little dipshit neighbor kid, SAVE OVER MY GAME! My brother looked up at me in dread, and must have saw the rage in my expression, as he immediately left the room, abandoning David to my wrath. I screamed obscenities at him, picked him up by the scruff of his neck, and hurled him bodily out the front door. Having been sufficiently terrified, David never returned to our house for anything after that. Even though I hadn’t made it very far into the game, I was much too heartbroken and angry to continue playing it, as it just drudged up angry feelings whenever I turned it on to see David’s game in save spot mine used to be in.

So that’s why I haven’t played Secret of Mana for over 20 years... until now.

Okay, well, the real reason it took me this long to play it again is because I’ve played so many superior RPGs since then, Secret of Man seemed crude and quaint by comparison. Once Final Fantasy came into my life, Secret of Mana was on the outs, and would stay that way until my interest in retro games reignited late into my adult life. But, yes, I also had a weird, negative emotional association with the game that probably factored in somewhat.

Playing through it as an adult, I must admit the game holds up mighty nicely. The soundtrack is fucking fantastic for one and vibrant, colorful graphics are a treat for the eyes. The sucky thing about the soundtrack is it is often cut off due to memory limitations the game occasionally experiences. I believe it has to do with the extremely high quality of the music (by which I mean on a digital level, not composition-ally), which dragged on the SNES’s processing capabilities.

The combat in the game is decent, although I found the hit detection questionable and inconsistent. I’m not sure how much of that is my fault, such as in boss battles where the enemy flies through the air and I’m unable to land a hit on them, perhaps due to them being in flight (although sometimes it seems like I can hit them just fine every now and then while they are in flight). It would have been nice if a “MISS” or a “0″ would pop up to let you know that you did, indeed, land a hit, albeit an ineffective one. Otherwise, it often feels like I’m feebly wacking away at an enemy, my weapon seemingly going through them but not inflicting damage. It can be very frustrating, but it’s not a game breaking problem.

The game can also be very tedious, such as how you have to upgrade your character’s skill level with every weapon or level grind magic spells until they are sufficiently high enough to be useful. The latter problem in particular bit me in the ass during the final boss fight, when I discovered that I’d need to use a particular spell in order to even damage the boss, but I had neglected to level up that magic entirely. So I was pretty well fucked and had to start the entire Mana Fortress over again, this time after having gone back and level grinded ALL of my magic to a reasonable amount (Level 3). That playthrough was much more successful, but shit, it would have been nice to have been warned “Hey, make sure your Dryad magic is leveled up before this fight!” Like... just have one of the characters in my party go, “Hey, Randi, we should practice Dryad before going to the Mana Fortress, don’t you think?”

My final complaint about the game is the story. It’s serviceable enough, but the characters are very flat. At no point did I feel like I really understood who the bad guys were. There’s Thanatos, a cult leader; the Emperor; and some guy who tries to run you over with his hover bike like three times over the course of the game. Randi, Primm, and Popoi are also very shallow, with Popoi being the only one with any discernible personality (that being a petulant wise ass). In the long run, the gameplay is fun enough that it kept my interest hooked, but a meaty story would have really put the experience over.

While Secret of Mana isn’t perfect, and far better games have since come after it, the game is still worth playing. It is a masterfully developed game, made by an incredible gaming company at their absolute PRIME.

#secret of mana #snes #super nintendo #squaresoft #rpg #jrpg #seiken densetsu 3

2 notes · View notes

caliboyjaeffrey · 7 years ago

Text

Pas de Deux (Ken x Reader)

Rating: M, very very VERY M

(A/N) The fam wanted some sub!Ken and, boy howdy, I was more than WILLING to give! To spice things up, I made this a Ballet AU because why the hell not? He’s my ult and he deserves a cool AU! (ps i just busted the fattest nut for this gif holy cow)

The orchestra struck the first note of the grand pas de deux boldly, as it should be, opening up the scene for the audience who were already scooting closer in their seats to catch a glimpse of what was to come. For this particular ballet, which contained numerous modern and adult concepts like love, sex, control, and the power struggle between two lovers, was not only a dance, but a song as well; a song of both your bodies and voices that captured the essence of the characters' relationship. It was the first time in the entire show that you and your partner were to sing, being the last characters in the plot to showcase your voices to the audience who wanted to know if you both could dance and sing. Critics in the crowd were ready to pick you apart, ready to write columns about how you were nothing more than dancers who could maybe carry a tune when asked. But you had a fiery anger in your heart, defiance lifting your chin as you strode out elegantly toward center stage, ready to prove those ruthless columnists wrong.

You heard numerous audience members gasp as you glided to the middle, performing several intricate dance passes while they gawked at your stage outfit which was innovative and daring for a ballet. Much of your skin was exposed, save for your breasts and tutu, and the audience members soon understood the sexual nature of this grand pas de deux when your partner and danseur breached the stage.

He was wearing nothing but tight black trousers, his lean yet well-muscled chest shining in the spotlight as he approached you boldly, his eyes on fire with passion and love. As you allowed his hands to skim over the bareness of your waist, you gazed up coyly at him, fingers gently brushing the features of his face: kind brown eyes that also held lust, a strong nose, plush and full lips made to kiss, and a sharp jawline that you traced delicately. He would be the first to sing, appearing to dominate the entire scene as well as your body until your turn came.

You lifted up to pointe, raising a single leg as your partner's hand guided it higher and higher, showing the audience that he was in control as his hands never left your body once. The orchestra quieted down from the dark and heavy tune, your partner boldly catching your jaw in his hand as he began to sing, his voice low and sensual enough to cause goosebumps along your arms, even after practicing with him for months on end. His voice was absolutely incredible and you begrudgingly had to give him that as he tilted your head back and skimmed his lips over your throat, feeling their fullness against your skin while you let out a small shaky sigh. You hated how easily he could affect you, even with his acting, but you knew very well he enjoyed toying and teasing you, even during important performances where your reputations were on the chopping block.

You and him performed various difficult lifts, never fearing for your safety once because you had learned to put all your trust in him, in Jaehwan.

The music suddenly became softer, more feminine and sensual, as your time to shine arrived. Where Jaehwan controlled much of the scene before, manipulating your movements and dominating the dance, the tables were now turned. In the dance, you caught the hand that raced up your leg, pulling him to and fro as you showed the audience that you had power in the relationship as well. Your voice rang out clear through the theatre, laced with emotion and gorgeous to hear as you even caught Jaehwan off guard with your song for a millisecond. You heard numerous audience members sigh in appreciation, hoping that a few of them were critics as you continued your pas de deux with Jaehwan.

This entire scene and dance was crafted to show that the woman could easily dominate the man in the bedroom if she so pleased, taking control of him and both learning that he enjoyed this feeling as the scene slowly drew to a close. It evoked feelings of sexual pleasure in any person, and even in yourself as you felt a certain dampness in your leotard from all of Jaehwan's touches. The last dance sequence, and possibly the most controversial and risqué of them all, was when you and Jaehwan dropped to the ground, his back flat on the floor as you crouched over him. Bending close with the sounds of a barely audible orchestra, you ran your lips up his thigh, feeling something twitch against your mouth that made you flush when you ghosted over his crotch. You continued your long and teasing journey from his hips to his chest, his hands slowly coming up to wrap around your waist as you trailed up his neck before ending at his lips. The music rang out as you stopped, fading into silence as your lips barely brushed Jaehwan's while the lights began to dim around your entwined bodies, giving off the feeling of privacy and intimacy before blackness closed around you.

A few moments passed, frozen in your spot against Jaehwan while your chests brushed one another from trying to catch your breath. His lips accidentally, or not, you couldn't tell in the dark if he was smirking or not, skimmed over yours once again before helping you up as the lights turned on again, revealing your smiling forms. You laced your hands together, raising them high in the air before bowing deeply as your fellow dancers and cast members joined you on stage for curtain call. You could barely see past the dazzlingly bright spotlights, but managed to see a few men and women with notepads who were clapping respectfully, nodding approvingly as they scribbled a few notes here and there. You felt giddy upon seeing that, happy to have left everything on the stage tonight so you could really savor these next days of rest and relaxation.

After waving goodbye a few more times, you and Jaehwan, who still held your hand walked off into the dimness of the backstage area where all the crew members were cheering upon your arrival. Speaking truthfully, you and Jaehwan definitely had the hardest time out of everyone, being the two main characters in a highly controversial debut ballet that could either be a hit or a disaster. You'd practiced for months on end, beat out other ballerinas to land this role and in the end, would have to take the most criticism out of everyone who had been on stage. The director had warned the two of you that there would be times when critics could come after the production simply because it didn't follow tradition, because it was modern, but that just made you more and more determined to prove them wrong.

The director came in with a huge grin on his face, coming toward you and Jaehwan who he embraced happily, ruffling your partner's hair like he was his son and patting your cheek like you were his daughter. You smiled up at him as he congratulated the two of you, his voice booming with praise, "In my fifty years of working on this stage, and the hundreds of dancers and singers I've ever worked with, you two, by far, have been the greatest my eyes have ever beheld. Simply incredible!"

The other cast cheered in agreement, making you blush as you smiled, receiving hugs from them before turning up to see Jaewhan looking down at you somewhat intently. Your eyebrows raised at his look, never having seen such an expression on his face off stage. Certainly you'd seen that look on stage during the pas de deux, but he was usually a cute and goofy flirt who couldn't ever get his hands off you. He seemed rather quiet now, distant almost as the director loudly announced he would treat everyone to dinner and drinks tonight at a super nice restaurant. Jaehwan was always one to get excited about food, but he looked disinterested as he walked off farther backstage, heading toward one of the doors that led to the fire escape as people shuffled out.

"__________," one of your friends you'd made called out, taking your hand as she smiled at you excitedly. "Aren't you coming? Get out of that tutu and let's go!"

You gave her hand a squeeze, an apologetic smile on your face as you replied, "I'll be a little late to the party. Save me a seat okay? There's something I have to do real quick."

"Okay...," she pouted, backing away as you grinned at her child-like behavior. "Don't take too long though!"

You nodded, waving goodbye and watching her form disappear before you traced Jaehwan's footsteps, still in your full ensemble and pointe shoes as you pushed open the emergency exit quietly, his name on your lips, "Jaehwan...?"

You saw him leaning against the railing, watching the cars zoom here and there on the busy street below in just his stage outfit. The way his back muscles flexed as he turned slightly to look back over his shoulder made you blush a little, his voice quiet, "__________." You came up beside him, grasping the railing as you looked up at his handsome side profile that was illuminated by the ambient lighting of the street. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, his brown eyes following cars disinterestedly as they raced past, "Why aren't you with everyone else?"

"I came to check on you," you said with a small smile, placing a hand on his tan forearm that made him flinch much to your surprise. Your smile faded, making you take back your hand and wring them together as you stuttered, "I-I was worried about you since you seemed so..."

Jaehwan finally turned to look at you, making you quiet down, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he traced your figure and studied your face. You felt his gaze on your lips linger for a moment too long before reaching your eyes, making you bite your lip subconsciously as you timidly asked, "Is everything alright?"

You'd never seen him look so downcast and it made your chest ache for some inexplicit reason that confused you. You mentally shook yourself, Jaehwan was your friend and closest dance partner, it was perfectly normal to be concerned for him like this.

"__________," he murmured, leaning close enough that you felt his warm breath ghost over your face. You looked up at him expectantly, fingers squeezing tightly together, your heart beating erratically in your chest as you waited for his next words.

"You should go."

He didn't even wait for your response, heading back inside the theatre and leaving you out in the humid summer night air as the cocophonous sounds of the city were dulled by the disappointment in your heart. You vaguely heard the door click close, snapping you back to reality as you pushed it open angrily, scanning the backstage halls to find your dance partner.

He wasn't in any of the changing rooms, not even his own, and everything in there was still untouched. Nor was he onstage or in the audience, the balcony seats were a ghost town as well.

"Where did you go...?" You whispered, wracking your brain for any ideas as to where Jaehwan must've stalked off to brood. Pacing around backstage again, you cursed quietly when you accidentally kicked a prop, a set of fake keys that clinked loudly over the dark wood floors. That's when it clicked in your mind. Thinking of your own set of keys in your bag in your room, you rushed toward the stairs near the back of the theatre that led to the old apartments that were built nearly a hundred years ago for dancers and actors who couldn't afford to live far from their work. Both you and Jaehwan, as well as several other cast members, were all given access to a room to stay in for the duration of the ballet.

You climbed the stairs carefully in your silk pointe shoes, reaching the old-fashioned and dimly lit hall that served as the common area for all the apartments. You passed your own, reaching for the handle on the door next to yours before you stopped yourself from turning it. What if Jaehwan wanted to be alone right now? Perhaps he was upset about something that happened during the performance?

You thought about the ending of the grand pas de deux, blushing as you remembered the obvious twitch you had felt against your lips when you skimmed them over the front of his pants. You swallowed guilty, realizing you almost could've embarrassed Jaehwan in front of hundreds of strangers, one touch too many and he would have been on display for all of them.

"It was me," you whispered to yourself, feeling an overwhelming need to apologize to Jaehwan, lest your conscious would never leave you alone. That, and you had grown to care about him deeply, not only as your danseur, but perhaps more than just a friend.

You knocked timidly, wetting your lips nervously as you called out, "Jaehwan...? May I come in?"

You heard little noises from within, bare feet padding across the old wood floor before the knob turned inside your hand, making you pull it away hastily. The door opened to reveal Jaehwan, still dressed only in his dark trousers with a surprised look on his face. His brown eyes seemed lighter, but they still held something unfamiliar as he spoke, voice slightly hoarse as he cleared his throat. "_________, I thought you left."

You shook your head, taking a gingerly step toward him as you looked up through your lashes. "Not yet. May I come in for a minute? Only for a minute, I swear."

You saw the reluctance in the way his hand held the dulled brass door knob, but whatever he was wrestling with seemed to give way as he held the door open wider, "Of course."

You stepped past him into the modest apartment, which was nearly identical to yours, with its musty queen-sized bed and ugly drapes that opened to a large paneled window. Mustering up your courage, you finally turned back to him, gasping when you found yourself staring at his chest. Your nose brushed his skin as you looked up at him, slightly startled when you saw a new look in his dark eyes, "Well?"

"Well," you echoed, nearly forgetting why you had come into his room in the first place as you held his sharp gaze. You let a shaky breath leave your lungs. "J-Jaehwan, I just wanted to apologize..."

"Apologize," he said flatly, thumb coming up to your trembling bottom lip that you thought had nearly cost him his career. "Are you here to say you're sorry for making me feel the way I do right now?" His eyes stared at your mouth before glancing up at you.

"I-I didn't mean to make you so sad," you stuttered, gaze falling to the floor as you stared at your pointe shoes. You felt his other hand brush over your hips, landing to a place on your lower back that would have felt familiar had you been on stage. Standing alone with him, so close, in his apartment made his touches suddenly feel so different, made you feel different.

"You think I'm sad, sweetheart?" He asked, fingers slowly undoing the ribbon lacing of your tutu. You shivered at the pet name, only ever having heard your name come from his mouth. This gave an entirely different affect. "I'm not sad, far from it."

You didn't realize he had been backing you toward the bed until the backs of your knees hit it. You also felt your tutu slacken around your waist, eyes widening while your own hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they rested gently against Jaehwan's chest. "Then what are you?" Curiosity pricked at your brain like an annoying itch, you wanted desperately to know the answer.

"I'm frustrated," he murmured after a moment, brown eyes burning as he pushed down your tutu, making you suck in a breath as you naturally stepped out of it, leaving you in just your leotard bottoms. His hand caught your jaw, bending his head down so that his lips danced just out of reach of yours, his words washing over you in waves. "Frustrated with how much you affect me, what you do to my body when we're on stage. It's just dancing, but when I feel you pressed against my chest or my mouth on your neck, I can't help myself from feeling the way I do."

"Jaehwan," you murmured, shocked at his confession as you felt your heart brim with excitement. You wanted to tell him that you felt the same way, that you felt all of that too, all along; but one moment your lips were spreading into a smile, the next Jaehwan had crushed his into them. If he wouldn't let you tell him with words, you'd just use your body like the ballerina you were to show him how you felt.

You'd only daydreamed about what it would be like to actually kiss Jaehwan fully on the mouth, not a teasing brush that you had to do during performances, but really kiss him. He was better than anything you had imagined during your backstage musings, his pillowy lips caressing and practically making love to yours while all you could do was cling to his shoulders and make small gasps of appreciation. His tongue came out to lick along your bottom lip, beggaring for a taste as you granted what he desired, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the feeling of his wet muscle exploring your mouth. He pulled away for a moment, eyes surprisingly warm and familiar as he pivoted around and laid down on his bed with you on his chest. Seeing him beneath you made your heart hammer against your ribs, as you watched his kiss swollen lips spread into one of his signature smiles that made his eyes crinkle adoringly. He cooed your name, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear while you straddled his waist, shifting to a more comfortable position.

You smiled back, hand coming up to stroke his soft dark brown hair as you whispered earnestly, "You know I like you, right?"

"I know," he murmured sweetly, tugging you back down toward his awaiting lips, which you avoided teasingly. He let out a soft groan when you attacked your mouth to the underside of his jaw, sucking and licking until tiny bruises danced across his tan skin. You gave a small gasp when one of his big hands came down to squeeze your ass, the coldness of the many rings he decorated his fingers with sent a shiver down your back toward your most intimate area. The way your plush lips felt against his jaw and neck was driving him crazy, brow furrowing with pleasure when your sank down to press fully against his chest.

"__________," he groaned as you kissed down his body, his fingers tighty threading into the silky strands of your hair when you reached the top of his pants. "Jesus Christ, baby girl." He felt his cock twitch when your fingers worked to unbutton him, eager to slip him out of his confines.

"You're so big for me," you cooed, surprising yourself with your words as you felt some your character's dominant personality from the ballet slip into you. Jaehwan could only throw his head back when you gave his leaking member a teasing lick, hand shaking in your hair as you tasted the saltiness of him. You dribbled some of your saliva on his length, slicking his member so you could give him a few experimental pumps. You flushed with pride when you heard him sharply suck in a deep breath, your name playing on his lips like a broken record. Your name coming out of his mouth sent pulses of heat to your pussy, causing you to squeeze your thighs together on instinct as you tongued the small slit of his tip. He was so, so close, it almost pained you to stop your movements, but hearing the delicious whine that left his mouth made up for it.

"Baby," you moaned, extracting yourself from his hold as you turned around, peeking over your shoulder coyly. "Help me?" You gestured to the laced up back of your top and Jaehwan eagerly responded to your request, nimble fingers working fast to free you from your outfit. He pressed kisses to your shoulder, mouthing the sound of your neck and biting the crook of your shoulder hard enough to leave a crescent shaped bruise. You gasped and leaned your head back against his chest, allowing him to litter your skin with hickeys that would remind you of him later.

Once free from your top, Jaehwan's hands didn't hesitate to cup your breasts from behind, a cry leaving your lips at his touch. You arched back into him, hands helplessly grasping at his forearms as he pinched your hardened peaks teasingly.

"So sensitive...," he muttered, holding back his groan of appreciation as he saw you press your thighs together. "Baby girl, are you wet for me right now?" He reached down and stroked your folds through your flimsy leotard, instantly feeling your arousal through the thin fabric. "There we are."

You turned around in his hold, eyes clouded with a neediness that made him want to do whatever it was you would ask of him. You whimpered softly, hands on his shoulders already gently pushing him down to his knees, "Jaehwan, I need your mouth."

He nodded, fingers pulling down your leotard bottoms to get access to your heat until you swatted his hand away. He looked up at you in surprise, only to groan when he saw the dominating look in your eyes that he saw earlier resurface again.

"Stay," you commanded, bending over to unlace your pointe shoes before your mind reeled giddily over the idea that passed through it when you saw the silk ribbons that kept the shoes in place. Freed from your shoes, you took one of the black ribbons in your hand, running your fingers over the smooth fabric before you strolled behind Jaehwan who eyed you curiously.

You knelt behind him, taking both his hands and clasping them together before tying them securely with the ribbon. You smirked and walked back in front of him, happy when he didn't complain, just eyed you hungrily as he awaited for further instruction.

"You're such a good boy," you praised while you slipped out of your bottoms, the cool air of the apartment hitting your lower lips and making you sigh. You lifted one of your legs over Jaehwan's shoulder, resting your foot on the edge of the bed as you exposed your pussy to him.

He couldn't help but groan at the sight, his hard dick flexing against his stomach as he regarded your lower lips. They dripped and glistened with your arousal, practically begging for him to taste you as he watched them clench and pulse. He blew cool air on it, earning your fingers tugging at his hair as you released a moan.

"Your pussy's fucking pretty, baby girl," he murmured lowly in appreciation, leaning in to nose along your inner thigh as he looked up at you for permission. You could barely nod, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you felt him lick one slow stripe from bottom to top, legs shaking as you cried out. He looked up at you through his lashes, dark amber pools of lust that drove just as deep into your heart as his tongue slipping into your cunt.

He kissed and slurped at your center with his plush lips, extracting sinful sounds from your throat as you choked, "O-oh, Jaehwan...!" You could barely keep his steady gaze as he flattened his tongue against your lower lips, squeezing your eyes shut as the ability to keep your hips still fell away from your grasp. You bucked into his awaiting mouth, the danseur humming contently as the hand in his hair became painful.

"Baby boy," you swallowed, brows furrowed in pleasure as you rolled your pussy over his tongue that was stuck out obediently for you to fuck against. Jaehwan hated how much he loved being used by you like this, knowing that whatever you asked of him he'd do it in a heartbeat. He hated how he whimpered against your cunt, but loved it when he heard your praises. "You make me feel so good, Jaehwan. Do you like it when I fuck your tongue?"

Jaehwan nosed your inner thigh before circling your clit with his wet muscle, groaning pathetically as he nodded, "I love eating out your pretty pussy, sweetheart. You taste so fucking good." You'd never thought you'd hear him sound this submissive, taking him to have more of a dominant drive when it came to the bedroom. You don't know why it pleased you so much to know he was that weak for you, his cock straining and twitching against his abdomen.

The coils of pleasure were tightening in your stomach the moment Jaehwan had laid his tongue against your pussy, but the second he attached his beautiful pink lips to your clit, you snapped. One moment you felt in control, the next you were bucking wildly, head thrown back as you cried out from your release. Jaehwan loyally helped you ride out your high, catching your essence on his tongue while his wrists strained against the silk ribbons that bound his hand at his want to touch you. Through your hazy pleasure, you saw the way his shoulders flexed from his insistent tugging against his restraints.

Calming down slightly, though still intensely sensitive, you fell to your knees in front of Jaehwan. You kissed him passionately, tasting the salt of yourself on his tongue while you reached around him to unbind his wrists. As much as you loved to see Jaehwan tied up like a pretty present just for you, you wanted to feel his rough hands on your skin again.

The moment Jaehwan was free, you were thrown onto the bed like a rag doll, gasping and blinking in shock as you watched him shed his pants completely. He stood there admiring your naked body on his bed, spread out all for him to have. Your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, a rosy tint to the rest of your skin as you bloomed in the afterglow of your orgasm. You were fucking gorgeous and he wanted nothing more than to put his cock in your pussy and fuck you until the sun rose and you only remembered his name. The predatorial look in Jaehwan's eyes made you whimper for him, body trembling in anticipation against the sheets as you saw him lick his lips like you were a feast made just for him.

"You had your fun, baby girl," he murmured, crawling on the bed with a wolfish smirk as he caged you between his strong arms. "But now it's my turn, sweetheart, and I'm gonna make the most of it." A hand came down to spread your clenched thighs, parting them easily without resistance as you watched him with bated breath. "You're practically dripping, kitten," he muttered quietly, eyeing hungrily the way your essence still leaked heavily from your heat.

Taking his member in his hand, he teased your still sensitive clit with the tip, smirking when he saw your thigh muscles twitch from the over stimulation. You moaned quietly, just a wisp of air escaping your lungs as you grasped Jaehwan's shoulders, the warmth of his skin your only comfort as you waited for more of his relentless teasing.

"You want me so badly, don't you?" He asked with a glance up at you, his lips closing around your breast too quickly for your tastes before pulling back. "You want my cock buried deep inside your cunt."

You were close to replying when you felt the head of his member press past your entrance, aided by your slickness. Your toes curled at the pleasure of the stretch, your walls still flexing from your release as he pushed further and further inside you. Jaehwan groaned long and hard, so satisfied with the feeling of you around him after wanting it for so long. Sheathed fully inside your heat, he stilled, relishing the feeling of completion as you gulped underneath him like a fish out of water. He was pressed firmly against a spot inside of you that made your back arch and nails dig into the flesh of his shoulder.

"J-Jaehwan," you stuttered desperately, shifting your hips as much as you could to urge him on. "Please...!"

Answering your prayers before you even finished your sentence, he drew his hips up before slamming back inside of you with a loud smack. You cried out, legs coming up to hook around his lower back as he lowered himself to his elbows to drive into you better. His thrusts were fast and hard, relentless and nearly animalistic as he grunted and groaned your name. He was so good, and he knew it too by the way he spoke lowly to you through it all, "You feel so fucking tight, baby. So fucking tight around my cock."

The profanities spilling from those perfect lips made you feel the burn of another orgasm flare up inside of you, nails taking through his hair as you tried to relieve the tension you were feeling. Jaehwan noticed this immediately, his hand flying down to your swollen clit to apply a generous amount of pressure while he growled, "Are you gonna come for me again? You gonna come all over my cock, sweetheart?"

"Jaehwan!" You cried out loudly. Not even the creaking of the old bed or the thick brick walls could muffle the sounds of your release as you came again, trembling uncontrollably against Jaewhan while your nerves fired erratically, making your muscles twitch from the sheer pleasure. Seeing you helplessly tossing underneath him as you came, tiny hands scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders made his hips stutter. You were so fucking tight around him, it would have been impossible for any man with a functioning cock to not come right then and there. And he did, muscles tensing as he stilled inside of you, a sudden warmth bursting within your center while Jaehwan let out the most beautiful moan. You ran your fingers through his hair as you watched him pump himself in and out of you gently, milking as much of his cum inside of you as he could. It was a pride thing for him. He wanted you to feel him leaking down your thighs days after this, reminding you that it was his cum that had filled you up.

You wouldn't say it out loud, but you liked the feeling of his release inside of you, warming your walls with its stickiness even as he carefully pulled out of you. He collapsed against you, pressing as many kisses as he could on your skin before he murmured earnestly against your lips, "I love you."

You flushed at his words, glancing up to meet his gaze as he hovered just above you. A smile suddenly appeared on his lips as repeated himself, cooing softly, "I love you, _________."

A special kind of happiness only felt after hearing those words blossomed within your heart, causing your to pull him close, lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "I love you too. I think I always have."

He rested his head on your chest, fingers tracing the delicate bruises that he had left against your neck as he smirked coyly, "I knew it."

You pouted, tracing the moles on his back and connecting them like constellations, "What's that supposed to mean?"

His arms closed around you again, burrowing you into his blankets as he grinned, "You wouldn't want to be just friends always looking at me like that, like you wanted to simultaneously skin me alive and kiss me."

You nodded in understanding, a small smile working its way on your lips, "Well, you did make me want to kiss you, but all your teasing also made me want to 'accidentally' kick you in the face during the présage." You laughed at the look of mock hurt on his face as he must've imagined performing the difficult lift and you kicking him in not so pleasant places. "But I wouldn't," you added teasingly, pressing a kiss to his prominent nose. "Because your face is too cute to mess up."

"Wow, now you're calling me cute," he smirked mischievously, turning you over so you were caged underneath him again. His fingers crept up the soft skin of your hips, wandering over your curves as he peeked at you from under his lashes, "I wonder what else I can do to make you compliment me...?"

274 notes · View notes

kob131 · 5 years ago

Note

rank the Universal/ Hammer horror films you’ve seen from 1 to 5

Never seen them. Anyone got any suggestion s aside from the monster movies like Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy ect.

However, I will talk about my favorite horror movie: Nightmare On Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors. (As a consolation and because I feel like it.)

Dream Warriors was the last original series Nightmare On Elm Street movie made by Wes Craven. While he would work on New Nightmare, that movie is rather removed from the original six.

While the first movie is the most iconic for it’s scenes, introduction to Freddy and it’s deaths: I think the third movie is the better film by far. It really builds upon the first movie’s ideas and concepts and started a lot of the iconic elements to the series, making it not only the better movie but the best representation of the franchise.

The casting was pretty well done. All the teen actors, aside from maybe the actor for Will Stanton when he goes over the top, were well done. I really loved Kincaid’s actor. He was able to seamlessly go from being a cool strong guy to a frightened and yet still entertain teen to even a chillingly scared prey and brought a real energy to the role that made him great to watch. Kristian’s actress was also well done, able to capture the essence of the original survivor Nacy’s character (as a typical girl faced with a frightening situation) and yet she’s still distinct from Nacy due to her more emotional side (as opposed to Nacy’s subtle badass moments.) Speaking of Nacy, her switch from a teenager to an adult in series brought with it a subtle maturity that her actress Heather was able to get across incredibly well.

But of course, the best is as always Robert Englund as Freddy. This is actually a good place to switch to talking about Freddy and his character. In the beginning, Freddy had a...basis for a character in a few scenes (like his chase after Jennifer and his hanging of Rod.) But really, he was just a lanky version of Jason in practice: a monster with barely any personality. What elevated him at the time was his concept of dream killing but Jason had more of a tragic past to him that made him more interesting in hindsight while Freddy...he’s a fucking child killer/possible child molester.

It’s here in THIS movie that Freddy’s true defining feature came to be: his personality. It was this movie that established Freddy as an actual character, with interactions with others and noteable lines. “Welcome to Prime Time Bitch” is just one of the many displays his quippy yet deeply unsettling nature. And that is in no small part thanks to Robery Englund’s performance. He stradles the line between human and monster, jokester and sadist so perfectly that even if his lines are technically funny, they’re delievered with such malice underneath you just feel disturbed. And apparently Robert was pretty instrumental to that process, since the line I used wasn’t even suppose to be IN the movie. His original one liner in that scene was the previous ‘You’re big break in TV’ but Robert just made up the new one. ... Yeah, when he dies, Freddy is gonna get retired for good.

Then we have the second iconic aspect of the Nightmare on Elm Street series: the ongoing plot. The original movie ended pretty neatly and the second movie was pretty seperated from the first aside from a diary, a house and a town. Here, Nacy is reintroduced and things pick up from her to Kristain and then Kristian passes it on to another and so on. This helps us care for the movies more and keeps the investment beyond just Freddy. While other horror movies did do this: Nightmare I think did it really well.

Then we have the finale aspect that defines Elm Street: the more creative deaths. Let’s be real, aside from the blood geyser in the original, the deaths were pretty mundane for being based around something as surreal as dreams. Here, we have Freddy turning into various people, becoming objects, using decapitated heads to taunt his foes, changing his body to reflect their fears, becoming more monstrous and so on. So many iconic killings, like the puppet veins, the giant worm Freddy, the clawed facet hand, Kristian’s decapacitated mother, the implied drug overdose through his needle hands- It’s all so satsifying and scary in a way only Freddy could deliver.

There’s just so much to love about this movie. It started and made so much of the series’ identity here and did it the best. The later movies tried to replicate this to...decreasing levels of success (fucking Final Nightmare...) and so Dream Warriors stand as the best Elm Street movie and my favorite horror movie.

0 notes

movieswithkevin27 · 7 years ago

Text

Joining Get Out, Baby Driver, and Wonder Woman, as solid but wildly overhyped films, Andy Muschietti continues to prove that he is a horror director who has no idea how to direct horror films. Excelling when it comes the childhood relationships on display and the mystery regarding the town of Derry, Muschietti directs the horror scenes like an amateur and has to rely on jump scares to actually conjure up any scare or any sense of atmosphere. Had the film lacked its heart - the kids - then Stephen King's It would have been a film that could have been tossed on the pile of other disappointing King adaptations. As it stands, it is a film that is far funnier and endearing than scary and, as a horror film from Stephen King, it should manage to be all of three of these things. Unfortunately, Muschietti's failure to conjure up any scares that have a lasting impact leave It as nothing more than above average film that fails to live up to its considerable hype.

What makes the film's scares so dull and uninteresting is two-fold. For one, they are predictable. As the camera pans around a bathroom past Beverly (Sophia Lillis), it is obvious what will be in the corner of the room right behind her. As the kids walk through the Well House, it is obvious where the clown will be and what it will do. As the Jewish kid looks at the painting and the picture is gone, take a wild guess what is now behind him. It is a film that never shocks the audience. There are no chances taken. It is by-the-numbers horror filmmaking, putting Pennywise exactly where he is expected to be and then acting that it is scary anyways just because Pennywise makes some creepy face and sprints at the camera. Rarely does this work and Muschietti would be well served to keep his audience guessing, instead of giving into our every inclination. The best horror films hint at the evil lurking around the corner, but never show it unless the timing and anticipation is just right. For this film, it believes Pennywise to be such a compelling horror figure that it just has to rush him out immediately. Often times in film and in It, the horror is scariest when off-screen. Here, when other kids go missing without their disappearance being shown, the film is laced with a great sense of dread. Unfortunately, all too often, Muschietti gives into temptation and sprinkles Pennywise quite liberally throughout this film. By the end, the result is a clown that does not lurk in the shadows, but out in the open and right behind you every single time.

The other element that holds back It's horror impact is its reliance on jump scares. Going hand-in-hand with its predictability, It relies on jump scares or Pennywise running at the screen as his head violently shakes far too often. Gross-out horror and gore are also relied upon at times with similarly minimal impact. Rather than taking the time to build anticipation and an overwhelming sense of dread, Muschietti instead relies upon cheap tricks to steer this ship. Unfortunately, for horror films, reliance on cheap scares is what often undermines their quality and what can make so many quite disposable and forgettable. Though It has a lot to love and some smart themes, it is not really one that can be described as scary. The closest it gets comes as the kids walk around the Well House looking for Pennywise which carries considerable dread and is loaded with classic horror moments that elicit panicked "don't go in there"'s from the crowd. Unfortunately, Pennywise will always pop up right where he is expected to via a pair of jump scares, rendering the scene one with a great build-up but no actual punch. In essence, It not only lacks any imagination for how to elicit fear, but when it does elicit fear, it does so cheaply and in a fashion that rarely actually scares.

The film's cliche ending further disappoints. After two-plus hours of the kids coming together to fight bullies and urging one another to stick together, they do just that in facing off with Pennywise. Unfortunately, the scene not only lacks any tension, but it lacks any originality. Pulling off his mask to force this supernatural being to realize that he has no power anymore due to the lack of fear in the children's hearts, the film really sells its own villain short in the process of delivering a cliche, kill the bad guy as a group type of ending. By reducing Pennywise to being nothing more than a physical representation of fear, the film winds up undermining all of the ominous historical development it showed and turns the character into a rather pathetic one. Lacking the menace, horrifying unpredictability, and inevitability of the very best horror villains, Pennywise is a character who is easily defeated once controlled. Though smartly including this to bring the film's themes regarding fear and how to not let it consume you, it really makes for a lackluster villain in a film that needed his menace. Bill Skarsgard plays the role well, but the incredibly pathetic way in which he is dealt with in 1989 makes Pennywise a villain with potential, but one that will never pop up in your nightmares.

That said, where the film often excels in regards to horror is in the dread in the town. As previously mentioned, Pennywise is scariest when off the screen and this is never more true than when scenes in the town of Derry are shown. As the Loser club traverse this small town and Ben (Jeremy Ray Taylor) delivers some haunting historical details about the legends in Derry and the 27-year tradition of Pennywise re-appearing, Muschietti is able to deliver a great degree of tension and mystery. While it is mostly squandered when Pennywise is on-screen, this ominous feeling permeating throughout this New England town is often what makes It such a watchable and engrossing film as we join these young stars in exploring the mystery and trying to decipher what Pennywise is and why he is there. Though it does not reveal too much about Pennywise's motivation yet, It is able to set up the sequel strongly enough that the dark secrets lying under-the-surface of his back story are ones that cause great anticipation for the film's follow-up.

Where the film truly soars, however, is in its depiction of the Losers Club. As this band of kinds traverse the town on bikes and uncover mysteries akin to Stand By Me or The Goonies, It resonates greatly. With the childish pubescent humor being prevalent throughout and the banter between the friends taking center stage, the film is able to capture the essence and feeling of growing up in the 1980s or, honestly, any era. The mischievous adventures and juvenile humor are the perfect tools to encapsulate the age of the film's protagonists and make them endearing and a joy to watch. Via this shared experience for all the characters, It traverses the world of bullied rejects who discover the dark secrets within their town is a truly compelling and often powerful fashion. Carrying the same resonance as Stand By Me in exploring this world of the children and the looming battle with their fears, It is a film with a child-like spirit of adventure. Though its ideas and characters are often rather cliche - the bullies, the fat kid, the leader, all being examples of this - they nonetheless work as full-fledged characters, given their great depth and authentic expression of emotion. Though a horror film first and foremost, It is a film that perfectly captures the awkward minefield of middle school with bullies, burgeoning hormones, and a very innocent view of the adult world, which makes the film one that is impossible to write-off given this strong emotional core that makes the film really tick along. Had this and the mystery element been the focus of Muschietti's adaptation, It would have been far more successful. Instead, it turns Pennywise into the focus and the reason for showing up, leaving the film as nothing more than a cliche mainstream horror film that just happens to have great protagonists.

The film's themes regarding fear, even if they interfere with the finale by making Pennywise too weak, are often quite powerfully represented. Obviously, Pennywise's ability to change to whatever the viewer fears most is an attempt to make him a physical representation of all fear. As he gets closer and makes you scared, this fear can quickly consume you as demonstrated by him often eating his victim. More often than not, however, it leaves you in suspended animation. Frozen in time and too afraid to do anything, the fear offered by Pennywise and fear in general is one that binds one's legs together and never lets them go until that fear is overcome. Captured in the "you'll float too" tagline, this suspended animation is one that most of the child victims wind up in and it even captures Beverly. The film's cliche reliance upon "love conquers all" does hurt this, but the freezing of Beverly and the other children is a strong representation of the power that fear or the thought of fear can have on somebody. Had the film restricted itself to Pennywise with regards to fear, it would have been far less consequential thematically, but the film smartly uses real life elements that serve as contrasts to Pennywise. Though a representation of what scares you, Pennywise is not actually what scares anybody. Rather, it is Beverly's sexually abusive father, Eddie's (Jake Dylan Grazer) controlling mother who turned him into a hypochondriac, Henry's (Jackson Robert Scott) physically and emotionally abusive father, and Henry and his gang of bullies, are what truly elicit fear. Far more terrifying in these scenes than any with the main attraction, these representations of real life fear show that, often times, the supernatural pales in comparison to what humans can do to one another.

Sporting great 1980s period details in its efforts to hearken back to the days of teenager-led adventure films, It is a great look at adolescence in the 1980s and the type of friendship experienced by many growing up. Playing off one another perfectly, this young cast of impeccably talented actors are what make It a fun and engaging film. For his part, Bill Skarsgard delivers the goods as Pennywise in a truly menacing and ominous performance, but unfortunately, director Andy Muschietti has no idea how to use him properly. Dropping the ball similarly to how he dropped it in the Jessica Chastain led Mama, Muschietti manages to create an often mysterious and ominous work, but never one that actually scares. Relying on cheap and predictable scares consistently, Muschietti often seems to be in a rush to put Pennywise back on the screen and have him rush towards the screen frantically. Unfortunately, this - and the film's other "tricks" - never actually scare. Rather, the great adventure embarked on by these kids, the mystery behind Pennywise's appearances, and the sense of dread reigning supreme over the town of Derry are what make It a success at times. Unfortunately, Muschietti's insistence that Pennywise dominate this picture and appear every few minutes renders it an impossible task to celebrate the film's successes without damning it for its scare-less faults. By the end, it becomes clear that It is a film that would have been a great mystery-adventure film, but is unfortunately a horror film that lacks horror. Safe, predictable, cliche, and afraid to take chances, It proves that Andy Muschietti really needs to try something other than horror films.

#2017 movies #2010s movies #it #it movie #pennywise #pennywise clown #pennywise the dancing clown #clown #stephen king #andy muschietti #jaeden lieberher #finn wolfhard #bill skarsgard #sophie lillis #wyatt cleff #chosen jacobs #jack dylan grazer #jackson robert scott

2 notes · View notes

ladyiceflame-blog · 8 years ago

Text

An Inconvenient Wedding: Chapter Four: Drastic Tactics

Miriyume was contemplating the pattern on the inside of her sake cup a little too deeply, her team mates noted.

Gekido tried to help by giving her a refill. Matsuko, as always, was more gentle and direct. “What’s bothering you, Miri-chan?” “Huh?” she replied automatically, snapping out of her introspection. “I’m sorry, I was miles away. What was the question?” Gekido scoffed. “I know you just drank an elite force captain under the table, but are you starting to lose that epic tolerance of yours?” “Dare you to doubt?!?” Miriyume countered, before drinking her cup dry and slapping it inverted on the table. “I’m just....deep in thought at the moment, and at this particular moment, there’s a lot to think about.” “You’re not getting ‘cold feet,’ are you?” Matsuko asked quietly. “Of course not!” Miriyume answered hotly. “This is the will of nations! I will see this through.” “What of your will...?” Gekido pressed. “They are often the same, at least, mine and the Land of Frost, I’d like to think,” she began to chew her lower lip. A clear sign of her unease. “So...has anyone learned anything else about the Kiri encampment?” “Not a thing,” Matsuko nobly followed her change of topic, allowing her to cover her obvious anxiety with her ususal bravado again. “Your husband-to-be is playing the part of the ‘bashful bridegroom,’ never leaving his camp, and demanding the same of his attendants–“ ”–his shinobi warriors,” Gekido corrected. “All. There are no civilians over there, Aoseishin and I checked. And Asaito Tsuroyuni is not a nice man, Miri-chan. He threatened to do things to us that would make that Kaka-Hata guy look like the Sage of the Six Paths!” Matsuko laughed at his team mate’s obvious grudge against the man who had so easily immobilized him. That never sat well with him. “He was a little intense at the Grappling Tourney, wasn’t he...?” Matsuko smiled. “He launched Toki into Kirito’s tent!” Gekido reminded. “...and Kiritio wasn’t alone at the moment...” the Inuzuka whispered suggestively, causing Miriyume to blush slightly at the awkwardness of the situation it had created. “Well...one should take precautions when trysting so close to such a tourney...” Miriyume laughed. “And that was one night Kirito and his girlfriend aren’t likely to forget so soon.” “But ‘player three’ is usually more polite about entering into the game...” Gekido added, causing the others to laugh. “And while I’m on the subject, that Hata-whose-it was rather ‘ungentlemanly’ with me earlier, too! Where the hell did you meet this guy, anyway?” Miriyume gave him a surprised look. He was usually very good at remembering the most fleeting of meetings. “You met him the same day I did. Both of you. Back in Shimogakure.” Gekido and Matsuko looked to each other, searching for signs of connection, but found nothing. Then Aoseishin barked, and Gekido paled beneath his red fang stripes and slight goatee. “The ‘Emergence’,” Gekido whispered darkly. Miriyume nodded. Matsuko’s brow furrowed. “He was one of the Anbu.” “He was,” Miriyume confirmed. “The one on the lake, in fact.” “The one who kept plowing into you...?” Gekido factored. “He never ‘plowed into’ me! We just kept getting....tangled up somehow,” Miriyume corrected sternly. “That last knot with the scarf was pretty spectacular,” Matsuko chuckled with the memory. “It was because of some weird backlash of our lightning jutsu being used in such close proximity,” Miriyume defended. “Never seemed to happen with anyone else’s...” Gekido observed. “I was beginning to wonder who his target really was that night,” Matsuko admitted. “And what the hell was Anbu even doing up there?” “They were tracking an assassin from Kumogakure, who happened to be hiding out in our village. Their presence had nothing to do with my brother’s....mission.” Matsuko and Gekido both turned equally somber, at the mention of her late brother. His loss that night had changed so many things in such a small amount of time for all of them. It had made Anbu’s capture of an S-Class nin nothing more than an amusing side note. Following a respectful beat, Gekido ended the rare moment of shared solemnity, as Aoseishin gave a plaintive whine: “Well, getting back to the original subject, is old one-eye going to be a liability?” “I don’t think so,” Miriyume returned, lowering her voice to a whisper, “He could probably be an ally, even. But I don’t want to risk bringing anyone else into the loop, this late in the game. We must present a whole-hearted front for the sake of the treaty, got it?” “Got it,” they answered in unison. Miriyume stood, and had to peel her coat tails from the chair, eliciting laughter from her team and a handful of observers. The weather-beaten canvas had soaked up an incredible amount of sticky rice binder. “I believe I’ll be visiting that hot spring bath house on my way back to the tent,” she announced. “I’m calling it a night.” “But we haven’t even had a round of Chakra Flow Arm Wrestling yet!” Matsuko censured. “I’ll put you all to shame tomorrrow...” she promised, “...with my Dad!” and gave them each a comradely clap on the shoulders before exiting. In her wake, Gekido voiced his honest concern: “Do you think she’s okay?” “I think running into that Anbu guy has her a little rattled,” Matsuko replied. “You know how she feels about ‘coincidence’...” “That there’s no such thing,” Gekido provided. “Exactly.”

Kakashi had paced around the general perimeter of the grounds three times now, pondering the vagaries of life. He’d been mistakenly mourning the loss of a famously vibrant woman for over a decade because of a tragic failure to connect identities. The Wandering Lights Brigade was a team who were famous for their innovative jutsu, devotion to heroic action, love of a good party, and most of all, their strong bonds that were said to rival family. In essence, the ideal team. And leading this team, at least, in spirit, was the lovely Lady Ice Flame, who had earned the epitaph from a powerful, and apparently exclusive-to-her jutsu that burned ‘cold’. Hiruzen had known of her all along! How had all that mystery accumulated around her? Why hadn’t her father come to visit Konoha in all those years, if he was such a close friend of the Hokage? Had Minato-sensei known of her? All of a sudden, something triggered in his early memories, listening in on a conversation between Hiruzen and the Head Priest of the Temple of Fire, regarding the karmetic consequences that Kumogakure had suffered following a certain abduction of a promising chunin from the Land of Frost. The Village in the Clouds had decided to kidnap a ‘rising star’ from Shimogakure, following her impressive use of new lightning-based technique at that year’s Chunin Exams. She’d been promptly, and apologetically, released about a week later after a report of a destroyed mansion, bearing a signed treaty from the Raikage himself. Hiruzen had wept tears from laughing so hard at the Priest’s story. The Wandering Lights had spent years roaming the world together, uncovering treasures, thwarting coups, breaking criminal rings, and gaining many friends. And yet, for all that fame, the jewel-eyed kunoichi who’d snared his heart with her mischievous smile all those years ago had been hiding in plain sight, in all the time between then and now. And in two days, she’d be married off to some rank-and-file jonin from some obscure island demesne in the Land of Water, who’s only accomplishment of note was being born wealthy. His name was Asaito Tsuroyumi, and he didn’t like visitors. Under the banner of simple diplomacy, Kakashi had requested an audience with the jonin, in order to get more details about how this....unfortunate arrangement had come about. He had been politely, and then not-so-politely, refused. The official excuse given for the snubbing was that the groom was in a process of spiritual purification for his wedding. But the distinctly macabre vibe around the encampment made Kakashi wonder what gods this Asaito was praying to. He’d heard stories of some strange cults that existed on the more far-flung islands. Tales of torch-lit rituals, blood sacrifice, strange, violent orgies....the stuff of campfire lore and trashy adult novels. But that’s all they could be....stories. Probably an attempt to detract from that land’s all-too-proven nightmare of the Academy of the Bloody Mist. Students pitted in death-matches against fellow students, forced to kill their opponent to graduate. In all likelihood, this Asaito had participated in that. What kind of child could agree to that? What kind of man did that child become? How could such a man win the hand of the Lady Ice Flame? Was it by a side-long glance under a starry, light-streaked sky? As he had nearly finished his fourth circuit around the campground, he noticed a lone figure up ahead, approaching. Instantly, he became one with the shadows of some nearby trees and waited, refraining from the use of the Sharingan because of its revealing glow. Easy gait. Small strides. Soft humming of a song. A lone female. Incautious, or unafraid? Dark clothing. Non-standard shinobi boots. Scents of amber...honeysuckle...sandalwood...and...rice wine vinegar...? Could it be?! The unmistakable fiery hue of the long, wild hair left no doubt, and she passed by him, singing the refrain of some unfamiliar song in her dulcet, mezzo-soprano. Miriyume. She had a large pack on her shoulder, and seemed to be heading off-site. Like a leaf in the wind, he followed. Using Chameleon jutsu, he tailed behind her as she descended a gentle hill that lay just outside the campgrounds. He indulged a moment of aesthetic appreciation, making note of the slight sway of her coat tails as they moved against her full, feminine hips. She looked strong and solid. So unlike the majority of the kunoichi he’d associated with. Yet she also radiated a fierce kind of beauty that could put geisha to shame. It was an exquisite paradox. Her trek seemed to be leading to a small farmstead at the bottom of the tree-sprinkled hill. A wooden building, surrounded tall fencing, came into view. “Good evening, Ichibana-san!” Miriyume called out to the elderly couple, sitting beneath a lantern on a large porch. “Is it too late to do some night-bathing?” Kakashi nearly fell out of the tree he had decided to perch in. “It’s never too late for the Lady Ice Flame!” the old lady scolded, beckoning her over. “You even have the spring to yourself for once!” “You are spirits of healing, sent to soothe our minds and bodies!” Miriyume gushed her gratitude, as the woman led her into the house. It had been a long, dusty road to get here... And Konoha’s nin had been hired to act as security... And a hot bath sounded wonderful.... With a nimble leap, he released his Chamaeleon jutsu, and landed quiet as a cat in the cover of a small copse of plum trees. Nonchalantly, he followed Miriyume’s footsteps to the farmhouse. “Hello,” he greeted the older man swatting at mosquitoes on the porch, “Ah! I heard correctly! There is a hot spring! Are you still open for business at this late hour?” “We are,” the older man answered, as Kakashi stepped up onto the porch. The man reacted by taking a swipe at the presumptive jonin with the swatter. “What do you think you’re doing?!?” “Um....” looking confused. “Getting ready to take a bath...?” “Can’t you read good?!” the man scolded, pointing angrily at a crude sign that read, ‘women only’. “The men’s spring is down that-a-way!” indicating a garden entrance. “We don’t go for that ‘open bathing’ nonsense around here!” Kakashi held up his hands in apology, and backed away, moving toward the gate. Separate springs wouldn’t provide much of an opportunity to learn anything. The layout of the two areas wouldn’t permit much of a chance to hold much of a conversation over the dividing walls, even if he could think of a way to start such a dialogue. What would Jiraiya do? What wouldn’t he do? Then the answer came to him, and he blushed with the shame of it. “You know...” Kakashi feigned fatigue with an extravagant yawn and stretch, “Perhaps it is too late for a hot soak. Morning is so much better for that sort of thing...” “Suit yourself,” the man replied, swatting another mosquito, “But it’s a lot more crowded in the mornings.” “...But I do have a sister who thinks otherwise. And it just so happens that she’s absolutely filthy at the moment....” beginning his retreat up the hill, “...so, I’ll just go...get her, and send her your way! Just, promise to treat her well. She’s a bit...awkward...” The old man scratched his nearly bald head as the Leaf ninja disappeared into his plum tree thicket. “Must run in the family...” In the cover of the plum grove, Kakashi sternly chided himself for what he was about to do, and yet silently thrilled at the prospect. He’d seen Naruto do this dozens of times... When next he emerged from the trees, he was a she. A tall, gangly, ill-dressed woman with a cascade of silver hair, lavender eyes, and covered in a gratuitous combination of dirt, mashed-up plum, and whatever else was handy. “Oh, my!” the old man declared, as he/she trudged into the lantern’s light. “You’re brother wasn’t kidding! You look like you fell in the hog trough!” “That jerk would know,” Kakashi squealed, in a voice that surprised him in its utter foreignness, “He DID THIS TO ME! How much for a bath, mister?” “Three ryo,” he replied, ushering Kakashi onto the porch, “Five if you want tea and a snack.” He opened the sliding door, and called out to his wife: “Aneko! We have another lady customer!” It was a strange, surreal experience....undressing one’s self in a feminine shape. A little self-appraisal in the mirror. Only a slight bit of arousal. He was all legs. Angular and skinny. Small bust. Rather tall. Not his ‘type’ at all, really. He hung his clothes beside the only other ones there. Hers. The coat was hanging out to dry, being recently rinsed of the sticky rice she’d landed in. Her tunic top, skirt and various...undergarments, were stuffed unceremoniously into the bag she’d brought. A long, silk, indigo kimono, embroidered with stars, was standing ready for wear, with her knee-high, battered boots waiting nearby. Kakashi reached out a slightly trembling hand to touch the kimono’s fabric, and savored its cool, ice-slick softness. He brought its sleeve to his nose, and drank in the heady scent of amber, sandalwood, and the unidentifiable essence of her greedily. He could track her in the dark now. Pluck her unerringly from a million other people. Then he heard it.... Her voice. Like the sound of a dove, amplified to the level of an approaching storm.... “....I stared up at the sun...thought of all of the people and places and things I’ve loved...” It woke something in his soul, actually forced him to drop the sleeve and focus on staying upright. “....I woke up just to see.....of all other faces you were the one next to me....” His eyes went glassy...his heart hammered against its transformed breast.... “....You can feel the light start to tremble, washing what you know out to sea, yeah...” His hand reached for the sliding door, under an irresistible enchantment.... “You can see your life out the window–“ Miriyume’s song came to an abrupt stop as the door slid open, causing a singular moment of shared surprise between the two women. Miriyume’s quiet shock was born of the embarrassment of being caught singing alone. Kakashi’s was the reaction of a man drowning in long-denied catharsis. Miriyume was on the far side of the stone-lined pool, sitting on a submerged shelf. The water was a deep shade of emerald, heavily enriched by swirling, golden minerals, completely obscuring what lay beneath its shimmering surface. The pale, pearly skin of her shoulders, arms, neck and face glowed in the faint light of the lanterns and the nearly full moon. Her amber hair had become more red when doused with water. But what really took his breath away was the sight of her wreathed in the light of her iridescent, aurora-like chakra. It suffused her, like a lantern that had caught fire. It was almost impossible to look away. Her dojutsu flashed with the golden stars, drawing him further into the blue-and-green maelstorm of her amused-looking eyes. Would that allow her to see the truth? Reveal his true form?!? “Well, c’mon then,” Miriyume called out, after an awkward moment of regarding one another. “I don’t bite....unless you want me to,” she teased in a playful growl. He nearly swooned at the relief of maintaining his facade, and the illicit thrill of her playful words. Instead, he clutched his basket of toiletries tighter, and took slow, measured steps to the pool’s edge.

#kakashi hatake miriyume

4 notes · View notes

klootzbooks · 5 years ago

Text

A Quick Reflection

At long last, we’re at the end of the road for this project, and looking back on it, it’s been an interesting journey.

Back at the beginning, I remember being so excited about this project; of taking on a book-writing and -designing endeavour and creating something that’s entirely my own. The first step in that process was of course to write the book. I am of the belief that you really shouldn’t design something if you don’t have the content yet. More often than not, it just means you’ll be doing the work twice. So I needed to crank out a manuscript as soon as possible.

As someone who loves writing and used to aspire to become a writer as a child, this was relatively easy. It required very little research as I was drawing from a bank of knowledge I already possessed. Most of the book is also very explanatory, so it’s just a matter of breaking down concepts. In the final manuscript, I did cover everything that needed to be addressed, at least in passing, but if I had more time to develop the project, my manuscript likely would have been longer. The time constraints did force me to keep it to the essentials. Ideally, I’d have delved deeper into my personal stories within the sport to make it a more even balance between the explanatory and the personal content. Curling also involves a lot of quirky technicalities that could have been expanded upon.

When it came to the design, I knew that was where the main challenge would lie. At first I had this very clear image in my mind of what this thing would look like, but it became quickly apparent that I was lacking in the photography department. Having the book rely entirely on illustration would have been awfully risky because 1) my illustration skills are not quite up to par yet, and 2) because of the latter, I’m kind of slow at illustrating; my process isn’t the most efficient. Knowing the length of the book, this idea was almost insurmountable.

When I went home for Thanksgiving is when the project really took a substantial turn in terms of its design direction. I thought to myself, “You know what? Why not ask for the curling club photo albums? You never know.” This is probably one of the advantages of living in a very small, close-knit community. After calling up the woman who oversees the town’s curling club, for whom I’d worked three summers ago, I then found myself struggling to carry a big cardboard box loaded with twenty-some photo albums.

Browsing through those albums was like getting sucked into the past. Each photograph would contain people I knew, and some people I didn’t, experiencing a livelier version of the town I grew up in. A version that I’d always heard about, almost to the point of being mythologized, from the older adults in town, my parents included.

To give some context... My hometown is small, but prior to the 2000s, the place was thriving. There was a plethora of restaurants and stores, lots of community programs, and even a healthy nightlife. By the time I was born, things were on the decline, due to struggles concerning the pulp mill in town, which was the primary employer in town. In 2005, that mill shut down, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that that’s when the town effectively died. In my class, there were 25 students, but once the mill closed, we suddenly dropped to 10. A vast number of people were forced to move away in pursuit of a new job.

In essence, the photos captured a time that I didn’t have the privilege of experiencing, yet they were incredibly vivid. Having this resource at my disposal, I had to scan a bunch of the photos, though I had no idea how I would include them.

It almost seemed a waste not to use the photographs, so I now faced the challenge of blending those old, pixelated images with my simple and sleek illustration style. This was probably the exercise from which I learned the most; it added a diversity to the visual aesthetic of the project in a way that most of my past projects haven’t been able to achieve. I think the solid expanses of colour and the quirkier, blocky typeface helped bridge the two aesthetic styles, but also the fact that the book was kept simple. Nothing crazy was going on with the layout, which gave a wider playing field for these two elements to interact harmoniously.

In retrospect, I’m very grateful for my past self for setting deadlines for myself. I’m not someone who can leave something to the last minute because it gives me paralyzing anxiety. Even a week before something is due is often cutting it too close for me. More than two weeks is ideal. Thanks to this steady progress I had established early on, the printing issues I encountered were able to be resolved with ample time before the hand-in date. I can just imagine my chest pains if I’d waltzed into The Printing House on the week of the due date, and wound up having to quickly come up with a plan B within a matter of days.

That complication did lead me to find this other nifty printing service downtown; something that I can definitely use again in the future, now that I know their rates and turnaround times.

All in all, I’m quite proud of the final product, though as previously mentioned, if I had more time, I would have loved to expand upon it even further. Life, however, works in strange ways, and due to some recent developments, I may end up getting the opportunity to do exactly that.

0 notes

mardigrasqueen-blog · 6 years ago

Text

One Thousand Love Letters Meditation: Love and Other Contracts

Love is completely selfish. I pondered on this notion as I walked around Peter Bruun’s One Thousand Love Letters exhibit in the Maryland Art Place. It may sound contradictory as Bruun’s exhibit is something so touching and romantic, but past the obvious emotional impact, there is something inherently greedy in the expression of love. The exhibit is broken into 4 of 8 themes: “Forever Family,” “Cupid’s Arrow,” “Wild Horses,” and “Love Thyself.” Each depicting love in different forms and contexts. When asked whether or not one type of love can be possibly stronger than the other, Bruun claims “There is no hierarchy in love.” So then as I walked around, why was I immediately drawn to each section in my own specific order? With all due respect to Peter Bruun, the answer is because there is indeed a hierarchy in love. There is a path of least resistance in our hearts, that I recognised in reflecting over the experience. In my theory, the hierarchy goes respectively: the love we desire, the love we are most familiar with, the love we don’t understand, and the love we take for granted. How we decide upon these categories are the values and conditionals we place on our relationships.

I was first drawn to Cupid’s Arrow because this is the type of love I’m pathetically desperate for. In Fredrich Nietzche’s The Gay Science, Aphorism’s #14 poses the idea that romantic love “betrays itself most plainly as the striving after possession: the lover wants the unconditioned, sole possession of the person longed for by him; he wants just as absolute power over her soul as over her body; he wants to be loved solely, and to dwell and rule in the other soul as what is highest and most to be desired.” We seek romance because we want to be someone’s everything. It may sound egotistical and asking for too much, but isn’t love a transaction of sorts? If my lover fails to show me intimacy, passion, and friendship, what use is he to me? Alternatively, what use am I to my lover if I fail to give him the same? The love letters Peter Bruun hangs in this section hold the same virtue. Many, if not most, claim how their lover makes them feel sexually, spiritually, and emotionally. Romantic love is also the most conditional of all. The bittersweet reality of modern romance is that love comes and goes. Yet we continue to risk the pain of losing someone who we give ourselves to because the cost of love is insignificant to the benefit of it. Not anyone can be my everything. For me, that someone should preferably be tall, pretty faced, and a man. He has to be intelligent, amusing, honest, and able to keep up with me. Why do I have these conditions? Because it’s not a matter of what someone else wants, it’s what I specifically value in myself and others. I refuse to settle for less because if I do, I’m not being true to myself. So I’ll suffer the boredom and loneliness of being single because I know it is in my self-interest to fulfil my conditionals. What’s more special than a stranger finding everything they could possibly want in someone as different and flawed as I am? Romeo and Juliet betrayed their families and died in the name of love because they gave each other seemingly what no one else could ever. Rose found in Jack freedom from her oppressive upper-class expectations. Shah Jahan did not commission the Taj Mahal for his dead wife Mumtaz’s use, but for his own sake. Music, film, literature, and visual art express the pain and joy we feel when we find someone to share our lives with. No one is inherently entitled to this love, but it is the love we actively work the most towards making it more valuable. In the same way I watch romantic films and listen to romantic music, I dwelled in Bruun’s letters. In the same way I tell myself when I feel alone that I won’t always feel this way, they comforted me. They assured me that being a hopeless romantic isn’t a waste of time, but rather a calculated emotional investment.

I then moved along to Forever Family as it’s the most familiar type of love to me. My mother has been there my entire life. Growing up I never questioned why she loved me because I believed it was her job to love me. And now from an analytical point, I understand that concept. It’s simple biology to explain the love of a mother. A child gives a mother purpose, and a mother gives a child the best possible circumstances to survive. It’s true today as well. If there’s one type of person I can be vulnerable around it’s my family. They protect me in times of distress, uncertainty, and fear. My mother grew up in a broken family, forced to grow up before her time. I can see how she heals from that pain by doing absolutely anything for my siblings and me. She pushes us to work hard, to be independent, and do what we can to keep our minds and bodies healthy. And in times I feel worthless, like a failure and ugly, she is there to tell me I am wrong. She tells me I am beautiful and fearless, and I deserve every happiness. I love my mother because I trust her to give me stability and hope, as it’s her job too. My father’s love follows this same principle though his love comes in the form of practicality. My father can’t bear to see me or my siblings suffering. He works incessantly to make sure we have a home, food, and the best possible education. He teaches us the virtue of responsibility and honesty. I take that for granted sometimes. And regrettably, I don’t tell him I love him often enough. Forever Family captures the essence of family. Letters to siblings, parents, and friends all speak of the necessity of seemingly unconditional support. Love Letter #52 from Megan to her mother expresses what we value the most from our parents, “Thanks for raising me right, showing me how to live a whole life, and loving me even when I’m really hard to love.” What makes a family, is the ability to forgive and understand. My sister, brother and I are so different yet so similar. We are stubborn and ambitious. We compete and play rough. Yet when we feel defeated by the unforgiving world, we support each other as teammates. The difference between family and friends is that one feels effortless. Like minds attract each other. My best friend Katie is hundreds of miles away, yet I don’t miss her because I feel her presence with me. We give each other laughter and support. Though she may not realise it, she reminds me that I don’t always have to pretend to be an adult, holding the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am with my family for the same reason lions stay in a pride: to survive in the unpredictable and perilous wild.

It was my curiosity that pulled me towards Wild Horses. Addiction is foreign to me. It’s a tragedy that occurs elsewhere. And as I observed the different messages, I felt truly selfish. I could not relate my own benefit to this love, but in further inspection found that perhaps what exists is just hope. Peter Bruun understands this love. It is what triggered his creation. Beyond the pain, suffering, confusion and resistance, there is hope that perhaps there is more than addiction to live for. Bruun could give only this to his daughter before she passed away. I felt selfish gazing upon the pain. Expressions of love resonate with us because it is integral to who we are. As I sought to understand this love I could only muster a guess as to what it might feel like to love someone who is being controlled by a substance, or alternatively be someone struggling to find in love what they attempt to in substance. And so I move forward, accepting what I hopefully cannot ever understand.

Finally, I came to Love Thyself. I do love myself. I am incredibly resilient and ambitious. I am intelligent, understanding, bold, and impulsive. I am stubborn and think too much. I’d like to believe I have a good sense of humour, great taste in everything, and that I am incredibly sexy (like really sexy). I believe in truth and integrity. I feel too much too often. I am confident in myself because I am incessantly striving to change and be better. And with love and lust for life, I find that there is nothing above myself. Not fear or complacency. There is one person you should ultimately be loyal to and that is yourself. You exist, and that is enough reason to fight for yourself.

Peter Bruun’s One Thousand Love Letters has allowed me to understand how integral love is to who we are. Survival is the strongest drive of humanity. And to survive we love as conditionally and complexly. Without love, we are nothing but skin and bone, stumbling through existence aimlessly. We love for our own sake; to feel comfort, passion, and lively. It is our salvation and the reason to push forward against suffering. It is completely egotistical. Yet, essential for our humanity.

0 notes

markattwoodphoto-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Images that i like or that inspire me.

This mountainous image(taken by @ Black.Sail on Instagram) is personally one of my favourite photographs and most definitely my favourite landscape photo. to me this image answers the argument of landscape photography, that is ‘you cant capture a magical moment if you’re not there to capture it, so get out often.’ This rings true because to capture this photo, Chris(Black.Sail) had to hike up into the snowy Alpine mountains of Switzerland, and then engage in a chance encounter like this, to get this incredible image, completely from luck of finding these four mountaineers. This image works well as it gives a sense of scale with these climbers hiking up a steep traverse against the huge backdrop of a Swiss mountain. I believe Chris has captured the essence of being a mountaineer perfectly, showing the cold, brutal terrain, with the scale of the backdrop adding to the sense of hardship that mountaineers endure as they ascend peaks, it also shows the burden of heavy equipment and the steep ascents, being fairly parallel to the ascent path. The images shows the pain they endure to summit these peaks, this being evident in the furthest right climber who appears to be keeled over whilst ascending, a common sign of a heavy carrying weight and fatigue. This image and the photographers work as a whole is a documentary/lifestyle style of images that tend to show the ruggedness and brutal terrain of mountains like this, Chris also tends to have people in them to show the sense of scale mountaineers feel when they are immersed in the mountains, adding to the impressiveness of his compositions.

This shot captured by Lynsey Addario, captures life in Helmand Province for female American soldiers, who appear to go about their daily habits as if they were at home, and not in a war-zone. Addario is well known for capturing the lighthearted moments that happen in times of crisis, with this not being the only image like this in her series based on American female soldiers. I believe this image is supposed to convey the sense of normality that soldiers have for where they are and what they’re doing, I think this due to the inclusion of normal day to day habits in what is clearly a soldiers quarters. This image is inspiring to me as it shows the bravery of soldiers and also can be seen to highlight the argument of women in the army, of whether they have or should have a role in the Army, of which i believe they play just as crucial a role as anybody else, and have every right to be there just as much as the men. this image shows the women to be comfortable where they are and appear to be completely not phased by what lies ahead for them as soldiers. the image really makes you feel immersed in this life with them. I believe this image is well composed, and i feel like the inclusion of the woman to the right makes it look all the more real, if it was just the one subject, the argument could be made over whether it is staged/posed, but this inclusion of the second subject makes it feel like a much more true to life image.

This shot taken by fellow photographer Melanie of a homeless man looking rather happy, has a much deeper meaning than expected when viewing this image. Images of homeless people have become a staple of street photography, following the daily lives of the less fortunate, and due to this have become rather stale and unoriginal, however this image transcends that in my opinion due to the backstory of the image and so the reason for his honest and humble looking smile. To describe the story… This is Bradley, Bradley was left homeless after breaking up with his partner, Bradley has two children who he can no longer see because the mother found out he was homeless, and he has been homeless for two months… yet he still looks happy in that photo, Melanie captured a moment of happiness of a man who just found out he is on the waiting list for a flat, he looks humbled in the image and relaxed, if you showed this to a regular viewer with no backstory, they would probably have no idea this man was homeless, Melanie has portrayed to me the character of a humble father who has been hit by some bad luck. It is great to see an image with a somewhat positive ending however.

I like this photo completely due to my political leanings and the well timed capture and composition of this image, I think you could say it reflects the common idea in society that the young are always more liberal than the elderly, and you could say this is becoming more common than past generations, where the young were perhaps detached from politics a lot more than today. This image is significant as it appears an adult would have given the ‘Tories Out’ poster to the young child to hold, which raises the argument of whether he was made to hold this by the parents, which can be seen as forcing a political view onto him, or whether he had some knowledge enough to want to carry around this poster. The middle composition of the subject in a space surrounded by protesters sets the scene of where this child is and draws you straight to the subject, Thomas Heaton has also made use of creative vignetting to draw you straight to the subject and poster as well. I really like this image as i feel it reflects my generation as well, that we are the most liberal generation ever and liberal views continue to grow in popularity, like the idea of socialism, this idea has become more popular than ever and has been incorporated into countries around the world for the goal of creating a more equal, fairer society for all.

0 notes

tresasreviewlibrary · 7 years ago

Text

Review of ‘The Girls’ By Emma Cline

3/5 stars

I am amazed at how beautifully this book was written. Cline's prose is so exquisite and lucid, I was clinging to every word. Even in moments that were either mundane or violent, the writing was still amazingly poetic. And Cline is able to do this without seeming pretentious, which is a huge, uncommon plus. The novel also effectively captures the essence of the late 1960s, being so immersive and really capturing the culture of both young people and adults. I had a few mixed emotions with the protagonist, Evie. She's very headstrong and observant, especially for a 14-year-old. However, she can come of as extremely rude and compulsive, most notably in scenes that she interacts with her mother. Most of the other characters were pretty flat, none of them, not even Evie's love interest, were really remarkable. But the one aspect that really put me off is that much of this story is very inorganic. I love watching cult documentaries and learning about the counter-culture that took place during the 'Free Love' period. That being said, I know this novel is basically just a retelling of the Manson murders with the names changed. I can't really applaud Cline's story that's essentially word for word what happened to real people, just seen through the eyes of a fictional child. All complaints aside though, I really enjoyed this, even for the writing style alone. It's incredibly digestible, I was able to finish it in 2 sittings.

0 notes

mediaservice2karen · 8 years ago

Text

ERIC EDSON PRESENTS: THREE FESTIVE HOLIDAY FILMS

Christmas is the perfect time to gather around the TV with family and watch a holiday film, but just what goes into creating the perfect festive film script? From atmospheric settings to the right mix of comedy, family bonding and quirky plot twists, here are three festive holiday films that have their own unique Christmas magic.

Home Alone

Written by John Hughes and directed by Chris Columbus (1990)

It’s almost Christmas in snowy Chicago and the McCallister family is preparing to fly to France for the holidays. In the chaos of the departure, their youngest son Kevin (Macaulay Culkin) gets left behind. Kevin now must fend for himself as only an eight-year-old can: by gorging on ice cream, turning the house into an adventure playground and watching gangster movies on TV. Trouble comes in the form of burglars Harry and Marv, who plan to rob the McCallister home on Christmas Eve, prompting Kevin to rig the house with booby-traps for a spectacular slapstick climax. Kevin also has a big lesson to learn about the local creepy neighbour, rumoured to be a killer, Old Man Marley. This clever kid ultimately figures out that all he really wants for Christmas is his own family back, just in time for a touching reunion finale.

Home Alone has become an iconic holiday film because it touches on the key Christmas themes of family and childhood. We watch the action unfurl through Kevin’s eyes, witnessing the magic of Christmas and the dream scenario of being left home alone through a child’s point-of-view. The film has just the right amount of festive fun and comedy with a touching holiday message at its heart: that the real magic of Christmas lies in being together with your family, no matter how annoying they may be. Add in a hefty helping of Christmassy decorations, festive tunes and snowy weather, and it’s not hard to see why Home Alone remains a firm holiday favourite. What screenwriters can learn here is that at heart we are all children struggling to cope with burglars and scary, strange neighbors – frightening neighbors who, we find out, are really kind and just want the same things we do. Comedies are about hope and happy endings and remind us that the basic things which make life joyful – love and belonging – are sought after by all. So every once in a while, consider setting aside those “edgy”, apocalyptic or dark story ideas and go for something simple, sweet, and heart-warming. Because in the end, the child within each of us longs to once more be tucked into bed and hear that everything is going to be all right.

And if you write one of these stories, you’ll be giving the world a great gift.

Miracle on 34th Street

Written and directed by George Seaton (1947)

The original version of this classic holiday film tells the story of a little girl called Susan (Natalie Wood) whose mother Doris (Maureen O’Hara) has taught her not to believe in Santa Claus. This all changes when Doris, who works for Macy’s Department Store, hires an incredibly realistic Santa (Edmund Gwenn) who goes by the name of Kris Kringle and has the eccentric habit of insisting that he is the genuine Santa. As Susan witnesses Kringle’s knack for spreading Christmas cheer, she begins to believe that he could be the real Santa. Not everyone agrees and Macy’s psychologist has Kris committed to a mental hospital, where in deep despair, he deliberately fails his mental examination. Help comes from Doris’ friend Fred, who agrees to represents Kris in a legal hearing. The case rests on being able to prove that Kris is in fact the real Santa Claus. Can Fred possibly, by some miracle, win?

Miracle on 34th Street is a heart-warming Christmas tale that focuses on the human struggle between belief and reason. At its very center lies a cynical little girl who gradually learns the value of believing. Despite being set around a department store at the most commercially-driven time of year, Miracle on 34th Street also manages to assert an anti-consumerist stance, which makes it particularly forward-thinking for its time. In the film, acts of kindness are more important than gifts and Kringle even sends parents to a rival store to buy cheaper toys. Set between the Thanksgiving and Christmas period, Miracle on 34th Street is full of atmospheric holiday spirit. What writers can learn here is that holiday stories can also have powerful themes. Even in traditional folktale fantasies like this one there can be found genuine human truth. Don’t sell “Christmas movies” short and assume they must be all fluff. This film became a true classic because it speaks to audiences on several levels: seen through the eyes of a child it works as a simple Santa Claus story, but it’s also impactful for adults with a thought-provoking theme, that in all forms of human expression some truth can be found. We must open our hearts as well as our minds. In whatever sort of script or novel you may be writing, never forget the power of theme.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Written by Tim Burton, Directed by Henry Selick (1993)

Jack Skellington (Danny Elfman), the King of Halloween Town, is bored of living in a land filled with ghosts and ghouls and organizing the annual Halloween festivities. So, he’s overjoyed to stumble upon magical doors leading to different holiday lands. Along with Jack, we’re transported to Christmas town, an enchanting world of elves and penguins, snow and sparkly red-and-green lights. Jack is so enthralled with the holiday that he decides to kidnap ‘Sandy Claus’ and run Christmas with the help of his ghoulish friends from Halloween Town, with terrifying results. Can Jack realise his mistake in time, put things right and save Christmas?

The Nightmare Before Christmas is an unforgettable, alternative holiday film that has become a cult classic. The king of macabre Tim Burton brings to life vivid, believable holiday worlds full of quirky characters and fantastical settings. Christmas Town, with its candy canes, cute elves and gingerbread houses, captures the cartoony essence of the holiday perfectly. The Nightmare Before Christmas is a stunning example of painstaking stop-animation and has something for all ages, including a haunting musical score composed by Danny Elfman.

If you’re creating a holiday script, think about including key heart-warming themes but don’t be afraid to put your own, alternative slant on a Christmas message. Yes, even a dark, edgy imagination – with an open heart – can create a holiday classic! Just remember to include plenty of festive scenery, music and… oh yeah, some unforgettable characters!

Happy Holidays to Everyone!

About The Story Solution: The Story Solution was written by accomplished screenwriter Eric Edson. It reveals the 23 actions used to create dynamic, three dimensional heroes and link all parts of a captivating screenplay. He also covers screenwriting tips, screenwriting resources, and screenwriting books. Visit the website and Facebook page or call 818-677-7808 for more information.

#writing a movie script writing a screenplay screenplay writing screenplay writer screenplay writers scriptwriting writing screenplays best s

0 notes