#silent cinema streets

[pieshopbarber]

The earliest surviving Sweeney Todd adaptation.

Here’s Sweeney Todd from 1928.

this silent film is actually the earliest surviving film adaptation of the string of pearls, which is the story that our main man Sweeney Todd originally showed up in (and ultimately led to the creation of the sondheim musical)

[filmap]

Cops Edward F. Cline, Buster Keaton. 1922

Mansion gate 1145 Arden Rd, Pasadena, CA 91106, USA See in map

See in imdb

[justbusterkeaton]

The day was coming to an end, and he wished he could do the same…

Music: Theme From M*A*S*H (Suicide Is Painless) performed by The Manic Street Preachers

[silentlondon]

Phantom Pipes: Häxan at Regent Street Cinema

I am almost home from my festival jaunts, and it seems the weather has turned chilly since I left home. The nights are drawing in, the candles are flickering… it must be spooky season. Why not kick off your annual creepathon with a screening of a silent classic: Benjamin Christensen’s 1922 demonic drama-documentary Häxan? My excellent friends at Evolution of Horror, who leave no stone in scary…

[froggyforbbidencat]

Viernes

Hoy he visto otro video essay de juegos de terror, esta vez el vídeo completo era de Silent Hill 3 hecho por Tangomushi. Me ha gustado porque también habla sobre la experiencia femenina, esta vez de los embarazos forzados y la menstruación. Acompañado de algunas imágenes, ves como han sido capaces de reflejar esto vía la simbología de herramientas para escapar (como la percha, objeto más común usado para abortos clandestinos) o enemigos como el monstruo que recuerda a un cordón umbilical o el que parece un espermatozoide. Tambien me ha encantado como cubre el tema de que el ''Otro mundo'' de Silent Hill se burla de la psique de Heather, sacando sus miedos e inseguridades para presionarla y reírse de ella.

Hoy también he visto una peli que no había visto antes, Pesadilla en Elm Street 2. No sabría ni como catalogarla, sólo sé que me he reído varias veces y que me ha parecido hecha por hombres gays que dicen ser heteros. Me habría gustado verla con alguien con un humor parecido al mío para poder reírnos y vivir ese vínculo.

Ya he empezado mi próximo relato y empiezo a darle vueltas a la novela. Hoy me siento más ilusionada y capaz.

[silkscream]

bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: flirting, masturbation, porn watching, vaginal sex, riding, soft sub!choso, 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wanted to write choso being a weirdofreak pervert boy that's all. this is part of my fics for gaza <3 there will be a part two for this. do not ask me about a part two because it's already being made

Maki could kill you for being late again. Five missed texts, the final exaggerated with periods and exclamation points – and she never used proper spelling, let alone punctuation. It wasn't serious the way she made it out to be. 

Toji never cared about your track record. The bastard was never in the shop anyway, probably high off his ass in whatever shed of a place he lived in. Maki already hated her cousin enough for the rest of the crew, running that stupid video store like it was a real family business. It was a summer job to you and nothing else.

She sighs when she sees you walk through the door, handing you your name tag without a word before fucking off to the storage room to look at the new shipments.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment!” you yell after her. In response, you only get a middle finger, chipped black nail polish with half a skeleton decal hanging on.

It’s always slow on Mondays. Considering the new cinema that opened across the street, it's slow every day. You should’ve taken a job there, scooping buckets of buttered popcorn instead of telling off porn-stached men who continually mistook the shop as the old adult video store. 

You mindlessly watch Reservoir Dogs on the CRTV, shaken by the sudden flood of middle school students paving their way to the used video game section. Fumbling with the remote, you meet a hard-faced Maki once again. 

“You can’t put on Tarantino, dude. Kids are in here.”

“It was already on,” you shrug. 

Maki rolls her eyes and points to a small stack by the register – some John Hughes VHS tapes. Sixteen Candles. The Breakfast Club. Most shit that both of you hated.

“Gotcha.”

“Can you deal with the new kid, today? Toji didn’t scan all the new shit in like he was supposed to last week.”

“New kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Goth-ish. Like he got spit out of a Hot Topic or something,” she snorts. “No hazing.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She scoffs at you before rushing back. You’d had a crush on her when you started working there, back when she still had an eyebrow piercing before she let it get infected. She had that Silent Hill look about her for lack of better words. Resting bitch face with a raspy pout. 

Your head swims a little, pounding from dehydration. The morning joint didn’t help, either, nor did the fact that you had to train a newbie today. 

It’s quiet after the kids leave, snatching up some forbidden R-rated movie that’ll traumatize them during a basement sleepover. You nearly doze off once the clock hits three, but loud footsteps bring you back to life. 

A boy that couldn’t be much older than you stares into you, narrowed eyes boring into your soul. You see the dark birthmark across his nose first, as if someone had slashed him with a blade in one straight swoop. He smells like cigarettes and his eyes are decorated with some reddish eyeshadow. Either that or he had the complexion of a sickly Victorian child. 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the new hire,” he says. His voice is low. He reminds you of the goths that would hit on you at high school parties. He's prettier, though. 

You give him a once-over quickly – he’s taller than you expect, for some reason, and you notice the blooming swirls of abstract tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes and introduces himself. Choso. You repeat his name, tasting it on your tongue. He has half a mind to shake your hand but pulls away awkwardly. You take note of the silver rings adorning his fingers.

You tilt your head. “I like your, uh, space buns…”

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so… have you ever used a cash register?”

“Yes.”

“Great. That’s basically half the job.”

You show him the ropes – how to make sales and deal with teens. Cash drops and tracking inventory. You ask him what attracted him to the idea of working at a run-down video store and he says he likes movies and easy money. His brother liked the place, too. 

“You got the Human Earthworm series, boss?” he drones, bored.

“Yeah, think so. You like romance-horror or just terrible practical effects?”

He snorts. “My little brother likes it. Wants to have a marathon with me.”

“Cute.”

Hours pass and he’s gotten the hang of it. If anything, there are more customers than usual today, because you suppose that Choso is conspicuous in appearance and the teenage girls that hang around at the food court need something new to play with. 

It stirs something uneasy in your gut, the waft of saccharine perfume in the air. Girls with tongue piercings, lollipops staining their lips as they bend over the counter to talk to Choso. Ripe girls.

They probably thought he could buy them alcohol, take them for a joyride. He’d only offer them an aloof, blank stare in return. It makes you almost giddy. By the time night comes around, you tell them to fuck off like flies.

“Closing time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Choso mock-salutes, an amused smirk on his lips. Half-lidded eyes like a cat, maybe a stoner, though he didn’t smell like it. You saw him on his break anyway, sipping down an Asahi Super Dry in the back as if you weren’t looking.

He already knew his place, knew that you wouldn’t rat him out. It was the way something flickered in his eyes when you caught him. A taunt, a quiet challenge. 

You watch him count cash. Chipped black fingernails looked odd on his veiny hands like they were painted in a rush by a child. You notice scrawled pen on his pale skin. Smudged phone numbers.

“Getting hit on already?”

He glances at you and shrugs, hiding a smile. “Half were just from bored teenagers. Other half bored single mothers.”

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” you snort. “As long as we get customers I guess.”

“Oof. You’re cold. You don’t care how I get these people to buy these movies as long as they buy ‘em, huh?”

“You’re not whoring yourself out by being a cashier. Relax.”

He shrugs on his jacket. Crumpled leather, the kind that held the smell of smoke over generations. It made him look like Takuya Kimura in that way, maybe if his hair was down.

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “Uh-huh. Night, newbie.”

He smiles sardonically, looking out and noticing the rain. He curses inwardly, knowing that skating home would be a bitch, and the next bus to his side of town wasn’t for another half hour. He clears his throat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. What, don’t have a ride home, kiddo?”

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn kid. I’m just not someone with a car,” Choso mutters dryly. “I work at a movie rental place for a living. I take the bus everywhere.”

“Sucks to suck then,” you smirk, saluting him goodbye. You throw him the keys. “I trust you to lock up then, yeah? See ya.”

He lets out a frustrated scoff but doesn’t bother to convince you, opting to watch you go. Once you’re out of reach, he sighs and turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the dim store. 

Yuuji was probably out with that sea urchin–haired punk again. He had to remind himself to save up for a car instead of constantly having to share their parents’ beat-up Toyota.

He could take advantage of the shitty TV in the office, maybe. Watch a stupid re-run while he waits, because he sure as hell isn’t going to wait out in the rain. He walks in and settles on the black leather couch straight out of an amateur porno. He snorts and looks through a fat stack of DVDs in the corner. 

His mouth twists when he picks up something with a racy title. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s an adult film.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, scoffing. He lets out a low whistle, glancing around the office as if someone’s out there, ready to jump him. It’s eerily quiet. He can’t even hear the pitter-patter of rain from in here.

He skims the back cover. It looks crude, but Choso has never really been one to turn down something raunchy. He liked stupid movies, gory ones, art films with weird unsimulated sex. He’d gotten off to In the Realm of the Senses when he was thirteen. Skimming through something this cheap shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t arouse him — it would be as entertaining and silly as watching a sitcom for him.

He inserts the disc into the DVD player and waits for it to load. There are no cameras in the office, he notices. Figures. The way you talked about the owner made it seem like the place was barely being held together if not for you.

And then, he thinks of you. He immediately thought you were pretty, not that he’d ever let you know that. Plainer than his usual type, but something was alluring about the curve of your mouth, the way you spoke. He liked that you didn’t take shit most of all. It was probably the hottest thing about you.

He knew better than to fuck around with a coworker, however. It never ended well and resulted in petty drama. He was too old for that shit, wasn’t in high school anymore — he was a man.

When the intro to the film finally loads, a woman in a skimpy, barely-there dress appears on the screen. It’s something vintage, for sure, given the grain. She’s in a love hotel. 

Choso fast-forwards through blurs of messy kissing, colored lights illuminating a heart-shaped tub. He pauses on a frame of the girl riding, her mouth wide open in ecstasy. He presses play.

After about ten minutes, he finds himself in a trance watching with rapt attention at the way the actress moves. His cock twitches when he realizes that she looks a little too much like you. 

She moans particularly loudly and his mouth parts. Something snaps inside of him. 

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

Choso feels like a pervert. No, he’s a man with urges, needs. It’s a pure coincidence that the actress in the porno looks like you of all people. It’s not like he sought her out himself. A movie like this shouldn’t even be in here.

He grits his teeth, hands clenching around the couch leather until his knuckles are white. He takes a breath before pressing play again and his eyes widen when the girl gets even louder.

Ah, fuck it.

He mutters under his breath, shifting on the couch. Glances at the blowjob lips on the screen, soft and plush. He thinks of you and swallows. He bites his cheek, conflicted.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to resist the pressure building inside him. It feels like trying to contain a geyser with a cup, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. 

After contemplating for a beat, he sighs and unbuttons the fly of his jeans, using his other hand to press play again. A gasp escapes his lips as he watches the girl on the screen. The curve of her back, the bounce of her tits. She looks soft. He wonders if you’d be as —

No. No. He’s not doing that.

He spits in his hand and strokes himself, his breathing starting to come out in short, uneven pants. There’s a rush of heat in his gut as he watches. His head tilts back slightly, eyes roaming the ceiling before closing them as he attempts to calm himself down. It’s no use.

His breath hitches, eyes glued to the screen. He’s memorized by the slick flowing out of her. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s killing him.

It’d be okay if he pretended it was you. It’s not like you would find out. He could imagine fucking your face the way the guy was doing right now in the video, making the bitch gag and moan. Whimpering at being called a good girl. 

“Oh, god–” he mutters, his voice a strangled gasp. She really did look like you. Disturbingly so. When he’s done, he’ll have to wash his hands for five minutes straight from the shame. 

He pants, his grip on himself firm as he squeezes his shaft. Precum smears over his tip and he groans at the sound of the woman’s whimpers getting louder and louder. It makes his lungs seize. He’s getting close.

He doesn’t even register the jingling of the doorknob.

Choso’s head jerks up, his eyes widening in shock as his head turns to see you in the doorway blinking at him. 

“Oh.”

His throat’s dry. What a cruel fucking joke from the universe. There’s no coming back from this. Not when the video’s still going and he’s still half dressed, hand on his fly in mortification.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Nice cock.”

Choso’s at a loss for words, staring at you with embarrassment and utter daze. What the fuck?

“I, uh…” he chokes out, his voice rough and more high-pitched than usual. Face burning. 

He’s going to get fired. No – he has to quit before you even get another word in, save the little dignity he has, maybe convince Yuuji to move to another shitty town with him so he never has to see you again —

“Forgot my wallet,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

You walk into the room, peering at him. Your eyes fall on the TV, which is still going. The moans feel cheap and tacky now that he’s back in reality. 

Choso scrambles to press the stop button on the remote, his other hand moving to put a pillow on top of his leaking dick. His eyes flicker wildly between your face and the screen.

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

You snort. “Forgot to tell you that this used to be an adult video store.”

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly. 

You eye him carefully. He blushes. “Didn’t finish?” you taunt.

He feels too fucking humiliated to say anything, so he mutely nods instead. He fumbles with the zipper of his jeans underneath the pillow.

“Need some help?”

He gapes at you for a moment before looking away. You look amused as you scan his face. Was he hearing you correctly? Was he dreaming?

“Are you— are you offering?” he gasps out, dumbfounded. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that in here.”

Choso’s jaw drops. 

He stares at you for a moment at a loss for words. Curiosity begins to win out over embarrassment.

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t like that answer. His jaw clenches, knowing that it’s stupid that it hurts his ego a bit for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t press the issue as his gears turn back to your previous offer.

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

He swallows nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks at your body shamelessly for a bit. He’s still so fucking hard. Finally, he nods shyly.

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

For a moment, he wants to protest. This is the last thing he expects from you. Maybe it was a blackmail situation — if he doesn’t let you fuck him, would you fire him? 

He realizes that he doesn’t care either way if he gets to fuck you.

He pushes his jeans down with his boxer briefs, shoves the pillow in his lap away with a blush. Slowly, he strips off his t-shirt, leaving him completely exposed. He can feel your gaze on him, raking his chest and arms, the tattoos on his skin. He looks up at you again almost desperately. 

“I meant it,” you drawl. “You do have a nice cock.”

“Th-thanks…” he croaks. 

“Why so nervous?” you tease. “You were flirting with me all day.”

“Yeah, but–” he mutters, huffing defensively. “I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

You say it so bluntly that it catches him off guard. He hadn’t really given it too much thought. You were somewhat receptive to his advances if he could call it that. It was mostly him being himself. His sarcasm was meant to be flirting, but none of it was that serious. He found you hot and interesting. He liked that you could keep up with him. 

When he started touching himself with you in mind, everything was thrown out the window. He wanted you, and would probably dream about you when he got home, but the guilt and shame of doing something so depraved in his place of work made him embarrassed. He wouldn’t have been able to face you on his next shift, and then you decided to barge in and ruin everything. 

And now, you’re offering yourself to him on a silver platter. It was absurd.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“I think you’re hot. Isn’t that enough?” 

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

“Yeah, Choso,” you roll your eyes. “I wanna fuck you.”

He shifts on the couch, eyes roaming hungrily over your body as his breaths grow labored. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

You grin, moving to straddle his lap. His hands flex and he has to remember to not appear so eager. This is just a casual hookup with a coworker. One born out of bizarre circumstances, sure, but he needs to play it cool. He grips the edge of the couch.

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

He feels even more meek, if that was possible. He hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’d had girls in his lap before. Bouncing them on his cock until they cried. For some reason, he feels like the submissive one here just because you’re on top of him. 

“Uh,” he stammers. His voice is quiet, nervous. You think it’s cute. “I didn’t know if I was, uh, allowed to—”

“Go ahead.”

He holds back from kissing you. Instead, he smoothes his large hands over your hips, the curve of your waist. He lifts his hands to the edge of your shirt and hooks his fingers into the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. The reveal of skin is tantalizing, makes his mouth water like a man stranded in a desert. 

Sparks jolt the length of his spine as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach. Fuck, you’re soft. He knew you would be. He pulls the shirt over your head and ogles stupidly at your chest. 

“Someone’s worked up,” you tease, playing with his hair. You undo his buns, leaving his hair down.

“Of course I am,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re sitting on my lap, looking like that—”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen. 

“Please,” he breathes. It almost comes out like a desperate whine. “I mean— yeah—”

You raise a brow, laughing. It makes his face heat up down to his neck. 

“Begging already? Thought you’d be more of a dominant type.”

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles. 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you prove it later.” You lean in.

“Promise?” He looks at you with something eager in his gaze and your eyes soften. 

“Mhm.”

Finally, he captures your lips with his. You sigh into it and it makes his cock throb underneath you. He takes that as an invitation, his tongue immediately pushing past the plush of your lips. He reaches up to grab the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair as if he’s done it all before. It makes you moan a little in his mouth.

He moans back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. You pull back slightly, leaving him to chase your lips for a moment as he lets out a small huff of protest. When you look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted and shiny with spit.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. “Real pretty.”

He flushes, unable to form words. His expression immediately floods with disappointment when you get off his lap to stand. 

“Where are you going?” His voice would be whiny if it wasn’t so gruff from desire. 

“Relax, idiot.” You unbutton your pants, sliding them down slowly. He assumes you’re teasing him, which he doesn’t particularly mind. You’re a sight to behold. His cock twitches as his eyes look at your smooth thighs. 

“Get over here,” he huffs. You laugh, moving to straddle him. 

He doesn’t have time to react before you lean in to immediately nip at his neck. He lets out a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel his pulse quickening, the vibration of his moans underneath your lips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. His fingernails dig into the meat of your waist. 

He can’t stay still. It takes him everything in him to not rock his hips up into you. It doesn’t help that he can already feel your wet heat hovering over his cock. His brain nearly short-circuits. He preens under you, grabbing at you like you’re going to fly away. 

“Be patient. Wanna play with you first,” you mumble.

Choso’s eyes flutter closed as you speak. You sound so fucking sexy right now, he can’t stand it. It’s better than the stupid filler plot he scrubbed through in that damn porno. Miles better. 

“Play with me,” he grits. “Fuck — later.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you were pregaming this before I walked in.”

He glares at you. It’s entertaining watching the expression melt off his face when you lift your hips and immediately slam down on him. The moan he lets out is guttural. His hands immediately find your hips.

“Hah – fuck,” you breathe. “You’re bigger than you look.”

Choso lets out a strangled chuckle, head falling back on the couch. It makes him look even hotter, the way his tattoos flex with his collarbone. 

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

Your laugh tapers off into a moan when he gives a small, tentative roll of his hips. Testing the waters. You’re so fucking tight that it’s making it hard for him to even think. When he hears you gasp at being filled by him completely, his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Wanna make you do that again—”

“H-Huh?”

His eyes lock on your face as he grins, grinding into you slowly. 

“That noise–” he groans, his throat taut and dry. “You made this little gasp—”

“Ah–”

“There it is,” he snickers. His eyes gleam. “Just like that.”

Your eyes roll back, mirroring the roll of his cock inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and it feels like fucking heaven. He can feel all your wetness drool into his lap. He had the urge to push you into the leather, cant his hips up like something rabid. 

It feels like his brain was going to fall out of his nose, the head rush in tandem with the blood pumping into his cock. Impossible tightness. Snug cunt, petals closing into a bud. 

When you wrap your arms around him, it almost feels romantic. It’s dangerous.

He kisses you, then. Quivers when he feels you getting lost in it, tasting nicotine in your swapped spit. He whimpers as you start to move your hips with more intention. You smile wryly at his reaction, pulling away, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet.

You’re a fucking wet dream while you’re riding him. The way your hair brushes messily over your jawline, the way your mouth parts with a gasp every time he feels you pulsate on his cock. Choso grabs your ass greedily and kneads it, mesmerized at the softness of your flesh. 

“God, you look so fucking good right now—”

His eyes flash as he watches you move. He tries to match your tempo, rutting up into you with frenzied effort. His cheeks are flushed as he nearly unravels himself for you, his expression raw and hungry. He leans in to suck on your tongue, descending his wet mouth down to your jaw, your tits. Oral fixation.

You can feel him deep in your stomach, buried in you. It’s as if he could pierce you through the throat. You’re sure that you’ll ache everywhere by the time you get home. You’d never taken a cock quite this big, never been this wet, your insides swirling around like a washing machine. Your guts all muddled with something that felt too warm for just lust.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, hands pressing into your bare thighs. 

All his preoccupations with you had disappeared. He didn’t care if you thought he was a pervert, since you were one too, in a way. Letting him fuck you like this when he barely knew you at all, yet a repressed part of his brain made his heart flutter at the thought of you. It didn’t help that he could practically feel your heartbeat with his cock.

It isn’t romance — it has to be the sex. He can’t think about it too much right now. Not when he’s in a state of delirium inside your cunt.

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.” 

His hair is tousled and sticky. Eyes glazed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grabs at your hips, guiding them to grind on him faster. Your wetness makes it all so smooth — all buttery, no resistance. You feel full.

He feels like he’s being squeezed to death, to heaven. It sends him over the edge at the same time he feels your pussy clench around him. You tremble in waves as you gasp out a moan. It’s more like a choked breath. He can’t stop watching you as you come, the way your eyes roll back. 

A whine escapes his throat as he cums. Everything that seeps out is slick, feels like something new and primordial at once. Seraphic, he’d say, if he happened to be drunk. He certainly feels drunk.

Choso doesn’t expect you to kiss him so sweetly after such a vulgar affair. He lets out a long exhale into your mouth with eyes closed, letting his head fall back a little while your hands cup his cheeks. His body is all melted limbs, languid sex. 

“Jesus,” he mutters. 

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes and gazes at you through sleepy lids. He lifts a hand lazily, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pick an actress that looked like me on purpose?”

He freezes. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks away.

“No,” he scoffs. “Just thought she was hot—”

You chuckle.

“I didn’t pick it, I found it,” he gruffs. “I’ll admit that… she looks like you… I guess.”

“Was I as good?” 

He scoffs again, his eyes flashing with a mix of playfulness and irritation. You were as much of a little shit as he was.

“You’re better,” he rolls his eyes. “I already told you what I think, dumbass. Real pretty.”

“Oh, did you?”

There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t better than some stupid video—”

“Idiot. Those girls are probably like, Olympians at fucking. Porn isn’t like real sex anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grins. He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking timid. “It’s just… a decent placeholder for when I… y’know.”

“Just call me next time.”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, unable to hide his surprise. He sputters for a second.

“What? I’m, uh— not gonna call you every time I—” he groans, “That’ll be way too many times.”

You raise a brow.

“Wait, no— that came out wrong. I’m not some horny freak or something—”

“I mean, given how I found you…”

“That’s—” he stammers, unable to complete a sentence without his brain completely blacking out every millisecond. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Hope so. I don’t wanna fire you, newbie,” you grin.

His pulse quickens at your smile. 

“Like hell, you will. You’re too understaffed to fire me.”

[mask131]

Many people have talked about the Japanese influence of the Little Nightmares game - more precisely how the games offered themselves as a nightmarish and twisted Ghibli movie, what Miyazaki would have created for a Silent Hill game.

But I don't see many people talk about the French style and influence of the games...

Yes, I said French. It might surprise you, but one of the main sources for the aesthetic and tone of the games is a set of French works. The creators of Little Nightmares have been pretty clear in interviews that the movies of Jean-Pierre Jeunet were a big design and concept influence for the game. Now, Jean-Pierre Jeunet is most famous for his slightly absurd romance-comedy Amélie Poulain... But it was his two other most famous movies that inspired the Little Nightmares world.

On one side: Delicatessen

In a post-apocalyptic world, a building stands alone in the middle of the ruins of a city... A block of flats, each one hosting weird and excentric people: a tenant lives in water-filled rooms infested with snails and frogs, another keeps trying to kill herself with incredibly complex and extravagant suicide plans, others are dedicated creators of moo boxes... But all of them live under the domination and tyrany of the butcher whose shop is located at the base of the building: he is the one who provides the meat for all those who live above him, and thus has full authority over them, and nobody asks where it comes from...

One day, a new janitor arrives. A naive former circus clown, a gentle but farcical man who soon falls in love with the shy and secluded musician-daughter of the butcher. Unfortunately, it proves to be an actual fairytale as the janitor didn't just fell in love with a princess high up in her tower... but with the daughter of the ogre, for all the janitors before our protagonist mysteriously disappeared right with every new "meat supplies" delivery... The sweet and touching budding romance of these two youths in a no man's land soon turns into horror as the shadow of the butcher's cleaver falls upon them, and as the madness of the buildings' tenants keep increasing to absurd levels.

And what seems to be the couple's only hope? A secret network of sewer-dwelling, vegetarian terrorists that the butcher's daughter contacts in secret...

On the other side: La cité des enfants perdus

While Delicatessen was a dark comedy (or an humoristic horror, depending on which side you take it), The City of Lost Children is much harder to categorize as Jeunet (and Marc Caro, who also co-created Delicatessen) fully delve into the urban nightmare, the obscure poetry, the dark fairytale, the disturbing children story.

La Cité des Enfants perdus is the story of a mad scientist who lives in a derelict oil platform at sea, surrounded by various "failed" experiments (idiotic clones, a dwarf-wife, a brain in a jar). Unable to dream, he decides to capture the children of the nearest portuary town, in order to steal their dreams for himself - and he performs these crimes with the help of a strange cult of one eyed men referred to as the "cyclops".

One day, the scientist kidnaps the little brother of a simple-minded former circus strongman called "One". Determined to find him back, One teams up with miette (Crumb), a clever and cynical street-urchin girl ; however, their quest to find the secret of the Cyclops is made even more complicated by the presence of the Pieuvre (Octopus), cruel and greedy conjoined twins who are the boss of the children-thief network Miette belonged to, and hatch nefarious plans in light of the recent events...

In a way you could say that Jean-Pierre Jeunet is a sort of French Terry Gilliam. He has a very unique and distinctive style when it comes to his movies, something halway between a realistic Guillermo del Toro and a dirty Wes Anderson. His movies are still to this day a weir, but cult, part of French cinema.

And... Little Nightmares borrowed heavily from them. The large One and the little girl Crumb teaming up to save a child from a sea-dwelling villain becomes Six fighting for her life in the sea-faring Maw against the Lady. The butchering cannibalism of Delicatessen can be found back ; the water-infested flat of the elderly frog-raiser can evoke the Granny's quarters, while the strange suicide plans of the depressed tenant evoke the various "puzzles" of the game. The school run by the Octopus (stern school-teachers by day, vicious crime-lords at night) brings back to mind the school of Little Nightmares 2, and so forth and so on. Plus, of course, the strange technology: these two movies thrive on weird contraptions and strange buildings and never-ending pipes and other bizarre soul-sucking machinery, all elements that were very determinant in the visuals of the Little Nightmares universe.

If you ever wondered what a Little Nightmares movie would feel like... These movies could be of some help. Do yourself a marathon of Ghibli movies and Terry Gilliam ones intercut with Jeunet's pieces, and you could recreate yourself a strange Little Nightmares-flavored experience.

[nerd-cat-rambles]

Danganronpa Characters Watching a Move (at the cinema)

Eats all their food before the movie starts:

Akane - Foodie

Aoi - No self control when it comes to food

Hiro - Somehow accidentally eats it all

Kaito - Trips while walking up the stairs and spills it everywhere.

Nagito - Eats it during the trailers

Cries when the supporting character/animal dies:

Chihiro - Cries when the dog dies

Gundham - Also cries when the dog dies

Himiko - ALSO cries when the dog dies

Kaede - "They were such a supportive character *sniff, sob*"

Mikan - (She cried because the opening was too loud)

Peko - She cried when the dogs were separated in the street

Sakura - "What a loyal character"

Sonia - Cries when the dog dies

Monomi/Usami - "They didn't deserve that" <- Animal and Character

Nekomaru - "They took one for the team... that's loyalty... *sniffling*"

Throws Popcorn/Food at People:

Fuyuhiko - He hits the couple infront of him while they're kissing

Hiyoko - She dumps it on the people being too loud and laughs at them

Kokichi - Throws from far away, Kaito gets blamed and escorted out

Leon - Incredible accuracy, hits the screen when the characters talk, often lands "in their mouths"

Mondo - Throwing popcorn with Leon, missing most of the time, but still having fun.

Monotaro - Dumps it all on his siblings

Gets kicked out of the cinema:

Junko - Already got a permanent ban from it, escorted out on sight.

Kazuichi - Somehow accidentally does something really bad and has to be escorted out, he leaves with Kaito.

Mukuro - Saw the prices of her favourite slushie go up by 50c and threatened the cashier with a hunting knife.

Teruteru - He was innapropriate to the female worker/s.

Monokuma - Escorted out on sight, left right after sneaking in with Junko.

Talking the Whole Time (mostly gets popcorn thrown at them):

Angie - I don't know why, but I think she would.

Ibuki - Extremely loud and constantly gets "shushed"

Hifumi - Rambles about the actors and their voice overs in different anime.

Sayaka - Accidentally unaware, always notices easter eggs

Kiyotaka - Unaware socially and doesn't realise it's wrong

Tenko - Screams at the screen whenever a male comes on, gets shushed constantly and is escorted out to the lobby to wait for the movie to finish.

Monokid - He's just really loud.

Watching the Movie in Peace:

Imposter/Twogami - He's chill about the movie, eats his food quickly and constantly gets up to get more.

Chiaki - Relaxing, fell asleep after the first song/instrumental

Kirumi - Picking up rubbish/popcorn from the floor to help the workers. Stays late to assist with cleanup.

Korekiyo - Occasionally comments, but enjoys the movie nevertheless.

Kyoko - Still and silent, making sligh "huh" "ohhh" noises when she realises plot twists are coming up.

Monodam - Tells everybody to get along, sits with Monomi/Usami and tells the people around him to shush.

Shuichi - Done with everybodies shit by the end, but tolerates it for the other viewers sakes'.

Rantaro - He got no development, I didn't know where to put him.

Ryoma - Sits at the front because he can't see over the seats, quiet and isn't bothered by the others.

Spoils it on Accident:

Keebo - "I read an online forum" and then spoils the majority of the movie.

Mahiru - Searched all the actors on IMDB, watched trailers, found many full movie essay reviews on the movie before buying tickets, went on rotten tomatos for reviews. She wanted to get her moneys worth!

Makoto - Already seen it before because it was trending a week prior, accidentally spoils it but the people next to him don't mind.

Tsumugi - Got spoilers by Mahiru, was already in the fandom, came in cosplay and spoiled a bunch of it while rambling.

Gonta - "Gonta heard (spoils entire plot, then starts talking about the bee movie)"

Monophanie - "Hm I watched a movie like this... (<- It was the movie they were watching and she spoiled it all.)

Hajime - "Oh no... I'm a failure!" "Yes Hajime, a reserve course student hanging out with the Ultimates... you should be a stepping stone!" (<- He then gets mad at Nagito and spoils it to him purposefully, others hear though.)

Spoils it on Purpose:

Byakuya - Ruins the fun for his own enjoyment

Monosuke - Just wants to be annoying

Celestia - Somebody annoyed her because they took too long to order tickets, she got mad and spoiled it for the rest of the cinema loudly when she walked out of the movie.

Miu - Does it for shits and giggles

Toko - Depending on her mood. She gets mad at somebody next to her and yells at them.

Maki - Was in a bad mood when she walked in, only spoiled it because Kaito was escorted out due to Kokichis bad behaviour.

I LOVE MAKING THESE TELL ME YOUR OPINIONS BELOW!

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ruby Myers (Typist Girl, Cinema Queen)— I just recently saw a documentary about her and thought that besides being really pretty, she had a very interesting life. She was born in the early 1900s in India to a Baghdadi Jewish family, and became the first woman to act in an Indian silent film. In the 1930s she started her own film production house, Rubi Pics, way before most female producers in Hollywood broke through. More info can be found in this Golden Globes webpage on her life [link]

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ruby Myers:

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934

God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[the-fluff-piece]

I love ace a ton and your stuff is really perfect! Anyway can you please do something on how ace would react to the modern world? Like the pirate ace finds himself in modern world. Like how would he react to phones and cars lol

I @acpola01 , thank you for your fun request! I am sorry it took so long...I hope you still like it! Of course I made it a bit x reader because that's my jam

Ace gets isekai-ed to the modern world - headcanon

Ace fought a really strange uhm...thing(?) that seemed to barf colours that shouldn't exist - until he stepped in a pool of that stuff and fell for a looooong time until he passed out

He wakes up on hard stone. He looks around. Strange. He never heard of such an island - the floor is all paved, the houses are really tall and there's a shitload of people. Since he's still groggy, he'll just follow his nose, stumbling into the small cafè where you work (it smelled too delicious)

He orders almost everything the menu has to offer - until you want to close up and realize that that guy has no money you can put in the register. After a short argument and giving him the slap of his life, he gives in and promises to work off his debt

Since he seems clueless and absolutely adorable, you take care of him. Everything is new to him, like he doesn't know modern electronics at all. You offer him a place on your couch. When you get him to your car, he is at first confused what you want with that tin box. He holds on for dear life when you leave the parking lot and drive your usual speed through the city, but he loves it as soon as you drive through the illuminated streets. Completely silent, he stares and stares, occasionally asking about thinks like traffic lights, neon signs or strange people roaming the streets.

He marvels at your phone - he loves all the things it can do! Especially playing cute animal videos, he'swatching tiktok the whole night, laughing his ass off. "OMG Y/N DID YOU SEE THAT?" he wants to show you EVERYTHING he finds. Your previously well-trained algorithm is ruined.

As soon as he finds the food videos, he drags you to every fast food and trend food restaurant he can think of.

Cinema is one of his favourite activities, he loves superhero movies and science fiction. Even though he often falls asleep, head crashing in his popcorn bucket

He doesn't get public transport though - the subway map is too much for him, he also chats up people sitting next to him, a lot. He always has change for the musicians, because he loves to dance on the poles

[natsgrave]

MIDNIGHT RAIN | elizabeth olsen

she was sunshine, i was midnight rain. she wanted a bride, i was making my own name, chasing that fame. ( another story inspired by @taylorswift song ) play the song midnight rain for better experience, ig i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime! masterlist

ELIZABETH'S POV

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the city streets. I sat on a park bench, lost in the memories of a love that had once consumed my every thought.

I still remember the day I first laid eyes on her. It was a warm summer evening as I sat sipping my coffee in a quaint little café downtown. Her radiant smile and infectious laughter caught my attention from across the room as she chatted animatedly with a group of friends. There was an undeniable aura of confidence and grace that surrounded her, making it impossible for me to look away.

Little did I know then that this chance encounter would mark the beginning of a love story unlike any other.

As fate would have it, we eventually crossed paths again at a mutual friend's housewarming party. I mustered up the courage to approach her and strike up a conversation. We spent the entire evening engrossed in passionate discussions about art, cinema, and life. From that moment, it felt as though the universe had conspired to bring us together.

Her name was Y/N, known for her kind heart and artistic talent, she worked as a freelance photographer to capture the captivating essence of the world around her.

Y/N's talent and beauty captivated me from the moment we met. As we spent more time together, our connection deepened, and I found myself falling head over heels for her. Every moment I spent with Y/N felt like a scene from a movie I never wanted to end.

This marked the beginning of our whirlwind romance, as we spent every waking moment together, exploring and nurturing our deep bond.

We were inseparable, two souls entwined in a fiery passion for life and each other, bound by shared dreams and shared laughter. We shared a deep connection that seemed unbreakable. We believed we could conquer any obstacles together. As our love blossomed, we believed that nothing could tear us apart, but little did I know that destiny had different plans for us.

I'm an aspiring and rising actress with a raw talent and dreams as vast as the night sky. Y/N quickly became enthralled by my creativity, dedication, and unwavering belief in my talent. We began our journey as a couple, sharing in both the triumphs and tribulations that came with my pursuit of stardom.

The early days were filled with excitement and promise. She watched me blossom from one auditions to the next, inhabiting different characters effortlessly, leaving audiences captivated. Seeing me gain recognition for my hard work brought immense joy to both of our hearts. However, as my career started gaining momentum, it became evident that the demands of the industry began to take its toll and would put a strain on our relationship.

Our love was exhilarating, but also fragile.

As our relationship flourished, my acting career started to skyrocket. I landed roles in films, theater productions, and even received a nomination for an esteemed acting award. Y/N admired my dedication and passion for my craft, but I know, she couldn't help but feel a pang of unease as our lives began to move in different directions.

As my star began to ascend, I found myself faced with complicated choices. My career demanded my undivided attention, leaving little room for anything else. The glitz and glamour of my newfound fame consumed me, while she silently supported me from the shadows. Y/N became my biggest fan, attending every premiere and award ceremony, proud to be by my side.

My career as an actress began to grow, landing me on several leading roles in critically acclaimed movies and earning widespread recognition. I became the talk of the town, and my journey to stardom overshadowed everything else in my life, including my relationship with Y/N.

As my dedication to my craft grew, so did the distance between us. Our once intimate moments became fleeting, replaced by late-night auditions and endless rehearsals. Our conversations became brief, filled with surface-level pleasantries. I tried desperately to hold on, but it felt like the more I held, the more she slipped away.

Like clockwork, the late-night auditions and grueling shooting schedules began to consume our time together. It was during one such pivotal moment, as I stood on the precipice of fame, that I made the heartbreaking decision to prioritize my career and put our love on hold.

One evening, while cuddled up on our favorite couch, sipping on mugs of warm tea, I turned to Y/N with a weakened smile.

"Y/N," I started, voice filled with both excitement and uncertainty, "I've been offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity, Liz?" She asked, her voice quivering with anticipation.

"I've been offered the lead role in a blockbuster film." I confessed, eyes gleaming with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

"I can't believe you got the lead role, baby! I'm so proud of you." Y/N said, my heart filled with both excitement and a hint of sadness.

I looked at her, my eyes shining with a mixture of determination and guilt. I took a deep breath before speaking, "Thank you, love. I've worked so hard for this opportunity, and I can't let it slip away. It's a chance to catapult my career to new heights, but it means committing to months of intense filming overseas. It also means I'll have to dedicate all my time to rehearsals and performances. I won't be able to give you what you deserve." I can feel the lump forming in my throat as my heart tightening.

"Are you saying… you're choosing your career over us?" Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out to hold her hand, "No, it's not that. I love you with all my heart, but this dream means everything to me. I need to take this chance, even if it means breaking both our hearts in the process."

Days turned into endless nights as she watched me passionate pursuit of fame. Y/N stood by my side, supporting my dreams while silently breaking inside. Yet, we couldn't bring ourselves to let go.

Love had a way of blinding us to harsh realities.

Months passed, and the distance between us grew. The sparkle in my eyes, once fueled by our love, dimmed with the weight of my commitment to my craft. The late-night conversations turned into quiet embraces, and the laughter that used to echo through our home became mere faint memories.

With each passing film, my commitment to my career just grew even stronger, causing me to face a difficult choice between love and ambition.

Then came the day that shattered our fragile world.

One evening, as the dusk settled over our now-empty apartment, I stood by the door, my eyes flickering with a mixture of excitement and sadness. We could see the desperate struggle within both of us, torn between my aspirations and our love.

I made a decision that shattered both our hearts into a million fragments. I stood before her, tears streaming down our face, and whispered words that still haunt me to this day, "I'm sorry, but I can't keep juggling both my career and our relationship."

I saw her face fell, her heart sinking with the weight of my words. We knew this was the moment she had been dreading. She understood that my dreams were on the line, but Y/N couldn't escape the fear of losing me. and now, it's happening.

"Lizzie, I want nothing more than to see you succeed and chase your dreams," She said softly, holding my hands tightly. "But what about us? What about our relationship?"

My eyes filled with tears as I gently squeezed her hands, "I love you, Y/N, more than words can express," I whispered. "But love alone cannot decide our futures. We both have dreams to pursue, and I hope you understand that I don't want to hold you back."

"Lizzie, please…"

"I needed to pursue my dream, even if it meant sacrificing our love. I can't ask you to wait for me, Y/N," I said softly, my voice quivering. "This journey is something I need to take alone."

She fought against the tears threatening to overflow, but understanding my dreams. Y/N nodded, struggling to find her voice, "I'll always be here for you, Lizzie. No matter what."

Both our heart broke at each others words, but we knew I was right. Love alone could not sustain our relationship if it was suffocated by unfulfilled dreams. As much as it hurt, we had to let eachother go and went to follow our own path.

As she left, I felt hollow, like a ghost existing in a world that had suddenly turned dark. I wandered through the ruins of what was once our love, searching for a purpose, for something to fill the void she left behind.

But, the bright lights of fame and fortune beckoned me, and I made the difficult choice to prioritize my career above all else.

In the aftermath of my departure, I was left in a sea of solitude. Trying to mend my broken heart, I threw myself into work and surrounded myself with friends who could offer solace. It wasn't easy, but life moved on, and I learned to cope with the dull ache that haunted me. The pain of our separation was raw and merciless, leaving me to question if I had made the right choice.

Years went by, and life slowly stitched my broken heart back together. I learned to live without Y/N, but the memories remained etched in my mind like faded photographs.

I heard that Y/N's passion for photography took her to new heights, showcasing her talent on richly colored canvases. Meanwhile, I had become one of Hollywood's most sought-after actresses, reaping the awards for my hard work along with my dedication and acclaim to my name.

But amidst my successes, I had never forgot about her. Our love, though altered, remained forever etched in my heart.

One fateful day, I received an invitation to an interview segment where I would talk about myself. My past love. As nervous as I was, I couldn't resist the opportunity to let go what I was really feeling, even if it stirred up old emotions. The interview took place in a luxurious Hollywood hotel suite, adorned with floral arrangements and twinkling lights, setting the stage for an unforgettable encounter.

As I walked into the hotel suite where the interview was scheduled, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling within me.

I entered the room, clad in a stunning red suit that accentuated my beauty. I exchanged pleasantries with the woman who assigned to interview me.

As the interview progressed, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, alternating between reclaiming the familiarity we once shared and maintaining professionalism.

"So, Miss Lizzie…" The woman trailed, "Why are you still single?"

"I choose to pursue my dreams." I said with a smile, "I wanted to become popular. Make my own name." I added.

"What happened to you and your past lover?" She asked.

"Everything went downhill the moment I start gaining the spotlight. Time was our number one enemy." I answered honestly, "She was so proud, we were both happy but ofcourse, along all of that is the sacrifices."

"That's where the conflict started?"

I nod simply, "I got so busy. We barely see eachother since I'm always tired and sometimes, staying on the set. We almost broke up the first time but choose to fix things."

"That's good." She happily replied.

"Honestly, I don't think so…" I start to play with the rings on my hand, "As a rising actress, my job demands a lot. I can't focus on two things that time. I was never good at handling things in general."

"When was the time that you realized you need to let it go?"

"Before, we can't last a minute without talking to eachother then that changed. We barely talk as we were both become busy pursuing our dreams." I smiled a little, "That's when I knew… it's over."

"Was it a proper break up?"

"Yes, it was. At first, she said no but I explained it to her. We both have a dream. I don't want to hold her back and same goes to me."

She looked at the paper she's holding before asking, "Any regrets?"

I coyly looked into her eyes and said, "The one thing I regret most in my journey to success is not having her by my side. We had something truly special, and I've often wondered what might have been." My eyes glistened with tears as I added with a heavy heart, "It's been so hard without her. But I needed to follow my dreams, even if it meant losing the love of my life."

The woman reached out and gently held my hand, "I'm sure, it was a difficult decision for both of you. Life took you both down different paths, but it doesn't mean your love wasn't real."

I let out a sigh tinged with sadness, "She were always my biggest supporter. But I couldn't let go of this opportunity, even if it broke my heart."

"What was the last thing you heard about her?"

"She's a successful photographer now and a very famous host in a lot of TV shows."

As the interview concluded, she asked, "One last question, do you still love her?"

I smiled and wiped my tears, "When I left all those years ago, I never stopped loving her. It's gonna be her, always."

"Do you have anything to say for her before we end this?"

I nodded, "Sometimes, we need to make tough choices that shape our destiny. I'm glad you found success, and I hope it brings you all the joy you deserve." I took a deep breath, my eyes filled with the bittersweet realization,"We can't change the past, but we can choose how our story unfolds from here. Maybe it is really time for us to rewrite our narrative. For the last time, I love you."

"Thank you so much for granting our invitation and answering the questions, Miss Lizzie."

"Thank you so much and you're welcome, Y/N."

And in that definitive moment, the world outside the hotel suite faded away, leaving only our souls who had found their way back to each other. As the door closed behind us, our past became but a memory, and the unwritten chapters of our future began to unfold.

The past, the heartbreaks, the missed chances—it all seemed to evaporate into thin air.

Sometimes, the choices we make lead us down paths we never planned, but in the end, it's the love we choose to hold onto that truly defines our lives. And in the depths of our hearts, the memories of shattered spotlights can find solace, reminding us of the beauty and resilience of the human spirit.

Sometimes, the journey of love leads us through unforeseen detours. It teaches us the power of sacrifice, the pain of letting go, and the resilience of the human heart. And in the end, we find solace knowing that even after traversing treacherous paths, we can still stumble upon our own happily ever after.

After all this time, I knew that sometimes, the most painful goodbyes could lead us to the greatest love stories of all.

[justbusterkeaton]

The Saphead 1920

“I’ve been on the floor of the stock exchange”

[architectuul]

The Future Is Noir

Scenography for the darkness with the uncertain future. Architecture of fear in the cinema of 1920s.

Considered the quintessential work of German expressionist cinema, the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) by Robert Wiene tells the story of an insane hypnotist who uses a brainwashed somnambulist to commit murders.

The film thematizes brutal and irrational authority. Caligari can be representing the German war government, with the symbolic of the common man conditioned to kill. The film include the destabilized contrast between the subjective perception of reality, and the duality of human nature.

An unofficial adaptation of Bram Stoker's 1897 novel Dracula in film is the German version of Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922) by F. W. Murnau. Nosferatu is an archaic Romanian word Nesuferitu` meaning the offensive or the insufferable one. The movie is actually about the First World War and the plague is a metaphor for the mass death and destruction of the war.

Nosferatu was banned in Sweden due to excessive horror until 1972. All known prints and negatives were destroyed under the terms of settlement of a lawsuit by Bram Stoker's widow.

Berlin – Die Sinfonie der Großstadt (1927) is an experimental documentary by Walther Ruttmann. It begins with a drive of a high-speed train pulled by a steam locomotive through meadows, arbor and residential areas into the city and thus delimits the surrounding area from the big city.

The train arrives at Anhalter Bahnhof near the city center, where streets empty in the morning are filling up with people on their way to work. The rhythm of the city is getting faster and faster. With the 12 o'clock bell strike, the speed collapses. After lunch break and food intake, however, it begins to accelerate again in the afternoon.

Cabiria (1914), an Italian epic silent film by Giovanni Pastrone, was shot in Turin. The film is set in ancient Sicily, Carthage, and Cirta during the period of the Second Punic War (218–202 BC).

It follows a melodramatic main plot about an abducted little girl, Cabiria, and features an eruption of Mount Etna, heinous religious rituals in Carthage, the alpine trek of Hannibal, Archimedes' defeat of the Roman fleet at the Siege of Syracuse and Scipio maneuvering in North Africa.

One the most influential films in cinema history, Dziga Vertov's exhilarating ode to Bolshevik Russia the Man with a Movie Camera (1929). It is a visual argument for the place of the documentary filmmaker as a worker, educator, and eyewitness in a proletariat society. The film is an impressionistic view of urban daily life, seen from a purely cinematic perspective.

[joeyclaire]

fall out boy lyrics that make me stare at the wall: an ongoing list

i wonder if your therapist knows everything about me

anything you say can and will be held against you so only say my name

and you can get what you want but it’s never enough

i’ll be the watcher of the eternal flame, i’ll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams / i am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, i try to picture me without you but i can’t

my nine to five is cutting open old scars

free love on the streets but in the alley it ain’t that cheap

singing vows before we exchange smoke rings

i got a feeling inside that i can’t domesticate, it doesn’t wanna live in a cage, a feeling that i can’t housebreak

how the mighty fall in love

i only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me

i’m half-doomed and you’re semi-sweet

i’ll be as honest as you’ll let me

all those people in those old photographs i’ve seen are dead

when rome’s in ruins we are the lions free of the colosseums

in between being young and being right you were my versailles at night

i am the opposite of amnesia

i wish i’d known how much you loved me, i wish i cared enough to know / i’m sorry every song’s about you, the torture of small talk with someone you used to love

you are what you love not who loves you

you said “please don’t ever change” but you don’t like me the way i am

they say the captain goes down with the ship, so when the world ends, will god go down with it?

silent film stars stuck in talking cinema

i don’t just want to be a footnote in someone else’s happiness

the truth hurts worse than anything i could bring myself to do to you

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

Some Tim Drake headcanon

I did some headcanon based in canon stuff and also random things, this is more around the batkids and Tim. Please respect

Tim likes to think of himself as a street smarth, but he's not. He is academically smarth, but not a street smart kid (he grew up in a mansion with several servants, even though he is hella neglected, he wouldn't know how to survive on the streets of Gotham in the same way that Jason, Duke, Dick)

(ok I noticed some confusion with my worlds here, then Tim Drake is a child from Gotham, his way of surviving there is a little different from his brother but he still would figure it out. That's what I was saying, thanks for the comprehension)

whenever Tim needs someone to talk to he looks for Dick, he knows that Dick will listening to him and his older brother will also give him useful advice/ help him solve the problem

He's afraid of having redhead fever from his older brothers (Dick being friend with Babs, Wally, Kor'i and Roy and Jason being friend with Artemis, Roy and Kor'i), not in a romantic way or anything, he just doesn't know how to explain how Dick and Jason attract so many redheaded friends

He fears info dumping someone when he talks; Duke once commented that he liked the smell of rain when it rained on very hot days, and Tim began to explain that this was due to a fungus. Duke just listened silently and then shy smiled. And only later did Tim think he had ruined the peaceful moment, as he noticed how Duke and Cass lay quietly enjoying the rain...

His relationship with Steph isn't that complicated, they dated in the past, but nowadays they both try their best to remain good friends

He tries to plan several cute dates with Bernard, but he always ends up overthinking so he chooses the simplest route, cinema and burgers (Kon and Bart helped him choose this as perfect date)

When Tim is having problems with Bruce, he always turns to Dick, knowing that his older brother will help him with whatever he needs

Tim regrets the beginning between him and Damian, not just the assassination attempts, but Tim didn't try to trust Damian and always accused Damian's people of being bad and had an offense towards Damian's origins (both were wrong, Damian in his trauma stuff and I dislike how "his people are evil" that DC wrote at that time)

He is secretly afraid of someone discovering the bomb in Nanda Parbat, yes there were murderers there, but it was a city that also had civilians there and as a hero he shouldn't put the lives of innocent people at risk (why does DC keep writing him like that???)

There are actually several theories in Gotham about why he doesn't age, some say he's a vampire and others say he bathes in the blood of innocents, no one knows who start these theories (Dick blames Jason, Jason blames Damian, Damian blames Steph, Steph blames Bernard and Kon and Bart blames each others)

his worst nightmare is being the only survivor of his entire family (again)

Loneliness can hurt him in ways no villain could, being alone can drive him crazy. Therefore, unlike his brothers (who can work alone), Tim tries his best to work in teams

Because Bruce and Tim were born into a rich house, they are out of touch with normal stuff sometimes

he really enjoys listening to Bernard's theories and sometimes encourages him with something stupid

Tim likes to think that If his mother were alive she would like Bernard

Tim is the only one in the family who shows concern about Damian's addiction to adopting animals, afraid that it will turn into something similar to Bruce

Tim learned a lot about motorcycles because he thought it would be a good topic to talk about with Jason

Tim has and listens to his emo playlist

Even when he hates loneliness, he can disappear for a while, either because he wants someone to look for him or because of something Bruce said. When this happend, he usually comes back when he is tired of being alone or someone go look for him (man this is pretty sad...let me write something...)

There was a time when he disappeared for a while, he hid in a safehouse outside the country and when he started to wonder if anyone would miss him the door was shut down, Damian, Jon and a girl in a white mask that he didn't recognize entered

"tt if I knew you weren't in danger I would have feared more" "what?" "come on, get on the Goliath, we have to go home" "did something happen?" "Batcow. Cows have a circle of friends and they can get depressed if a friend disappears

Ok Tim knew about cows due to Kon living on a farm, but he was extremely confused about being kidnapped rescued by Damian, Jon and Nobody just because the kids were worried about the Batcow mental health

Coming back was strange, since Bruce didn't even notice he was gone, but soon he felt Alfred the cat rubbing against him, Titus licking his hand and the cow mooing at him, Tim was a little happier to come back (I'm not good to write fluffly you guys are struck with this)

Nowadays Tim is very smug because he was the first of the brothers to fly in Goliath

Some batkid headcanon: Damian || Duke || Cassandra || Stephanie || Tim || Jason || Dick

[scarlettjohanssons-mistress]

Spring painting

Warnings: Implied/referenced self-harm, references to depression only for those over 14 years of age, alternate universe - canon divergence, established relationship,

Word count: 1.7 K

Pairing: Carol Aird x Fem!Reader

Prompt: The blossoming of something real

Part two of winter painting

Requests: OPEN

[Main masterlist] [Carol masterlist]

I had heard that it was liberating.

Y/N had overheard a small conversation in the university toilets. One of her classmates told another that she felt lonely, sad and desolate, and that running a razor across her thighs and seeing the blood, along with the burning, made her feel a little better.

When Y/N returned to her classroom, she couldn't get the comment out of her head.

So much so that she didn't even pay attention to her colourimetry analysis class.

She was missing a great analysis of Monet.

When class ended, Y/N quickly hurried out of the building, only to find Carol's car parked at the curb across the street. With the windows down, Y/N could clearly see her freckle-covered arms (thanks to her short sleeves) resting on the window. Her hand, finally free of those leather gloves, exposed her red fingernails holding a cigarette that she occasionally brought to her red lips, those crimson lips, those lips that held so many secrets shared, so many smiles reciprocated, and a few lingering brushes on her cheeks. Red lips. Lips complemented by those new red horn-rimmed glasses. Y/N had given them to her for her birthday.

When Carol's gaze met Y/N's figure, she quickly flicked the butt of her cigarette and raised her glasses. She gave her a beautiful smile, forcing Y/N to reciprocate. Her deep blue gaze swept over Y/N's figure, noting her paint-stained clothes.

The younger woman greeted the blonde discreetly, and before the blonde could reply, other words came out of her mouth.

"Is it fresh paint, because if it is, you'll have to walk away, my dear."

Y/N was silent. Frozen. But before her heart could begin to break, the blonde let out a laugh, opening the passenger door and patting the seat.

"I'm just kidding, honey. Come on up, I've got a surprise for you."

Y/N climbed in being careful not to stain the leather seats of the car. Because, even if Carol was playing, Y/N didn't want to upset her. She left her backpack on the back seats and settled into the seat.

The conversation flowed well, as usual. Carol asked about Y/N's classes and about her friend Fred, Y/N replied that she was fed up with Fred and her constant requests to psychoanalyse her paintings. Y/N swore that if Fred asked again, she would kick him. Carol just laughed. But when Y/N asked about Rindy, things changed drastically.

Y/N knew that Carol loved to talk about Rindy, and to a certain extent, she could tell that the blonde loved to be asked about her little girl, but she also knew that talking about Rindy was complicated for Carol.

Carol wanted more time with Rindy.

Rindy wanted more time with Carol.

But Harge was selfish enough to hurt his daughter, and the woman he once swore to love.

Carol mentioned that Rindy had gone to the cinema with her father, and was now obsessed with the new Disney film.

Y/N knew that Carol had wanted to take Rindy to see that film. She had told Y/N while the latter was drawing the blonde's hands. Y/N only managed to momentarily take Carol's hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

Carol took her eyes off the road for just a few seconds to give her a smile and ask her to make herself comfortable. The surprise was still several kilometres down the road.

————————————————————————

Carol's hand had to move it a little in order to wake her up.

Y/N did not want to go to sleep but, the night before, she slept late in order to finish a homework.

They both got out of the car, and that's when Y/N realised where she was.

A meadow, in the middle of nowhere

"Where are we?"

"In a quiet place, where we can eat and paint".

Carol pulled out of the boot a small picnic basket and a canvas. Carol had bought some for Y/N that they kept in their flat.

"Do you know that my flat is near a desolate park, not to mention that your flat faces the non-tourist area of Central Park?"

"Yes, but I want to be completely alone with you."

Y/N helped Carol set up the blanket and the small easel that Y/N carried from her university.

"Are you going to steal from me?" asked Y/N jokingly.

"Even better"

Carelessly, Carol took Y/N's face in her hands and kissed her on the lips.

It was not the first time.

They had already kissed in the confines of Carol's flat, or on the floor of Y/N's room, but this was different.

To be kissed by Carol's lips and the rays of sunlight was something totally new and different for Y/N.

It was refreshing.

It was intoxicating.

It was… spring.

Both separated and enjoyed a few seconds of each other's closeness, each other's breath on their lips wet with the other's saliva, Carol's perfume.

"Could you paint for me?" Carol asked, just before leaving a small kiss on Y/N's nose.

"Of course"

Y/N took her materials and prepared them. As she did so, Carol took small pieces of strawberry from the basket.

"What do you want me to paint?"

"I want you to paint…" Carol moved to Y/N's side to kiss her lobe and give her a little nibble. "What beauty means to you."

And that afternoon, Y/N painted Carol again.

————————————————————————

Y/N's feet shifted nervously on the carpet.

She looked up to see her last painting perfectly framed on the wall.

Carol had said it was her best work.

The laughter startled her and forced her to stop her ramblings.

She pay full attention to Carol and Abby who come with trays full of liquor glasses and snacks so eccentric that Y/N had already forgotten the names.

"Isn't it beautiful?" asked Carol

"The painting?" asked Abby.

"Yes. Y/N made it.

"Who is he supposed to be?"

"Me, silly" Carol laughed as she smacked the brunette's arm.

"You don't look alike"

"It's an interpretation" interrupted Y/N. "I gave up trying to replicate the beauty of the world, so I decided to release my own interpretation."

"You've got a bit of a… sappy interpretation of Carol."

"Abigail!"

The conversation continued, Carol and Abby talking about work, but Y/N remained completely silent.

I knew that interpretations were subjective.

No one would ever see exactly what she saw.

But…

She had kissed Carol.

She had touched Carol

She was something of Carol's.

No one could know her better than she did.

Right?

Was this what Fred was talking about?

And/N did she put her own expectations before Carol's true self?

Was Y/N selfish?

Did she really know Carol?

Carol was about to offer a full glass of white wine, before Y/N abruptly stood up. She apologised quietly and went into the bathroom.

————————————————————————

One.

Y/N closed her eyes tightly.

Two.

she hug her knees tightly.

Three.

She threw herself to the ground.

Four.

She hid under the bed.

Five.

In the foetal position, I cover her ears.

Six.

She waited.

Seven.

She waited.

Eight.

She waited.

Nine.

She waited.

Ten…

She opened her eyes.

She couldn't see the shoes.

It had happened again.

The screaming had stopped.

The banging could not be heard.

Her father had beaten her mother unconscious.

As Margaret had instructed, after ten seconds, she locked herself in her room. Waiting for her older sister to arrive.

Fiona, her friend, told her that she once read in a magazine that when you feel a sense of panic run down your back, bury your fingernails in your palm.

Physical pain takes you away from emotional pain.

But when Y/N did, locked in the room. It had already lost its effect.

She could no longer get her head out of her chest pain.

Trying to calm herself, she began to walk in circles around the room, until her little toe stubbed her bed.

The intense pain and trying to keep quiet brought her out of her breathlessness.

She knew that physical pain drove away her emotions.

She learnt it at the age of seven.

————————————————————————

Y/N locked herself in the bathroom in Carol's room.

Near the hall.

And too quiet.

As best she could and trying to be as quiet as possible, Y/N began to slap her thighs.

With her fists and all the strength she could muster in her arms, she began to paint her white skin with purple spots.

Until a blow to her knee encapsulated her doubts about Carol, to concentrate on the throbbing pain in her leg.

Carefully, she sat down on the toilet seat as she felt her eyes begin to fill with tears from the pain.

"Honey, are you okay?"

Carol's voice pulled her away from her pain.

"Yes, I'll be right out"

Y/N massaged the area, flushed the toilet and turned on the tap, washing her hands and refreshing her face.

Carefully, she dried her face and her hands, wiping away the tears.

Carefully, she opened the door and as she was about to close it, her back collided with the blonde's chest.

"Hey, are you all right, darling?"

Carol's voice was soft, velvety, as was her hand caressing Y/N's cheek.

"Yes"

"Are you sure?, I know Abby can be a bit… infuriating, but she's a great friend."

"Don't worry"

With all her remaining strength Y/N gave her a smile.

Carol smiled back and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

————————————————————————

At times, Y/N believed that her life was an illusion.

Illusions are representations caused by the imagination and/or by the deception of the senses.

Being there. Lying next to Carol seemed like a trick of her brain.

It didn't seem real.

It did not feel palpable.

I didn't feel I deserved it.

What did Carol see in her?

What made her special?

Y/N I hear Carol talking about other women.

Her first love. Her classmate from elementary school.

A girl he met in France.

Abby.

Therese.

What was so special about Y/N?

She was not pretty.

She was not intelligent.

She was not funny.

She was… Nothing.

"I like your drawings."

"What do you like to draw?

"I like to watch you draw..." 

"Could you draw something for me?" 

"Do you think I'm too pretty to be painted?" 

"Could you draw me?"

Was Carol the one who put her Y/N expectations before the real woman?

Note:

This came out a little darker than I originally imagined.

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts // @xxsekhmet

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