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theawkwardanglophile · 2 years ago

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TheAwkwardAnglophile's Year in TV shows: 2022

It seems I've started a tradition, and even though I know only very few people will actually see or read this, it's still fun to put together. This is my third time doing this. Feel free to check out my lists for 2021 and 2020 as well.

My criteria for shows making the list is the show either aired new content in 2022, or I'd never watched it before. So, while I did several rewatches, those didn't count. Also, beware: SPOILERS ABOUND! Here's the list in alphabetical order:

Abbott Elementary: What a perfect little sitcom that just stormed onto the scene after so many beloved sitcoms had gone off the air the last few years. They deserve all the accolades! It is genuinely hilarious. Ava probably makes me laugh harder than any of them, and of course I'm here for Janine and Gregory.

Andor: Holy crap, I was not expecting to be drawn into this show as much as I was. What a brilliant deep dive into the Star Wars universe. So many layers and subtleties to it. Luthen's monologue BLEW ME AWAY, and I looooved the prison escape. You get such a better understanding of how terrifyingly far the Empire's reach went.

Baymax: I was expecting a full-blown series, so I was very disappointed to find only 6 short episodes that were only a few minutes long. However, it was more Baymax, which is always a good thing. I think my favorite was the episode Kiko, which had Mrs. Kim from Gilmore Girls (Emily Kuroda)!

Blockbuster: I know it got cancelled, but I actually kind of enjoyed it. It wasn't the best, but it had potential. There were a few genuinely funny moments for me, and I think the episode where they do inventory was my favorite.

The Book of Boba Fett: Ok, so I know there are a lot of Fett fans out there from the past 40 years, but I'm indifferent to Boba. But I found a lot to enjoy in this show. I liked watching Boba connect with the Tusken Raiders. However, the pacing and structure were terrible, Fennec was underutilized, and the Mos Espa "power rangers" left me scratching my head. The BEST PART of it all was the Mandalorian season 2.5 they snuck in there! Watching Grogu with Luke, seeing what Mando had been up to, and the most beautiful father/son reunion!! MY HEART. Sorry you got sidelined in your own show, Boba, but the Mando eps were WIZARD.

Call Me Kat: I'm still watching, still enjoying, but this show is kind of a mixed bag sometimes. I was not happy with how everything went down with Oscar. He was such a sweetheart! Am I happy Kat and Max have become a couple? Yeah, I guess, but I think it could've been done differently. Also, it won't be the same now without the lovely Leslie Jordan, RIP.

Derry Girls: Loved the final season. It's so quirky and fascinating and hilarious. The parents' high school reunion was absolute GOLD.

Dream Home Makeover: It's definitely one of those shows that you question why you're watching, yet you can't turn away. I don't want to like it. The couple is just odd together sometimes, and everything was shown out of order! One minute she was pregnant and then she wasn't, but then they'd go back to her being pregnant!

Emily in Paris: Season 3 was pretty good, although I found Emily a bit grating. I was worried they were going to make the whole season about her shenanigans working for both companies, but thankfully that got resolved quickly. Luc is still such a delight, and Sylvie has even grown on me. Gabriel and Alfie are still 🔥🔥.

Hawkeye: I watched this at the beginning of '22, so it's a bit fuzzy now, but it was enjoyable. Not quite at the level of some of the other Marvel shows (like Loki or Wandavision) but still pretty fun.

History 101: A fascinating little documentary series! I was hooked. Each episode was about a very specific topic and was brilliantly done.

Home Economics: This sitcom is pretty fun. I've always loved Topher Grace (although oddly enough I never watched That 70's Show 🙈), and he still nails awkward comedy. All the family dynamics are fun to watch, the kids are cute. And the Spiderman joke when they were at Disneyland had me ROLLING.

The Home Edit: I devour these episodes whenever they drop, and then I want to revamp my entire house, and life. I love organization, plus Joanna and Clea make everything fun to watch.

How I Met Your Father: I was SUPER skeptical about this one, and maybe still am a bit (HIMYM fans, you understand). But I ended up enjoying it more than I thought. I need to watch the last ep again to prep for the upcoming season 2, because I've forgotten a lot. I'm curious to see where it goes.

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous: The last season was wild, and I COULD NOT STAND Kenji's dad. The woooooorst. Shipped Brooklynn and Kenji, and happy Yaz and Sammy found happiness together. The ending was very satisfying for everyone!

Moon Knight: Oh DANG, what a ride. So many moments I'm like, "WHAAAAAAT am I even watching?!" But it was a fun, trippy adventure, and Oscar Isaac deserves all the awards.

Name That Tune: Always fun. I slay at this game.

Never Have I Ever: I just LOVE this show. Season 3 was another stellar season, and I am still definitely Team Ben! That ending! And the show still makes me cry, especially the scene with Devi and her mom in the finale. 😭

Obi-Wan: I know this wasn't as well received as was hoped, but I enjoyed it. Young Leia was fantastic! Lola, too (I have adopted her in my club of beloved droids). The story worked, and the Vader/Obi-Wan showdown was pretty amazing. The last 20 minutes of the finale was just a giant checklist of fan service, but honestly, I'm not complaining.

Only Murders in the Building: LOVE LOVE LOVE. This show is so incredible, and season 2 didn't disappoint! It's smart, hilarious, and I love the intro music so much. The intros were actually made even better by each one being slightly different with something related to that particular episode.

The Orville: If this journey for The Orville is truly at an end, then they sent it off well. A satisfying ending. I think the supersized episodes didn't work as well as their punchier 40-minute eps, but man, when they go big they go BIG. Incredibly well done topics, and the effects! INSANE. I swear Hulu must have kept just dumping money on them, like "Go ahead and make whatever effects you want!"

Paper Girls: This was...weird. I went through most of this going, "WHAT AM I EVEN WATCHING?" Obviously I loved all the retro vibes, and I was curious enough in the story to stick it out, but that was about it. It got pretty dark at times, and I thought the language, while warranted, got excessive enough at times to detract from the story. Anyway, if they were trying to capture the magic of Stranger Things, it didn't work, and it got cancelled anyway.

The Rookie: MY HEART! MY OTP. MY BEST SHIP AND SHIPPING EXPERIENCE EVER. My obsession with Chenford has exploded even more, as any of my followers can clearly tell. I love Tim and Lucy SO MUCH, and watching them become canon has been INCREDIBLE. But also, the show itself has stepped up its game in S5. The plots are better, more balanced, and I love all the different relationships shown. Making Thorsen a regular was a fantastic decision. The social media team has been killing it. And the show has gained tons of viewers and fans. We are truly in the golden age of The Rookie.

The Rookie: Feds: I like the show, but don't love it...yet. Maybe I will? It is done well, but it's just there. I watch it when I get around to it. Garza and Laura are probably my fave characters. I do like Simone, but she's also a lot. And I say this only because it's the FBI and there must be some kind of dress code, she should probably cover up the girls more. I swear she's going to end up having a wardrobe malfunction.

School of Chocolate: Pretty fascinating little chocolate-making competition.

Star Trek: Discovery: S4 was kind of a mixed bag. I'm not sure it was as memorable as previous seasons. I hate Tilly left. I did like that there was a running thread throughout of identity and belonging, and mental health. My FAVORITE part was how they found a way to communicate with Species Ten-C. Some brilliant television.

Star Trek: Lower Decks: S3 was ok, not my favorite, but it's still funny. My fave moment actually came in the DS9 ep. The background swing music at Quark's is actually from a band that my mom does booking for, Denver & the Mile High Orchestra, and for other personal reasons I won't go into here, that moment meant a lot to me.

Star Trek: Picard: Insert Picard facepalm here. I wanted S2 to work so badly, and be amazing, and it just wasn't. I mean it had Q and time travel and all the ingredients for something incredible, and it still didn't work. It would take too long to hash it all out here, but if anyone wants to vent with me, I'm around. I am excited (and nervous) for S3, however! I hope they don't let me down.

Star Trek: Prodigy: I still love the animation, and the kids are fun. I'm gonna be real honest, though. I'm mainly here for Janeway and Chakotay, because no, I'm still not over how Voyager ended, and if an animated kids show will let me see more of these two, I will take whatever I can get.

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds: Before I go any further, may I just point out the amazing WONDER that FIVE different Star Trek series aired new content in 2022?! A new record! The Trekaissance is real. This show exceeded my expectations. It's so different, yet still so classic Star Trek style. The characters are great, and the intro is incredible! I cry at that intro. It's sweeping and gorgeous and ahhhhh.

Stranger Things: I've loved Stranger Things from the beginning, was excited for S4, but when I watched 4x01 I almost gave it up. It felt so dark and depressing, and the scene at the end was horrifying. I put it off for a couple weeks before deciding to try again, and I slowly worked my way through the rest of the season. There were still parts I couldn't watch (I really don't do horror, Stranger Things was always about as far as I would go, but then they really upped the horror in S4, much to my dismay), but ultimately I'm glad I did watch, although unlike the rewatchability of S1-S3, I'm not sure I can go through S4 in its entirety again. But there were some BEAUTIFUL moments we got, lots of laughs, lots of emotions. All the reunions in Vol. 2! El seeing Hopper again 😭. And my absolute favorite part...JOPPER IS CANON!!

Supermarket Sweep: Always a lot of fun. Sad that it won't be back.

Young Sheldon: It's losing steam, but I'm still watching. The whole storyline with Georgie has been interesting.

And there you have it! 33 shows in all, which is probably a record for me. Feel free to message me or send an ask if you want to further chat about any of these. If you read this far, YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR AND I APPRECIATE YOU.

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gmanwhore · 1 year ago

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OKAY SO I JUST HAD A VERY VIVID DOEM DREAM AND I GOTTA SHARE THIS WITH YOU-

So, the first thing I remember was traveling through some harsh snowy mountains with some other people but getting separated from them because I was very determined to get somewhere (I don’t remember where) and I refused to turn back until I passed out in the snow. I then woke up floating in warm, shallow water with colourful bubbles all around me, and soon after a tall-ish man in his 30s with blonde hair and glasses (who I could somehow tell was actually a Space Worm but I didn’t bring it up) walked in, helped me out of the water and explained that we were in ‘a secret place’. He showed me around this ‘secret place’, which consisted of corridors and rooms with very pretty navy blue wallpaper and all windows opened out to the stars. He told me that while I work on awakening my powers, I can go anywhere in this structure except for the top floor, which he pointed out as a seemingly ordinary door at the top of a very steep slope instead of a flight of steps. Next there was a few days of intermission that I only remember flashes of: I remember the Worm man and a mysterious woman who I cannot remember the appearance of for the life of me but had an even more powerful presence than he did observing me as I did things with my powers (I think I might have been a shapeshifter of some kind, as I remember taking different forms, and those colourful bubbles sometimes appeared around me at random). There were other ‘students’ in there with me, but they all avoided me and seemed oddly scared of me. The Worm man seemed nervous around me too, but the woman confidently reassured him that it’d be fine as they sent me back to the water room to rest. Then I got curious. I escaped the water room using my powers, walked through the corridors and somehow smoothly walked up the slope to the forbidden top floor door, which opened in front of me. I stepped in. It looked like every other corridor in the structure, but it had no windows and was considerably darker. Then the Worm man appeared behind me and yelled at me for disobeying him, dragging me down a set of stairs that didn’t exist before into a room where I was suddenly alone with a group of young beings that looked very humanoid but probably weren’t human who were all doing random things but also singing a little song about how the Worm man always knew their people and helped their world until it ended which was when he brought them here. They also occasionally told me that they weren’t afraid of me and neither was he. I saw the Worm man sitting in the distance, staring into the void with a scared look, and I went over to him to try and apologize and reassure him but then my mom woke me up and I couldn’t see the rest of the dream and aaaaa-

THAT IS COMPLETELY EPIC WOAGH

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gggoldfinch · 1 year ago

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for the fanfic writing ask, 1-4 and/or 11 & 12, I'm so curious about other people's processes

1. Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

oh 100%. Most of my fic ideas come from lengthy scenarios I have to make up to go to sleep at night LMAOOO. Some ideas come to me over the course of the time I'm consuming the media (watching a TV show for example) but I usually never end up writing those ideas down because they're too long and involved (I'm not gonna write a fic that takes place during every season of a multi-season show. it'll just live in my head). Generally I write the smaller daydreams and ideas down as they come if it's for a fic I'm genuinely interested in pursuing.

2. Where do you get your fic ideas?

Generally I get my fic inspiration from music or the media itself or even other fics; this inspo usually grows into an actual seedling idea. I try my hardest to make my fic plots unique, which is where reading a lot of fic comes in handy lol. If I see a plot arc being reused frequently (no offense to people who reuse specific fandom tropes obv), I try to come up with something different that readers (and myself) might enjoy. I tend to do this a lot in my longer works.

3. Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

It's about 50/50 honestly. I have 5 published fics as of right now, and ideas for others that I could potentially share (if I ever get around to writing them), but some are private. Not because I don't think people would like them, but because they're either deeply personal (in a different way to my little self-indulgent fics), or are old enough that the writing sucks. Oddly enough, I have an easier time sharing my xReader works than xOFC ones.

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

I'm not sure... I usually only write fics for universes and characters I have a deep emotional connection with, so... I guess they kinda just choose themselves 🤷🏻‍♀️

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

I try my hardest to write scenes in order, especially for longer works, but sometimes I'll come up with good dialogue or a scene that I need to write out before I forget. I tend to write certain scenes that I struggle with on their own tho, then come back to them to add them in later... namely smut lol

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

I do outline— very thoroughly in fact. I outline pretty much all of my written work because it helps me to picture where the piece is going, fic or not. Generally my outlines consist of bare-bones bullet points, describing interactions and broad scenes, but sometimes in sub-bullet points I'll go into more detail (if inspiration strikes particularly hard). Since my outlines are usually pretty basic in plot structure, I tend to add more scenes and dialogue as I write— things that weren't in the original outline. I even outline pics that don't have a lot of overarching plot, like oneshots and vague-plot fics

#goldfinch writes #ask #thank you so much!!! this was fun to answer

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reillyissof · 2 years ago

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I just got finished with episode 5 and volume 9 is bad (IN MY OPINION)

I have some other problems with rwby that I’ll probally make a separate post but focusing soley on volume 9 it’s not that good.

Everyone found each other way to quickly, lottery in world under an hour from when they’ve fallen Everton has reunited again and theirs litteraly no stakes or drama just a whoop where here now.

Rubys depression kind of feels on and off, ruby is already upset with everything that’s happend and when she finds out about pennys death she just kind of… falls over? (And the animations could have litteraly moved Weiss like 2 inches for a moment but what do I know 👀) and for the rest it’s on and off, she kinda just goes from mopey to meh and the scene with the red king she seemed oddly happy during the fight thing which kinda threw things off for me, especially for the rest where she’s just kinda sad

Wby seems way to chipper and chill about everything Weiss seems kind of shocked but it’s more annoyance rather than caring that you fell out of an endless void made by a magic genie everyone seems pretty content with how things are and when it comes to ruby being depressed they kind of just have a non verbal “oh I’m sorry” reaction and then move on. Sometimes they seem upset like Weiss being upset they had to run away from the jabber walker and people got hurt. Also their speeches for one of my favorite rwby scenes ever when weed ruby shows up was kind of cringey, the lines they had were great but the way the structured their speeches for them to have true meaning I feel like there’s a level on seriousness and love a lot of people or atleast myself don’t really have right now for the show due to a bunch of previous problems and rooster teeth drama

LITTLE AND THE CAT ARE THE BEST

I don’t really know how to feel about juane right now, just met him again but I feel like his reintroduction won’t be that good, aren’t you supposed to forget everything when you get a pourpose a get the heart doesn’t but I’m pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to remeber rwby like that I could be wrong due to his introduction being so short so I may be proven wrong later

THEY ARE UNDERUTELIZINH NEO SO MUCH SHOW HER MORE, THERES ONLY 5 EPISODES LEFT AND WEVE INLY SEEN HER TWICE

Also ruby kind just going “it signifies a mothers promise” out of no where was kinda eh it was a cool reveal that ruby’s insignia was actually her mothers passed down to her but that was so out of pocket especially due to them only doing a trade like that once

That’s all for now. Sorry everything’s kinda disconnected I don’t know how to write

I want weed ruby to come back and mentally abuse ruby again that was actually awsome 10/10 would recommend

Please don’t kill me for my slanderous opinions

#sofreli #rwby vol9 #rwby spoilers

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yourpagesrnumbered · 2 years ago

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Wide Sargasso Sea

Reading this book felt like an out of body experience. Pretty sure I experienced an existential crisis while reading.

I read this for my advanced higher english course and my teacher described it as a book that tackled racism. I interpreted as tackling racism against black people but it mostly focused on the prejudice the Cosway-Mason family faced due to their ties with slavery. I know that this book was written in the early 60s but sometimes when I was reading, it felt like she added in the n-word just for the sake of adding it. I think that soured by feelings towards my book because I went in with different expectations and perceptions of the content of this novella. I genuinely can't tell if Rhys was racist or against racism.

The novella in part 2 was structured oddly. If it wasn't for the audiobook, I wouldn't have immediately realised that it switched to Antoinette's POV so I recommend the audiobook (linked at the bottom).

As ever, Mr Rochester was so rude. I. Hate. Him. He didn't even try to like her or get used to her country's customs. He was so stuck in his "perfect" english way of living to enjoy what was around him. Also, his whole "woe is me, I tried to love her, I really tried" attitude really annoyed me because he is the worst and didn't bother to get to know her.

Out of all three parts, the third was my favourite. In this part, we see the aftermath of Antoinette's relocation where she talks about losing herself - "Names matter, like when he wouldn't call me Antoinette, and I saw Antoinette drifting out if the window in her scents, her pretty clothes and her looking glass". Her mentioning the 'looking glass' conveys the loss of her ability to perceive reality and indicates her descent into madness since is refused her identity of 'Antoinette' and has had 'Bertha' forced onto her. The recurring dream of setting Thornfield ablaze shows her desperation for freedom and vengeance against those who have trapped her so she decided to follow through and burns the house down, ultimately killing herself. The burning down of Thornfield is a satisfying ending for me because she got her revenge on Rochester for not only abandoning her but for also forcing her to abandon her identity. Furthermore, I am happy that she was able to escape her abusive and toxic situation and moved onto a better place, but with that being said, I am sad that she was never able to be rescued and went out in such a horrific way. I know that Antoinette is just a character but she is also a symbol for many women going through this kind of situation. She deserved so much better.

I gave this 3/5 stars ⭐

start date: 31/01/23

end date: 01/02/23

youtube

#wide sargasso sea #sargassum #jean rhys #jane eyre #bertha mason #antoinette mason #mr rochester #edward rochester #charlotte bronte #mr rochester hate group

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yiling · 4 years ago

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Untamed rewatch episode 2

Already impatient for the flashback edition

-oh the evil compass!! they real are upfront with the “yiling laozu is a villain but everyone still uses his stuff” thing

-I’m always kind of not happy when mental illness/disabilities are portrayed as a consequence of like, ghost shit...I don’t know, my feelings are complicated on the subject. the show is not too awful about A-yan, this mentally disabled character, though, so that’s something I guess. but she’s mostly a plot device

-wwx is fairly compassionate to her though...he’s a good guy

-jin ling is such a little bitch I love him. him setting up all the spirit nets is actually kind of a weird echo to wwx “cheating” at the group night hunt, when you think about it? for both of them, other cultivators are mad at them for the crime of being too good at demon hunting! the difference is that with wwx it’s by his own abilities, where for jin ling it’s just that he’s spoiled and he has the money to buy all these goddamn nets

-haaaa the maternal education thing oof ouch

-the whole “Ohh I’m so scared who’s your uncle” “I’M his uncle” bit is comedy gold and it’s so sad you can’t fully appreciate it early on. My mom did recognize Jiang Cheng from the cliff scene tho!

-I like lwj’s little leitmotif they use early on

-Jiang cheng is so funny in this episode...he and lwj hate each other so deeply

-oh god the sad sibling music...the river flashback...wei wuxian’s SMILE augh

-and then some other cultivators walk by to conveniently provide exposition lmao, just in case we don’t figure out what’s going on

-so the caretaker guy is not himself a Wen...which “master Wen” told him to keep watch there?

-WEN QING...FORGOT SHE WAS HERE. It must’ve been her then

-lol teenage atheist jin ling gets them all in trouble with his dumb wish...I love that

-super not a fan of how the statue moves...creppy

-HA IT SO COMES OFF LIKE WWX JUST WANTS TO SEE LWJ AGAIN, WHEN HE ASKS SIZHUI TO SEND UP A SIGNAL SHELL

-idk what sizhui says that Netflix translates as “gosh!” but that’s damn cute

-I love wwx using the Socratic method on the kiddos. he’s such a good teacher

-wtf is jc and lwj sitting in that like, cafe together, hating each other

-GHOST MUSIC TIME!!!!!!!!!!!

-love jingyi dragging his flute playing

-wen ning’s chains look so plastic ohh my god

-when Wen ning showed up my mom immediately asked if he was yanli. (she’s having a hard time recognizing them cause of the hair, I think.) that would actually slap, I’d read the fuck out of fierce corpse!yanli.

-oh my god wwx literally plays wuji to soothe wen ning...wen ning’s *face*, like there’s something he’s trying to remember...aa

-THE WRIST GRAB.............AAA

-aw jc calls him a-ling cause he’s worried-

OH NO THE TRANSITION TO THE FLASHBACK IM IN PAAAAAIN

-wwx immediately picks out a rabbit from the candy stall...ok gayboy

-aw jiang cheng trying so hard to represent his clan well. god they’re so fucking cute. on my first watch, I wasn’t sure how old they were supposed to be at this part, and knowing that they’re like 15ish makes everything so much rougher

-“you and father always defend him” oh man, planting those seeds already. ouch.

#cql #the untamed #untamed rewatch liveblog #mine #very weird how the flashback starts in like the back quarter of the episode #you'd think it would start at the beginning of episode three #this show is structured pretty oddly sometimes!

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innuendostudios · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on: Criterion's Neo-Noir Collection

I have written up all 26 films* in the Criterion Channel's Neo-Noir Collection.

Legend: rw - rewatch; a movie I had seen before going through the collection dnrw - did not rewatch; if a movie met two criteria (a. I had seen it within the last 18 months, b. I actively dislike it) I wrote it up from memory.

* in September, Brick leaves the Criterion Channel and is replaced in the collection with Michael Mann's Thief. May add it to the list when that happens.

Note: These are very "what was on my mind after watching." No effort has been made to avoid spoilers, nor to make the plot clear for anyone who hasn't seen the movies in question. Decide for yourself if that's interesting to you.

Cotton Comes to Harlem I feel utterly unequipped to asses this movie. This and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song the following year are regularly cited as the progenitors of the blaxploitation genre. (This is arguably unfair, since both were made by Black men and dealt much more substantively with race than the white-directed films that followed them.) Its heroes are a couple of Black cops who are treated with suspicion both by their white colleagues and by the Black community they're meant to police. I'm not 100% clear on whether they're the good guys? I mean, I think they are. But the community's suspicion of them seems, I dunno... well-founded? They are working for The Man. And there's interesting discussion to the had there - is the the problem that the law is carried out by racists, or is the law itself racist? Can Black cops make anything better? But it feels like the film stacks the deck in Gravedigger and Coffin Ed's favor; the local Black church is run by a conman, the Back-to-Africa movement is, itself, a con, and the local Black Power movement is treated as an obstacle. Black cops really are the only force for justice here. Movie portrays Harlem itself as a warm, thriving, cultured community, but the people that make up that community are disloyal and easily fooled. Felt, to me, like the message was "just because they're cops doesn't mean they don't have Black soul," which, nowadays, we would call copaganda. But, then, do I know what I'm talking about? Do I know how much this played into or off of or against stereotypes from 1970? Was this a radical departure I don't have the context to appreciate? Is there substance I'm too white and too many decades removed to pick up on? Am I wildly overthinking this? I dunno. Seems like everyone involved was having a lot of fun, at least. That bit is contagious.

Across 110th Street And here's the other side of the "race film" equation. Another movie set in Harlem with a Black cop pulled between the police, the criminals, and the public, but this time the film is made by white people. I like it both more and less. Pro: this time the difficult position of Black cop who's treated with suspicion by both white cops and Black Harlemites is interrogated. Con: the Black cop has basically no personality other than "honest cop." Pro: the racism of the police force is explicit and systemic, as opposed to comically ineffectual. Con: the movie is shaped around a racist white cop who beats the shit out of Black people but slowly forms a bond with his Black partner. Pro: the Black criminal at the heart of the movie talks openly about how the white world has stacked the deck against him, and he's soulful and relateable. Con: so of course he dies in the end, because the only way privileged people know to sympathetize with minorities is to make them tragic (see also: The Boys in the Band, Philadelphia, and Brokeback Mountain for gay men). Additional con: this time Harlem is portrayed as a hellhole. Barely any of the community is even seen. At least the shot at the end, where the criminal realizes he's going to die and throws the bag of money off a roof and into a playground so the Black kids can pick it up before the cops reclaim it was powerful. But overall... yech. Cotton Comes to Harlem felt like it wasn't for me; this feels like it was 100% for me and I respect it less for that.

The Long Goodbye (rw) The shaggiest dog. Like much Altman, more compelling than good, but very compelling. Raymond Chandler's story is now set in the 1970's, but Philip Marlowe is the same Philip Marlowe of the 1930's. I get the sense there was always something inherently sad about Marlowe. Classic noir always portrayed its detectives as strong-willed men living on the border between the straightlaced world and its seedy underbelly, crossing back and forth freely but belonging to neither. But Chandler stresses the loneliness of it - or, at least, the people who've adapted Chandler do. Marlowe is a decent man in an indecent world, sorting things out, refusing to profit from misery, but unable to set anything truly right. Being a man out of step is here literalized by putting him forty years from the era where he belongs. His hardboiled internal monologue is now the incessant mutterings of the weird guy across the street who never stops smoking. Like I said: compelling! Kael's observation was spot on: everyone in the movie knows more about the mystery than he does, but he's the only one who cares. The mystery is pretty threadbare - Marlowe doesn't detect so much as end up in places and have people explain things to him. But I've seen it two or three times now, and it does linger.

Chinatown (rw) I confess I've always been impressed by Chinatown more than I've liked it. Its story structure is impeccable, its atmosphere is gorgeous, its noirish fatalism is raw and real, its deconstruction of the noir hero is well-observed, and it's full of clever detective tricks (the pocket watches, the tail light, the ruler). I've just never connected with it. Maybe it's a little too perfectly crafted. (I feel similar about Miller's Crossing.) And I've always been ambivalent about the ending. In Towne's original ending, Evelyn shoots Noah Cross dead and get arrested, and neither she nor Jake can tell the truth of why she did it, so she goes to jail for murder and her daughter is in the wind. Polansky proposed the ending that exists now, where Evelyn just dies, Cross wins, and Jake walks away devastated. It communicates the same thing: Jake's attempt to get smart and play all the sides off each other instead of just helping Evelyn escape blows up in his face at the expense of the woman he cares about and any sense of real justice. And it does this more dramatically and efficiently than Towne's original ending. But it also treats Evelyn as narratively disposable, and hands the daughter over to the man who raped Evelyn and murdered her husband. It makes the women suffer more to punch up the ending. But can I honestly say that Towne's ending is the better one? It is thematically equal, dramatically inferior, but would distract me less. Not sure what the calculus comes out to there. Maybe there should be a third option. Anyway! A perfect little contraption. Belongs under a glass dome.

Night Moves (rw) Ah yeah, the good shit. This is my quintessential 70's noir. This is three movies in a row about detectives. Thing is, the classic era wasn't as chockablock with hardboiled detectives as we think; most of those movies starred criminals, cops, and boring dudes seduced to the darkness by a pair of legs. Gumshoes just left the strongest impressions. (The genre is said to begin with Maltese Falcon and end with Touch of Evil, after all.) So when the post-Code 70's decided to pick the genre back up while picking it apart, it makes sense that they went for the 'tecs first. The Long Goodbye dragged the 30's detective into the 70's, and Chinatown went back to the 30's with a 70's sensibility. But Night Moves was about detecting in the Watergate era, and how that changed the archetype. Harry Moseby is the detective so obsessed with finding the truth that he might just ruin his life looking for it, like the straight story will somehow fix everything that's broken, like it'll bring back a murdered teenager and repair his marriage and give him a reason to forgive the woman who fucked him just to distract him from some smuggling. When he's got time to kill, he takes out a little, magnetic chess set and recreates a famous old game, where three knight moves (get it?) would have led to a beautiful checkmate had the player just seen it. He keeps going, self-destructing, because he can't stand the idea that the perfect move is there if he can just find it. And, no matter how much we see it destroy him, we, the audience, want him to keep going; we expect a satisfying resolution to the mystery. That's what we need from a detective picture; one character flat-out compares Harry to Sam Spade. But what if the truth is just... Watergate? Just some prick ruining things for selfish reasons? Nothing grand, nothing satisfying. Nothing could be more noir, or more neo-, than that.

Farewell, My Lovely Sometimes the only thing that makes a noir neo- is that it's in color and all the blood, tits, and racism from the books they're based on get put back in. This second stab at Chandler is competant but not much more than that. Mitchum works as Philip Marlowe, but Chandler's dialogue feels off here, like lines that worked on the page don't work aloud, even though they did when Bogie said them. I'll chalk it up to workmanlike but uninspired direction. (Dang this looks bland so soon after Chinatown.) Moose Malloy is a great character, and perfectly cast. (Wasn't sure at first, but it's true.) Some other interesting cats show up and vanish - the tough brothel madam based on Brenda Allen comes to mind, though she's treated with oddly more disdain than most of the other hoods and is dispatched quicker. In general, the more overt racism and misogyny doesn't seem to do anything except make the movie "edgier" than earlier attempts at the same material, and it reads kinda try-hard. But it mostly holds together. *shrug*

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (dnrw) Didn't care for this at all. Can't tell if the script was treated as a jumping-off point or if the dialogue is 100% improvised, but it just drags on forever and is never that interesting. Keeps treating us to scenes from the strip club like they're the opera scenes in Amadeus, and, whatever, I don't expect burlesque to be Mozart, but Cosmo keeps saying they're an artful, classy joint, and I keep waiting for the show to be more than cheap, lazy camp. How do you make gratuitious nudity boring? Mind you, none of this is bad as a rule - I love digressions and can enjoy good sleaze, and it's clear the filmmakers care about what they're making. They just did not sell it in a way I wanted to buy. Can't remember what edit I watched; I hope it was the 135 minute one, because I cannot imagine there being a longer edit out there.

The American Friend (dnrw) It's weird that this is Patricia Highsmith, right? That Dennis Hopper is playing Tom Ripley? In a cowboy hat? I gather that Minghella's version wasn't true to the source, but I do love that movie, and this is a long, long way from that. This Mr. Ripley isn't even particularly talented! Anyway, this has one really great sequence, where a regular guy has been coerced by crooks into murdering someone on a train platform, and, when the moment comes to shoot, he doesn't. And what follows is a prolonged sequence of an amateur trying to surreptitiously tail a guy across a train station and onto another train, and all the while you're not sure... is he going to do it? is he going to chicken out? is he going to do it so badly he gets caught? It's hard not to put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, wondering how you would handle the situation, whether you could do it, whether you could act on impulse before your conscience could catch up with you. It drags on a long while and this time it's a good thing. Didn't much like the rest of the movie, it's shapeless and often kind of corny, and the central plot hook is contrived. (It's also very weird that this is the only Wim Wenders I've seen.) But, hey, I got one excellent sequence, not gonna complain.

The Big Sleep Unlike the 1946 film, I can follow the plot of this Big Sleep. But, also unlike the 1946 version, this one isn't any damn fun. Mitchum is back as Marlowe (this is three Marlowes in five years, btw), and this time it's set in the 70's and in England, for some reason. I don't find this offensive, but neither do I see what it accomplishes? Most of the cast is still American. (Hi Jimmy!) Still holds together, but even less well than Farewell, My Lovely. But I do find it interesting that the neo-noir era keeps returning to Chandler while it's pretty much left Hammet behind (inasmuch as someone whose genes are spread wide through the whole genre can be left behind). Spade and the Continental Op, straightshooting tough guys who come out on top in the end, seem antiquated in the (post-)modern era. But Marlowe's goodness being out of sync with the world around him only seems more poignant the further you take him from his own time. Nowadays you can really only do Hammett as pastiche, but I sense that you could still play Chandler straight.

Eyes of Laura Mars The most De Palma movie I've seen not made by De Palma, complete with POV shots, paranormal hoodoo, and fixation with sex, death, and whether images of such are art or exploitation (or both). Laura Mars takes photographs of naked women in violent tableux, and has gotten quite famous doing so, but is it damaging to women? The movie has more than a superficial engagement with this topic, but only slightly more than superficial. Kept imagining a movie that is about 30% less serial killer story and 30% more art conversations. (But, then, I have an art degree and have never murdered anyone, so.) Like, museums are full of Biblical paintings full of nude women and slaughter, sometimes both at once, and they're called masterpieces. Most all of them were painted by men on commission from other men. Now Laura Mars makes similar images in modern trappings, and has models made of flesh and blood rather than paint, and it's scandalous? Why is it only controversial once women are getting paid for it? On the other hand, is this just the master's tools? Is she subverting or challenging the male gaze, or just profiting off of it? Or is a woman profiting off of it, itself, a subversion? Is it subversive enough to account for how it commodifies female bodies? These questions are pretty clearly relevant to the movie itself, and the movies in general, especially after the fall of the Hays Code when people were really unrestrained with the blood and boobies. And, heck, the lead is played by the star of Bonnie and Clyde! All this is to say: I wish the movie were as interested in these questions as I am. What's there is a mildly diverting B-picture. There's one great bit where Laura's seeing through the killer's eyes (that's the hook, she gets visions from the murderer's POV; no, this is never explained) and he's RIGHT BEHIND HER, so there's a chase where she charges across an empty room only able to see her own fleeing self from ten feet behind. That was pretty great! And her first kiss with the detective (because you could see a mile away that the detective and the woman he's supposed to protect are gonna fall in love) is immediately followed by the two freaking out about how nonsensical it is for them to fall in love with each other, because she's literally mourning multiple deaths and he's being wildly unprofessional, and then they go back to making out. That bit was great, too. The rest... enh.

The Onion Field What starts off as a seemingly not-that-noirish cops-vs-crooks procedural turns into an agonizingly protracted look at the legal system, with the ultimate argument that the very idea of the law ever resulting in justice is a lie. Hoo! I have to say, I'm impressed. There's a scene where a lawyer - whom I'm not sure is even named, he's like the seventh of thirteen we've met - literally quits the law over how long this court case about two guys shooting a cop has taken. He says the cop who was murdered has been forgotten, his partner has never gotten to move on because the case has lasted eight years, nothing has been accomplished, and they should let the two criminals walk and jail all the judges and lawyers instead. It's awesome! The script is loaded with digressions and unnecessary details, just the way I like it. Can't say I'm impressed with the execution. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but the performances all seem a tad melodramatic or a tad uninspired. Camerawork is, again, purely functional. It's no masterpiece. But that second half worked for me. (And it's Ted Danson's first movie! He did great.)

Body Heat (rw) Let's say up front that this is a handsomely-made movie. Probably the best looking thing on the list since Night Moves. Nothing I've seen better captures the swelter of an East Coast heatwave, or the lusty feeling of being too hot to bang and going at it regardless. Kathleen Turner sells the hell out of a femme fatale. There are a lot of good lines and good performances (Ted Danson is back and having the time of his life). I want to get all that out of the way, because this is a movie heavily modeled after Double Indemnity, and I wanted to discuss its merits before I get into why inviting that comparison doesn't help the movie out. In a lot of ways, it's the same rules as the Robert Mitchum Marlowe movies - do Double Indemnity but amp up the sex and violence. And, to a degree it works. (At least, the sex does, dunno that Double Indemnity was crying out for explosions.) But the plot is amped as well, and gets downright silly. Yeah, Mrs. Dietrichson seduces Walter Neff so he'll off her husband, but Neff clocks that pretty early and goes along with it anyway. Everything beyond that is two people keeping too big a secret and slowly turning on each other. But here? For the twists to work Matty has to be, from frame one, playing four-dimensional chess on the order of Senator Palpatine, and its about as plausible. (Exactly how did she know, after she rebuffed Ned, he would figure out her local bar and go looking for her at the exact hour she was there?) It's already kind of weird to be using the spider woman trope in 1981, but to make her MORE sexually conniving and mercenary than she was in the 40's is... not great. As lurid trash, it's pretty fun for a while, but some noir stuff can't just be updated, it needs to be subverted or it doesn't justify its existence.

Blow Out Brian De Palma has two categories of movie: he's got his mainstream, director-for-hire fare, where his voice is either reigned in or indulged in isolated sequences that don't always jive with the rest fo the film, and then there's his Brian De Palma movies. My mistake, it seems, is having seen several for-hires from throughout his career - The Untouchables (fine enough), Carlito's Way (ditto, but less), Mission: Impossible (enh) - but had only seen De Palma-ass movies from his late period (Femme Fatale and The Black Dahlia, both of which I think are garbage). All this to say: Blow Out was my first classic-era De Palma, and holy fucking shit dudes. This was (with caveats) my absolute and entire jam. I said I could enjoy good sleaze, and this is good friggin' sleaze. (Though far short of De Palma at his sleaziest, mercifully.) The splitscreens, the diopter shots, the canted angles, how does he make so many shlocky things work?! John Travolta's sound tech goes out to get fresh wind fx for the movie he's working on, and we get this wonderful sequence of visuals following sounds as he turns his attention and his microphone to various noises - a couple on a walk, a frog, an owl, a buzzing street lamp. Later, as he listens back to the footage, the same sequence plays again, but this time from his POV; we're seeing his memory as guided by the same sequence of sounds, now recreated with different shots, as he moves his pencil in the air mimicking the microphone. When he mixes and edits sounds, we hear the literal soundtrack of the movie we are watching get mixed and edited by the person on screen. And as he tries to unravel a murder mystery, he uses what's at hand: magnetic tape, flatbed editors, an animation camera to turn still photos from the crime scene into a film and sync it with the audio he recorded; it's forensics using only the tools of the editing room. As someone who's spent some time in college editing rooms, this is a hoot and a half. Loses a bit of steam as it goes on and the film nerd stuff gives way to a more traditional thriller, but rallies for a sound-tech-centered final setpiece, which steadily builds to such madcap heights you can feel the air thinning, before oddly cutting its own tension and then trying to build it back up again. It doesn't work as well the second time. But then, that shot right after the climax? Damn. Conflicted on how the movie treats the female lead. I get why feminist film theorists are so divided on De Palma. His stuff is full of things feminists (rightly) criticize, full of women getting naked when they're not getting stabbed, but he also clearly finds women fascinating and has them do empowered and unexpected things, and there are many feminist reads of his movies. Call it a mixed bag. But even when he's doing tropey shit, he explores the tropes in unexpected ways. Definitely the best movie so far that I hadn't already seen.

Cutter's Way (rw) Alex Cutter is pitched to us as an obnoxious-but-sympathetic son of a bitch, and, you know, two out of three ain't bad. Watched this during my 2020 neo-noir kick and considered skipping it this time because I really didn't enjoy it. Found it a little more compelling this go around, while being reminded of why my feelings were room temp before. Thematically, I'm onboard: it's about a guy, Cutter, getting it in his head that he's found a murderer and needs to bring him to justice, and his friend, Bone, who intermittently helps him because he feels bad that Cutter lost his arm, leg, and eye in Nam and he also feels guilty for being in love with Cutter's wife. The question of whether the guy they're trying to bring down actually did it is intentionally undefined, and arguably unimportant; they've got personal reasons to see this through. Postmodern and noirish, fixated with the inability to ever fully know the truth of anything, but starring people so broken by society that they're desperate for certainty. (Pretty obvious parallels to Vietnam.) Cutter's a drunk and kind of an asshole, but understandably so. Bone's shiftlessness is the other response to a lack of meaning in the world, to the point where making a decision, any decision, feels like character growth, even if it's maybe killing a guy whose guilt is entirely theoretical. So, yeah, I'm down with all of this! A- in outline form. It's just that Cutter is so uninterestingly unpleasant and no one else on screen is compelling enough to make up for it. His drunken windups are tedious and his sanctimonious speeches about what the war was like are, well, true and accurate but also obviously manipulative. It's two hours with two miserable people, and I think Cutter's constant chatter is supposed to be the comic relief but it's a little too accurate to drunken rambling, which isn't funny if you're not also drunk. He's just tedious, irritating, and periodically racist. Pass.

Blood Simple (rw) I'm pretty cool on the Coens - there are things I've liked, even loved, in every Coen film I've seen, but I always come away dissatisfied. For a while, I kept going to their movies because I was sure eventually I'd love one without qualification. No Country for Old Men came close, the first two acts being master classes in sustained tension. But then the third act is all about denying closure: the protagonist is murdered offscreen, the villain's motives are never explained, and it ends with an existentialist speech about the unfathomable cruelty of the world. And it just doesn't land for me. The archness of the Coen's dialogue, the fussiness of their set design, the kinda-intimate, kinda-awkward, kinda-funny closeness of the camera's singles, it cannot sell me on a devastating meditation about meaninglessness. It's only ever sold me on the Coens' own cleverness. And that archness, that distancing, has typified every one of their movies I've come close to loving. Which is a long-ass preamble to saying, holy heck, I was not prepared for their very first movie to be the one I'd been looking for! I watched it last year and it remains true on rewatch: Blood Simple works like gangbusters. It's kind of Double Indemnity (again) but played as a comedy of errors, minus the comedy: two people romantically involved feeling their trust unravel after a murder. And I think the first thing that works for me is that utter lack of comedy. It's loaded with the Coens' trademark ironies - mostly dramatic in this case - but it's all played straight. Unlike the usual lead/femme fatale relationship, where distrust brews as the movie goes on, the audience knows the two main characters can trust each other. There are no secret duplicitous motives waiting to be revealed. The audience also know why they don't trust each other. (And it's all communicated wordlessly, btw: a character enters a scene and we know, based on the information that character has, how it looks to them and what suspicions it would arouse, even as we know the truth of it). The second thing that works is, weirdly, that the characters aren't very interesting?! Ray and Abby have almost no characterization. Outside of a general likability, they are blank slates. This is a weakness in most films, but, given the agonizingly long, wordless sequences where they dispose of bodies or hide from gunfire, you're left thinking not "what will Ray/Abby do in this scenario," because Ray and Abby are relatively elemental and undefined, but "what would I do in this scenario?" Which creates an exquisite tension but also, weirdly, creates more empathy than I feel for the Coens' usual cast of personalities. It's supposed to work the other way around! Truly enjoyable throughout but absolutely wonderful in the suspenseful-as-hell climax. Good shit right here.

Body Double The thing about erotic thrillers is everything that matters is in the name. Is it thrilling? Is it erotic? Good; all else is secondary. De Palma set out to make the most lurid, voyeuristic, horny, violent, shocking, steamy movie he could come up with, and its success was not strictly dependent on the lead's acting ability or the verisimilitude of the plot. But what are we, the modern audience, to make of it once 37 years have passed and, by today's standards, the eroticism is quite tame and the twists are no longer shocking? Then we're left with a nonsensical riff on Vertigo, a specularization of women that is very hard to justify, and lead actor made of pulped wood. De Palma's obsessions don't cohere into anything more this time; the bits stolen from Hitchcock aren't repurposed to new ends, it really is just Hitch with more tits and less brains. (I mean, I still haven't seen Vertigo, but I feel 100% confident in that statement.) The diopter shots and rear-projections this time look cheap (literally so, apparently; this had 1/3 the budget of Blow Out). There are some mildly interesting setpieces, but nothing compared to Travolta's auditory reconstructions or car chase where he tries to tail a subway train from street level even if it means driving through a frickin parade like an inverted French Connection, goddamn Blow Out was a good movie! Anyway. Melanie Griffith seems to be having fun, at least. I guess I had a little as well, but it was, at best, diverting, and a real letdown.

The Hit Surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Terrance Stamp flips on the mob and spends ten years living a life of ease in Spain, waiting for the day they find and kill him. Movie kicks off when they do find him, and what follows is a ramshackle road movie as John Hurt and a young Tim Roth attempt to drive him to Paris so they can shoot him in front of his old boss. Stamp is magnetic. He's spent a decade reading philosophy and seems utterly prepared for death, so he spends the trip humming, philosophizing, and being friendly with his captors when he's not winding them up. It remains unclear to the end whether the discord he sews between Roth and Hurt is part of some larger plan of escape or just for shits and giggles. There's also a decent amount of plot for a movie that's not terribly plot-driven - just about every part of the kidnapping has tiny hitches the kidnappers aren't prepared for, and each has film-long repercussions, drawing the cops closer and somehow sticking Laura del Sol in their backseat. The ongoing questions are when Stamp will die, whether del Sol will die, and whether Roth will be able to pull the trigger. In the end, it's actually a meditation on ethics and mortality, but in a quiet and often funny way. It's not going to go down as one of my new favs, but it was a nice way to spend a couple hours.

Trouble in Mind (dnrw) I fucking hated this movie. It's been many months since I watched it, do I remember what I hated most? Was it the bit where a couple of country bumpkins who've come to the city walk into a diner and Mr. Bumpkin clocks that the one Black guy in the back as obviously a criminal despite never having seen him before? Was it the part where Kris Kristofferson won't stop hounding Mrs. Bumpkin no matter how many times she demands to be left alone, and it's played as romantic because obviously he knows what she needs better than she does? Or is it the part where Mr. Bumpkin reluctantly takes a job from the Obvious Criminal (who is, in fact, a criminal, and the only named Black character in the movie if I remember correctly, draw your own conclusions) and, within a week, has become a full-blown hood, which is exemplified by a lot, like, a lot of queer-coding? The answer to all three questions is yes. It's also fucking boring. Even out-of-drag Divine's performance as the villain can't save it.

Manhunter 'sfine? I've still never seen Silence of the Lambs, nor any of the Hopkins Lecter movies, nor, indeed, any full episode of the show. So the unheimlich others get seeing Brian Cox play Hannibal didn't come into play. Cox does a good job with him, but he's barely there. Shame, cuz he's the most interesting part of the movie. Honestly, there's a lot of interesting stuff that's barely there. Will Graham being a guy who gets into the heads of serial killers is explored well enough, and Mann knows how to direct a police procedural such that it's both contemplative and propulsive. But all the other themes it points at? Will's fear that he understands murderers a little too well? Hannibal trying to nudge him towards becoming one? Whatever dance Hannibal and Tooth Fairy are doing? What Tooth Fairy's deal is, anyway? (Why does he wear fake teeth and bite things? Why is he fixated on the red dragon? Does the bit where he says "Francis is gone forever" mean he has DID?) None of it goes anywhere or amounts to anything. I mean, it's certainly more interesting with this stuff than without, but it has that feel of a book that's been pared of its interesting bits to fit the runtime (or, alternately, pulp that's been sloppily elevated). I still haven't made my mind up on Mann's cold, precise camera work, but at least it gives me something to look at. It's fine! This is fine.

Mona Lisa (rw) Gave this one another shot. Bob Hoskins is wonderful as a hood out of his depth in classy places, quick to anger but just as quick to let anger go (the opening sequence where he's screaming on his ex-wife's doorstep, hurling trash cans at her house, and one minute later thrilled to see his old car, is pretty nice). And Cathy Tyson's working girl is a subtler kind of fascinating, exuding a mixture of coldness and kindness. It's just... this is ultimately a story about how heartbreaking it is when the girl you like is gay, right? It's Weezer's Pink Triangle: The Movie. It's not homophobic, exactly - Simone isn't demonized for being a lesbian - but it's still, like, "man, this straight white guy's pain is so much more interesting than the Black queer sex worker's." And when he's yelling "you woulda done it!" at the end, I can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him. Seems pretty clear that she wouldn'ta done it, at least not without there being some reveal about her character that doesn't happen, but I don't think the ending works if we don't agree with him, so... I'm like 70% sure the movie does Simone dirty there. For the first half, their growing relationship feels genuine and natural, and, honestly, the story being about a real bond that unfortunately means different things to each party could work if it didn't end with a gun and a sock in the jaw. Shape feels jagged as well; what feels like the end of the second act or so turns out to be the climax. And some of the symbolism is... well, ok, Simone gives George money to buy more appropriate clothes for hanging out in high end hotels, and he gets a tan leather jacket and a Hawaiian shirt, and their first proper bonding moment is when she takes him out for actual clothes. For the rest of the movie he is rocking double-breasted suits (not sure I agree with the striped tie, but it was the eighties, whaddya gonna do?). Then, in the second half, she sends him off looking for her old streetwalker friend, and now he looks completely out of place in the strip clubs and bordellos. So far so good. But then they have this run-in where her old pimp pulls a knife and cuts George's arm, so, with his nice shirt torn and it not safe going home (I guess?) he starts wearing the Hawaiian shirt again. So around the time he's starting to realize he doesn't really belong in Simone's world or the lowlife world he came from anymore, he's running around with the classy double-breasted suit jacket over the garish Hawaiian shirt, and, yeah, bit on the nose guys. Anyway, it has good bits, I just feel like a movie that asks me to feel for the guy punching a gay, Black woman in the face needs to work harder to earn it. Bit of wasted talent.

The Bedroom Window Starts well. Man starts an affair with his boss' wife, their first night together she witnesses an attempted murder from his window, she worries going to the police will reveal the affair to her husband, so the man reports her testimony to the cops claiming he's the one who saw it. Young Isabelle Huppert is the perfect woman for a guy to risk his career on a crush over, and Young Steve Guttenberg is the perfect balance of affability and amorality. And it flows great - picks just the right media to res. So then he's talking to the cops, telling them what she told him, and they ask questions he forgot to ask her - was the perp's jacket a blazer or a windbreaker? - and he has to guess. Then he gets called into the police lineup, and one guy matches her description really well, but is it just because he's wearing his red hair the way she described it? He can't be sure, doesn't finger any of them. He finds out the cops were pretty certain about one of the guys, so he follows the one he thinks it was around, looking for more evidence, and another girl is attacked right outside a bar he knows the redhead was at. Now he's certain! But he shows the boss' wife the guy and she's not certain, and she reminds him they don't even know if the guy he followed is the same guy the police suspected! And as he feeds more evidence to the cops, he has to lie more, because he can't exactly say he was tailing the guy around the city. So, I'm all in now. Maybe it's because I'd so recently rewatched Night Moves and Cutter's Way, but this seems like another story about uncertainty. He's really certain about the guy because it fits narratively, and we, the audience, feel the same. But he's not actually a witness, he doesn't have actual evidence, he's fitting bits and pieces together like a conspiracy theorist. He's fixating on what he wants to be true. Sign me up! But then it turns out he's 100% correct about who the killer is but his lies are found out and now the cops think he's the killer and I realize, oh, no, this movie isn't nearly as smart as I thought it was. Egg on my face! What transpires for the remaining half of the runtime is goofy as hell, and someone with shlockier sensibilities could have made a meal of it, but Hanson, despite being a Corman protege, takes this silliness seriously in the all wrong ways. Next!

Homicide (rw? I think I saw most of this on TV one time) Homicide centers around the conflicted loyalties of a Jewish cop. It opens with the Jewish cop and his white gentile partner taking over a case with a Black perp from some Black FBI agents. The media is making a big thing about the racial implications of the mostly white cops chasing down a Black man in a Black neighborhood. And inside of 15 minutes the FBI agent is calling the lead a k*ke and the gentile cop is calling the FBI agent a f****t and there's all kinds of invective for Black people. The film is announcing its intentions out the gate: this movie is about race. But the issue here is David Mamet doesn't care about race as anything other than a dramatic device. He's the Ubisoft of filmmakers, having no coherent perspective on social issues but expecting accolades for even bringing them up. Mamet is Jewish (though lead actor Joe Mantegna definitely is not) but what is his position on the Jewish diaspora? The whole deal is Mantegna gets stuck with a petty homicide case instead of the big one they just pinched from the Feds, where a Jewish candy shop owner gets shot in what looks like a stickup. Her family tries to appeal to his Jewishness to get him to take the case seriously, and, after giving them the brush-off for a long time, finally starts following through out of guilt, finding bits and pieces of what may or may not be a conspiracy, with Zionist gun runners and underground neo-Nazis. But, again: all of these are just dramatic devices. Mantegna's Jewishness (those words will never not sound ridiculous together) has always been a liability for him as a cop (we are told, not shown), and taking the case seriously is a reclamation of identity. The Jews he finds community with sold tommyguns to revolutionaries during the founding of Israel. These Jews end up blackmailing him to get a document from the evidence room. So: what is the film's position on placing stock in one's Jewish identity? What is its position on Israel? What is its opinion on Palestine? Because all three come up! And the answer is: Mamet doesn't care. You can read it a lot of different ways. Someone with more context and more patience than me could probably deduce what the de facto message is, the way Chris Franklin deduced the de facto message of Far Cry V despite the game's efforts not to have one, but I'm not going to. Mantegna's attempt to reconnect with his Jewishness gets his partner killed, gets the guy he was supposed to bring in alive shot dead, gets him possibly permanent injuries, gets him on camera blowing up a store that's a front for white nationalists, and all for nothing because the "clues" he found (pretty much exclusively by coincidence) were unconnected nothings. The problem is either his Jewishness, or his lifelong failure to connect with his Jewishness until late in life. Mamet doesn't give a shit. (Like, Mamet canonically doesn't give a shit: he is on record saying social context is meaningless, characters only exist to serve the plot, and there are no deeper meanings in fiction.) Mamet's ping-pong dialogue is fun, as always, and there are some neat ideas and characters, but it's all in service of a big nothing that needed to be a something to work.

Swoon So much I could talk about, let's keep it to the most interesting bits. Hommes Fatales: a thing about classic noir that it was fascinated by the marginal but had to keep it in the margins. Liberated women, queer-coded killers, Black jazz players, broke thieves; they were the main event, they were what audiences wanted to see, they were what made the movies fun. But the ending always had to reassert straightlaced straight, white, middle-class male society as unshakeable. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy demanded, both ideologically and via the Hays Code, that anyone outside these norms be punished, reformed, or dead by the movie's end. The only way to make them the heroes was to play their deaths for tragedy. It is unsurprising that neo-noir would take the queer-coded villains and make them the protagonists. Implicature: This is the story of Leopold and Loeb, murderers famous for being queer, and what's interesting is how the queerness in the first half exists entirely outside of language. Like, it's kind of amazing for a movie from 1992 to be this gay - we watch Nathan and Dickie kiss, undress, masturbate, fuck; hell, they wear wedding rings when they're alone together. But it's never verbalized. Sex is referred to as "your reward" or "what you wanted" or "best time." Dickie says he's going to have "the girls over," and it turns out "the girls" are a bunch of drag queens, but this is never acknowledged. Nathan at one point lists off a bunch of famous men - Oscar Wild, E.M. Forster, Frederick the Great - but, though the commonality between them is obvious (they were all gay), it's left the the audience to recognize it. When their queerness is finally verbalized in the second half, it's first in the language of pathology - a psychiatrist describing their "perversions" and "misuse" of their "organs" before the court, which has to be cleared of women because it's so inappropriate - and then with slurs from the man who murders Dickie in jail (a murder which is written off with no investigation because the victim is a gay prisoner instead of a L&L's victim, a child of a wealthy family). I don't know if I'd have noticed this if I hadn't read Chip Delany describing his experience as a gay man in the 50's existing almost entirely outside of language, the only language at the time being that of heteronormativity. Murder as Love Story: L&L exchange sex as payment for the other commiting crimes; it's foreplay. Their statements to the police where they disagree over who's to blame is a lover's quarrel. Their sentencing is a marriage. Nathan performs his own funeral rites over Dickie's body after he dies on the operating table. They are, in their way, together til death did they part. This is the relationship they can have. That it does all this without romanticizing the murder itself or valorizing L&L as humans is frankly incredible.

Suture (rw) The pitch: at the funeral for his father, wealthy Vincent Towers meets his long lost half brother Clay Arlington. It is implied Clay is a child from out of wedlock, possibly an affair; no one knows Vincent has a half-brother but him and Clay. Vincent invites Clay out to his fancy-ass home in Arizona. Thing is, Vincent is suspected (correctly) by the police of having murdered his father, and, due to a striking family resemblence, he's brought Clay to his home to fake his own death. He finagles Clay into wearing his clothes and driving his car, and then blows the car up and flees the state, leaving the cops to think him dead. Thing is, Clay survives, but with amnesia. The doctors tell him he's Vincent, and he has no reason to disagree. Any discrepancy in the way he looks is dismissed as the result of reconstructive surgery after the explosion. So Clay Arlington resumes Vincent Towers' life, without knowing Clay Arlington even exists. The twist: Clay and Vincent are both white, but Vincent is played by Michael Harris, a white actor, and Clay is played by Dennis Haysbert, a Black actor. "Ian, if there's just the two of them, how do you know it's not Harris playing a Black character?" Glad you asked! It is most explicitly obvious during a scene where Vincent/Clay's surgeon-cum-girlfriend essentially bringing up phrenology to explain how Vincent/Clay couldn't possibly have murdered his father, describing straight hair, thin lips, and a Greco-Roman nose Haysbert very clearly doesn't have. But, let's be honest: we knew well beforehand that the rich-as-fuck asshole living in a huge, modern house and living it up in Arizona high society was white. Though Clay is, canonically, white, he lives an poor and underprivileged life common to Black men in America. Though the film's title officially refers to the many stitches holding Vincent/Clay's face together after the accident, "suture" is a film theory term, referring to the way a film audience gets wrapped up - sutured - in the world of the movie, choosing to forget the outside world and pretend the story is real. The usage is ironic, because the audience cannot be sutured in; we cannot, and are not expected to, suspend our disbelief that Clay is white. We are deliberately distanced. Consequently this is a movie to be thought about, not to to be felt. It has the shape of a Hitchcockian thriller but it can't evoke the emotions of one. You can see the scaffolding - "ah, yes, this is the part of a thriller where one man hides while another stalks him with a gun, clever." I feel ill-suited to comment on what the filmmakers are saying about race. I could venture a guess about the ending, where the psychiatrist, the only one who knows the truth about Clay, says he can never truly be happy living the lie of being Vincent Towers, while we see photographs of Clay/Vincent seemingly living an extremely happy life: society says white men simply belong at the top more than Black men do, but, if the roles could be reversed, the latter would slot in seamlessly. Maybe??? Of all the movies in this collection, this is the one I'd most want to read an essay on (followed by Swoon).

The Last Seduction (dnrw) No, no, no, I am not rewataching this piece of shit movie.

Brick (rw) Here's my weird contention: Brick is in color and in widescreen, but, besides that? There's nothing neo- about this noir. There's no swearing except "hell." (I always thought Tug said "goddamn" at one point but, no, he's calling The Pin "gothed-up.") There's a lot of discussion of sex, but always through implication, and the only deleted scene is the one that removed ambiguity about what Brendan and Laura get up to after kissing. There's nothing postmodern or subversive - yes, the hook is it's set in high school, but the big twist is that it takes this very seriously. It mines it for jokes, yes, but the drama is authentic. In fact, making the gumshoe a high school student, his jadedness an obvious front, still too young to be as hard as he tries to be, just makes the drama hit harder. Sam Spade if Sam Spade were allowed to cry. I've always found it an interesting counterpoint to The Good German, a movie that fastidiously mimics the aesthetics of classic noir - down to even using period-appropriate sound recording - but is wholly neo- in construction. Brick could get approved by the Hays Code. Its vibe, its plot about a detective playing a bunch of criminals against each other, even its slang ("bulls," "yegg," "flopped") are all taken directly from Hammett. It's not even stealing from noir, it's stealing from what noir stole from! It's a perfect curtain call for the collection: the final film is both the most contemporary and the most classic. It's also - but for the strong case you could make for Night Moves - the best movie on the list. It's even more appropriate for me, personally: this was where it all started for me and noir. I saw this in theaters when it came out and loved it. It was probably my favorite movie for some time. It gave me a taste for pulpy crime movies which I only, years later, realized were neo-noir. This is why I looked into Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and In Bruges. I've seen it more times than any film on this list, by a factor of at least 3. It's why I will always adore Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's the best-looking half-million-dollar movie I've ever seen. (Indie filmmakers, take fucking notes.) I even did a script analysis of this, and, yes, it follows the formula, but so tightly and with so much style. Did you notice that he says several of the sequence tensions out loud? ("I just want to find her." "Show of hands.") I notice new things each time I see it - this time it was how "brushing Brendan's hair out of his face" is Em's move, making him look more like he does in the flashback, and how Laura does the same to him as she's seducing him, in the moment when he misses Em the hardest. It isn't perfect. It's recreated noir so faithfully that the Innocent Girl dies, the Femme Fatale uses intimacy as a weapon, and none of the women ever appear in a scene together. 1940's gender politics maybe don't need to be revisited. They say be critical of the media you love, and it applies here most of all: it is a real criticism of something I love immensely.

#film noir #neo-noir #criterion channel

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mintaka14 · 3 years ago

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This is the start of my newest multi-chapter Lukanette story, and a Dammit Quick! fic. To the LBSC crowd - you’re all a pack of enablers, so have some Disney music-nerd angst/fluff with a Julerose wedding for good measure.

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter One – All Those Years

Luka Couffaine got the shock of his life when, six months before his sister’s wedding, his past walked onto the boat. She moved with an assurance that she’d never had at fourteen. A little older at twenty-four, a little less arms-and-legs and a little more rounded curves, but still with those same devastating blue eyes.

Her hand curled on the rail, and he realised he was staring.

“Luka,” she said. “Hi.”

“Ma-ma-marinette,” he managed, and that mouth of hers lifted in a tentative smile. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been a while,” she agreed softly. “How are you?”

He said something, he wasn’t sure what.

“I take it Juleka didn’t mention that I was coming,” she said. “I’ve offered to design the dresses for the wedding, and she suggested I come round today to talk about them. Are you… is it okay that I’m here?”

At that, Luka jolted out of his distraction and offered her a more genuine smile.

“Marinette, it’s more than okay. It’s good to see you again. You’re looking well.”

Her own smile grew a little brighter, and she flicked a quick glance down and back up to meet his eyes again. “So are you.”

“Marinette! You made it!” Rose’s shriek cut off any response he might have made. Rose barrelled up the steps from the galley and past him to engulf Marinette in a tight hug, with Juleka not far behind. Luka had a moment to collect himself while they caught up. All in all, he thought he’d handled it pretty well. He hadn’t actually swallowed his tongue.

Marinette flashed a brief, rueful smile at him over her shoulder as Rose towed her below deck, leaving Luka to pull his scattered thoughts together. He hadn’t seen her in ten years and she could still bowl him over at first sight. He turned absently to the stack of papers he’d been working on when she arrived, barely seeing them.

He hadn’t made much progress half an hour later, and gave up, heading down to the galley. A burst of laughter drew his attention and in the other room he could see Marinette wielding a tape measure around his sister with brisk efficiency, while Rose sat on the table, swinging her legs as she flicked through a plain black sketchbook. He’d seen plenty of the same type of book back when he’d been spending a lot of time with Marinette all those years ago. He leaned in the doorway, unnoticed, watching Marinette at work.

It had always been hard to define exactly what made Marinette so overwhelming whenever he saw her. Maybe it was the sense of intensity and creative fire, as if her skin could barely contain everything that she was, or the fierce, giving heart that shone within her. Maybe it was the endless blue of her eyes that spoke to him of a limitless horizon. It seemed like none of that had changed.

What had changed was the dizzying rush he felt as she bent to pick up something and he found himself following the tight curve of her jeans and the contour of her strong, lean legs. He jerked his wayward gaze away, trying to fight down the heat in his cheeks and the fleeting speculation about what it might be like to have those legs wrapped around him, and those beautiful eyes of hers on him while he … God, Couffaine, get your mind out of the gutter! It had been ten years since he’d last seen her, and these were not appropriate thoughts to be having barely thirty minutes and less than a handful of words of conversation after she’d turned up in his life again.

She had always been a pretty girl, but that was nothing to the gorgeous woman she’d grown into.

He would have bet money that the jeans hugging those legs like a second skin were her own design, and the silky red shirt sliding artfully off one shoulder but never quite falling looked like it had come straight from the fashion week runway. The way Marinette filled it, though, was far more distracting than any model could have ever made it.

The pigtails were another thing that was gone, but he didn’t spare them more than a moment of nostalgia, because the blue-black satin of her hair was caught up in a knot that left the smooth line of her neck bare, and that was a whole other train of thought that he cut off quickly. He looked up to find that she was watching him with a quizzical expression, and he managed to answer it with a smile of his own before Rose noticed him standing there.

“Luka!” she called out. “You have got to see what Marinette’s come up with for us!”

She was practically bouncing, and shoved the sketchbook at him. He looked at Marinette, one eyebrow raised in a question, before he opened it.

“If Marinette’s okay with that,” he said. Marinette’s mouth lifted in a smile at that.

“Marinette’s okay with that,” she told him, and he opened the cover. The slim book was full of designs and scribbled ideas and notes on wedding dresses. He’d seen her fourteen year old designs, and been impressed by them, but this… this was a whole other level, which, he supposed, wasn’t surprising. He turned through the pages slowly. He paused on one that was clearly meant for Juleka.

“Wow,” he said softly.

“That’s one of my favourites, too,” Marinette said. She’d come to look over his shoulder, and he was finding that rather unsettling for some reason. “Juleka’s so elegant, she could wear just about anything, but I like that structure for her.”

“It feels like her.” He glanced up at Marinette. “Dangerous edges, with just a bit of sweetness underneath.”

Marinette turned another few pages, and waited for Luka to find it.

“Rose,” he grinned back at her. “Channelling her inner Disney princess?”

“The brief was Sleeping Beauty, live action, but more -” Marinette gestured extravagantly, opening her eyes wide, and from the table where she was perched, Rose stuck out her tongue at them.

“It’s my wedding, and I’ll princess if I want to,” Rose sniffed.

Luka glanced back at the sketch, and was impressed all over again. Marinette had somehow turned flowers and glitter and pink and Rose into a few lines of charcoal and caught it on the page. Her own special brand of magic.

On the other side of the room, Juleka looked up from her phone.

“I’ve just ordered takeaway, and Ivan and Mylène are on their way,” she told them, and levelled a look at Marinette. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

By the time Marinette had been talked into it, and Ivan and Mylène had turned up in a bustle of exclamations and hugs and chatter, Luka had recovered something of his equilibrium. As darkness fell over the river and the lights strung up across the boat spilled a soft light over the deck, Luka handed Marinette a glass of wine and settled into the deck chair beside her.

“You’re wearing a tie these days,” she said with a hint of mischief, and he glanced down at the shirt he’d rolled up over his tattooed forearms and the tie he’d forgotten he was still wearing. “I never pictured you in the kind of career that would need a tie.”

He pulled himself together enough to smile easily back at her. “Well, it’s been a while. A few things have changed. I see you’re not wearing those pigtails anymore,” he teased her, and her hand went to the soft satin twist of her hair.

“No.” Marinette leaned back in the chair, her wine glass in hand, and her eyes were on Rose and Ivan arguing amicably about something. There was an indefinable sense of distance in her that had never been there when they were kids, and he wondered what had happened to put that there.

“So when did you get back in touch with Jules? She didn’t mention that she’d seen you.”

“I was showing a couple of pieces at something Juleka was modelling at a while ago. We bumped into each other backstage, and when she mentioned that she and Rose were getting married I offered to make up the dresses for them. My wedding present to them,” she said with a self-conscious smile, and Luka couldn’t help a soft laugh.

“Only you would do that for someone you haven’t seen in years.”

“They’re still friends.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

Rose was standing on a stack of crates now, singing something about rainbows, while Juleka hooked an arm around her to keep her from overbalancing and Mylène snorted with laughter. Marinette looked over at them a little wistfully.

“It’s nice to be back in touch with the old Kitty Section crew,” she admitted. “It was nice to reconnect with Juleka… and you. I’ve missed that.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Luka said quietly. “Do you see much of the old school crowd?”

Marinette shrugged. “Not really. I run into Adrien from time to time. I see him at the fashion shows sometimes, but honestly, once we get past the awkward reminiscing about collège, and industry stuff, we don’t really have a whole lot to talk about these days. I’ve sort of lost touch with everyone else.”

“How about Alya?” he asked. Luka had never really warmed to the brash journalist-in-the-making, with all her Adrien-schemes, but she’d been best friends with Marinette back in the day.

“No.” The one word was oddly expressionless. “I haven’t see her in a few years.”

There was a heartbeat when he thought she was going to say something else, then those lashes of hers dropped. Instead, when she looked up again there was that mischievous spark in her eyes again, and she said, “So what convinced you to put on a tie? Although I notice you didn’t get rid of your blue hair.” Was that an approving note in her voice? He ran his hand a little self-consciously through the longer, teal-tipped sweep of his dark hair, rubbing at the shorter hairs at the back of his neck. “What are you doing these days?”

“Playing the occasional gig whenever I get the chance, selling my music from time to time, teaching…”

“Teaching?”

He named the lycèe.

“Lucky students.” Marinette tilted her head to regard him speculatively, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I’m having a hard time seeing you as M. Couffaine, though.”

“Just Luka. I’m the cool teacher that half the faculty hates because I undermine authority.”

“And the other half madly crush on,” Marinette suggested, and Luka felt himself flush. She could still throw him off-balance, all these years later, although it was in a different way now. The fourteen year old Marinette he remembered would never have been able to say something like that without self-combusting, but here she was, watching him with that mischievous glint in her beautiful blue eyes, and it was just another reminder that things had changed.

“What about you?” he deflected. He gestured at the sketchbook she’d left on a nearby table with her handbag. “Following the dream?”

She gave a wry little smile. “Oh, I got through my degree in fashion design somehow, and I’ve been running a bespoke atelier out of my bedroom. It’s not huge, but it pays the bills, and at least it gives me a certain amount of … flexibility.” Luka couldn’t understand the slight twist of her mouth at the word, but she had it smoothed out before he could be sure he’d really seen it. “And Ja… a few high profile people have been very kind and sent work my way.”

Luka felt certain he knew who the celebrity had been. For that alone, he could forgive his father a lot. There was a long silence while Marinette contemplated her empty wine glass, then she met his eyes.

“You have no idea how sorry I am that I broke up with you like that, right when you were going through everything with... I just made everything worse, and it wasn’t fair on you. I never really found a way to tell you that I was sorry for everything.”

“Marinette, no!” Luka straightened in his deckchair, a faint frown crossing his face. “We were kids. I’ve always felt badly that I put you under more pressure when you were clearly having a hard time with something.”

“There was a fair bit of that going around,” she conceded, and let out a shuddering breath that he didn’t realise she’d been holding. “But you have nothing to apologise for, you had every right to be upset about how I treated you. I regret a lot of things about back then.”

“I don’t regret that we tried,” Luka said with unintentional intensity, and Marinette’s eyes widened a little. “But I do regret that I lost you out of my life altogether. You always had the most fascinating way of seeing things, and I missed just hanging out and talking to you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after all that. And I thought it was saf -“ she cut herself off abruptly, changing what she’d been going to say, “- better if I stayed away.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything in response.

She gave him a sidelong look. “I never really got the chance to ask you, did you… how did things go with Jagged in the end? Do you talk to him?”

Luka’s expression turned wry. “It’s complicated. It’s always complicated with Jagged, but we talk a bit. He’s going to be there for the wedding. Not sure how that’s going to go.”

Marinette made a sympathetic noise. He thought for a moment that she was going to ask him for the details, but instead, with another swift, perceptive glance from those blue eyes of hers, she changed the subject.

“So what’s teaching like, M. Couffaine?” she asked lightly, and he settled back to tell her some of his stories, enjoying the ripple of laughter he drew from her over his students’ antics, and the chuckles she surprised out of him with her own tales about clients and their most outrageous demands. He had no idea how late it had grown when the conversation was interrupted by a chorus of phones chiming all at once from various corners of the Liberty. Ivan was the first to reach his.

“Akuma alert,” he sighed. “Aw, man, they’ve shut down septième. Traffic getting home is going to be hell.”

“What’s the bet that it’s the Eiffel Tower again?” Juleka muttered.

Mylène was shaking her head. “Hawkmoth, and now Swallowtail, and there was that weird thing with the rats a few years ago, and the government keeps pretending that there’s nothing they can do as long as they can just dump it all on Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with the problem. We’re still working on getting subsidies for mental health therapies, but they keep stonewalling us.”

Marinette was getting to her feet.

“I really should go,” she said reluctantly, and Luka stood as she gathered up her bag and sketchbook. “It was… really nice to catch up again, Luka. It’s been far too long.”

“Oh, but you’ll be back again soon, right?” Rose cut in before Luka could say anything. “There’ll be fittings for the wedding dresses, and we’re not letting you lose contact again like that. We’ve missed you, right, Luka?”

Luka ignored Rose’s unsubtle nudge, and Marinette said her goodbyes to the rest of their friends.

“It’s good to see you again, Marinette,” he told her, and accepted the light bise she brushed against his cheek. He caught a hint of vanilla and sugar as she leaned in, and oh hell, it suddenly hit him why the smell of cookies had always left him with a faint and peculiar sense of homesickness when his mother had never baked a cookie in her life. He closed his eyes briefly, and let Marinette go before he could do something stupid.

Luka watched her safely down to the dock, and he absolutely was not fixating on the sway of those jeans as she walked away, holy crap, and turned back to meet Rose’s hopeful and utterly transparent look.

“So-oo,” his future sister-in-law said with overdone nonchalance. “You and Marinette looked like you were having a good time together.”

“Don’t go getting ideas, Ro.”

“Rose,” Juleka muttered warningly from the bench where she was sitting, but Rose ignored her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently. “I just want you to be happy Luka. It looked like you were really happy tonight. And it was great to see Marinette again.”

“No ideas,” he repeated, and Rose gave him a look of deep disappointment. She started collecting the empty takeaway containers, while Luka rounded up the glasses. Rose dropped a kiss on Juleka’s mouth on the way past, and flitted down into the galley. Juleka heaved a put-upon sigh, and swung herself gracefully to her feet, scooping up a couple of stray cushions.

Luka picked up Marinette’s wineglass, with the soft pink imprint of her lipstick.

“You didn’t mention that Marinette would be coming round,” he said, his back to his sister. “You didn’t mention that you’d been in touch with her again.”

Juleka shrugged, and dumped the cushions in one of the storage boxes on the deck. “Didn’t think it mattered. It was ten years ago. You’re not still hung up on what happened back then, are you?”

“No, of course not.” And he was pretty sure that was true. This felt like he’d been blindsided by Marinette Dupain-Cheng in a whole new way.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #see the light #this is disney nerds #julerose wedding #they're still idiots #tangled

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ruby-whistler · 3 years ago

Note

I recently took your latest survey and I was having some thoughts like I tend to do and thought I would try to understand your POV better and give some insight into mine. I wouldn’t consider myself a “apologist” for any character and actually really hate how the term is used, but in general I disagree with the main opinion I’ve seen on your blog which is that Dream should get a redemption arc. However, my reasoning isn’t one that I see you commonly argue against. (Being that dream shouldn’t get a redemption arc because he’s done bad things.) You always ask some interesting questions, I enjoy taking your surveys, I’ve done all the ones I’ve seen on my dash. So I’d like to in turn ask for your opinion on some things and see your opinion on my POV, if that is ok with you. I just find it interesting to discuss.

the view I see a lot of Dream apologist have is that everyone should have the opportunity for a good ending, which is true.

But I feel like it kind of misses the point of well, we are discussing characters, not real people. Now of course, what we say and write about characters can still have an impact, but I feel like sometimes this fandom in particular goes too far down the route of seeing these characters as people. To the point where anything said about the character is seen as proof of that persons morals, and not something said about a story.

For example, going back to the point about how everyone should have the opportunity to heal, I think that is true. But the fact of the matter is, not everyone will. It’s not realistic. So it makes sense that in stories, not ever y antagonist will have a redemption. I think there’s a huge difference between saying you don’t want a character to heal in a story, and saying you don’t want someone to in real life. For me it completely depends on how well it would work narratively in the story, not how much I think the particular character deserves it.

There’s a reason why the whole “power of friendship” trope is often mocked. It’s because it’s anticlimactic. It takes away all the stakes, leaving you with a rather stale, and hard-to-believe ending. People who have had a considerable downward spiral often can’t be completely derailed by a simple “no, this isn’t right” or a brief act of kindness. To better explain this I think it would help to take a step back from the story and characters we are attached to and just take a look at different stories that are pretty well known. Just to kind of put what I’m trying to say into perspective better.

I’ll take Marvels Infinity war/endgame as a example here because I think a lot of parallels can be drawn from Thanos to c!dream. (And I used to be really into marvel.) What with the whole “greater good” “one big happy family” thing they want to achieve through harm, murder, and total control. Also the disc war finale was literally pulled from endgame lol. With both characters we can see they have at the very least a not terrible motive. If you look closely enough it’s possible to sympathize with them. Less so for me with c!dream simply because we haven’t gotten a real solid backstory or reasoning from him, besides pieced together fanon that we have no real way of determining the accuracy of yet. But I get that some people do really like the character. But keeping along those lines of comparing the two, they’ve both done a ton a very terrible things, and don’t seem to feel any regret for them. (Actually, scratch that, there are scenes that imply thanos at least did feel somewhat bad about what he was doing, another reason that he’s more sympathetic for me. Of course you could claim that c!dream is less emotional or just doesn’t show it, which could be true, but there’s also the claim that he just doesn’t care, which could also very well be true. Again, we sadly don’t have too much insight to his character, which is a shame in my opinion. I’d like the see more of the writers intent.)

So the reason for my comparison is to ask this question, taking away all bias. do you think that giving thanos a redemption arc would of been the right way to take the story. Again, I think both their arcs are easily comparable, seeing as the dsmp pretty much took direct inspiration from those movies in the latter part of season 2. This might be a bit harder to answer if you haven’t seen it but you could easily look up a summary if you wanted to, or just take my word for it that they are pretty similar lol.

Becuase, if the answer is no, then I’m not sure how much some of the points you’ve made on this blog hold up. Besides being based off your liking of the character, which is valid. (there’s a reason why fanfic and fanart exists) but that doesn’t mean that such a ending would be good for a story. Again, I can understand why you would want a redemption for c!dream, just like I want my favorite characters to have a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean I actually want it to happen. Above all else I want a good story.

Just to clarify, I’m not asking if you think these characters deserve redemption. I’m asking if you think it would work well narratively and give a solid conclusion. Because, like I mentioned earlier, this is a story. We arnt discussing the fate of real people here. Having a villain not be redeemed is not the same as saying people who have done really bad things should not be redeemed. Likewise, having a villain be redeemed isn’t saying what they did was ok. Villain redemptions can be well done, but they have to make sense narratively and be satisfying. In this case, I personally believe a redemption for Dream would not be interesting or compelling in the slightest, for the same reason I don’t think endgame ending in a redemption arc for thanos would be interesting or compelling in the slightest, despite the fact that I like both characters.

Part of the reason I brought up marvel at all is I want to kind of reframe the story, because I feel like this fandom has a oddly unique way of viewing the characters and story. Like I mentioned, the characters are often discussed like they are real people. Discussing c!dreams fate is treated like your discussing the fate of a real man, not a character in a story. I think there are some possible reasons for this. For one, all the characters are somewhat attached to their steamers counterpart. So, we feel more attached to them as a whole, and they feel more like real people. Another reason could be that you can watch almost any perspective you like, and leave out any ones you wish to as well. It’s a bit like a choose your own adventure book. So, in a way, pretty much every character could be considered a protagonist.

Which is where I can see a possible argument against my point. In a story where every character is the protagonist, the only satisfying outcome would be one that pleases fans of every POV. Which is where I can see this argument take place of “well, do you think ___ deserves a good ending? Then what about ___?? Surely you must think everyone does, or you just have bad morals!”. It’s a unique situation that I don’t think I’ve seen before. Of course, everyone has their favorites in a story, but the difference here is there are no supporting characters or solid antagonist.

And honestly, I think originally Wilbur saw the possibility of that problem arising, which is why he once stated that he wanted the characters to serve the narrative, not the other way around. It’s interesting that we didn’t have nearly as much discussion like this back when Wilbur was writing, because the story was much more conventional. But by the time we got to season three, that sentiment had been pretty much completely thrown out the window, leaving us with what we have today.

This is why I personally prefer the previous narrative. On one hand, this current way of story telling is very unique, and has a lot of potential, but comes with a lot of downsides. Conventional story structure just,,, doesn’t work out as well. Which is why I personally see the best course of action as using Dream as the overall antagonist. Giving Dream a tragic backstory, hidden motives, and eventual redemption arc just wouldn’t do much for the story in my opinion. Sure, it would make people who enjoy and sympathize with his character happy, but it runs into the problem of all the storylines being very separate. Like yeah we can have a separate redemption arc for each and every character, but I just don’t see how we would get an actual story out of that. I think a central villain could really pull things together, but at the moment it’s unclear if that is what they are going for. I guess we’ll just have to see where things go? Maybe there’s some answers to our questions in the aforementioned Dream lore stream? I personally believe he is being written as a central antagonistic character, but I can see where the opinion that he is not comes from, despite not personally wanting the story to take that direction.

I know this is very long, and I apologize, but seeing as you often make surveys and things asking for others povs, which I would imagine results in pages of paragraphs, I figured you wouldn’t be opposed to this. I’d like to hear your opinion/thoughts, but if you don’t want to respond I am fine with that.

alrigh, putting this one onder the ol’ cut because the ask is long enough /lh

so, i don’t actually take “everyone deserves to heal” as an argument why c!dream should have a redemption arc - more like an anti-argument for why he shouldn’t. my main reasons for why i believe he should be redeemed is 1. it’s the only thing that makes sense for the story 2. it’s the thing that makes the most sense for the character 3. he just genuinely deserves better after what he’s gone through 4. at this point anything else would send a really bad message 5. he’s the perfect character with the perfect setup to get one. it’s not just because i like him.

i don’t take what people say about characters deserving redemption as proof of their real life morals, or an example for how they’d treat real people, however i can still say these takes are atrocious, make no sense, or even upsetting and make me want to interact with the person less. they’re often born from bias and are completely illogical from both an objective and a philosophical sense, which is why i speak out about them, not for real life morality issues. this fandom has some of the most ridiculous and unsettling views of the story i’ve seen.

stories are not meant to be 100% realistic. art is supposed to have an improvement of real life - redemption arcs in stories that are well-written aren’t invalidated just because in real life, people don’t become better more often than not. if all bad people became good people, that would be cool actually - it’s not what’s gonna happen in real life, but doesn’t mean i should be opposed to it if it’s pulled off well.

alright, full disclosure, i have never watched a marvel movie in my life. i don’t plan to, really, i read books instead of watching movies most of the time. with the limited knowledge i have of thanos, i’d say some parallels can be drawn, but they’re not the same character at all, nor is their personality, story, or narrative the same. we have gotten confirmation on the fact his goal is peace and for people to get along, and i don’t know what you mean by “pieced together fanon”, but people believe or deny what they want, so whatever. i’d argue he’s easier to sympathize with, but then again, i haven’t watched marvel movies, so in my mind thanos is less a “sympathize” and more of a “understand his motives” type of guy.

i think that if thanos was a character in an environment of less than thirty people, with a home he owned and his family torn apart and divided, becoming more and more ruthless in attempts to stop people from starting long-winded conflict, who has proven again and again to care about people, but employ horrible tactics less despite and more as a result of it, and was defeated and abused in a cruel prison system for several months, while the narrative deliberately shows of his humanity - then yes, i think he should be redeemed. if that is not thanos, then perhaps you should’ve chosen a better comparison, or not used one at all.

seems very out of character to me. perhaps if you think c!dream and thanos are really the same person, you should start considering actual canon more than your own feelings about the character. just a suggestion.

i myself think that everyone on the smp deserves to heal and be redeemed, however i think c!dream will be the only person to get an arc in the upcoming months, because everything is pointing towards the fact and at this point it is pretty obvious the story has picked that option to go with. this is purely story and narrative-based, and my feelings match up with it more than the other way around.

i believe that a redemption arc for c!dream would, because of recent as well as older developments, be the only compelling and interesting writing choice in the upcoming arc. you disagreeing - well, i guess that’ll be your opinion until you’re proven wrong or not. however i strongly disagree because of the themes, narrative and characterization that seem to strongly disagree with you on the subject as well.

cc!wilbur’s literal last wish when leaving the writing was to keep all characters morally grey, no overall antagonist or protagonist. and the writers did a hell of a good job with that, however i guess the fandom wasn’t ready for darker and more philosophically difficult themes to be explored so they promptly switched to a pure black-and-white view of the story (which cc!wilbur straight up criticized them for), i think to try and gain a moral high-ground or something?? idk, they ruined the thing for themselves though, it was definitely not the writers’ fault.

there is no “the story” from a narrative stand-point. all of the characters have wildly different narratives and outlooks. if c!dream’s redemption wouldn’t do much for the story you are watching? honestly why should i care, the dream smp is more complex than that.

if you think c!dream should stay the overall antagonist, maybe you’ve already lost track of the lore. quackity at the moment seems to be the character with the most potential to make a negative impact on several characters’ narrative (hence becoming an antagonist of at least part of the overall story) while c!dream is stuck being the literal victim of his in a prison that is deliberately framed by the writers as dehumanizing and corrupt. if “this character’s vulnerability is being exposed and he is being actively traumatized and outdone by a different villainous character” doesn’t scream “extremely likely redemption arc” to you, i don’t know what will.

c!dream hasn’t been the “central antagonist” for the past six months and there are like three characters already fighting over filling in the spot. if you don’t want the narrative to take that direction? i am sorry, but i don’t think there is much you can do about it.

#my asks #anon #long post

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 4 years ago

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Wing Analysis

Maleficent 2014

Alright. I never watched the sequel, but I did very much enjoy watching Maleficent, I think it did a pretty good job of subverting some common fantasy tropes and doing the found family thing.

But oh boy the wings. I do have some issues with those.

(Description: a still image from the Maleficent movie of Maleficent standing on a rock in a gloomy forest with her wings spread on either side of her.)

Now, they are not horrible wings. The feather structure is actually pretty great, although I think the secondary flight feathers could be rounder and I think they left too many gaps between the ends of her feathers. These are minor problems though.

The real issues I have are those weird claws and the fact that they are terribly inconsistent about their color, size, and shape. Sometimes they’re such a warm brown they could be golden eagle wings, other times (even ignoring the perfectly acceptable lighting changes that affect colors) the feathers are all black. So are they black or brown? And are they super narrow or are they very broad? They seem to change shape based purely on the aesthetic need of the moment. I mean she is a magical being and part of the fae so I guess it can be excused as weird fae magic and so can the other issues I have, but that’s a silly excuse.

I also have issues with the way they move relative to her body but I will save that for my longer rant about animated winged people in general.

(Description: a simplified sketch of the first image, color coding the feather sections on her wings and drawing in where the wing bones could be. Various notes on the image point out things I mentioned in the previous paragraph.)

Also the wings are flatly posed while her body is turned a little and they just don’t match up. Wings should be included in body language and this movie follows the annoying trend of winged people being posed with their wings flatly held out behind them. Fold those things! Turn them with the body! You think it looks cool but it’s just a winged version of the T-pose.

And concerning the claws. It is really clear they only gave her wing claws for the draconic silhouette, having the claws curve towards her head and creating this circular frame of the upper wing edge around her face. Visually it does look neat. Having the wings up in this dramatic T-pose with the feathers flared, the wing edges and the big claws making that circular frame to draw attention to the face. Yeah, from a purely compositional point of view it looks good.

But it looks kinda bad from the point of view of a person who knows how wings work. The circular frame of the wings just makes them look oddly stiff and tense, and the claws do not work. They would have to require the wing hand bones to have an extra bit that juts out backwards over the wrist. Not even bats hold their thumbs like that all the time (especially since it doesn’t appear to have its own joint, it’s just a claw that sticks out funny) I also of course am bothered by the lack of a tail but that's kind of a Me thing. (Give winged people tails, cowards)

So I made a couple different options to fix these wings, keeping them feathery but also still including a claw because my problem is not that she has clawed wings, just that the claws they gave her are poorly placed.

(Description: the screenshot of Maleficent standing on a rock in the gloomy forest, but it’s divided in half with the original wing on the right and an altered wing on the left. The altered wing reverses the direction of her wing claw and adds a second claw a little further down on the wing edge, where the tip of the bones would be. I also added the edge of a feathery tail sticking out from behind her.)

This first alteration is based on baby hoatzins! Did you know we have a bird in our modern world that is born with clawed wings? The actual claws fall off later when they no longer need them for clinging to branches, but it’s still very cool! Just like their ancestral dinosaur relatives such as velociraptors. The claws on a hoatzin or older dinosaurs are basically a thumb and forefinger, they point down the edge of the wing. It is very possible to draw birdlike wings AND add a cool looking claw without sacrificing a more realistic wing structure.

(Description: same as above, but now the left side showing an altered wing has a totally redrawn wing that looks like a blend between a bat wing and a bird wing. The wing membrane sticks out from beneath the feathers surrounding the wing arm. The edge of a much longer tail is poking out from behind Maleficent.)

Want feathers and also a draconic silhouette? Well why just put a claw on a bird wing? Especially on a fae from some mysterious ancient ancestry? Have some fun with it! There is a real prehistoric creature we call the Yi Qi that is speculatued to have had both feathers and a wing membrane! That is super cool! So here I have drawn a yi qi style wing on Maleficent, with the implied longer tail to attach the wing membrane that also still has feathers on it. Unlike a bat, there are only four wing fingers here. Thumb, forefinger, and second finger all pretty close together, with the second finger being very long to give the wing its size. But then there is also another finger that goes straight down across from the thumb. I put the feathers along the entire top of the wing edge, but they could be done in a few different ways probably. Personally I like this one best because it’s unique and has a more mystical look to it.

(Description: colored drawings of Maleficent in my own style, showing off the two different redesigned wings in different poses so the tails are more visible. I also added a little more color like some purples in the feathers. In one of the poses she is holding a raven.)

Okay these drawings are a bit darkly colored on a dark background I apologize lol. I think they should have made her feathers more iridescent, like black with a purple sheen. Much more interesting and magical looking. So anyway, there is my own ideas on redesigning Maleficent's movie wings to give them more realistic claws.

#Maleficent 2014 #accessible art #image description #accessible images #wing analysis

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years ago

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Sanguine Nocturnus | 2

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 3K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Couldn’t leave y’all hanging a week without meeting our main character, now could I?

It was rare that he woke to an empty bed. Rarer still that he woke feeling as though every cell in his body was vibrating. Checking the time on his phone, he sat upright and looked around, keen eyes searching the pitch-black room for any sign of his previous night’s companion. His two dobermans, Phobos and Deimos, marked the spot, the dogs framing the corpse of last night’s entertainment. She’d been a pretty thing, fresh into her 20’s, and still so naive that she’d hung on every word he’d whispered in her ear.

At least she didn’t die a virgin.

Bending down, he picked her up easily, slinging her over one shoulder as he made his way to the cold room. Too restless to take care of her immediately, he slipped her into one of the five drawers built into the wall and locked the room behind him. By the time he made it back upstairs to shower and dress, her face was already a half-forgotten memory in his mind.

Deciding on an all-black ensemble with a ruby-toned, velvet brocade waistcoat, he showered, dressed and stepped onto the wet cobbles of Rome’s quiet streets, still feeling as though electricity was coursing through him. The moon hung over the Pantheon, looming and casting a reddish glow on all below it.

Feeling none of the restless energy dissipate despite the fresh air, he turned in the direction of the Vatican, needing to take the edge off.

He’d been a customer of the club for years; ever since it opened in fact. Over the thirty years Romulus had been serving the public, the staff had come and gone, but thankfully the owner had stayed the same. Nodding to the man as he came in, the owner automatically motioned for the bartender to set up his drink, knowing his most loyal patron only ever drank one thing; Sanguinem. A blend of wine and other, more secretive ingredients, it was the oldest drink the owner ever kept in stock. The owner had tried it once or twice, always wincing when the metallic taste hit his tongue, always confused by the popularity of the drink among many of his patrons.

He sighed as he took a seat at the bar, his blue eyes gazing up at the artwork that adorned the walls. Seldom seen when the club was in full swing, the paintings were recreations of those who had encountered a brutal end. Everyone from Marie Antoinette to Kurt Cobain lined the walls, their images altered to show them post-mortem. Sometimes gruesome and always detailed, each painting was a one-of-one, and if times ever got tough, an easy sell to a discerning collector.

As the name suggested, Romulus’ atmosphere evoked the age and bloody history of the city it called home. Dim lights, chaise lounges, and arched stone ceilings all lent to the feeling like one were in the catacombs beneath the city. Most nights, the place was flooded with red neon, the gleam of the lights off the dance floor emanating to every other corner of the establishment.

For a Saturday night, the place was oddly vacant, until he remembered that tonight was All Souls’ Day and most of Italy was either in church or in their homes, celebrating the holiday. He had never had much respect for religion, especially Catholicism; as far back as he could remember, the church had been the instigator of more deaths than any other group in the world.

“They can all go fuck themselves,” the patron muttered under his breath before taking his first swig, the bartender giving him a look as though the drinker had just murdered his mother. The owner smiled, knowing the man was referring not to the employees of the club, but to the religious fanatics that kept most of the country in church on a night like this.

“Non è cattolico.” The owner told the bartender, explaining the man’s religious views to the slightly offended man, who nodded in understanding as he connected the cussing to the holiday.

“Non cattolico a tutto.” The patron agreed, his tone low and sharp, his accent different than that of his fellow countrymen.

“Thank you for the drink, old friend.” The man said as he took his final sip, standing to his full height before extending his hand to the owner who shook it happily, his smile filled with the usual wonder that came across his face whenever he observed his patron up close. Although years went by and the world changed, his loyal customer never seemed to age a day.

No money was ever exchanged, the owner having long ago gifted his patron with a lifetime supply of Sanguinem in exchange for a certain…favor he’d needed done.

Herminius Calvisius, Henry as he was known these days, had indeed done a few favours for a select few in Italy over the years. Personally, he adored when said favours had to do with the Vatican, for he loved the food there; if you could call it that.

Food for Henry was not exactly appetizing fare for most others he resembled. Henry's idea of a meal usually consisted of a glass of Merlot followed by a pretty young thing looking for a good time around one of the dark alleys surrounding Vatican City at midnight. He never failed to get a laugh out of the shock that came from the Swiss Guard when they would find the woman the next morning, pale as St. Peter's Basilica, with the exception of two gentle circles in her throat.

Yes, he was un vampiro, as they liked to call him; a vampire.

Tonight however, the meals would be scarce, and since he was quite selective of his dinner—despite favouring the occasional streetwalker—Henry found his feet guiding him towards one of the few places where blood was a commodity.

Located just outside the Porta Settimiana, the old villa was vast, and most found it disturbing, in a way they simply couldn’t define. It made the hairs on their arms stand, and quickened their step, but if one were to ask, not a single soul could say why they avoided the piece of history.

To Henry, it was like gazing on the picture of heaven.

It was the first place he had deemed worthy enough to call home after he became immortal, and it had yet to lose its value in his eyes. Prying open the gate, which badly needed oiling, Henry smiled as he saw Brutus stand from the front door to greet him.

“Hello, boy. It’s been ages, has it not?” He greeted as he pet the mastiff that eagerly sniffed him for bones.

“None today, boy, my apologies.” Henry’s lips turned downwards at the same time as the dog’s, both spending a few more silent moments together before the large black door of the Italianate house was opened.

Had a human have witnessed the action, their blood would have run cold, for like many of the other houses of the period, the front door of this one was unbelievably heavy, usually taking the strength of two men to open. The hand that gripped it however, was delicate, manicured and thin; precisely the hand belonging to the woman he had come to see.

“Lucrezia, my love, hello.” Truly, being in her presence over the years had provided Henry with a great many memories, and fond ones at that, something which was scant for one such as himself.

“Hello, my little hermit.” She smiled. Others in the Roman coven had always called her grin wicked, but to him, it was beautiful and warm; one of the few smiles that had ever pervaded his dreams, turning nightmares into impish fairy tales.

Lucrezia, as her name would suggest, was also Italian, and although younger than him, she had seen the days when Rome ruled the earth—or what was known of it at the time. She had seen several Caesars come and go, and had been just outside the senate when Julius himself had met his end at the tip of Brutus’ blade.

Her hematite locks descended past her shoulders in loose waves, only serving to accentuate impeccable bone structure, a creamy complexion, and burgundy lips she methodically painted every time she awoke. Henry could tell she was feeling dramatic today, as she was wearing an old Roman gown, given to her by a courtier during the reign of Octavian.

“What’s the occasion, Lucy?” Smiling at the intended reaction he got at the nickname, he did not hesitate to kiss her cheek in pardon.

“I do hate it when you call me that, Henry; Makes me sound like a child.”

Indeed to any onlooker, she might be confused for one, Lucrezia having been made an immortal at the tender age of twenty. He did not know her then, but news of her beauty spread quickly among the covens of the Empire, her likeness drawn on both papyrus and walls alike, so that any who felt the need could gaze upon her visage. Henry smiled, remembering how the portraits did her little justice when he finally gazed upon her in the flesh.

“If you must know however, I had company over just an hour ago, and there’s some very exciting news coming from the coven.”

“Will I have to be there?” Henry rolled his eyes, knowing that any news from the coven could only be one of two things; either there was to be a new celebration, or one of the elders had gone to ground and a new one had been chosen to take his place.

“Hush. I haven’t even told you the news yet. Marius was lovely enough to come and keep me company tonight on such a dreadful holiday, and since he had just been to the house, he was brimming with new gossip that I just had to hear. Apparently, Cassius has decided to sleep, and a new elder will be taking his place. According to Marius, this one is…different.”

“Different how?” Henry asked, his interest piqued despite his detestation for any and all gossip to come out of the coven he had so long ago abandoned in favour of a life less formal.

“Well, first off he’s apparently quite…awe striking, fear-inducing, etcetera. A real Roman sculpture is how Marius described him. And secondly, he’s of the…Greek persuasion, if you will.”

Her grin became even more deviant as the two headed inside towards the parlor, Lucrezia immediately pulling a decanter off a small flame and pouring two glasses of blood so good, the scent alone was enough to make Henry’s head spin.

“A boy lover?” He asked, looking curiously at his companion. It was not uncommon for those of his kind to frolic with their own sex, but among the elders and those next in line, it was a rarity, simply because it was a public imbalance among the sexes of the coven and their kind liked nothing more than to appear egalitarian.

“MAN lover, actually. If Marius was looking at the right man, then apparently our next elder has already found a companion in Fares.” Henry raised his eyebrows, indifferent to the news.

“Where do you find them?” He asked, tipping his glass in reference to the fine liquid he soon after began pouring down his throat.

“Oh, you know…The old money, the papacy, the brothels, the usual.” They shared a laugh, both knowing that no matter what a person’s station in life, their blood did little to hide their history.

“Well, my dear, for someone as young as you, you have fine taste.” And with that, he took a full drink, feeling his body reconstitute in seconds.

“Back to this fledgling, my love, and pay attention. The ceremony is taking place two nights from now, at the house, and yes, you must attend.”

Henry tried to hide his annoyance at the fact that despite severing ties to the house, he was still required to go to such frivolous functions, for the sake of tradition alone. For all he knew, the fledgling was already in power, probably getting the youngest members of the house to do his dirty work for him.

Above all though, he felt bitter that despite his lack of connection, he had yet again been passed over as elder of the coven. It was not as if he were the youngest of vampires. Over 2,000 years old and plenty educated in the ways of the coven, Henry found it an insult to be passed over time after time; it was one of the many reasons he’d separated himself from their ancient ways.

“How old is this boy lover and what’s his name?” Henry asked, feigning interest for Lucrezia’s sake, only mildly interested in knowing whether this new elder was an acquaintance or not.

“He is a 26, and his name is...Gab-No! Gregory, from what Marius could gather. Do you know him?”

“Is he Italian?” Henry asked, knowing that the chances of this man being familiar to him would increase tenfold if he was of Roman descent.

“When have you known the elders to ever pick a foreigner as the next in line? Of course he’s Italian.” Lucrezia laughed, thinking Henry foolish for even entertaining the notion.

“Well, there was the time when we put in a Frenchman, temporarily. That didn’t go over too well though.” He reminded her, every member of the coven all too eager to forget that one particular mistake in their history.

“And you said he was my 26? As in, older than me?”

“No. 26, as in he was born yesterday,” Lucrezia’s eyes went wide, her gaze speaking volumes to Henry as she took a sip from her chalice. He, like her, was scandalized that they’d pick someone so young to their ways to be the next leading elder.

Licking his lips, he tried to remember all the faces he had come across in the last three decades, linking each to a name and finding that none of them matched the one he’d been given.

“Unless my memory deceives me, or he has changed his name, I do not know him.”

“Pity, for I was hoping you’d introduce me.” Lucrezia grinned, a single line of blood falling from the corner of her lips, making her indeed look like a celluloid vampire.

Finishing off her chalice, Lucrezia’s blue-green eyes turned to the night beyond her window, Henry smiling as he sensed where the night would go.

“Everyone’s tripping over themselves, naturally; either in love with his youth and beauty, or wanting to maim Cassius for choosing a fledgling who hasn’t even weaned yet, as far as Marius could tell.”

“It’s little wonder Cassius decreed you--” Lucrezia stopped short, her eyes traveling up and over the lip of her chalice, a devilish smirk exposing her fangs as she waited for Henry’s reaction.

“Decreed me to what, Lucy?” Henry asked with a warning tone, one eyebrow raising as he waited for her to spill the rest of the gossip she’d received second-hand.

“Decreed that you will be his tutor in all things...Vampiric.” Her delicate fingers slipped through the air, creating a ballet all their own and momentarily distracting Henry from his own ire.

“He has no power to do so! Lucrezia, tell me this is another one of your humorless jests!” He finally barked, teeth bared as he stood and began to pace around the room.

“I’m afraid not, my darling. If Marius was correct, the decree came with an ultimatum as well. Come to heel, or…”

“That pompous bastard. He knows full well what he does. I knew it would be another century of trouble once he rose. Had to get one last kick to the teeth in. I swear, if this is still because I told him his mother was a beautiful as a donkey’s prick, I will have his head while he SLEEPS!”

“Easy, Centurion. It’s generally frowned upon to decapitate an elder nowadays. Come, let us slake your lust elsewhere. I ordered in.” Her smile turned even more secretive as she rang a bell next to the snifter, Lucrezia’s gentle hands pressing Henry towards the area of the parlor that she’d long ago turned into something more closely resembling an Andaruni.

Slipping her hands into the collar of his jacket, Lucrezia helped Henry undress before allowing him to do the same to her, the sweet tone of her giggle as she spun out of her dress completely dissipating any of the lingering anger Henry felt. When they were both nude and relaxed among the many cushions that separated them from the floor, Lucrezia’s day man sent in a feast.

“Twins! Lucy, you’ve outdone yourself.” Henry’s eyebrow raised for a very different reason as both he and Lucrezia opened their arms for the two young blondes who had been ushered in, bare, and more than a little tipsy if their footsteps were anything to go by.

“What did you give them tonight?” Henry questioned with a chuckle, reaching up and catching one of the girls before she could crash headlong into the low table that held a variety of accoutrements for pre and post-dinner. Undeterred, the woman found her way easily into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did a sloppy grind of her hips against his hardening shaft.

“Just the usual. Bit of Absinthe, touch of Laudanum for the nerves.”

“I owe you dinner.” Henry smiled as he sank into the girl in his arms, watching as she arched back instinctively against the exquisite pleasure he provided.

Moans filled the air before a deathly silence blanketed the villa, two more souls joining the countless others being prayed for on that sacred night.

#henry cavill #henry x ofc #sanguine nocturnus #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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five-rivers · 5 years ago

Text

Doctor

The final continuation of Science and Stuck!

Jack and Maddie had never been in the Ghost Zone before, and they watched with fascination as the camera they had attached to Phantom dipped and bobbed, weaving through a complex maze of impossible and decaying architecture. Really, this whole endeavor would be worth it just for this.

But they'd already learned so much more. The interaction between Phantom and the box-obsessed ghost had been enlightening, giving insight to why Phantom did not simply destroy weaker ghosts who trespassed on his territory. They hadn't believed that ghosts could make deals like that.

It put Phantom's fights in a very different perspective. He might be coordinating with the ghosts he 'fought' to make himself look good. After all, if he could bargain with that ghost, why not others?

Admittedly, that theory was a bit out there, but it was plausible.

They had also been interested to see that Phantom was aware of the camera and its function. They had designed it to bond with the ghost's body, to trick it into accepting it as part of itself. They had assumed that the ghost's mind (such as it was) would be similarly fooled. But, it wasn't. Phantom appeared to have understood the camera almost immediately and had attempted to remove it.

Phantom swooped around another twisted staircase. Maddie tapped on the glass screen.

"I wonder what he's trying to hide," she said.

"Well, we'll see it sooner or later," said Jack, cutting off a corner of his emergency fudge. "There's no way he'll be able to get the camera off." He snorted. "Even if there was a ghost intelligent enough, they don't have the equipment."

Maddie nodded. "I suppose it's just frustrating. All this time, trying to figure him out, and now we have to wait even longer." She sighed. "Him knowing it's a camera is going to skew our results, too. He'll be on his best behavior while people are watching. We already know that from his whole hero routine."

On the screen, Phantom turned a corner, and the Fentons were treated to a view of a vast, open expanse. Floating islands charted their own paths against a green and swirling sky. Clouds of ectoplasmic mist scudded along the not-horizon. Disembodied doors flew by without rhyme or reason.

The picture shifted from side to side as Phantom took in his surroundings. It stopped, lingering on an oddly skull-shaped island for several long seconds before Phantom turned away.

Danny had known the portal the Box Ghost had shown him was close to Skulker's island, but he hadn't quite realized how close. It was a good landmark, he knew exactly how to get to the Far Frozen from here, but he didn't really want to run into Skulker.

He didn't want to deal with any of the ghosts he usually fought with his parents watching, and maybe listening, through the camera. They might not actively try to expose him, but a number of them were too comfortable with shouting out things like-

"I'll wrap Ember's gifts with your pelt, halfa whelp!"

Ugh. Like that.

Danny twisted and froze a tracking missile, not watching as it began to arc to his left, caught in the orbit of the staircase maze Danny had just left. He sent a few blasts at Skulker.

"I think you should find something to put in the gifts first!" he shouted. "Unlike last year. I heard you were begging MP3 players off of Technus minutes-" he cut off to dodge a net. He hated nets. Why did Skulker even bother with them, when he was trying to kill Danny, anyway? "Minutes before the party!"

"Like you're one to talk! You completely destroyed the party!"

"Hey, blame Ghostwriter for that one!"

"And you don't understand! You don't even have a girlfriend!"

"Well, neither will you for much longer if you don't come up with better present ideas!"

The fight had wound down into the two ghosts just yelling at each other. For all the violence Skulker regularly subjected him to, Danny sometimes wondered if Skulker actually wanted to skin him, or mount his head on a wall, or any of the other threats he belted out, or if he just wanted the thrill of the chase.

"Can't you just give me a break for once? I don't have time for this!"

"Oh, please, you have all the time in the world, whelp!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, what with you being a hal-"

Danny flew over and clamped a hand over Skulker's mouth. "Not another word," he hissed. "We're being watched."

"What do you-?"

Danny cut him off, pointing significantly at the camera. Skulker immediately started laughing.

"Oh, yeah, laugh it up. Wait 'til it happens to you."

"Ha! That is why I, with my modifications, am superior! Something as ridiculous as that could never happen to me!" He started laughing again.

"Whatever," grumbled Danny. "Are you going to keep attacking me, or can I go to the Far Frozen in peace?"

Skulker waved him off. "Consider it an early truce present!" he said. "But don't forget! I'll get your pelt eventually!"

"Sure," said Danny, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He floated backwards for a ways before turning, wary of being stabbed in the back. Or shot in the back. Or blasted in the back. Or whatever having missiles or nets launched at him from behind would be called.

But, once again, he was on his way to the Far Frozen. With his luck, he'd only be interrupted a dozen more times before he actually got there.

He sighed, thinking of ways he could block the camera in an emergency. Ice, perhaps? He could always put his hand over it, too. Maybe he should have done that from the beginning, but a part of him, the part that had argued with them before, wanted to show them the truth about ghosts. Part of him wanted them to see.

So, even though he kept fiddling with the camera as he flew, even though he definitely wanted it off, and quickly, he couldn't quite bring himself to cover it.

"Hey! Phantom!"

Danny turned, trying to place the voice. "Sydney?" he asked, surprised, spotting the sepia-toned specter. "What's up?" He slowed so that the other ghost could catch up to him. Sydney didn't often leave his lair on his own.

"Wow! It's lucky you came out here! I thought I'd have to go through your portal to find you." Sydney shuddered. He caught up to Danny. "I'm throwing a truce party this year!" he said, happily. "I'm inviting everyone." He handed Danny a small envelope. "It's a bit early, because I wanted to make sure that it didn't overlap with anyone else's party."

"Thanks, Sydney," said Danny, both surprised and touched. "I don't know if I'll be able to make it, you know what my l- my afterlife is like." His smile turned into a grimace at the awkwardness of his phrasing.

"Afterlife? But you-"

"I have a camera strapped to my chest right now. I'm pretty sure it's broadcasting. I don't really want to talk about it."

Sydney blinked at him. "Your existence is very difficult, isn't it? I'm glad I didn't manage to steal it from you when we first met."

"That's both of us. The shades in your lair still behaving?"

"Oh, yes. It's all fine. Thanks for asking! I've got to go deliver the rest of these! Good luck with your camera situation!"

"Yeah, stay safe, okay, Sydney?" called Danny, as they sped away from each other.

"You betcha!"

Danny tucked the invitation into a pocket. He'd have to check out the details later, when he wouldn't have to hold it at a weird angle to keep the camera from seeing it.

Now, if there were no more interruptions, he could get to the Far Frozen before- He stopped. That forest had not been there before, and, usually, the floating islands didn't move like-

Not a floating island Undergrowth oh Ancients he looked mad run run run.

It was a good thing Danny was faster than Undergrowth. He didn't want to fight the plant ghost on his home turf... if there even was any turf underneath all those plants.

The chase (not to mention dodging and fighting off the seed bombs that Undergrowth had lobbed his way) had drained Danny, and he was flying significantly slower. The hope that he'd get back home before dawn looked distinctly forlorn. He sighed. That was just his life, though, wasn't it?

Maddie had filled half a notebook with questions.

Ghosts appeared to be much more complex than previously believed, even if it was clear that what rudimentary social structure they had was founded entirely on violence. The three encounters Phantom had had in the Ghost Zone thus far illustrated that perfectly.

The first, with Skulker, served as a sort of average. The ghosts had fought, demonstrated that they were more-or-less equals, and then parted, apparently not wanting a more definitive contest. The second had been with a smaller ghost who was obviously submissive towards Phantom. The third, with the plant ghost was more along the lines of what she and Jack had expected: Strong ghosts attempting to defeat and consume weaker ones.

"I wonder what this 'truce' they keep talking about is," said Maddie, tapping her pencil on her notebook.

"I wonder what that sound is," said Jack. "The microphone shouldn't be picking up this kind of interference."

"I think it's core noise," said Maddie. "We can analyze the sound later and compare it to his ectosignature, after we find out where he's going." She glanced at the clock. "And after we get some sleep. Everything is being recorded."

"I'll have to double check all the connections before we do this again. I bet it's a loose wire." Jack pouted.

Maddie nodded. "Where do you think he's going? You don't suppose he thinks he has some way to get it off?"

Jack shrugged. "His lair, maybe? The distance might be why he stays in Amity Park."

"Lairs are still pure speculation, though," said Maddie. "Although, one hypothesis is that they help ghosts reform and heal, so he might think it'll get rid of the camera."

Jack grunted in acknowledgement. "What do you think that white dot is?" he asked, pointing at the screen.

"I think it's one of those floating islands," she said. "It's a different color than the others."

They watched as it grew larger on the screen. "I think Phantom is heading towards it."

"Maybe it's his lair," she said. "He does have ice powers. Ice and snow could be what gives it its color."

"It does look like that could be," said Jack.

The island grew larger and larger, and eventually the picture showed that they had been right. The island was covered with snow and more.

"I think those are buildings," said Maddie, pointing out little mounds. "Crude, but still buildings. Perhaps Phantom is trying to replicate features of Amity Park in his lair?"

"You don't think it could be some kind of," Jack waved his hand vaguely, "rudimentary ghost settlement?"

Maddie wrinkled her nose. "What would they have to gain? Why would you say that?"

"Because I think I see some ghosts moving around down there."

Sure enough, Maddie could see movement where he pointed. The ghosts were white-furred, and difficult to see against the snow, but they were there. They looked fierce. Animal ghosts of some kind, Maddie assumed, but warped over the years.

"They all look so much alike," said Maddie, fascinated. "I wonder what could have caused that."

"Well, they say form follows function!" said Jack. "Or the 'native' theory could be correct, and they formed that way, without human consciousness involved!"

"Hm," said Maddie, making a note. "We'll have to look into that again."

Phantom's hand flashed in the camera's peripheral vision. "He's waving to them," said Jack.

"Great one!" shouted one of the ghosts on the island, voice made small by distance.

"Frostbite!" yelled Phantom in return, voice much louder. He swooped down, and was embraced by the other ghost, who was much, much larger.

The other white-furred ghosts cheered. Maddie frowned.

"If he has this sort of reception here, why come to Amity Park?" she asked. "If his Obsession is attention..."

"Maybe it's human attention he wants," said Jack, rubbing his chin. "Either way, they're... enthusiastic, aren't they?"

"I can't believe they've banded together like this," said Maddie. "It doesn't make sense. The structures... they don't make sense, either. Ghosts shouldn't need things like that, especially not in the Ghost Zone."

"Maybe they're a different species of ghost that does need things like this," said Jack, most of his attention on the ghosts greeting Phantom. "We've never seen any like them here. They might only be able to exist in cold. Or they could have Obsessions related to, uh... igloos?"

"They aren't really shaped like igloos, though," said Maddie. "I think there's stone under there."

"The ice could just be dirty."

"That wouldn't surprise me."

Getting to the Far Frozen was a relief. Danny felt a the tension he'd been carrying within him relax as soon as he spotted Frostbit.

It was replaced with embarrassment once everyone started fussing over him. Technically, this was in front of his parents. Still, he'd take embarrassment over what he was feeling earlier. His core was singing that he was safe safe safe among allies and friends, and the cold felt wonderful against his skin.

"What brings you to the Far Frozen today, great one?"

Danny chuckled nervously and reached back to rub his neck. The motion was stopped when he encountered the collar around his neck. "I'm actually here to see a doctor. I've got a bit of a medical problem. At least, I think it's a medical problem." Danny touched down on the surface of the snow, wilting slightly as he tugged fruitlessly on the collar. "I don't really know. Can you help?"

Frostbite's eyes went wide for a moment before shifting into pure concern. "Of course, great one. We'll take a look at you right away. Unless you need to rest? We know we are far from your home."

Danny shook his head. "I want to get this fixed right away," he said.

When Frostbite scooped Danny up and put him on his shoulder, it wasn't a surprise. Neither was the short flight to the Far Frozen's medical 'cave.'

Oh, to be sure, it was a cave, but Danny always felt like calling it something like that, something so crude, was a disservice. For one, the entrance chamber was gorgeous. A huge, underground atrium with an intricately grown and carved ice ceiling, geometric patterns spiraling down the walls; ghost writing above graceful arches, indicating what each space was used for. Shining, high-tech devices that made even Tucker salivate. Some people might judge them on what lay above ground in their village, but appearances were often deceiving in the Ghost Zone, and the Far Frozen was one of the most advanced societies around.

Only an idiot would mistake the tribe of the Far Frozen for savages.

Frostbite carried Danny into the diagnosis area, set him down in a chair, and began going through the routine of cleaning his hands and putting on medical equipment.

"Oh," said Danny, leaning forward, "Frostbite, you don't have to, I know you're busy."

"Nonsense, great one! You deserve the best of care, and I am here to provide." He sat down on a stool across from Danny. "So, what seems to be the problem?"

Danny began to explain.

Jack and Maddie weren't talking. This is because they were in shock.

The ruins at the beginning had been one thing... Those were expected, the ghosts of buildings, so to speak, ectoplasmic echos. But this place? This level of technology- It shouldn't be possible!

"I know," said Jack, and Maddie realized she had spoken out loud. "But... it's here, isn't it? We're seeing it."

"It could be a trick," said Maddie. "A facade. There's no way any of this is actually functional."

"But if it is... Jazz and Danny, they might be right," said Jack. He sounded troubled. "If ghosts can form societies, and create technology and art like this, even if the societies are based on violence, that indicates some form of sapience, of intelligence, even if it isn't human intelligence."

Maddie nodded. "I think we should withhold judgement until we actually see results," she said.

"Yeah," said Jack. "Just... I feel sort of like the bad guy in a sci-fi movie, you know? The one who insists the aliens or people with superpowers aren't really human."

"It isn't the same, Jack. These are ghosts."

"But what does that even mean anymore?"

Maddie sighed. "We'll have to change our theories," she said.

"Ah," said the ghost known as 'Frostbite' on the screen, scanning Phantom with some kind of unknown device, "yes. I see what the problem is. I'll take the camera out, now, and then we can work on the other bits."

The screen went blank.

Getting the collar removed was both easier and harder than Danny had expected. Easier, because all he had to do was take a drug and let Frostbite peel it off, harder because he had to come down off the drug before he went home, lest he get into a fight and wind up with semi-permanent injuries. At least he was able to send a message to Jazz to ask her to cover for his absence.

He didn't get home until four in the afternoon. Nothing remarkable happened on the way back, because the Far Frozen decided to send some warriors along with him to make sure he got back safely. He was a bit surprised, however, to find his parents passed out at their desks in the lab, apparently reviewing recordings from the camera they had stuck to him.

Recordings like that could be dangerous to him. Should he delete them?

No, he hadn't said anything incriminating, and they were unlikely to be able to use the footage to attack the Far Frozen. The floating islands moved, after all, and he had entered the Zone from a random portal. It should be fine to leave it like that.

He let himself turn human. The air down here was chilly. He should get them blankets or something and let Jazz know he was back, then he'd pass out himself.

While he was draping a quilt over Maddie's shoulders, he caught sight of her notebook and the last line she had written.

The kids are right. We'll have to revise our theories concerning Phantom and the other ghosts.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #day 11

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emeraldtawny · 5 years ago

Text

IkeVam Headcanons: Crying Headcanons (Angst)

...I apologise for nothing. This was spawned by some filthy enablers in the IkeVamp Discord server (you all know who you are....love u guys uwu).

Vague structure is as follows: how they would cry and what made them cry. Full steam angst ahead. Enjoy~ ^w^

Napoleon

Life as an Emperor made him establish a stone face; show no weakness or emotion and let no one see you struggling. This led to Napo always bottling up his emotions whenever he felt the need to cry. And he was too good at doing so, people being none the wiser when he bottled up his frustration, his anger, his despair. However, there was a limit, even for him. When his mentality is withered down to nothing and he can’t hold back the tears any longer, his breath will leave him with a choke and a single tear will squeeze out despite itself. He’d hastily wipe it away and attempt to recollect himself, but he’s too tired, too burdened, the faint cacophony of war echoing within his brain like an inescapable terror. Perhaps that’s another reason why he sleeps so much...

Mozart

He would be physical to stop himself from crying when he feels it bubbling up. He'd punch walls, door frames, even his dear piano if there was nothing else close by. But the pain from his punches would only fuel his tears, his face tight with rage and a snarl on his lips, but his eyes sparkling with tears and his eyebrows desperately pulled together. He’d be cursing at himself as he felt the first tear fall, his self-berating words only growing into a crescendo in his ears as he fights with - and loses to - himself. He’ll probably clench his fists enough to cut his palms with his nails. His reason for crying? Simply put, he feels worthless, he doesn't feel improvement in his music despite others' praise.

Leonardo

None would consider the Renaissance genius an emotional man, even in private. And he is well aware of this stigma people have crafted for him and has since molded to it himself. Leo would be able to school his features perfectly so no one knows he's upset (except Comte of course). When MC falls asleep cuddled up sweetly against his chest and he knows she's out, he lets a soft, choked sigh escape and finally lets a few tears out, stroking her hair softly as he does so. He lies there just....dwelling on her existence, knowing her not being as long for this world as him and it weighs on him so much that sometimes he just needs to cry. But he'll only do it in front of MC when she sleeps, so she won’t see him at his weakest. He doesn’t think he could bear it.

Arthur

He would try to smile and play it off that he’s fine when he cries, even though the smile would be shaky at the edges as his lips tremble and he tries to blink back his tears. MC would just watch the collapsing of his smile, his mental state, his resilience; she would be watching a man fall apart. Tears collect in his eyes, but they wouldn’t fall until he does first, his knees collapsing and him hunching over himself as he digs the heels of his palms directly into his eyes. His breaths would be shaky, shallow and he’d be whispering countless choked apologies and baseless self-deprecating remarks of himself. He’s sinking into the black, inky depths of his own mind and even when he wails, even when he screams for release, it all feels hopeless. How he survived without MC there to pull him back from the brink of himself, he does not know. But he’s thankful for it every time, without fail.

Vincent

He may be akin to a doll and when he cries it's with the same beauty, but more in the way of if you saw an actual doll crying; unsettling and spine-chilling. For him, it'd feel like his blood stopped pumping, his body stopped responding to him. He knows that he's crying, but he can't wipe away his tears, can't lift his hands to cover his eyes, can't open his mouth to wail; nothing. His mind is screaming though, and it screams so loud that it drowns out everything else. His baby blue eyes are more striking with a thick ring of red outlining them and his bottom lip quivering like a frail fallen leaf, the faint taste of salt on his tongue from the tears streaming without obstacle down his face and past his open lips. Years of repressed and unknown emotions mean that when he cries, he cries until he physically can't anymore and needs to sleep it off. And when he wakes up? He doesn't remember a thing.

Theodorus

Theo would be pretty physical like Mozart, but just in a more violent yet shorter outburst. He might have thrown a vase to the ground with a groaned yell and shattered it into pieces, his fists clenched tight and his chest heaving with heavy breaths, as if the air was viscous and unyielding in its oxygen. The adrenaline subsides and he just sees the room around him submerge in water. When MC runs in frantically and worriedly asks what's wrong, he pulls her into a death grip embrace and rasps out to stay still and not look at him. She'll comfort him until he loosens his grip enough for her to hug him back and he'll keep his head buried in her shoulder. His cries are shaky exhales and the rogue tear that seeps into her blouse goes purposefully unnoticed by her for his own sake. His reason? The art world is shit, obstacles at every turn, and even Theo ain't strong enough to deal with that every day without fail.

Dazai

He would keep smiling through his crying until his face basically collapses into one big sob...and then, silent crying. Not a whisper of sound; no sudden intake of breath or rasped exhale. Just a man standing there with his head hung low and his mauve bangs masking the glassy, lifeless expression of long-established despair on his face. Tear streaks run down his cheeks and tears hang off of his lashes with his gold irises accentuated by his reddened eyes, yet not one ounce of emotion can be seen - can be felt - emanating from him. He just feels overwhelming moments of despair and nothingness at very frequent times. Most times, he can handle it; it’s what he knows, daresay what he’s comfortable with. But sometimes the stress of...life is just too much. Oddly fitting for a man who wants to die but can't.

Isaac

Despite his best efforts, when Isaac gets too upset to handle, he becomes extremely volatile. He would collapse to his knees and hold his chest with a pained expression. His eyes would be open, wide with fear, as he physically feels the sob bubbling within his chest and rising into his throat like a lump of lead. Moments pass in agony until he lets out a strained sob that rips from his throat and sends a dull yet prevalent pump of blood to his head, a moment of dizziness passing over him. After that, he quietly cries, curled into himself and resting his head atop his clenched hands, letting the tears soak into his skin, hoping - praying - that the pain will stop. If he happens to be in a public space when he gets overwhelmed with emotion, he’ll be quick to extrapolate himself and hide away in a secluded spot, crying with short, almost hyperventilating breaths and whispering “I’m okay, I’m okay” over and over.

Jean

The type to have the most guttural sobs where his throat is ragged and dry, and his breaths heave with effort. He would bottle it up until his vision physically blurs, his tears lining his eyes and obscuring his vision, and he would run to an isolated place if he wasn’t there already. Every time he cries, he hears swords clashing, groans of pain; every drop of blood, sweat and tears of Jean’s falls for those who have fallen for him. A growl of pain wretches from his throat and his fist collides with the nearest wall. He rests his back against the same wall and lets his feet slip out from under him as he sinks to the floor, glaring with frustration at the ceiling until the storm clouds clear from his conscience.

Shakespeare

Shakes would seem to be the type that doesn't realise he's crying until he feels it or until someone points it out. But what if he was well aware that he was crying? But his smile would look so natural and out of place to his blood and gold eyes shimmering with tears that no one would know whether to approach him over the situation or not. It’s like the boy who cried wolf; no one would know he’s actually in pain because all they see is deceit. So when he feels his heart finally begin to pump with pain, he wears a smile even when his own eyes betray him. When he has a moment to himself, he'll dab his eyes calmly with his handkerchief, all the while biting on his tongue - hard enough to bleed - to stop any unbecoming sounds escaping him. He'll massage his closed eyelids to recollect himself and return to business as usual. Sometimes, even Shakes doesn’t know why he has these moments, his memories too repressed to remember the reason for his own tragedy.

Comte de Saint-Germaine

Like the other immortal, he presents himself in a way to suggest crying being a foreign sensation to him and, when he does cry, tries to repress it where he can. He at least has more of his head on to know when it's safe to cry; alone or in front of MC. He won't sob, he won't wail. If anything, it'll look like he's the one comforting MC, him holding her head against his chest so she can't see the strain on his face as he desperately holds back his tears. A few will fall - glistening scarlet, tears of immortal blood - and he’ll catch them on the back of his hand to prevent them from staining her hair red. But she won't say a word, simply embrace him back and let him cry in complete silence. Being an immortal vampire with responsibilities and obligations weighing on you every second of your endless life? It’s a miracle that the Comte hasn't broken down more.

Sebastian

Surrounded by his work and with hardly a moment to let his thoughts get the better of them, when Sebas does let his walls down, it will be controlled. He would let out a shuddering breath, his eyelids closing and his breaths forced into and out of his lungs in a controlled manner. Attempting to control his quickly spiraling thoughts, his brows furrow and his hands at work pause. The tightness and anxiety in his chest grows and he allows himself a quiet sob over the sink, before-- Tick tock tick tock. Only a few seconds passed, but they felt too long to Sebastian, his head hanging over the sink. Splashing his face with water and with a few good slaps to his cheeks, he reassures himself that he has no time for this - that if he has time to cry, then he has time to work. With a couple of sniffles to fully rid his body of its lasting bout of sadness, his hands begin to move again to finish preparing dinner. Even the perfect butler needs a moment of reprieve sometimes.

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