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#fits the theme of the movie I think

starlightwayfinder · 8 months

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34 + 46?

34. Is there a song you know every word to by heart? When I was younger I got the CD for All Things Bright and Beautiful (Owl City) as a gift. I’d play it over and over again on the computer and ended up memorizing all of the songs.

46. Favorite holiday film?

It’s no secret if you know me in real life. I love The Polar Express. It fits my very specific category of favorite stories.. dream-like and wholesome, while still being mysterious and a little gloomy too. Walking the line between imaginary and realistic. (And it’s about friendship, which I will always like best.) Listen to Seeing is Believing and I think you’ll understand why I love the mood of it all. (And if you’ve seen my art, you may pick up on the influence it had on my visual tastes too.)

#I’m pretty sure Owl City’s music is kind of just a meme now #but you have to understand #his music was poetic and colorful and weird #I really loved it #And the polar express isn’t exactly a movie that’s praised for its visuals anymore #But there was something magical about it as a kid #you could tell it wasn’t real… but it sure looked real sometimes #fits the theme of the movie I think

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ormymarius · 5 months

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potential spoilers for aq2???

I honestly feel like Orm’s gonna die in the movie based on the clips we’ve seen but be resurrected somehow

#I think the movie has a very life and death theme to it so it would fit #the reason I say he gets resurrected is bc if you know the post credits jason talked about well #but maybe I’m wrong who knows

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billdenbrough · 1 year

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i keep thinking about rocket’s “there ain’t no thing like me ‘cept me” and how it’s presented initially as an indicator of who he is—his mouthiness, his independence, his absolute lack of knowledge of what a raccoon looks like—and like. it is those things! it is! but it’s also — yeah, so, the first time we hear it, there’s a hint of story behind it, like: who or what made rocket this?

and now we know it’s the high evolutionary, and now we know the other layer to that statement: yeah, rocket’s confident when he says there’s no thing like him, because a) they were all individual experiments for the same cause but b) because rocket, and therefore the ones ‘like’ him, were classified as defective, and he knows the high evolutionary killed them all

#gotg3 #gotg v3 #rocket gotg #mcu #gotg spoilers #i watched this movie twice in two weeks and i keep thinking abt starmora and nebulantis #but also for obvious reasons the question of identity and agency #rocket obviously being the central figure in that but it’s the theme for literally every character arc #it’s not many trilogy finales that are about characters discovering who they are but here we go #actually it does fit the mould of mcu trilogies #normally the third one takes away the crutch #im3 takes away tony’s suit; ragnarok the hammer; cacw the shield and the team #mcu final acts of trilogies take away the wrapping and ask you who you are at your core. what makes you a hero #it’s kinda fascinating that for the guardians‚ it’s ostensibly rocket #given for five years he didn’t have any of them except nebula #ofc it’s more than just him—they all are grappling with loss even less tangibly than the time bomb in his chest #but he’s certainly a significant element. which makes the ending hierarchy soooooo like. Needed

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ingoodjesst · 4 months

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[light spoilers] "when evil lurks" (2023) was a thoroughly engaging horror movie with great direction, pacing, and lighting that complement its themes well. that said, it was also an intense and disturbing watch with a finale that frankly had my stomach churning. it's a film interested in the fear of losing control and what it reveals about its characters. though the catalyst for misfortune is a demonic presence that possesses and manipulates people, it's generally the characters' rash attempts to recapture a sense of control over their situations that cause things to spiral. their fear-striken actions are understandable in the face of a force they cannot predict the scope of or attack directly. but over and over again, we see our protagonists choose to run away or react with violence, even when they have both folk wisdom and mounting first-hand experience to advise them against such futile actions.

there's also an interesting lens of gender to view the film through, as we often see men choosing to exert violence in a desperate bid to feel powerful again against victims that - possession aside - are generally weaker than them: disabled folks, animals, women, children, etc. all this despite women pleading with them to remember how this violence will just guarantee the evil's spread. it's worth examining how the male characters feel the need to project themselves as protectors while overriding the feelings of the people around them, how their predominant emotions of fear and anger tend to preclude their ability to clearly communicate the stakes of their predicament, etc.

in a way, violence becomes synonymous with running away throughout the film. despite what their behavior would have you believe, our MCs always have options available to them (both in their personal pasts and in the present) that are less likely to lead to ruin… yet their fear always leads them to dig deeper holes. by seeking only the physical destruction of something that refuses to be destroyed, the rotten possession is never truly dealt with. it is simply put off and worsened. instead of engaging the root problem with care and deliberation, using the rules and expertise that are gradually presented to us, our MCs constantly fall victim to their insecurities, constantly fall back on maladaptive instincts that fool them into thinking that somehow their attempts at violence and domination will work this time. maybe the brief catharsis will be worth the consequences this time.

which isn't to say that the movie necessarily suggests that things could've ever been brought back under "control". but in the end, our protagonists fail every chance they have to confront their problems properly. in seeking shortcuts to regain an illusion of control, they sacrifice whatever possibility existed of reclaiming true agency.

it's also worth mentioning that it's not hard to find parallels to the ongoing covid pandemic, i.e. fighting an invisible enemy that cannot be directly eliminated, where violation of specific guidelines intended to keep you safe leads to further spread of the "possession" and therefore further tragedy. hell, even the way that government institutions (like the police in the film) absolve themselves of dealing with the problem properly, forcing citizens to fend for themselves…

the thing is, although the demon haunting our MCs manipulates their terror to its own ends, there's still a palpable sense that many of their losses could've been avoided, if only they didn't succumb to rage and dismay at their loss of control… in this way, i see parallels with the movie "the thing" too; once you let the terror into your heart, the path to destruction is paved with the resulting paranoia and panic. thus the film leaves you with a powerful sense of powerlessness, as you watch characters get progressively consumed by their fear (and uh, other more literal things), until their fates simply fulfill themselves.

#my jessays #when evil lurks #when evil lurks spoilers #when evil lurks analysis #movie analysis #there's actually a bunch more i would wanna say about its themes and motifs particularly about the gender/toxic masculinity part lol #but i don't think i could fit all my thoughts well into this more general review rn so maybe another time #i also feel like i should mention how... weird i feel about it uses its one autistic character... but i'm not sure i'm equipped to break #down exactly why it makes me feel that way and what i think it ends up saying

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gracebethartacc · 4 months

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Bazeema is in canon Rosas best weaver, which is why her safe space if covered in all those fabrics, blankets and pillows, she made them all by hand which I think is pretty awesome! :D

Hal is a beekeeper from what I remember, Safi is obviously the chicken keeper. Dario just… he’s trying his best y’know? That’s enough. He’s emotional support. And Gabo is 13, which shocked me, if you make him older in your rewrite I feel like Gabo could be a musician since one of his few likes is singing.

ohhh nods nods 👀 I’d love any ideas of how to translate some of those into castle related jobs but I do think some would stay the same like bazeema, maybe one or more of them could tend to gardens? Just something more specific to the castle or king but oooo nice I should really check out the book on them iirc there was more info there

also yes gabo is def gonna be older lol😭

#Thinking gabo could possibly be written to be a little person but I gen thought that’s what they were going for in the og #But no he’s just short and 13 apparently??💀#But ye they could be fun to play with just bc aforementioned they’d stay relatively simple characters #But ye hoping to think up stuff that either fits like their theme or refrences the og Snow White movie etc #Which reminds me I should rewatch Snow White to refresh my brain on them a bit bc idr much of it tbh #But ty ty this is helpful !! :D #rewrite the stars au

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acoraxia · 10 months

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Okay, this is heavily based on the events from The Lotus Lantern story, but in order for it to work the romance stuff has to be nixed (not that I think you'll mind) so hear me out:

Wukong as Nimona

Erlang Shen as Ambrosius

And Yang Chan (Erlang Shen's twin sister, whom over the course of Lotus Lantern suffers from Erlang murdering her mortal husband because Celestial rules say that Celestials ain't allowed to marry mortals (except for the few unfair exceptions), imprisons her under a mountain, and tries to kidnap her half-mortal son) as Ballister

Something-something one side upholding generational trauma while the other tries to break the cycle, something-something imprisoned under mountain solidarity.

I just think that it would be wild if the biological twin sister got along with Wukong better than she does with her twin brother and vice versa with Wukong.

JOKES ON YOU I FUCKING LOVE LOTUS LANTERN SO FUCKING MUCH I LITERALLY REFERENCE IT IN SOME OF MY WORK (Boy Savior is not saved from this) OUGHHH I LOVED IT SM!!!!!

Yang Chan my fucking BELOVED!

I think it’s fucking wild yeah I can see that since she’s breaking away from traditional rule

Also reminds me of this line I wrote in my fic:

Because I strongly think Yang Chan would’ve adored Sun Wukong sm

Ough

I love this idea

#woof loupen #kind of sucks bc nimona’s all about how ballister is gay and thats an IMPORTANT part to the movie and story line but its an au so #i just worrry yknow i dont want to remove the important theme of the movie #BUT I LOVE THE IDEA SM #i think it fits since SWK is genderfluid coded fr

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duck-in-a-spaceship · 5 months

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Happy New Years!! Hope everyone had a fun time with the countdowns and whatnot, have some more Dead Poets fic

<<Prev - Next>>

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Chapter 2: When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer

Todd ran his thumb over the corner of the page in his hands, trying to smooth out the dog-ear someone else had tattooed onto it. It was a pointless endeavor, the scar ran too deep, something about the book had been irreversibly changed. He swallowed thickly, and turned the page over on the crease, closing the book over the mark.

It happened to be where he needed it anyway.

“Are you ready?” Neil held his own book in his hands, the one he brought to every meeting of the Dead Poets Society, that held the opening ceremonies he so dutifully read. It was a book filled with scars, with dog-ears and ripped out pages and annotations and underlines and words scribbled out to create entirely new works.

One time, Neil had returned to their room with a graded assignment from Keating, one with plenty of critiques and compliments scribbled on it, and they compared the handwriting with the writing in the book, trying to figure out which notes their teacher had added to Dead Poets history. Todd was pretty sure they got half of it wrong, but it was fun to imagine Keating adding the dick jokes they found in the corners of pages, or writing little stars around random words. (Todd liked to think he did the blackout poetry they found too, scratched out the old to create something new. It seemed fitting.)

“I guess,” Todd finally responded.

Neil shifted from where he was sitting on his bed. It was too dark to see what he was doing, but Todd tried anyway, watching how his silhouette twisted in the dark. Neil stepped forwards, and the moonlight from the window draped itself over his shoulders. It kissed his skin with a feathery touch, staining him silver. When Neil smiled, the moonlight seemed to spill out of his mouth and onto Todd, and he wanted to take it from him, somehow.

“Carpe diem, right?” Neil said.

Todd managed to echo some of that smile, shaky and hesitant with no moonlight shining from his teeth. “Yeah, carpe diem.”

“Come on then.”

Neil led the way, pushing their door open to a cautionary crack and peering out before slipping into the hall. He grabbed Todd’s hand as he went, effortlessly pulling him out into the hallway. Todd’s heart thumped in his chest as it always did, thrilled at the idea of being caught.

The night was quiet.

Todd had gotten almost concerningly good at sneaking out of school. It was a well-practiced skill, and although at first he made it by with shaky steps, strictly following the others' lead, he soon slipped into the routine of it all. The halls of Welton were quiet, dark, undisturbed, and they slipped through them in much the same way.

The chilled air on his face felt like a rush of freedom. It shoved open the door, nearly pulling the handle out of Todd’s hand, and he had to wrestle it shut, had to fight to seal that barrier. Neil half turned back to him, smiling softly, and Todd became aware of the fact that this was the moment they were supposed to stop holding hands. They had navigated the maze, the danger was gone, the need to stay linked was crushed under the simple emptiness that stretched out before them.

Neil squeezed his hand, and led him through the field blanketed in snow. It crunched under their feet, marked their path through the night. It was a strange reminder that Todd existed, that the two of them were not just ghosts wandering through the night. Todd squeezed back, and followed.

They clambered through the undergrowth of the forest together, hands still gently clasped. The trees towered over them, stretching out branches that acted like walls, sheltering them from the outside world. Todd and Neil slipped into the cave, and settled into the cold, dark space, only illuminated by the shaky glow of their flashlights. Neil’s hand slipped away from Todd’s, and he stuffed it in his pocket to make up for the sudden lack of warmth.

It was quieter than usual in the cave, without the usual clamor of all the poets to fill the space. There was just the muted shuffling of Neil and Todd getting settled, finding rocks to perch on around the opening in the center. No fire lit their way, but they huddled around the spot regardless, like moths perched on a burnt out lamp. Neil cleared his throat extra loud in the silence, flipping through the pages of his book more dramatically than he really needed to. Todd couldn’t help but smile at his theatrics.

“I call this extraordinarily special-” He paused just to smile at Todd. “-meeting of the Dead Poets Society to order by reading, as is customary, our opening words.” Neil cleared his throat to begin (once again over the top, once again theatrical) “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately-”

The words were familiar enough to Todd that he found himself mouthing along, as if that was what he needed, as if letting his tongue follow the shapes of the words would be enough to dig them into his brain. To give him the ability to suck the marrow out of life

Todd kind of doubted it; he looked down at the ground while Neil spoke so he wouldn’t have to see his lips move.

“-discover that I had not lived.” Neil finished the passage with a sort of quiet, solemn air. It was rare he read the whole thing at Dead Poets Society meetings; usually he was content with the first line, if he brought out Thoreau at all. But whenever he did finish it, they always let the silence hang in the air, paying special attention to how Neil’s shoulders sagged or his voice quieted or the light flickered unsteadily in his eyes, just for a moment. He cleared his throat.

“Alright, your turn.”

Todd looked up at him, blinked in surprise. His hands were gripping the rocks on either side of him in tight claws, the moist coolness dripping up his nerves. “Right now? Just like that?” he asked warily, and the moment the words left his mouth he was aware he’d asked a stupid question. Then again, if it let him stall, Todd would take whatever mild embarrassment he wanted to hand himself.

“Are you waiting for something?” Neil pressed. “Come on, Toddy, just go for it!”

Todd swallowed thickly, gently prying his hands from the rocks beside him. They tingled with the return of blood flow, movement traveling back to stiff fingers. He grabbed his book from beside him, finding the dent of the dog-eared page and flipping it open. The poem he’d chosen was short, just a couple lines scattered on the page, but they seemed to dance in front of him the longer he stared, like meteors twirling through the sky. He smoothed out the page with a firm hand, as if that could tether the ink to the paper.

“Do you want me to look away?”

The question pulled Todd out of his anxious reverie, and he looked up at Neil, who was staring at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. Mouth suddenly dry, Todd nodded ever so slightly. “Uh, yeah. I mean.. sure.”

But Neil didn’t look away, not quite. Instead he just closed his eyes, lashes falling over his pupils like falling snow. He titled his head to one side, listening attentively. Dramatics, Todd thought affectionately. “Alright,” Neil said. “I’m ready.”

The book was heavy in Todd’s hands, but he bore its weight anyway, smoothed out the pages and ignored the writing scribbled in the margins. Then he began to read:

“When I heard the learn’d astronomer

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

Till rising and gliding I wander’d off by myself

In the mystical, moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.”

It was quiet, for a couple moments after Todd finished the poem. Paranoia struck into his heart in an instant, the sudden thought that Neil was bored of him, that he hadn’t been listening at all, that he was taking a couple moments to even realize Todd was done.

“Can I look?”

Todd looked up, and realized that Neil was still sat across from him, eyes pressed tightly shut but barely visible through the hand clasped over them. He chanced a peak through the slots between his fingers, and it was enough for Todd to see the gentle curve of his smile as well. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah, of course. That was… that was it.” That was it. God, what was he thinking, picking something like that? Just a stupid Walt Whitman poem about lecture halls that didn’t even last a full minute to read out loud. Of course Neil had stopped paying attention, Todd probably would have too if-

“I loved it.”

Todd blinked his eyes a couple times, reintroducing himself to reality with short, fluttering handshakes. “Hm?” he asked, eloquently. Neil was smiling widely, eyes open to meet Todd’s.

“The poem, I loved it, that was great!” He stood up, slightly hunched under the roof of the cave, and went to sit next to Todd. “Was that our friend Uncle Walt? Where’d you get the book?” he asked, craning his neck slightly to look over Todd’s shoulder. Neil reached over to put his hand on the edge of the paper, smoothing out the page, and his fingers brushed against Todd’s.

“Uh, yeah, it’s him. I just got it from the library, it’s in Leaves of Grass.” He’d picked it up on a whim, after trying and failing to muster up the courage needed to approach Keating to ask for poetry. It felt like something he might recommend anyway.

Neil leaned closer, pressed his shoulder against Todd’s so he could look at the poem. He mouthed the words to himself as he read, before pausing a couple lines in. ‘How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,’ he spoke silently. “You know what this reminds me of?”

Their shoulders were still pushed together; they were so close he could feel Neil’s body heat through his layers of jackets. “Hm?” he prompted softly.

“Fucking trig.”

“... what?”

Neil leaned away from Todd so he could face him. “C’mon, doesn’t it? You have Mr. Raulken up there yammering on about sine and cosine and functions and pi and all those graphs we have to draw. It’s torture.”

Todd smiled. “It made me think of Nolan.”

“God yes!” Neil gestured excitedly with his arms, spurring Todd onwards.

“When we have to sit through those- those stupid school assemblies. Especially that one at the beginning of the year, I wanted to- to disappear.”

Neil groaned. “Ugh, that one’s always the worst. And you’ve only had to sit through it once- let me tell you it’s the same annoying bullshit every year.” He rose to his feet, turning to face Todd with such a sudden solemn air that he couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh no! There will be none of that Mr. Anderson, no joy around here.”

Todd smiled, but quieted accordingly.

“Thank you, thank you. Now, welcome to Nolan- I mean Welton Academy. I’m just standing up here to brag about how excellent of a hell hole this is. I’m looking forward to getting to despise each and every one of you, because as much as I like to pretend I’m running a school here, if you flip open your brochures you’ll actually find this is a cleverly disguised prison. Blah, blah, I have great expectations for you, etc. etc., and scene.”

Todd burst into applause as Neil finished with a bow, returning to sit next to him. “What’d you think? Can you feel the end-of-summer dread starting to kick in?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Todd agreed, nodding. “You’re a good actor.”

Neil smiled softly, turned his eyes away from Todd and towards the black circle left by one of their fires. Todd watched, unsure of whether to avert his eyes, and Neil bit down on his lip, looking at the charred rock like it had anything to offer. Todd was just about to speak, when Neil pushed himself to his feet. “Come on.”

Todd looked up. “What?”

Neil smiled, offered out an extended hand that Todd took almost on instinct, not really thinking as he grabbed on and let Neil pull him to his feet. “Come on, real quick.” He didn’t let go of Todd’s hand after he was upright, just held on to pull him along. They ducked out of the cave, and into the forest.

“But- where?” Todd managed to insist, through his preoccupation with not tripping over any gnarled roots or planted rocks.

“You’ll see!”

“Neil, come on,” Todd protested weakly, through half-restrained laughter. “I’d like to know where I’m being dragged to.”

“Just somewhere we can- oo, okay. Here.” Neil had brought them to a small gap between the trees, not even a proper clearing, just somewhere they could see the sky poking through the branches. He pointed up at it, drawing Todd’s attention to the inky blackness of the night, dotted with stars.

He couldn’t really make out any of the constellations, just pinpricks of light separated from any sort of meaning. The moon must have been up there somewhere, half-full, but their tiny window into the stars didn’t offer them a view.

Todd looked over at Neil, and realized he was being watched expectantly. He cleared his throat. “It- it’s pretty.”

“Yeah,” Neil agreed, somewhat wistfully.

Their hands were still linked together; Neil had never let go and Todd wasn’t sure he knew how to. He should have felt the urge, the distant fear for what their linked hands meant, but it was nowhere to be found. Everything else felt so distant, seemed to fall away. When he looked up at the stars, and listened to what they had to say.

#dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry #todd anderson #writing #fanfiction #welcome to my true agenda for this fic #which is shoving poems i like into people's faces #i mean really it's just this chapter #the rest are pretty standard choices #i think this one fits the themes of the movie rlly well tho #and also i just like it a lot

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