#flaming star | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sissylittlefeather · 2 months

Text

Blue Moon: a Pacer Burton Story

A/N: I've been wanting to write a Pacer (from Flaming Star) fic for a long time because I love him so much. Then he started appearing everywhere in my face and it felt like a sign that it was time. This also has hints of @pebbles403's fabulous Pacer AI, so I have to give a shoutout there. If you like this fic, you'll like that character! Oh, also, reader is half Native, but looks Native, so use your imagination if that's not you.

As always, thanks to @ccab for listening to me whine and cuss as I write 😂

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, although this one is pretty tame, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, both characters are virgins, so mentions of pain during sex, also references to racism

Word count: ~4.1k

When the half-Kiowa man came through your village to declare his loyalty to Buffalo Horn, you knew you were supposed to look away. But you couldn't. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the only person you'd ever seen who was like you: half-white, half-Kiowa.

Your Kiowa father had married your white mother in a ceremony that was both hopeful and condemned. It was hopeful because your grandparents believed they might be a bridge that would help both sides learn to live in peace. It was condemned because that was never going to happen. As the war continued to rage, their union became more and more of a problem. The white people rejected your mother and the Kiowa people began to question your father's decision. This was especially true after you were born. No one knew what to expect when your mother was pregnant. Would you look like her? Would you look like your father? Or would you be a blend? Your mother's family was beyond disappointed when you were born with your father's dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Nothing of her blood won out in the battle inside you. And your father's people would never quite get over how you looked like one of them, but weren't one of them, just enough to make them wonder about you.

So you grew up on the outside, never knowing what it would feel like to be a part of any group. Although you lived among your father's people, they laughed and jeered and called you "white-face princess" despite your skin tone that matched their own. And the one time your mother took you home to her people, your aunt refused to acknowledge you and your uncle called you a "filthy little half-breed".

You had no people, no place. All you had were the judgmental stares and mocking whispers of everyone who knew where they belonged, as if you had any choice in where you came from.

So when Pacer Burton rode into your town on horseback, you couldn't help but be drawn to him. You had a burning desire to ask him if he knew how you felt, a never-ending buzzing in your soul that needed to hear his experience.

But he was busy with Buffalo Horn and the war. You had seen him before when he would come with his mother, always carrying himself like a white man, not quite embracing who he was as a Kiowa. This time, though, he came to your father's people as one of them. Everything about him had changed and for the first time you felt like he might actually listen if you spoke.

Still, there was no time for women's business in the midst of the battle that raged between both halves of you.

When he came back again to fight your father's people, caught in the rage of what had happened to his father and brother, you knew this would not end well for him. So you ran away. You took supplies and a horse and left for one of the houses that the white people had once lived in. You followed him as he left for the white village, convinced he was going to die. And then, when he fell off of his horse some miles outside of there, you knew this was your chance.

******

Pacer is awoken by the sound of dishes rattling and the smell of something cooking. When he sits up in the bed, he's shocked to find that he's still alive. He checks his body and finds that he's been bandaged in several places, the smell of healing herbs strong in the cotton strips. These scents are familiar to him and they remind him of his mother. There is a pang in his heart when he remembers that she's dead and it couldn't have been her who patched him up. He stands cautiously and makes his way to the kitchen area carefully. He's taken aback by the sight of you by the hearth, stirring a pot of something.

Before you notice he's standing there, his eyes run over you, from your long black braids, to your tanned angelic face, and all the way down to the moccasins on your feet. You feel familiar to him, but he can't quite place you. As he stands there trying to come up with something to say, you see him in the doorway and stand up.

"You're awake."

"Yes. Who are you? Where am I?"

"It's not important. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been beaten in a war, but I'm still alive."

"That's not so far from the truth." You go back to stirring the pot and he walks into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.

"I say it is important. Who are you and where am I?"

"I'll start with your second question first. You are in a safe place. The whites won't come looking for you here because this is Kiowa land now. The Kiowa won't come looking for you here either."

"You're Kiowa."

"Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"I am like you. With a foot in each world but never belonging to either."

"You're half."

"My father is a Kiowa warrior. My mother is the white daughter of a prominent man in your town." He looks down at his hands.

"It's not my town."

"No, of course not. Where do you belong, Pacer?" He looks up at you suddenly when you use his name. You turn away from the pot and stand again.

"I don't belong anywhere. How do you know me?"

"I've seen you come into my father's village many times."

"Why have I never noticed you before?"

"Were you looking for a Kiowa girl?" He looks down again, ashamed almost.

"No. I'm sorry."

"No need. I understand what I am." He looks back up at you.

"But you said you're like me. Why don't you look like me?"

"My father's blood won out in the battle for how I look. There is very little of my mother in me."

"There was no battle in me. There's just a balance of each that keeps me different enough to not fit in anywhere." He looks straight ahead, clenching his jaw and his fists.

"You fit in here with me." He relaxes and looks up into your face again. He sees the pain of a person who has lived in loneliness their whole life. He knows that look and that pain.

"And if I decide to leave?"

"I cannot stop you. I don't expect you to stay beyond the time it takes for you to heal." You turn back to the stove and try not to let him see the tears that have gathered in your eyes. You want him to stay, need him to stay even. But you know you can't force him.

"Why do you expect me to leave?" He cocks his head to the side and watches you curiously as you cook.

"I know you will not love me. And that's the only reason you would stay." You look up and will the tears not to fall.

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I won't love you."

"I know what I am and I know what you wanted. I'm not the pretty little white girls you went to school with." You wipe away a rogue teardrop and try to refocus on your cooking.

"You don't know what I want. Hell, I don't know what I want. And besides, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want me either, looking like this." You turn to him and he gestures to his eyes. "I have the eyes of a white man."

"Oh, Pacer." You stand and walk to him, kneeling down next to his chair. "You are a Kiowa with eyes like the sky. Why would I not want you?"

You look at each other in silence and there's a moment of understanding between you. Then you go back to the pot of food. He feels like you have cracked him wide open and he's never experienced a person quite like you before.

"And if I stay?" Your heart skips, but you continue to stare at the pot you're stirring.

"Then I would take care of you in the best way I know how. And at least you wouldn't be alone." You turn back to him.

He looks at you again, and really looks this time. He's captivated by the way your raven-black braids sit on your shoulders and your dark eyes seem to sparkle like the night sky. You are stunning, even in your domesticity, and he never knew he could find a Kiowa girl so attractive. You awaken something deep inside him that even he doesn't recognize.

"I'll stay. For now." You smile at him softly and it almost takes his breath away. Even if you can only have him for a little while, you'll take it.

"Good. Now, eat your stew. You need strength to heal." You stand and place a bowl in front of him and he immediately knows it as something his mother used to make. He inhales deeply and closes his eyes. "You don't like it?"

"No, I do. It just reminds me of my mother."

"I was sorry to hear about your mother. She was good friends with my father's sister when they were young. We mourned like family when we heard." Something about that warms his heart and makes him feel a little more at home here with you. He's glad he decided to stay, even just for a little while.

******

After he eats, the exhaustion of his injuries becomes obvious. He looks around the tiny cabin and realizes something.

"There's only one bed. Where have you been sleeping?" You blush a little and he almost smiles.

"Next to you. I wanted to make sure you were still breathing." You also loved the feeling of being so close to him, but you can't tell him that part. "But I can sleep on the floor tonight, now that you are well enough."

"No, I'll sleep on the floor-"

"Pacer, you are not fully healed. You need good rest. You will sleep in the bed."

"Then you'll sleep next to me again. It doesn't change anything that I know about it now. The bed is plenty big enough for both of us." He doesn't waste any time climbing into the bed and laying on one side. He pats the bed beside him as if to tell you to lay down. You look around shyly and then crawl in beside him. The bed is big enough for both of you, but not big enough for you to have much space between you. "I haven't thanked you for taking care of me."

"It's not necessary. I was happy to-"

"Thank you." He doesn't have to lean far to place the soft kiss on your cheek. You feel like the air has been knocked out of you and you wish he would kiss you again. But he doesn't. Instead, he settles in and is asleep quickly. You roll onto your side and look at him as his breathing becomes even. He's so beautiful when he sleeps. Something about watching him calms you and before you know it, you drift off too.

******

In the morning you wake up first. You're surprised to find him wrapped around you with his face in your chest. You're on your sides facing each other, so you pull back and look down at him. You try to decide if you should move away from him before he wakes up, but you wait too long and he stirs. When his eyes open, he looks at you confused. Then, he realizes the position you're in and rolls away from you quickly onto his back. You roll onto your back as well.

"I'm sorry. I-" He starts but you interrupt him.

"It's okay. You were asleep. I know it didn't mean anything." He closes his eyes and thinks to himself that it sure felt like it meant something.

You desperately wish that it meant something.

Still, you get out of bed and begin to make breakfast. He follows close behind you and sits at the table patiently.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Oh, it's y/n."

"It's not a Kiowa name?"

"My mother named me. My father's people call me Khoam Khote. It means strong wind. They hoped I would be a force for change. Instead, I became a force for destruction."

"I don't think you're a force for destruction. You saved my life. That's not very destructive." He looks at you sheepishly and a warm smile spreads across your face.

"Thank you, Pacer." You walk to him at the table and kiss his cheek. He looks into your eyes.

"I'm going to call you y/n." You lean forward and press your lips to his gently. Then you pull back quickly and stand up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's okay, y/n." He smiles for the first time and you feel like you could melt into the floor.

"I won't do it again." His smile falls a little and he nods. He wouldn't mind if you did it again. He wouldn't mind if you did it over and over. But he understands why you might not want to. No one has ever wanted him before. Why would that change now?

******

Several weeks pass by with the two of you in this kind of polite limbo. After you kiss him, you try to keep your distance, despite sleeping in the same bed. And despite the fact that you always wake up with him wrapped around you.

You do get more comfortable with each other as you live and work. He hunts and fixes up the house and you go into your father's village to gather more supplies periodically. You plant a vegetable garden and hope he'll still be around when it's time to collect your harvest. He doesn't seem to show any signs of leaving, though, even after his wounds heal.

Truth be told, he's in heaven living this domestic dream with you. You're all the company he needs and he lives for the nights when he gets to touch you like he wants to under the guise of being asleep. Sometimes when you fall asleep first, he watches you and kisses your forehead or cheeks. He traces the outline of your lips or the line of your nose with his fingertips. He's not sure why you won't let him love you, but maybe he was right when he said you wouldn't want him.

One morning he wakes up earlier than normal and realizes that you're not in the bed. He panics a little and gets up quickly. You're not anywhere to be found in the little house. He walks outside and calls your name in the wind. The air is warm and he decides to walk to the small creek nearby to cool off. As he approaches, though, he sees someone in the creek. He hides behind a bush and then tries to see who it might be.

It's you.

And you're naked.

What he didn't know is that every other day or so you sneak out from under his arms and walk to the creek early to bathe. Then, you slide back into bed and pretend like you're just waking up. He never notices that your braids are wet.

But today, he notices you. He can't take his eyes off of you as you bathe in the cool water. He's completely captivated by your tawny skin glistening in the sunlight, the curvature of your hips, and the fullness of your breasts. He's never seen anything so beautiful. The physical response is undeniable and he wishes desperately that he could go to you and touch you. He needs to put his mouth on every inch of your skin and feel you pressed against him. He's never been with a woman like that before, but here as he watches you, it's the only thing he wants in the world.

He sighs deeply and turns away from you. The last thing he needs is to be caught watching you bathe. Instead, he makes his way back to the cabin. Once he's inside, he sits on the side of the bed and waits for you to come back. But as he waits, he just can't get rid of his erection. He can't stop thinking about you in the water and his cock is so hard it hurts. He stands and walks to the window. You're not anywhere to be seen, so he assumes he has some time before you'll be back. Something has to happen, so he unbuckles his belt and sits on the edge of the bed. He takes his pants off and wraps his hand around his throbbing dick. As he thinks about your body in the sunlight, he begins to stroke himself. He thinks of your slightly hardened nipples and the patch of hair between your legs hiding the place he wants to see most of all. He imagines what it would be like to touch you, to run his hands over your skin and feel all the soft parts of you. He pumps his cock harder and faster as he thinks about your mouth wrapped around him, your pussy on him as he fills you up. He's never had such dirty thoughts about a woman before but he needs you with a new kind of hunger.

A moan escapes his lips just as the door opens and you walk in quietly, fully intending to crawl into bed with him as he sleeps. But he's not asleep. Your mouth pops open at the sight in front of you: Pacer stroking his cock and moaning your name.

"Pacer?"

"Oh God!" He sees you and tries to hide himself frantically. He blushes a deep red and you can tell he wants to sink into the floor and disappear. "God, y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Pacer." You walk over and stand directly in front of him. "Look at me."

You swiftly untie your nightgown, slip it down over your shoulders, and let it fall to the ground at your feet. You aren't wearing anything underneath it, so once it's on the floor, you're standing in front of him fully naked. His eyes widen and he looks at you with desperation. He's dying to reach out and touch you.

You walk towards him and pull the blanket that he used to cover himself off and toss it to the side. His mouth is partially open as you step forward and unbutton his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders and off.

"Y/n, I..." You're so close to him now that you can feel his breath on your body.

"Is this what you want, Pacer?" His eyes move from your body up to your face. You pray that you've judged the situation correctly and he won't reject you.

"Yes. God, yes." You take him in as he sits on the edge of the bed naked. His body is just as beautiful as you thought it would be. His tanned skin matches yours and there's the slightest patch of hair on his chest. Your eyes drift even further down and you see his dick, it's long and hard and straight and for some reason it makes your mouth water. You've never been with a man like this, but right now it's the only thing you need. He's the only thing you need.

In a gesture of boldness that shocks even you, you crawl onto his lap and straddle him, your dripping center rubbing against his cock. He whimpers as you take your place on his lap.

"Pacer, touch me." His eyes drift back up to meet yours. And then he carefully reaches out and grabs your hips. He runs his hands up to your breasts and drags his thumbs across your nipples. You throw your head back at the sensation of his hands on you. He kisses one of your breasts and then your neck and you lean into him and kiss him fully on the mouth. He parts your lips with his and slides his tongue in to dance against yours. When he comes up out of the kiss for air, he pulls back and looks you in the eye, his hands resting on your hips again.

"I've never..."

"Me neither."

"I want to... I want to try..."

"Me too." The passion overtakes him and he puts a hand on your neck and pulls you back into kissing him. You slowly roll your hips forward and he groans. You back out of the kiss and whisper.

"I think you need to be on top of me."

"Yeah, that's what Clint told me." He gently and deliberately picks you up and flips you so that you're on your back. He leans in and kisses you deeply again. When he pulls back from the kiss, he looks into your night-sky eyes and is overcome with affection for you. "You're so beautiful."

You feel like you could cry, but you don't. Instead, you reach up and push his hair back out of his face where it's fallen into his eyes.

"Do you mean that, Pacer?"

"I do. You might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He kisses your cheek gently and takes a deep breath.

"Are you ready for me?"

You nod and he lines himself up with your entrance. You tremble a little at the thought of him pushing inside you.

"Will it hurt?"

"Maybe a little, I think? If it does, tell me and I'll stop." You nod again and he slowly starts to press into you. He gets the tip into you and you grimace.

"Should I stop? Does it hurt?"

"Not bad. Please don't stop."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Pacer, please."

"Okay." He pushes into you some more and it stings for a moment and then the pain gives way to something else. After a few more seconds, he's fully inside you and he grunts and lays his head on your shoulder. "That feels so good. Can I? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm ready." He begins to slowly pump in and out of you. You inhale sharply at the sensation and he stops moving.

"Does... does it hurt?"

"No, it feels good!" He smiles down at you and goes back to sliding in and out. You moan quietly and instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He whimpers again and kisses your shoulder.

"It's so good, y/n. It's so so good." He begins to move a little faster, slamming his hips into yours passionately.

"Yes, Pacer!" Something is building inside of you, but you have no idea what it is. When it explodes, you feel like you might die with the sensation of electricity running through you. You moan loudly and grab him and hold him close to your body. He feels your walls pulse and stops moving for a second.

"What was that?" He asks incredulously.

"I don't know, but it was amazing. Don't stop!" He kisses your cheek and then resumes his rhythm of pounding into you. His cock slides in and out of you a few more times before he grunts.

"I think I'm gonna..." But he doesn't get the rest of his sentence out. Instead he slams into you one last time and shoots you full of something warm. "Oh, god, y/n, yes!"

He pumps weakly a few more times and then pulls out and lays next to you on the bed. You both lie there in silence, sweating and breathing heavily. After what feels like an eternity, he speaks.

"Remember when you said I wouldn't love you?" He turns his head to look at you.

"I do."

"You were wrong." He rolls onto his side and grabs your hand, kissing your fingers.

"Pacer, you're only saying that because-"

"No. I've known it for weeks. We belong together. I love you." You feel like your heart might explode with joy. You smile softly and he melts.

"Will you stay here with me?"

"Y/n, I will stay with you for as long as you'll have me." He presses his lips to your palm.

"Forever, then?"

"Forever." He wraps you in his arms and kisses you deeply. You are what he's been looking for his whole life. He's found a home in you, just as you've found one in him.

From then on you're a tribe of two, until the children come along. All four of them are beautiful, with dark hair and dark skin and their daddy's eyes like the sky. You build a life for yourselves beyond the borders of the war. It will continue to rage for a while longer. Eventually, the white man will win and the Kiowa will be driven from their own lands. But for now, for now you have Pacer, and that's more than you could've ever hoped for.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @aliypop @your-nanas-house @rjmartin11 @tacozebra051 @joshuntildawn13 @deniseinmn @pebbles403 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @louisejoy86 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @from-memphis-with-love

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic #pacer burton #flaming star #pacer Burton fanfiction

84 notes · View notes

alienelvisobsession · 1 year

Text

The Quentin Tarantino Connection

When he was a teenager in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Quentin Tarantino was by his own admission way into ‘50s rockabilly music. “I was like the second coming of Elvis Presley. I dyed my hair black. I wore it in a big ole pompadour”, he said in an interview. In his recent book Cinema Speculation, he writes about discussing cinema with his mom’s black friend Floyd, who was into blaxploitation. He loved hearing Floyd’s first-hand accounts of being a black Elvis fan back in the 1950s, also rebuking claims that the King of Rock ‘n Roll was racist. He even included “Elvis impersonator” in his early résumé and it must have paid out because he was cast as one in an episode of the sit-com The Golden Girls in 1988. Incidentally, Tarantino was born in Elvis’ home state of Tennessee, where his mother is from, and as a kid was even left there for a year, describing his family as “hillbilly alcoholics”.

Elvis often comes up in his movies. For example in a deleted scene of his now classic film Pulp Fiction (1994), Mia Wallace uses a hand-held video camera to interview Vincent Vega with either/or questions. She explains the game as follows: “There are only two kinds of people in the world, Beatles people and Elvis people”. Mia has no doubts about Vincent’s allegiance. With his swagger, callback to “Grease” and dance moves, John Travolta is an Elvis man through and through.

Of course, Mia and Vincent later go a to ‘50s themed diner called Jack Rabbit Slim’s, where they have the famous twist contest dancing to Chuck Berry’s “You Never Can Tell”. The waiters are all dressed like dead stars from the 1950s, such as Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Buddy Holly. Even though, as Vincent would put it, the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll must have had the night off, in Mia’s words “an Elvis man should love it”. Tarantino said that the design for the diner, where the guests sit in booths made like ‘50s vintage cars and the dance floor looks like a tachometer, was partially inspired by the nightclub with race car motifs in one of Elvis’ movies, Speedway (1968).

Tarantino references Elvis here and there in his work. In the novelization of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood that he wrote, for example, Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio in the movie) is described by his agent Marvin (Al Pacino) as having spent all his career “running pocket combs through his pompadour”, which by 1969 not even Elvis has anymore.

His biggest Elvis homage came very early on in his career, though. As a matter of fact, to finance what would become his first movie, Reservoir Dogs (1992), Tarantino auctioned a script that he had written, True Romance. It was made into a movie by Tony Scott and it ultimately came out in 1993. True Romance begins with a casual conversation about pop culture in the style of Mr. Brown with his infamous “Like a Virgin” theory in Reservoir Dogs. Clarence (Christian Slater) is at a bar, chatting up a girl. Like Tarantino, Clarence prefers ‘50s Elvis and praises Jailhouse Rock (the movie not the song) where Elvis was everything that rockabilly was about: “Mean, surly, nasty, rude”. And then, obviously interested in picking up the girl, he continues: “Elvis looked good. I mean, I ain’t no fag, but Elvis was prettier than most women, you know. Most women. You know, I always said if I had to fuck a guy – you know, I mean, had to – if my life depended on it, I’d fuck Elvis”. Tarantino establishes the rules for his story right away: just like you have fantasies where you wish you were Elvis or as cool as Elvis, or you wish you could fuck him, this movie is a whole fantasy where you wish you were a hero who had a crazy adventure and passionate love story involving pimps, drugs and guns.

Clarence, an alter ego for the author, falls madly in love with Alabama (Patricia Arquette), a call girl. Clarence loves martial arts movies, comic books, hamburgers and Elvis, just like the film director. He also wears Elvis glasses and drives a purple Cadillac. Throughout the movie, Elvis pops up several times, in magazines, on T-shirts and on furniture or posters. The most striking appearance is obviously when Clarence sees Elvis (Val Kilmer) in the bathroom mirror, dressed in his gold lamé suit but anachronistically sporting his ‘70s big glasses. Elvis tells Clarence that he has to kill Alabama’s pimp, and there the adventure begins.

In Cinema Speculation, which sits halfway between film criticism and memoir, Tarantino goes back to Elvis several times. He writes that Elvis could have been the biggest movie star of the 1960s, if it weren’t for Colonel Parker’s greediness and for the weight of his own enormous success in the music business. He even mentions excitedly that Elvis was considered for the role of Sundance in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) opposite Warren Beatty, before the roles went to Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

Tarantino has always took a liking for B movies, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to learn that he’s not dismissive of Elvis movies as a whole and writes about a few of them in detail. He considers Flaming Star (1960), for instance, to be “a truly great fifties Western, and maybe the most brutally violent American western of its era.” According to him, the film director, Don Siegel, who would go on to direct Dirty Harry (1971), was a master when it came to film fistfights and chase sequences. This was because of his background in editing and his penchant for violence. Tarantino also praises Don Siegel’s unexpected use of shocking bouts of violence, of which there are several in Flaming Star. His protagonists, including Elvis’ Pacer, were often at odds with the society they lived in, which reflected the way Siegel felt around film executives and producers. “Pod people” is how he called them, in reference to his movie The Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) and in this category he included Elvis’ nefarious manager, Colonel Tom Parker.

Tarantino recognizes that Elvis movies weren’t real movies but “ElvIs movies”, but he’s a fan of Roustabout (1964) nevertheless. He describes it as: “a pretty entertaining little picture chock-full of cool elements, Elvis entering the movie on a motorcycle—dressed head to toe in black leather […], a strong Big Valley era Barbara Stanwyck as his colead, a one-line bit at the beginning by Raquel Welch, the best soundtrack of any of Elvis’ color films, including a rarity for the King on film—Elvis singing a cover of somebody else’s hit, the Coasters’ Little Egypt, and the only film where Elvis gets to demonstrate his Ed Parker-taught karate moves.” Because of course Tarantino loves martial arts movies, just like Elvis did. And blaxploitation, hamburgers, comic books and being over the top. They would have been great friends.

Read here my previous posts on Elvis connections. So far I’ve written about Jimi Hendrix, Andy Warhol/Bob Dylan, the Clash and Jim Morrison.

#quentin tarantino #elvis presley #elvis #1990s cinema #elvis movies #true romance #pulp fiction #don siegel #flaming star #film criticism #1960s cinema #speedway #roustabout #tarantino #tarantino movies

82 notes · View notes