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perpetual-stories · 3 years

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How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writersconnection #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writings

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years

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Chapter 15. Homecoming

'Souls tend to go back to who feels like home.' N.R. Hart

Once I had stared at my truth it was impossible to turn a blind eye to it anymore; I hadn’t even been aware that that’s what I was doing, but somewhere between Clara’s brother making the entire reception room laugh and Harry holding my hand, it was like I was pulled out from under water. It was like when your ears pop after flying, like I wasn’t working at full speed, and now I had no other speed.

It felt… exhausting. Like I was stuck to a chair, eyes firmly taped open, as a cinema screen in front displayed the past few months in bright colors for the first time. Had I really been there? Had I really existed then? I could barely remember most of it, like coming out of autopilot.

Through this existential panic attack, I had somehow held on to Harry’s hand tighter than before, wrapping it in both of mine. Suddenly overcome by embarrassment and guilt, I slowly let it go, feeling my cheeks warm.

“Sorry.” I said, staring firmly at the carpet in front.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, after a couple of seconds.

I nodded, forcing out a chuckle. “I’m sorry I’ve been so dramatic.”

“Don’t apologize.” He said, serious. “You shouldn’t feel bad for pain.”

I tried to think of an appropriate answer, but I had none.

Then he leaned in, and I caught my breath in a small gasp I hoped had been silent. He leaned in slowly enough that I wondered if time had slowed down or I was just feeling dizzy. I told myself I was surely mistaken in his intention, and tried to remind myself of the girl Stella was telling me about earlier whose name I now couldn’t remember. He leaned in close enough that I felt guilty for not leaning back. Close enough that I felt chills down my spine. Close enough that I couldn’t remember why we hadn’t done it before.

Looking decidedly at my lips, his hand cupped my face – except, no. He touched my upper lip with his thumb, and delicately pinched something in my skin with the help of his pointing finger. He leaned back, and I took in a deep breath, feeling my hands and neck slightly sweaty.

He showed me the tip of his finger, where sat a lonely, loose eyelash.

“Make a wish.” He offered.

Smiling, embarrassed and guilty over where my mind had gone only half a second before, I touched the tip of my own pointing finger to his. His smile was small, but genuine. It made his entire expression light up softly. It made my heart happy somehow.

“Ready?”

“Wait!” I shook my head, “I don’t know what to wish for.”

His smile grew. “Go on, think of something good. The only rules about wishes are no asking for more wishes, no asking for someone to love you, no asking for someone back from the dead.”

“Ah.” I sighed, forcefully, in mock disappointment. “There goes all of my ideas.” He let out a laugh so genuine I felt my own heart jump fasted in my chest.

Though it had been a joke, there was really nothing I wanted to wish for more than Louis back. As for love, well.

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about love,” Harry interrupted, as if listening to my inner thoughts, “Christopher seems… Invested.”

I bit my lower lip; it was a weird choice of words. All at once I remembered how Harry had sneered when I told him Chris’ profession in Buckingham Palace when he thought we were together. I remembered his relief when he found we weren’t. I remembered telling him about the breakup in the balcony, at night, and it made me remember how it hurt. I remembered every time Louis tried to reassure me I could do better. ‘Chris didn’t deserve you,’ he’d said, ‘but Harry might’.

“He is.” I told Harry, contrary. “And besides, I’m not supposed to tell you what my wish is. Or else it won’t come true… now hush and let me think.”

He grinned at me.

It was unfair. Christopher had been there for me when Louis died. He’d been in my life for over a decade. Loved me for most of that time. Took care of me in America where we both had no one but each other. He was probably inside the reception room at this moment, worried I had left so suddenly, with an obviously look of one who’s about to cry on my face. Of course there were issues to figure out, which couple didn’t? We were human, and that’s what made the relationship work. Christopher was normal. He didn’t treat me like a princess, didn’t mind my title making both our lives a mess. We could make it work. But it felt unfair to wish for him to be better instead of just talking to him about it, like an adult. Something I probably should have done a long time ago, if I had had a clearer mind.

I decided not to waste a wish that could be a mature, adult conversation. ‘I want to make Louis proud’, I decided.

“Okay.” I told Harry. “Ready?”

“One, two…” He counted. “Three.”

When we pulled our hands apart, my eyelash was on his finger. He smiled at me, proudly.

“Congratulations.” I said, giggling slightly at his expression.

“Thank you.” He pulled his handkerchief from his morning coat’s jacket’s pocket, unfolded, and delicately pressed the eyelash inside. “I’ll keep it safe until my wish is realized.” He told me, with reverence, making me laugh.

“I don’t think that affects the wish.”

“What are you, the wish police?” He asked, making me laugh again.

Finally, I sighed, feeling calm wash over me like rain. When I looked back, he was smiling at me, content, handkerchief back in his front pocket. He looked at me long enough that I felt guilty again, remembering Christopher downstairs, probably wondering where I’d gone.

“We should go back.” I said.

Harry gulped, looking at his hands now. “Yes. After you.”

He held my hand to help me down the stairs, even though we both seemed to be aware that I wasn’t wearing heels. My hand felt warm for the rest of the night.

“I’m going to get a drink.” I told him, at the doors. I didn’t want to arrive back at our table with him after having left so suddenly, and looking like I’d been crying.

“I’ll go with you.” He replied.

We waited until our drinks were done before walking back, together. Turns out I had no reason to worry, Chris was now so enthralled by the Best Man speech he didn’t even notice when I came back.

Stella, however, looked at me from her seat, inquisitively. I gave her an assuring smile in response, and looked ahead to the man in the microphone, not really hearing anything he was saying, but merely smiling when the sound of laughter roared around the room.

My mind was aflame with questions. Why was Lourdes giving up ice skating? Why was I meeting with mom’s patronages for her instead of doing my own work? Why wasn’t I consulted when Cadie was reassigned? Why did I have to change my security?

“Baby?”

I looked to my right just as the room erupted in applause, smiling so Chris wouldn’t question my swollen eyes or reddened nose.

“Did you get me a new drink?” He asked, looking at the new glass I’d just brought.

“Uhm– I didn’t– I didn’t know you needed one.”

He sighed, looking back ahead.

I didn’t mean to, but my eyes found Harry almost on instinct. He was looking at Chris from the corners of his eyes, brows furrowed, almost aggressively. His eyes softened when they met mine, but we looked away at the same time.

They served dinner shortly after this, and Stella reclaimed her seat next to me. She asked if I was feeling okay, and I told her about Clara’s brother reminding me of Louis. She leaned in, rested her head on my shoulder for a few seconds, and straightened up again – it was enough to make me feel seen. It was more than Christopher, anyway. When I told her he didn’t seem to notice anything had happened, she sighed, amused.

“Men…” She exclaimed, resigned. “They notice nothing.”

‘Not Harry‘, I thought.

I took in a deep breath, and started on my list of reminders again. Eight: Christopher and his brother always went home on mother’s day to make their mother breakfast in bed. Nine: Christopher never pushed me to have sex with him before I was ready, and he made my first time gentle, patient, and not even a little as traumatic as most of friends' first experience was. Ten: he always had his arm around me, no matter how harassing the paparazzi got.

After dessert, Christopher got up to talk to his friends at another table. A tall brunette came by to say hello to Harry, and he got to his feet to kiss both her cheeks and they chatted for a long time as I strained my ears to overhear, neglecting Stella and Gabrielle making conversation by my side.

“I need a drink.” I told the girls.

“Isn’t this your wine? It’s half full.” Gabrielle told me.

“I need a rum and coke.” I shrugged, walking off pretending I couldn’t feel Harry’s worried eyes on me.

I went to the bar, taking as long as possible, only being stopped once on the way back by another acquaintance who seemed to think it was appropriate to ask about my ‘’new life as Crown Princess’’.

When I came back, Harry was back in his seat, and Gabrielle had taken mine. She moved to get up, but I rested my hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“It’s okay,” I said, grabbing my purse quickly, “Stay.”

I took her seat, which was next to Harry, avoiding his eyes. I thought he may be smiling at me, but I stared around the room as I downed my drink, feeling a sinking weight on my stomach again, which was stupid. I was just letting Gabi have my seat so she could continue to talk to Stella. I was doing something nice. There was nothing to feel guilty about.

A pea hit the table, falling almost beside my glass. Harry was looking at it, cheeks blushing, fork as a catapult in hand, Stella and Gabrielle looking at him, my confused eyes mirrored in theirs.

Like hitting play on an old home video, I was suddenly hit by the memory of sitting next to him on the State Dinner as he dared me to throw a pea on Catherine’s glass.

“Really?” I asked, laughing. He shrugged, covering his grin with his hand as he rested his chin on his palm.

I shook my head to the girls, rolling my eyes, amused.

“So,” Harry started, resting his elbows on the table, linking his hands to support his chin, casually as can be. He leaned to me, and whispered, “Truth or dare?”

Feeling my skin burn, I looked down at the table. I was afraid everyone could look at us and see everything that had happened in England by the look on my face alone. That, I felt, was the effect of those words.

“So? Marie?”

The sound of my name in his accent was still a powerful reminder things could never be what they were again.

“Truth”, I sighed, looking up at him.

“What did you wish for, earlier? You didn’t win, so there’s no danger in telling me.”

I smiled. “I guess that’s true… I wished–” I looked around, and leaned closer to whisper, “to make him proud.” He didn’t seem to ask me who.

“You don’t have to wish that.” He assured me. “You already did when he was alive. He’d be the first to tell you that.”

“He was always the first to tell me what I was doing wrong.” I explained, not unamused.

“Well,” he laughed, “then at least you have a thorough list of what you can do to make him proud, right?”

He had a point. I looked down at my green dress. It was one of the ones I bought thinking of not giving mom something to criticize. Louis would have hated it. My hat was simple, small. Louis would have hated it. My makeup was simple, conservative. My nails weren’t even done. Louis would have hated it.

I had spent the last few months doing… barely anything, including taking care of myself. In our last conversation, Louis had told me to stop wasting my time with mediocre men… Would he have understood Chris had changed? Would he have believed him? Be disappointed we were, according to almost everyone, practically engaged? Would he have tried to talk me out of it? Or, if my brother was still here, would Chris have changed at all? Would we still have gotten back together?

This was… unfair. Louis wasn’t here. It was… unfair to hold Christopher to some high standard he could never reach since my brother was dead. Right? Chris had changed. Who’s to say it was Louis dying that made us get back together? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened regardless? Everyone seemed to think it would. No one was even surprised we got back together. Christopher was good. He made me happy. And Louis wanted me to be happy, so he would understand.

He might have pouted, and questioned if Chris actually made me happy, or I was just too afraid to break up such a long relationship and be forced to redefine my life after myself and my wants instead of a guy, but he would have eventually understood.

I felt a weight on my heart as the question refused to be ignored. Was I afraid? What would I have answered if he was here, asking it?

“Hey.” Harry called, shaking me out of my haze. “It’s your turn.”

I smiled. “Of course… truth or dare?”

“Hm. Truth.”

“Okay…” I considered this. “I don’t really know what to ask.” I lied.

“Come on, that’s not fun. Think of something. No rules!”

I giggled. “Alright…” Making a show of looking around for inspiration, I sighed. “What were you talking about just now…? With that girl who was just here?”

He looked back. “Oh, Natasha? Hm…” He sighed. “She… She was asking about my love life, as everyone in my life seems to these days.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, don’t worry–” he smiled. “Not you. You… you can ask whatever you want.”

I gulped, trying to swallow the guilt again.

“Anyway,” Harry went on, “she wanted to know why I broke up my last relationship.”

Slowly, I nodded, schooling my features into being as calm and unaffected as possible. “Oh.” I said, stupidly. “And… uhm. Was that–? You mean, before Cressida?”

He shook his head, a mischievous grin in his lips. “No, no, no follow up questions, remember?”

I sighed, controlling the urge to roll my eyes as a smile crept in, unannounced.

“Can you believe Cassie and Bronn are engaged?” Christopher asked, arriving back at our table, resting his hand in my shoulder.

I tried to mask my jump as just adjusting myself in my seat, and not the unimaginable guilt I was trying to ignore.

“Wow,” I said, grinning, “really? I didn’t think I’d live to see it.”

He scoffed. “I know, right? He’s punching way above his belt.” He looked at me, then at Harry, and around at the table, “Were we sitting here?”

“No, Gabi is on my seat while she’s talking to Stella.”

“Oh.” He tapped the guy sitting next to me on the shoulder and asked if he’d mind moving one seat over so he could sit with me.

Sighing, I moved my chair next to him, and smiled as I held his hand in mine.

“So, what are we talking about?” He asked, looking between me and Harry again.

We exchanged a look, but the ginger didn’t seem to be about to answer.

“The– Uhm,” I stuttered, “Adrien.”

“Oh.” Chris nodded. “You know A-hole?!”

Harry grinned, amused, as we exchanged a look. He seemed to be struggling to contain his laughter.

“Yes,” he told Christopher, serious, “A-hole and I go way back.”

I bit my lower lip to contain my own amusement at his tone.

“I was sad to hear about the engagement.” He continued, sounding actually serious now. “Despite what I may have indicated in the past, I know he was really invested in it.”

I smiled. “I know… but it was for the best.”

“Was it?” Christopher whispered, leaning closer to me.

“He’s been focusing on work.” I told Harry. “And future projects. He’ll bounce back, I’m sure of it.”

“Hi, everyone!”

Behind us, Clara and her new husband, John, had arrived to greet us. We got to our feet as they went around the table hugging each of us and thanking us for coming. John introduced Harry as ‘one of the lads’, and Clara then told him about growing up with me, Christopher, Gabrielle and Stella, so they got to their feet to come talk to us by our seats.

“Those were the days.” Stella joked, sighing.

“Hey, where’s Ricky?” Clara asked.

Stella’s smile disappeared. “Not here.”

“Oh.” Clara sighed. “I’m sorry to hear.”

“Trouble?” John asked, amused.

“No more than usual.” Stella rolled her eyes, masking her heartbreak.

“The ceremony was beautiful!” I interjected, attempting a subject change. The others agreed.

“I’m so glad! It was touch and go for a moment, there. But all’s well that ends well… And!” She grinned, excitedly and pointedly eyeing Christopher and me, “I suppose you two are next now!”

I looked at Christopher, slightly panicked, but he merely laughed, shyly, passing his arm around my waist and holding me close. I felt a painful knot on my stomach.

“Right?!” Gabrielle agreed, excitedly, “Can you imagine how beautiful she’ll look as a bride?”

Stella touched my hair, dreamily.

“I can.” Christopher agreed, confidently.

Nervously, I looked away, accidentally locking eyes with Harry. He had that thing in his eyes again, that… yearning I had seen in England. Why? Why did it make me want to throw up?

“Okay–” I laughed, nervously, “I think you guys need to calm down… It’s a little too soon for that.”

Clara laughed. “Says the girl who’s been dating the same guy for, like, a decade.”

“Okay, I’m going to go get a refill, and maybe also get my girlfriend some water, she’s looking a little flustered.” Christopher said, kissing my cheek, “And let you gals gab.”

The girls laughed as he made his way out, and I attempted to mimic as I lost feeling in my hands.

“We should go, a lot of people to talk to.” John said, standing next to Harry. Clara held his hand, and they made their way to the next table, as if they hadn’t just released a grenade in my head.

We sat down again. I took a slow breath in and another out, looking away from my friends - and Harry.

“Hm… I can’t!”

“Stella, no!” Gabrielle was telling her.

“What’s going on?”

Stella gave a very excited look, biting her lower lip.

“Okay, I–”

“Stella–” Gabrielle laughed, exasperated. “You’ll ruin the surprise! Also there’s people that could hear you!”

“Oh, as if the whole world doesn’t know already!” Stella told her, before looking back at me.

“Would you guys like to sit next to each other?” Harry offered, awkwardly, stuck between myself and the girls.

“It’s not necessary–” I tried to tell him, but Stella drowned out my voice.

“That would be fantastic, thank you!” She got to her feet, so Gabrielle had no other choice than to follow.

I took Harry’s seat, and the girls sat each by one of my sides, with Harry taking the seat right after Stella, where Gabi had been – still in earshot, particularly with how carrying Stella’s whispered voice was.

“Okay, so, you didn’t hear it from me!” She started.

“Literally, who else would she have heard it from?” Gabrielle interrupted, to which Stella merely whispered a rushed ‘shush!’.

“So… I have it on good authority…” Stella went on, almost bursting from excitement, practically jumping in her seat, “that someone may or may not have, uhm… purchased something very sparkly… for… you!”

She smiled at me with all her teeth, all joy and anticipation. I caught Harry’s glance, but he looked down, quickly. I looked at Gabrielle, who smiled.

“I don’t get it.” I said; Stella sighed, impatient.

“Christopher got a ring!” She whispered, “For you!”

“A ring?”

“An engagement ring, silly!” She giggled. “It’s a family ring, apparently! Been with them for generations! Huge and valuable! Very appropriate!”

“…Oh.” I said, struggling with my thoughts.

“Come on, I know it’s not something from the royal vault, but it’s exciting!”

“Stella, that’s not– I don’t–” I sighed, feeling overwhelmingly warm, “Why–? When–? How did you–? Uhm. God.”

“Have a drink.” Gabrielle said, handing me my glass.

“How do you know this?!” I asked her.

She shrugged. “It’s a… talking point.”

“What does that mean?!”

She sighed. “You know my mother knows everyone! She heard it from someone that Chris’ mother had the ring professionally cleaned and resized. It hasn’t been worn in years.”

“Okay, well, that doesn’t mean–”

She interrupted. “Then Chris got in touch to ask me what was your ring size!”

“What?!” I asked, gasping slightly.

“I know, right?!” She smiled again, giddy. “He told me it was for a Christmas gift, but he can’t trick me–”

“Christmas?! No–” I interrupted. “He gave me earrings–”

“Well, yes, apparently he asked your father for your hand last year and he wanted to propose on Christmas, but your father asked him to wait at least one year after… you know, the whole funeral thing. So it didn’t appear too rushed after you became Crown Princess.”

I wanted to say something, truly, I did. But I was at a complete loss for words. I felt my heart beating faster, louder and, was it hotter suddenly? I couldn’t tell.

“So my father knows.” I repeated. “He’s known since last year.”

“I know, I was so upset when I heard. A Christmas proposal would have been so magical!” There was a few seconds of silence. “Maggie?”

I gasped, looking up at her. “Yes? Yeah, I know. Christmas is great.”

“Are you okay?” Gabrielle asked, passing an arm around my shoulders. “Are you overwhelmed?!”

“Aw, babe.” Stella hugged me, too, over Gabi’s half-hug. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?! Are you speechless?! I know we’ve been waiting for so many years for this!”

“Yes, it’s…” I said, just because I felt it was my turn to say something. “It’s finally happening.”

“I know, we thought it may not ever happen! But I’m so happy you guys fixed all the issues there last year!”

I looked at her, so sincerely happy for me, but my eyes quickly found the guy next to her against my will.

Harry looked.. pensive. Serious. Lost in thought. His lips were pressed together in a thin, pale line. I watched as he sighed, gulped, looked around the room, mindlessly, and finally stood up.

“I should be going.” He said, to the table. “It was lovely meeting all of you.”

“Already?!” I asked, “They haven’t cut the cake yet.”

He smiled, looking down at my glass instead of at me. “I know, but it’s okay. I’m kind of tired.”

“Well, it was lovely meeting you.” Stella said, smiling, letting me go from the hug. “Send Cressida my best.”

He smiled at her, a little empty. Or was I just being biased?

“Will do. Have a good night, everyone.”

He left rather quickly, without looking my way again.

“So?” Stella smiled at me again. “Should we talk dresses?!”

Gabrielle smiled, too. “Oh, my God, you have to wear a big train! It’s so regal!”

“So, he asked my father last year.” I confirmed. Stella nodded. “In December?”

“Well, no, he thought he would ask on Christmas, so he had to have enough time to get the ring ready… I think he asked your father in November.”

“November?”

“Early November.” Stella answered. “Your father asked for a couple of weeks to think and talk it over with his advisors–”

“Advisors?”

“Well, don’t ask me, you’re the expert.” She chuckled, shrugging. “Apparently he needed to talk to his staff about it, and I assume your mother, too. Then in mid or late November he gave his blessing, but asked Christopher to wait.”

I nodded, trying my best to breathe normally, but feeling my throat extremely dry.

“So, less than two months after my brother died.”

Stella and Gabrielle exchanged a look. “Well,” Stella said, “Which is why it’s good then, right? That your father asked him to wait.”

“It feels… fast.” I said. “We were broken up for most of last year. We barely talked about getting back together. One day I was being told to move on, then Louis died, then he was just… there again.”

“Oh, honey.” Stella held my hand, affectionate. “I know… Love is weird. Sometimes you gotta lose something to realize how much it matters to you.”

“Oh, oh, sh!” Gabrielle whispered, desperately, looking behind us. Two seconds later, Chris arrived back at our table with our glasses.

“There you go, baby.” He laid my water in front of me, and I downed it all almost immediately. “Shall we dance?” He asked, smiling charmingly, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

It was impossible not to smile in response. So I got up, and joined him on the dance floor.

With his arms around me, the song lulled us as we danced. I closed my eyes, letting him guide me, letting the music take over, trying to remind myself of all the times I prayed to be his wife one day. All the times I tried to talk to him about our future, only to have him return something uncertain. All the times I had imagined myself in a white dress, walking towards his green eyes and brown hair in a big cathedral.

He was the love of my life. So why did I feel a knot on my stomach at the thought of what was supposed to be our iminent happy-ever-after?

— ---- —

On our rented car, Christopher went straight to the airport after the reception. He had a business trip to Toronto, so he was flying out of London that very night. Stella and I had decided to get a hotel room nearby and fly out the following morning. After Chris left, though, there was very little of me that wanted to follow the plan. So I told her to stay, enjoy herself, and that I wasn’t feeling well, so I would take the last train back home to Savoy.

She would have likely been more worried if I didn’t have my protection detail with me, but since I was well cared for, she hugged my tightly – as did Gabrielle – and told me to call her when I got home.

So after grabbing my things from the hotel, and changing into more comfortable clothes, security drove me to the train station. It was already night when they returned the car to the rental company and we bought the tickets. Waited the appropriate time, and then got into our seats in first class.

The train departed from Northern England at the right time, under the moonlight. The lights dimmed. Most passangers fell into an easy sleep. I sat in the isle seat, watching the other people around me peacefully browse their phones, or read their e-books, completely unaware of the turmoil inside of me.

In London, the train made it’s usual stop for more passangers heading to Savoy. I looked to the window, and to the seat to my other side, realizing my protection officers were asleep. Understandable. It was a long journey.

I grabbed my bag and headed to the bathroom, which was occupied. Waiting at the door, I realized the exit to the station was just to the other side, two steps ahead. I pulled my hoodie down, trying to stay as anonymous as possible, but it was unnecessary. Most of the train was asleep.

“Ma’am?” A girl called. “Are you on the line for the loo?”

I shook my head, and she went right in as the previous occupant left.

I looked back, in the direction of my seat. The two men accompanying me were still asleep, unaware I had gotten to my feet, bag in hand, coat around my shoulders. I could just… step off the train and they wouldn’t even know.

So I did.

I walked off, first steadily, but slightly shaky. Then, as I left the platform, I put adjusted the bag strap to my shoulder, found my phone in my pocket, and looked back. No one chasing after me. No one screaming. No alarms going off.

I felt breathless, but incapable of stopping my feet from moving. I had never been to this station, but it was night. It was dark. I followed the signs and arrived at a sidewalk. The line for taxis was easy to spot. I still have some pounds in my walled we’d exchanged in the airport.

While I waited, I googled the adress I was after. What would be the usual entrance for visitors? What would they ask of me? I couldn’t just knock on the door. Surely it would be harder.

When I jump into the taxi, I offer him the adress that seems closer to what I want, without being too obvious. I don’t some random driver to go tweeting. He confirmed the numbers I read off google maps and we were on our way.

I considered for a minute or two, but eventually the anxiety wins, so I opened a text message. Scrolling down to my old conversations, I found the one I was looking for feeling a tug to my stomach.

‘Hey,’ I type, feeling extremely innapropriate, ‘are you home?’

It feels… wrong. Too casual. Maybe he changed his number. If sure had been long enough that it would be plausible. The previous message to this one was still the ones he’d sent after Louis died, the ones I never answered, like a glowing, neon sign reminding me of my ghosting transgretion.

‘I am, hi. Are you ok? What do you need?’

I smiled, feeling some kind of piece fall into place in my mind. He was so… kind. Like coming to check on me when he didn’t have to. Like holding my hand when I’d acted so terribly last time we’d seen each other. Like not even questioning my reaching out. Just… concern for my wellbeing. I wanted to cry. Was that normal?

‘I’m nearby. Is it ok if I drop by?’, I replied, feeling, again, anxiously innapropriate. I started typing another message: ‘Totally understand if youre busy! Nbd’, but before I could press send, he’d replied: ‘Sure, where are you arriving?’.

I told him the adress I had given the taxi driver, and he instructed me to walk ‘confidently through the black gates in white walls down the street.’ He’d meet me there, he said. I felt incredibly more at peace for the rest of the drive.

I paid the driver, refused the change, and pulled the hoodie off to walk head-held-high through the imponent gates guarded by police officers. They didn’t stop me, so I kept walking.

I looked at nothing as I walked. I still felt a mixture of sick and wild. I still half expected my protections officers to show up, running and screaming after me, but no one did.

As soon as I spotted the tall figure walking in my direction down the street, I turned off my phone, smoothed my hair, and tried to stop my hands from shaking, putting in them in the pockets of my large overcoat.

His hair was wet. He was wearing a long sleeved Henley. There was a man walking slower behind him that could only have been his security.

We slowed down our pace almost at the same time when we reached one another.

“Hi.” I smiled, tentatively.

“Hi.” Harry smiled back.

There was a couple of seconds of silence.

“I missed my train.” I told him, not entirely lying.

“Oh.” He nodded, understanding. “That sucks. Do you need a place to stay?”

I nodded. “Yes. Is that okay?”

“Of course!” He smiled a little more, now looking behind me. “Where’s your security?”

“Oh.” I looked back at the street I had just walked. “It’s just… me, actually.”

“Oh. Okay.” He seemed unsure, but didn’t question. “Are you– Are you okay?”

I allowed myself to chuckle at the question. I looked up, at the sky, and around, at the big houses. When I looked back at him, at the blue eyes that inexplicably felt like coming home, there was no desire or need in me to lie.

“I don’t know.” I confessed.

Harry nodded, slowly. “Alright.”

I bit my lower lip, trying to scratch my palms in my pockets. “Is it?”

His lips curved up slightly. “Yes. It is.” He took two steps towards me, and grabbed the bag from my shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH -- i think this is seriously my favorite part of the story so far. What do you think should happen now that Marie basically ran away to be with Harry?? What should they talk about? Or, ya know, do? LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND THANK SO SO SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!]

#Princeharryff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #Princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic #fanfiction #OPITCphff #chapters

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vroenis · 4 years

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The 2019 Charlie’s Angels Reboot Was A Good Project & Deserved More Respect From Hollywood

We’ve just finished watching the film and there was a lot both J and I really enjoyed about it. We’re critical of media and art in different ways and I certainly don’t speak for them, as for me, oddly I’m lenient in ways that they probably aren’t when it comes to production and culture. I don’t have to dive too deeply into the cultural response to this picture to know how it went down, I’ve come into contact with just enough of it to have a clear understanding of the popular digest. The response is not at all unexpected, it’s just uninformed.

I feel that the 2019 (year of publishing) Charlie’s Angels reboot was a good project with a wonderful spirit. Elizabeth Banks’ aims were clearly evident in the final product, however it may have been shaped along the way, and that it was under-served in the production process likely from the very beginning.

This casting is fantastic.

I do wish there were better cast-ensemble promos for me to lift from the internet and wonder whether that’s another telltale sign of production or whether the heat has just faded since release and they’ve just dropped out of the archives but I struggled to find well composed images.

The first short sizzle-teaser I ever saw for the film, I thought was quite good. Neckbeards and mouthbreathers won’t have paused for a second thought before launching hate for the project - anything in the most vague proximity of feminism or empowerment of women, or even simply just not being centred around men - will be enough to bring snide internet snark by the truckload. It remains interesting that men continue to struggle to live in a world where there can be things that also exist that are not for them, they cannot simply let these other things also exist without contributing in some way. As it were, the project looked good. Sharp, clever, playful, and a timely reboot reclaimed in the most contemporary way. When I looked up the production details and found out Banks was championing it herself, I really took an interest in it. As the first full trailers released, the casting looked great - genuinely diverse and with real chemistry, I hoped it would find the audience it was looking for.

J and I have had a lot going on in our lives over the last two years and still do. We’ve gone to theatres I think twice in that whole time, maybe three times and I think two of those were gift certificates generously paid for by family. So tonight we finally got around to watching Charlie’s Angels. If we’d seen this in theatres, I’d have still be satisfied and had the same evaluation.

A production budget of $55 million is low-balling a project of this scope;

There seems to have been a bit of pre-production shuffling and Banks did a lot of wrangling herself early on.

The whole shoot front to back was just over two months and I assume three countries, US/or studio inclusive.

CGI is noticeably subpar but not exactly cheap either, so it still would have cost a significant portion of that prod. budget. When I say subpar, the CG in this film isn’t bad, please don’t take that criticism as overly negative of the CG artists’ work - remember that people do the best they can with the time and money they’re afforded. If you want to understand what that’s all about, I encourage you to watch Corridor Crew’s channel on YouTube.

Combat choreography with principle actors isn’t great, there’s far too much editing but again, I’m betting there wasn’t a whole lot of money and thus time for training and rehearsing for them, so combat is noticeably slow.

2nd Unit photography looked very good because this kind of thing is very old-school Hollywood in that it contributes to what makes an action/spy movie look like one. Unfortunately, that means it was also expensive. We’re really running out of money here...

There is a lot of licensed music in this feature which isn’t cheap at all. Again this feels super old-school Hollywood and definitely demographic targeting, but it firmly timestamps the feature - any film, really - and unless your film is about capturing the essence of the time IT WAS THE 80′s! or FOLK FESTIVALS JUST BEFORE COVID BROKE OUT as an example of not necessarily wanting to capture the past, I really think trying to nail down pop songs of the hot present ultimately does your film a disservice.

And I’ll address that one first because I feel like it may have been one of the easiest changes to make to lift the overall quality of the picture. Instead of burning thru an immense amount of budget on a pile of pop licenses, I think a calculated risk could have been taken in getting a young contemporary musician to create a slick electronic score in its entirety to back it along side the generic orchestral action fare, no disrespect to Brian Tyler. To be honest, Tyler probably could have done it all himself but was also probably just writing to spec. BUT HEY... WHY NOT SCOUT FOR ANY NUMBER OF AMAZING WOMEN OUT THERE WHO ARE PHENOMENAL ELECTRONIC MUSICIANS AND PRODUCERS what am I talking about it’s Hollywood...

This is what I mean by the project deserving more respect and being under-served. Hollywood doesn’t believe in projects like this, they don’t realise what the project is and why it needs frontier, sincere, good faith hiring and instead under-funds but funds it nevertheless SEE? WE FUNDED IT, WE DID THE GOOD THING, SEE US SUPPORTING THE WIMMINS? WE’RE NOT SEXISTS YOU CAN’T SAY WE’RE SEXISTS YOU CAN HAVE YOUR FILM oh it didn’t do very well except we didn’t let you make it the way you wanted to make it, we still shackled you to

THE SAME TERRIBLE HOLLYWOOD TRADITIONS THAT, BY THE WAY, ARE FAILING OUR MANLY MAN MOVIES FULL OF MEN HOLY SHIT THE DEBT-RECOVERY CYCLE IS REALLY DOING A NUMBER ON OUR INVESTORS I SURE HOPE WE DON’T HAVE TOO MANY CONSECUTIVE FAILURES OR, SAY, SOME KIND OF GLOBAL CATASTROPHIC AND/OR ECONOMIC EVENT HAND-WRINGING

ahem where was I

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provided the entire soundtrack for The Social Network and it’s both fantastic and timeless. OK oranges and refrigerators, but the principle still stands - I get the intent of Charlie’s Angels was a summer blockbuster but it would have still been elevated by being all the more slick having its own identity in music, having its own sound. You want that soundtrack by that amazing young woman because it sounds fucken awesome.

Charlie’s Angels still needed a few passes by a dialogue editor. I say that a lot. I know my standards are high and it’s a Hollywood film. There’s no problem at all with the vernacular, idioms and the casual language, that was all fine. It’s always just the little details - again, it’s always time and money which - really is just money. A good dialogue editor or script supervisor might have been able to just elevate this whole thing to that super-smooth level of flowing just right. Or perhaps if the actors had spent more time in training and combat rehearsal together, they’d have riffed better and improvised more. They still have good on-screen chemistry but again, more time - more money for time - and things improve.

If you don’t know my taste in film, you could see if you recognise anything in the Film Notes page of this journal, but it’s totally OK if you don’t. Basically most of them are long and boring, with super long takes of people not saying or doing much. I still love Hollywood films tho - I love all cinema and I’ll repeat like a broken record, I should either add a section to Film Notes of my favourite blockbusters or create a page for them. Anyway - Charlie’s Angels still has too much editing mostly due to the aforementioned combat, but also because of that good old Hollywood formulaic style-guide. It’s easy to look up the production credits and pluck out names but on a project like this, it’s difficult to pin the end result on the roles themselves. In these cases, personnel like editors are more like daily jobs rather than creative contributors which again is an immense shame. I catch myself before saying “It doesn’t have to be a Malick/Shortland/Lynch project...” but why not? Why can’t a summer blockbuster have its own fantastic identity? General audiences can identify Michael Bay and Christopher Nolan - sure, one or perhaps both of these people take themselves far too seriously, but why not let a project have its own identity?

We run back into the conversation of protecting investments and style guides.

The easy answer to Bay and Nolan is they’re men, but they’ve also had time to prove their worth over time with previous work and track record. Because they’ve had the privilege to do so. Because they’re men. And most of the people making decisions and letting them experiment and sometimes fail to recover investment on their projects and hey, don’t worry, just try again, are men - and they were permitted to try again because they were themselves men.

Whether individual men do or don’t deserve whatever they did or didn’t get, I’m not here to discuss. Many of them definitely didn’t and I can’t change it.

What we should be changing is how we finance, how we empower and how we hand over autonomy of projects to women in cinema, in the arts - in professional life, in any industry.

YOU DON’T KNOW THE DETAILS OF THIS PROJECT

So. Fucking. What.

I can make educated guesses and I can support as much as possible as fair and equitable an arts industry wherever I engage with it.

I really liked Charlie’s Angels. It had a lot of heart. It had a wonderful sense of play and sass and smarts. Yes, a few too many “why didn’t they just shoot the bad guy” moments etc. - again - script reviews, better writers, more time...

More money.

More respect from an industry that doesn’t respect women and women’s autonomy; social, professional, in all aspects.

I hope Elizabeth Banks wants to make another one, can raise the finances for it and has even more control of the next project. More power to her.

#2020 #chrono #writing about film #cinema #Charlie's Angels #Charlie's Angels 2019 #Elizabeth Banks

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dweemeister · 4 years

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Best Live Action Short Film Nominees for the 92nd Academy Awards (2020, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

Since 2013 on this blog, I have been reviewing the Oscar-nominated short films for the respective Academy Awards ceremony. Normally, the Oscars are held on the last Sunday in February and we, the moviegoing public, are given more than a few weeks to seek out the nominated films. Not this year, as the ceremony was held at the earliest date ever (it reverts back to its usual starting date, the last Sunday in February, for the next two years starting in 2021).

There’s already been a winner in this category, but nevertheless here are the five nominated films for Best Live Action Short Film. Congratulations to Tunisia for two of the five entries, but all these shorts reflect the cinematic democracy that are the short film categories.

A Sister (2018, Belgium)

Also known by its original French title, Une soeur, A Sister is directed by Delphine Girard. It is the only piece among its fellow nominees that could be envisioned only as a short film. As such, its sixteen-minute runtime requires succinctness, the filmmaking as tightly wound as a clock. Late at night, a woman named Alie (Selma Alaoui) is sitting in the passenger seat asking the man (Guillaume Duhesme) for a cell phone so she can call her sister. We hear the first few seconds of this phone call. The screen cuts to black; next, we see a bustling room with numerous people gazing into computer screens, speaking to various people over headsets. We soon realize that Alie is dialing for an emergency call center. She is being kidnapped, and does not recognize the highway they are driving on. The operator (Veerle Baetens), confused by Alie’s coded language at first, eventually intuits what exactly is going on.

Alie and the operator exercise caution during these precarious minutes, as A Sister unravels in its teeth-grinding escalation of tension. Girard notes that the inspiration for A Sister came when she heard of a story of a young American woman calling 911, pretending that she was calling her sister – “it was the story of building a story of empathy and sorority that inspired [Girard].” Through meticulous research about protocols during emergency services calls that included interviews with said operators (who also made suggestions about draft screenplays), A Sister accomplishes a dramatic urgency that films with similar goals but last far longer never reach. The clever chronological edit in the film’s opening minutes contribute to that escalation; so too the decision to shoot from the backseat, obscuring Alie’s face to make the audience rely almost entirely on vocal delivery to understand her desperation and his paranoia (although the darkness of the surroundings can leave audiences confused in the opening minutes about who or what we are looking at). Not a second of A Sister is a wasted one.

My rating: 9/10

Brotherhood (2018, Tunisia/Canada/Qatar/Sweden)

Having made its rounds across the international film festival circuit, Meryam Joobeur’s Brotherhood is an international cross-stitch of a short film serving as an expression of Joobeur’s Tunisian roots. The film’s tragic outcome and dour tone throughout make is akin to Greek drama, where the ending feels predetermined and the characters – in what makes them essential – barely evolve. In a coastal, rural Tunisian town, a married couple and their two youngest sons make their living as sheep farmers. The landscape is rugged, their lives simple. One day, the eldest son – who has been missing for more than a year – returns home. With him is his teenage wife, wearing a full niqab, pregnant, and instantly attracting suspicion from the father. The eldest son and his wife met in Syria, where the former joined the so-called Islamic State (referred to by everyone else in the family by its acronym, Daesh – considered an insult to those affiliated with ISIS) out of desperation to flee his implicitly abusive father.

Brotherhood is indulgent in its languor, sometimes hanging onto certain shots well beyond necessary. Long cuts are welcome in cinema to allow the audience to meditate about what has just occurred; their emotional and philosophical implementation in Brotherhood is inconsistent. A constant use of close-ups and the film’s 4:3 screen aspect ratio reflect each parents’ stubbornness that their opinions about their situation is correct, that the eldest son’s belief that he is morally unblemished (he professes not to have killed, nor having been an accessory to killing another). The near-complete use of natural lighting - the overcast skies, the orange hues of older electric lights – lends the film authenticity. Joobeur, a Montreal-based filmmaker, has stated that she made Brotherhood to reclaim the humanity that the Muslim world has lost to the West since 9/11. From the red hair of the brothers, the ambiguity of the eldest son’s time in Syria, to the dramatic irony that closes the film, Brotherhood always challenges those views that Joobeur wishes to reclaim.

My rating: 7.5/10

The Neighbors’ Window (2019)

Marshall Curry is principally a documentary feature producer (2005′s Street Fight, 2017′s A Night in the Garden). The Neighbors’ Window, which he directed, is only his third narrative short film and, unfortunately, the final product is indicative of that – he has directed a handful of documentary features and shorts, but the techniques and lessons learned there are not always congruent to narrative short films. Here, mother Alli (Maria Dizzia) and father Jacob (Greg Keller) are New Yorkers with young children (early grade school and preschool age) who have settled into what they both feel has become a monotonous lifestyle. One evening, they see through their apartment window that, across the street, a younger couple have just taken up residence. Without pulling down any blinds and in their erotic euphoria, the younger couple start unpackaging (and this has nothing to do with moving boxes). Like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window (1954) but without the murder, Jacob and especially Alli will occasionally peer into their new neighbors’ apartment to voyeuristically observe.

The Neighbors’ Window has little to say beyond its assertion the grass is always greener on the other side – it pains me to have written such a cliché. Other than basic editing, this is a film devoid of any aesthetic experimentation or narrative interest. The film’s plot twist, inspired by a true story heard on the podcast Love + Radio, is not strengthened by the lackluster acting. The supposed emotional catharsis that should emerge in the film’s final moments is simplistic – redeemed neither by said acting or the film’s questionable screenplay. It is, at worst, tasteless. The premise of The Neighbors’ Window is indeed worthy of cinematic treatment – perhaps even as a feature – but Curry is not up to the task.

My rating: 6/10

Saria (2019)

It is a fine line between politically-tinged narrative/documentary filmmaking and agitprop. Bryan Buckley’s Saria, a dramatization of the events that led to the deaths of 41 girls between fourteen and seventeen years old in a 2017 Guatemala orphanage fire, almost becomes exactly that. Saria (Estefanía Tellez) and her elder sister Ximena (Gabriela Ramírez) are orphans at the La Asunción Safe Home. It is a safe home only in name, as Saria, Ximena, and the many other girls housed in the orphanage are victims of staff abuse or human trafficking. Saria and Ximena dream of a life far from the girls’ dormitory at the orphanage, and there have been mumblings about a joint plan between the boys and girls at the orphanage to cause a diversion in order to begin an escape, en masse, on foot, to the United States. Given that Saria is based on a tragedy, there is only one resolution possible.

However, despite being confined to that horrific ending, the film endows its two central characters with distinct personalities and aspiration to the extent that it can. In its twenty-two minutes, Saria not only depicts the squalor and prison-like conditions of the safe home, but the desperate humanity of its subjects – as if taking a page from Italian neorealism, this film has orphaned children playing orphaned children, but the direction and writing behind their performances can be frustrating. Saria is somewhat hampered by its editing, as the emotional impact of the escape scene to the film’s final minutes feel rushed. The film’s pre-closing credits reveal – that Saria is indeed based on actual events and no one has ever been held accountable for the deaths of the forty-one girls – is harmed because of the film’s prosaic editing.

My rating: 8/10

Nefta Football Club (2018, Tunisia/France/Algeria)

On its face, Yves Piat’s Nefta Football Club – another transnational production set in Tunisia – has all the hallmarks of a film that spirals into a disastrous conclusion. Yet what instead transpires is a witty comedy that mostly adopts the point of view of its two child protagonists. Near the Tunisian-Algerian border, Mohamed (Eltayef Dhaoui) and Abdallah (Mohamed Ali Ayari) are soccer-obsessed brothers bickering over who is the best player in the world: Lionel Messi or Riyad Mahrez (personally, I have never heard Mahrez in that conversation, but noting that he is Algerian and almost certainly the greatest Middle Eastern or North African player in history, this sounds like a realistic conversation). While heading home, the boys encounter a donkey wearing headphones and carrying bags of white powder. They take the “laundry detergent” home for their mother, with the intention to sell the rest to their neighbors. Somewhere in the desert, two men are waiting for their delivery donkey to arrive.

Don’t worry, those two men will never have a clue whatever became of their delivery. Piat came up with the idea for Nefta Football Club while recalling childhood memories of him and his friend sneaking out of their house at night, finding white powders that they believed to be illicit materials, and dumping all of this into a body of water. Nefta Football Club showcases a loving, hilarious relationship between elder and younger brother, as well as the perspective divides of the eldest brother’s teenage calculation and the younger brother’s innocence. Their life station is never fully explored, nor is it ignored by Piat. Piat’s screenplay – based on believable misunderstandings that are based on the characters’ personalities – is well-executed, as evidenced by its fantastic final punchline.

My rating: 8/10

^ Based on my personal imdb ratings. Half-points are always rounded down.

From previous years: 85th Academy Awards (2013), 87th (2015), 88th (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), and 91st (2019).

#A Sister #Brotherhood #The Neighbors' Window #Saria #Nefta Football Club #Delphine Girard #Meryam Joobeur #Marshall Curry #Bryan Buckley #Yves Piat #92nd Academy Awards #Oscars #My Movie Odyssey

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morethanithoughtofficialblog · 5 years

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Chapter 3: They deserve to be heard too... well. Some of them.

Spoiler: Sans is finally here.

You are welcome.

*Your POV*

After agreeing with Mr. Dreemur and W.D. Gaster, my work partners just watched them go, then they stared at me. Those looks, the hate in their eyes, and their whispers made me uncomfortable. When I'll be able to do something without being criticized.

But at that moment, I didn't care. I nervously laughed, then went to my office to take care of some business, that including the cleaning. It's not as bad as my apartment, but it's not the cleanest place in the world either. And that's how it went; cleaning and typing. Lots of fun, of course.

I arrived at my apartment and... I don't remember clearly what I did. Probably the basic. Or well, maybe not the basic, since I bet I didn't sleep that much.

'Cause after that nap I was eating fucking cereal at 5 am, not to say I was already showered.

"Stupid brain" I muttered, feeling tired yet excited. Today marks the day I sold my soul for the monsters and to show humanity that these creatures aren't freaks. Well, I'm not sure. I haven't met enough, after all.

After eating, I put some makeup in my i-want-to-die-but-not-yet face. Just a bit, since society asks for it. I really hoped it wasn't like this but, hey, I can't change everything! Besides, a lot of girls like makeup, so I feel obligated to at least look "presentable" in that aspect.

And then, my day started. At 5:15 am. Just great.

Since I'm just a young person who's still dealing with college, my money it's not enough to actually buy a car. But hey, I have a bike. And public transport. And that's what I picked.

The underground subway was somehow a quiet place, mostly because everyone's still craving for their beds. I strongly relate to these people, if I'm honest. Everyone's minding their own business, too tired to talk or to make a strong scene.

I silently put my headphones for a bit, listening to those classics of rock. Yeah. This is pretty much my life. Hell, even my ringtone is a rock song, that being "Sweet Child O' Mine" from Guns N' Roses. I was thinking to change it into something more... professional. Then I remembered that nobody should give a damn, so I shrugged it off.

A whole playlist was enough to make the trip more bearable, trying to not lose my adulthood on those legendary guitar solos or in Bon Jovi's wonderful voice. Those little yet powerful details on each song reminded me why I still had faith in this world. And the sign indicating my destination brought me back to reality. I sighed.

I walked a short distance and finally arrived at that living hell called the Congress. Being part of this greedy government it's completely out of my standards, but now, I wasn't regretting it at all.

I took a seat in the non-workers area, looking like I was a mad teenager coming to reclaim her rights. Except, that I was looking pretty calm and patient. I checked quickly my phone and see it was 6:10 am. Oh well. At least I can play Mario Run for a bit; it has been ages since I did.

While a simple yet pretty loading picture showed up on my screen, my mind only had one thought: "What if they decide not to show up?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Frisk's POV* (lol)

I was giving my hair the final touches when I heard Goat Mom shouting my name. I rushed down the stairs and met with everyone- well, almost everyone...

"SANS! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE IF YOU DON'T COME!" Papyrus screamed in a horrified voice, looking at the clock for the thousandth time.

"gimme a sec bro, k?" Sans answered lazily, not even making an effort to raise his voice.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU SAID TEN MINUTES AGO!" Papyrus cried, again, looking at the clock.

And then Sans teleported, wearing the same freaking clothes.

"Are you serious?!" Undyne exclaimed, visibly angry for such a waste of time, then we all rolled our eyes when he just winked and shrugged it off.

"Now that we all are ready, let's go!" I exclaimed enthusiastically, carrying Flowey's pot while I tried to forget that episode with Sans "We are still in good time! We have exactly... HOLY COW! FIVE MINUTES?!"

"welp, shit" Sans muttered like it wasn't his fault, getting some glances from his brother.

"Let's run, then!" Undyne cried out, carrying Alphys and starting to run.

I ran after her, Papyrus with Sans in his shoulders following me. Hell, even Mettaton was running like crazy. We can't miss this opportunity; this is our only chance!

We ran between students and boring workers, most of them with a hint of hate in their eyes. However, there wasn't any time to feel intimidated. God. If humans weren't so inconsiderate, we could have just teleported thanks to Gaster's powers. But nope. They are not allowed to use any freaking magic.

Well, I shouldn't be thinking like this. I need to be positive for everyone's sake. But still, I feel confused. Is this what hormones do? But wait, they only act like this when you are- oh. I'm twelve years old. I somehow forgot.

We ran and ran until we arrived. "Congress", the sign read. The building had an old look, but it seems it was purposefully done that way. The place itself looked pretty boring, so I just secretly prayed to don't fall asleep.

The door was slammed open, and people's stares gave us an uncomfortable welcoming. Sans climbed down of Papyrus's shoulders, realizing how bad it looked.

"*About time you take things seriously" I signed to him, with a teasing smile on his face. He looked like he was about to give me the middle finger until a young lady approached us, with a kind smile on her face.

"Hello," she said sweetly, making me relax for a bit. "My name's (Y/N) (L/N), and I'll be the one helping you through this".

Oh, so she's (Y/N)? I never thought she would be THAT young. She's really pretty, I must say. Bright (e/c) eyes that match perfectly with her skin tone. (h/c) hair not too long neither too short. She was tall, yes, but not a giant. She looked really fine. I wish I look like that at my twenties.

"Hello, Miss (L/N)" My mom intervened my thoughts, bringing me back to reality. "I'm really pleased about your kind behavior. I just hope we won't bother you that much..."

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed with a cheery tone, trying to put any awkwardness aside "I am more than open to receiving all of you in my office. Just follow me, we'll discuss everything more privately upstairs".

She guided us to a place where two elevators remained. Since we were too many people, we had to divide into two groups. Lucky thing there were elevators in the Underground, so this wasn't anything new to anyone.

When she made sure everyone was on the fourth floor (asking us how many we were), she started to guide us through the hallway. Everyone was mumbling while looking at their surroundings, staring at some paintings of famous politicians. Well, I don't think they are that famous. I've only heard of them thanks to my history books and those cringy contests on TV. Like, knowing who was the president at 1895 doesn't make you the smartest kid in class. You are just a freak who talks too much with an old man, mostly being your grandfather.

Suddenly she stopped, then opened a door with the number '486' on it.

"You can come in now" She sighed sheepishly. Wonder why. "Let me know if there aren't enough seats".

The room was quite huge, actually. She had at least ten chairs in front of a dark chocolate desk, that had an intimidating and elegant seat behind it. That must be hers, that's for sure. She had a plaque with her name on top of her desk, a small glass with pens, and a Lenovo laptop. Strangely, she had no photos of her family.

It turns out we had enough seats for everyone, but we all couldn't be in front, so we ended up doing two rows. It looked like a really small cinema. One problem, though, was that Asgore couldn't fit comfortably on his seat.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Dreemurr?" (Y/N) asked worried, watching the embarrassing scene of Asgore shifting into multiple positions. Oh God, why me? Before he or anyone could answer though, she went for her fancy chair and started to move it.

"Oh, Miss (L/N), you don't need to-" He was cut off by the impotent seat in front of him, with a slightly panting girl a few inches away.

"You can seat here, Mr. Dreemurr" She smiled widely, probably 'cause of the King's shocked face. And yes, I just remembered I should think of him as the King. Then, (Y/N) took the other chair. "I'll sit on here, don't worry".

After making that move and putting the big chair in the center, she finally took a seat. She looked insecure for a brief moment but smiled anyway. That kind of reminds me of someone...

"Now that we are all settled up, I guess we can start" She stated. And with that, our talk began...

...

It was less boring than I thought. Yes, she asked us a lot of how life was in the Underground, but none of us seemed to mind. What we mind, though, was Sans's stupid puns which, surprisingly, made her giggle quietly. He seemed to notice this, so he kept them going. It's not like I don't like puns, but this was just too much. (Y/N) didn't seem to bother at any moment, though.

But, hey, everyone felt comfortable. She made some comments now and then, most of them full of irony and sarcasm. It was fun and for a moment we forgot about our problems. It just felt like meeting an old friend again, but that's impossible. I mean, I hadn't met her before, so... yeah.

But, as soon as the conversation started, it ended as well. Everyone shook hands with her, including me.

"*Are we going to see you tomorrow?*" I asked in signs, not thinking at all.

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*Your POV*

"*Are we going to see you tomorrow?*" Frisk signed with a smile that immediately made me feel shivers down my spine. That's not something I see often, that's for sure. Frisk looked at me worried, though. Guess I did some expression that wasn't supposed to be there.

"...sure thing, Frisk," I said, way quieter than I wanted it to be. Quick, change your tone (Y/N)! "We have a lot of work to do, after all!"

She let out a sigh of relief, along with other few. It was a nice feeling. Knowing that they wanted to see me again made me ridiculously happy. And I didn't put it away.

We were already out of the elevator, on the main floor. The sun was setting, painting beautiful colors in the sky, like always. The thing is, monsters couldn't say that before. Heck, some even didn't get the chance to look at this. Whole generations, I bet.

"Miss (L/N), is it okay if we have your number?" Mr. Dreemurr asked, and smiled wider once he probably saw my shocked face. It just caught me so off of guard I didn't have the words. A short skeleton just smirked at my reaction, then I could finally talk.

"S-sure thing!" I exclaimed, which made the skeleton laugh. Just great, I'm being shamed by a skeleton shorter than I am. Way to go, (Y/N).

I reached for my presentation card, and with hesitation, I wrote down my personal number on the back. Wow, it's been ages since I've done that.

"Here it's my business number, and in the back, you can find... m-my personal number" I reluctantly said, knowing it sounded really weird. Why I wrote it down, again?

I looked away slightly, only to notice that skeleton smiling again. Oh no. I swear to God if he says anything weird, I'm going to-

"kinky" he chuckled, containing laughter. I want to kill myself so bad right now.

"SANS, WHAT'S KINKY?!" A taller skeleton asked, and I mentally cringed. And I quickly took note of that name, since it's familiar as fu- oh wait.

"Sans? Like, Comic Sans?" I asked bluntly, forgetting the whole other topic.

"oh, so now catching my name?" he joked with a wink, making me feel worse. "nah, just kidding. but, yeah, that's my name. it's 'catchy', isn't it?"

I sighed, while he just chuckled- again. This Sans guy is making me look bad. And Asgore just watched this whole scene. Great.

"Great! We can add you to our group chat, sweetie!" Mettaton (who I learned their name in the middle of the 'celebrity topic' conversation) winked. What's with the winks today? I feel like they are kink-shaming me (which it's probably what this guy and that skeleton are doing).

"And we'll just call you with the business number if it's something more serious" Mrs. Dreemurr added, obviously unaware of Mettaton's intentions. I gulped. I just hope he doesn't spam me with lewd stuff or something like that. Already happened at high school, and honestly, I feel like an immature teenager again.

Then they all gave their quick goodbyes. Some shooked my hands. Some hugged me. Some smiled. And others even cried.

"Thank you so much for giving us hope." A female (judging by her voice) skeleton said, sobbing quietly on my shoulder. I froze in shock, but I eventually returned the hug.

"It's no problem, believe me" I muttered softly, while a soft smile made its way to my face. "After all, you deserve to be heard too".

#sans x reader #kink shaming xd #jk #sans the skeleton #undertale sans #more than i thought fanfiction

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stimtoybox · 6 years

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Hi!I'm 22 years old and have had my aspie diagnosis for 6 years now.I'm a university student,and always masking my autism related behaviors.Any tips and advice on how to stop doing that and start stimming proudly in public when I need to? Also when I blurt out stupid things because of autism my mom tells me to stop and think about what I'm saying.What to do when the thinking goes off in my head in the wrong direction or otherwise doesn't help?I want to stop masking my autism behaviors.

Unfortunately, I am so much less good on the art of thinking before speaking–oh, if it were only that easy. I can usually manage when not upset or distressed, simply because Not Saying What I Am Thinking is a survival tactic in my family, usually resulting in Not Saying Anything At All. (For obvious reasons, this isn’t something I’d encourage in anyone else, because it’s born of a toxic dynamic.) When upset, though, there is no filter between my mouth and my brain–and often limited ability to even get words out–and it’s something I’ve never been able to improve myself. Perhaps other autistics have some ideas, or posting in the #actuallyautistic tag?This is one subject where I really don’t have advice to give and I fear anything I’d say would be spectacularly less than helpful.

As someone who has had to relearn/reclaiming stimming as an adult after my diagnosis and who had fairly successfully lost the ability, though, this part of your ask is comfortable territory for me. So I will talk your ear off about this! For context, I went from being afraid to pace in a therapy session with an allistic psychologist who knew about my diagnosis and was supportive of it to being someone who can obviously stim in a department store without caring. It took me about three years, but it can be done!

Please recognise that you’ve spent so long suppressing your need to stim from the world and from yourself, so this relearning will take a while and that’s okay. I mean, you’ve spent more than a decade without a diagnosis or perhaps even context for how you behave and move, engaging in the suppression of what is natural to you. That’s so much training about allistic-appropriate movement and behaviour you have to undo and unravel, and it’s not going to happen overnight, as much as we wish it. It’ll take time.

The first step, if you haven’t already, is exploring and developing your stim kit and your bodily stims. Figure out the toys and stims you like and how you like to use them. Make sure your kit includes toys that are quiet, don’t contain flickering lights, are low-odor and won’t draw too much attention–toys, in other words, ideal for public stimming. Consider mermaid sequin bags/pencil cases, fidget jewellery pieces like necklace pendants and spinner rings, keychain fidgets that can be attached to your bag, etc. You might also wish to consider toys that have become popular, like squishies, as they’ll draw less negative attention through their normalised use. Have more standard toys too, like Fidget Cubes and spinners and Tangles, but make sure you have a selection of stealth toys ready to go for your first ventures into public stimming.

Beginning with toys where I less feared any kind of reaction from others helped a lot in reducing my anxiety that people would say something about my stimming. In all honesty, few people say anything if I fidget with a necklace pendant or a bracelet. Neurotypical people do this sort of thing all the time.

The next step is to work on being comfortable with stimming in private–really comfortable. If you’re in your room with the door closed, stim. If you’re in bed at night in the dark, stim (with toys safe for this purpose). First thing in the morning after waking up, before you’ve interacted with anyone–stim. Make stimming part of your private life, a daily habit, part of your routine. Stim in the shower or bath–plastic toys like Tangles or hedge balls are fine for bathroom use and nobody else will see you do it! Keep toys on your desk and in your pockets so they’re right there, and when you’re alone and you see them, use them, even if only for a moment or two. The more you stim generally, even when you don’t need it, the more unconscious it will become and the easier it will be to stim when you do.

More steps under the cut because long post is long:

This step is not easy. Even with my door closed, at times I felt so desperately uncomfortable (and afraid of people barging in, because that happens at my house). Start with the most subtle/unobtrusive toys even in private, if you’re anxious about this. Just spin a spinner ring while watching TV or stroke a textured pendant. Do these smaller stims until you’re comfortable with them. I will say that keeping other toys within reach made it easy for me to progress from more subtle toys to less subtle ones, so I’d recommend that–starting with a spinner ring but having a Tangle within sight and reach. You might find, as I did, that you reach for the toy before you recognise that you’re ready for it, so have it there, waiting.

Stimming in private is for experimenting--for trying toys out, for trying movements out, for letting yourself move and sway without caring about other people. The more you can do this, and the more you can gain confidence to further experiment with bodily stims and toys, the more you can grow the habit of stimming generally, so I do recommend looking at every opportunity you can find for even short stim sessions.

Third, once you’re starting to feel comfortable with private stimming, look at what situations relating to public stimming might cause more anxiety or discomfort. There’s stimming on a bus, where people look more at their phones than at other people, versus stimming in a shopping centre or on the street. There’s stimming in front of strangers versus stimming in front of friends and family. Stimming in the library might be easier for you than stimming in the classroom during a tutorial–and stimming inside a lecture theatre, with nobody paying attention to you, might be easier than both. Figure out what seems hardest and what seems easiest, even if only in theory, and then write out a list of those situations from easiest to hardest. Take the easiest five from the top, tear them off and throw away the rest of the list, because it’ll feel overwhelming now and you don’t need it. Just keep the five easiest ones and put it aside.

Fourth, make another list with circumstances, right now, in which you think you can easily and safely stim outside the house/bedroom. The cinema was one of mine, so dark nobody can see my hands move, and it’s easy to shove my toy in a bag or pocket when the lights come up. This is just to get you thinking about circumstances where you can, with no risk of anxiety or ableism, stim, to continue the habit-building of your private stimming. If you don’t think about it, you won’t know that you can try it, so I do recommend making this list. You won’t always remember to stim in these situations when you’re in them, and that’s fine and normal, but if you think of it once or twice, it’s worth the effort.

While doing all this, keep stimming in private! Keep cultivating an interest in stimming and stim toys! Add to your kit so you don’t get bored of one toy; get your favourite toy in a couple of different colours; talk to other stimmers; admire toy collection posts, enjoy bodily stimming GIFs--do whatever you can to connect to your stims so stimming has a positive association for you. You don’t have to stim all day long, just make it a habit to pick up a toy or perform a bodily stim once or twice a day, for a little a while, and over time you’ll unconsciously do this more often and for longer. Let your body point you towards where it wants to go and roll with it, because your body does know–you’ve just got to get used to understanding and allowing it again.

Once you are comfortable with both stimming in private and stimming in situations that are theoretically public but are safe (like said cinema), pull out your list of five. You may have written it months ago by now, but see if you still feel like you want to attempt these or if–now you are more used to thinking about stimming and places in which you can stim–you can think of easier ones. Pick the easiest one, with your most subtle toys, and start to make a habit of stimming there, too. When that space becomes comfortable, look at other locations. By this stage, stimming should be becoming more of a habit that it becomes natural to start unconsciously reaching for a fidget pendant. I know that you can’t imagine it now, and neither could I when I began, but it will happen.

In the meantime, in private, introduce less-subtle toys into your stimming, and begin to get comfortable with these where nobody can observe you.

Slowly, over time, you introduce subtle stims into more and more locations/situations, and then you start to introduce less-subtle stims into these locations. You’ll build up both the habit and the confidence over time--and then one day you’ll find yourself rocking on your feet in front of your aunt and don’t realise until later that you were being so damn autistic in front of your most ableist of relatives and you don’t even care. It took me three years to get there, but I did, and you will too.

(I will say, that for me, using stim toys gradually brought me more comfort with unconscious bodily stims, too. I do still stim more with toys, but I’ve regained a lot of natural movement in all sorts of ways through my toys.)

Just be patient and slowly, gradually work your way up from safe/private spaces with subtle toys wherever possible for you. Take your time, don’t push yourself into anything scary until you feel ready for it and just quietly build up the habit, and before you quite know it you will be stimming when you need to. You just have to get your body used to looking toward stimming as the answer.

#decaffeinated #ask #text #not a toy #discussion post #stimming discussion #stimming positivity #autism discussion #autism focus #long post #very long post #extremely long post

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greensparty · 3 years

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Missing BUFF This Year

Late March does not feel the same without Boston Underground Film Festival taking place :( The genre-based film festival began in 1999 and have been one of the most fun film festivals in the region ever since. Over the years I’ve attended the festival many times. I’ve become friends with the festival staff as well. Through this blog, I have been lucky enough to cover the festival from 2016-2019 (read my coverage here). In March 2020, I was going to cover the festival...and then the fest was canceled due to the pandemic.

most recent BUFF poster from 2019

In a recent statement from the festival, Artistic Director Kevin Monahan and Director of Programming Nicole McControversy said “Around this time of year, BUFF fans wait with bated breath for the launch of our annual Kickstarter campaign, signifying the oncoming spring festival season in Boston. However, like 2020, this is no ordinary year. The pandemic rages on and a return to physical events is still unthinkable. This leaves the obvious question of when, and in what form, our 22nd edition will take place: We wish we could answer this definitively, but we know that it will not be in 2021. While we are looking towards a potential March 2022 return, rest assured that whatever form BUFF takes, it will stay true to its anarchic roots and the essence of Bacchus will remain intact.“

It is a total bummer that the festival isn’t going to be in-person this year, but in the end, its the right thing. I, myself, would love for the festival to return, but it needs to be safe. I certainly hope there can be a virtual option of some type, much like last year’s NIGHTSTREAM, the online genre film festival in which BUFF was one of a hand full of genre festivals curating their films. In terms of NIGHTSTREAM returning, Monahan says “Our partner festivals on that project are very eager to get their own thing started again. I'd work with those other fests again in a heartbeat, but I think we'll all be going back to our separate things before we'll see another Nightstream.“

Weird World Cinema

I recently caught up with Monahan, who is decompressing from the constant work that goes into this film festival. He says “For years it's been a constant cycle of beginning work on the next festival before the dust settles from the previous one. We only have about a month to relax before we have to start planning for next year, so it's been a bit of a relief to be able to step off the carousel for a while.”

Looking ahead to the next BUFF, Monahan adds “We're optimistic about March of 2022 for a return to the Brattle, but we're keeping our expectations in check. The good thing about a 2022 return would be that the number of the festival would match up with the year, finally. (That's been confusing for a lot of people because the first BUFF was in 1999.)”

BUFF!

If you are looking for ways you can help the festival, Kevin and Nicole added “If you would like to donate to BUFF, you can make tax-deductible contributions through our website, however, we would prefer any donations or general philanthropy to continue to be directed toward The Brattle Theatre. If you are interested in our awesome merchandise, much of which is personally designed by BUFF Media Director, Bryan McKay, you can peruse and purchase t-shirts, enamel pins, stickers, tote bags, and more at bostonunderground.bigcartel.com; this is the best way to help us stay afloat this year and reclaim some of our lost 2020 revenue.“

For info on Boston Underground Film Festival: https://bostonunderground.org/

#boston underground film festival #film festival #film geek #the brattle theatre #kevin monahan #nicole mccontroversy

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theinsatiables · 6 years

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10 Years Later, Why the Wachowskis’ Flop ‘Speed Racer’ Is Actually a Masterpiece

The ability to roll with punches and follow a movie into different emotional realms, especially goofy ones within serious narratives, is the ability to not take yourself too seriously. It is the ability to be adult and roll into all kinds of states of emotion, not just the ones we think we want to be in. To that point, Speed Racer basically requires you to roll with the punches on a pretty extreme level. Yes, the silliness feels silly. But if you accept that, then the danger is dangerous, too. And yes, the epic race across the desert goes on “too long,” but in doing so, it genuinely feels epic.The film is always itself. Especially as it slides back and forth between dramatic and comic emphasis with the blistering assuredness of pure operatic glee, all while living and breathing every moment sincerely. And what else would an 11-year-old’s fever dream about weaponized race cars, ninja fights and family togetherness be but achingly sincere?Speed Racer came out 10 years ago today, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t shut up about it since. But for good reason. I think it remains one of the most criminally overlooked films in recent memory and also one of the most oddly inspiring. While I know there are fellow fans who would wholly agree with this superlative, the notion runs contrary to the conventional wisdom surrounding the film’s release.

Coming off of the unparalleled success of the The Matrix films (even with the under-baked reaction to Matrix: Revolutions), fans were so excited for the Wachowski siblings’ next cinematic foray into something new. And it was going to be Speed Racer! An update of the beloved ’60s anime that many had grown up with! It implied there would electrifying, matrix-esque car chases! Frenetic action! All from the two filmmakers who had come to define the new serious-cool-ass cyberpunk! Hooray!

But for those who loved the leather-clad adult fare of their previous work, they had no idea what to do with this fluffy, neon-soaked bit of confection that was being sold to them. And neither did the general audience. Speed Racer bombed, and it bombed hard. And as a result, many came to dismiss the film without ever seeing it. Or worse, those who saw it simply had no idea what to do with it.

Which is unfortunate.

But to really get on board with Speed Racer, you have to accept its varied intentions. Starting with the fact that yes, this is indeed a true-blue PG kids film. Because of that, it will be unapologetically goofy, over the top and prominently feature monkey gags. Moreover, you have to accept that it is going to devote itself to the notion of being “a live-action cartoon,” one that constantly eschews realism in favor of a hyper-stylized, bright aesthetic as far removed from The Matrix as I can think of.

A lot of people argued that the film’s aesthetic existed in the uncanny valley (which suggests “humanoid objects that appear almost, but not exactly, like real human beings, and which elicit uncanny or strangely familiar feelings of eeriness and revulsion in observers”). But, to me, it works precisely because it’s not even trying for the in-between. Instead, it’s trying to something closer to the humans-in-toon-space of Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

Simultaneously, you have to accept that this PG kids film will also be, at times, incredibly serious: a two-hour-and-fifteen-minute epic that delves into convoluted plot-lines of mystery identities, corporate white-collar intrigue, nonsensical plot fake-outs, a surprising amount of gun violence and even a weird climactic rant about stock price manipulation. And all the while, you have to accept that within this, the emotional backbone of the film will be a surprisingly wholesome exhibition of family love, understanding and togetherness.

Yes, all of this exists within Speed Racer. And, tonally-speaking, I mean it when I say it is one of the weirdest movies I have ever seen in my entire life. (It’s also a testament to the trouble that a lot of anime and non-naturalistic Japanese storytelling has in terms of adaptation.) And so I get why that is hard for people to swallow, I really do.

But what we’re really talking about is the push-pull of tone-changing filmmaking, wherein I will argue until I’m blue in the face that singular tones are dead-ends to adventurous storytelling. For instance, I love the work of Christopher Nolan, but if you just layer an entire movie in a singular tone you are, in a way, just lying to the audience. From start to finish, Nolan’s films feel propulsive, adult and entirely serious—even if when they, you know, aren’t on the deeper textual level of a moment. But that’s all part of the emotional coding for the audience and in service of the end goal: it makes them feel serious, too. All because it validates their interests as being equally serious.

This is why so many of those inclined to like singular tones have trouble with the work of someone like Sam Raimi. I hear people commenting that his films are “too corny” all the time; that word choice is both telling and bizarre. Because, while Raimi’s movies can be goofy and over the top, they are also achingly dark, sincere, and full of emotion. So really “too corny” is just code for: “this was often goofy and I don’t like movies that make me feel like my interests are goofy.” Which, ironically, I find to be an incredibly juvenile attitude—one that is not trying to be an adult. It’s trying to dress up kid-interests to seem adult, when really adulthood is just rolling with the punches and embracing things for whatever they really are.

The film is always itself. Especially as it slides back and forth between dramatic and comic emphasis with the blistering assuredness of pure operatic glee, all while living and breathing every moment sincerely. And what else would an 11-year-old’s fever dream about weaponized race cars, ninja fights and family togetherness be but achingly sincere?

Even the much ballyhooed stock price rant is inspired: that’s the point of the film’s laser targeted messaging. While so many kids’ films depict the ethics of villainy as some mustache twirling vehicle for evil and evil alone, Speed Racer has the guts to tell you that evils of the world are far more mundane (and lucrative). But as one-note as the stock market speech feels (as Roger Allam gives a deliciously unhinged performance), the message itself is not some reductive estimation of art and commercialism. Given literally everything else about Speed and his family’s business, Speed Racer is arguing there is nothing wrong with success, fandom, and connection between the two. It is simply pointing out that any system that puts the tiniest bit of money and “the perpetual machine of capitalism” over the sanctity of that connection, will only ever manage to sever that same connection.

That may seem “too adult” for a kids film, but I think it’s inspired, especially as kids are a lot smarter than you think (especially when you don’t talk down to them and trust them to handle things). So, if you buy this notion, and if you buy the family drama that has brought Speed to the final race, then it all comes together thematically into one of the most electric, abstract and emotional endings I can think of—one that wholly reaffirms that we are so much more than any single moment, but the product of everyone who helped get us there along the way. I cry every damn time I watch it.

And nestled within that ending is the larger meta-narrative of the Wachowskis’ entire career, their core theme if you will: the notion of intrinsic identity and becoming your best self. I’ll admit, I often have a lot of trouble with the idea of “destiny” in modern storytelling, precisely because I see a lot of irresponsibility associated with it. What used to be a giant metaphor for hubris has sadly become short-hand wish-fulfillment to believing you are the specialist hero in the universe, an attitude that often reeks of a lot of unintentional uber-mensch vibes.

But within Speed Racer, the metaphor of “race car driver” doubles with artist, or any other childhood dream—the kinds of dreams that must be stuck to, and chased after, with gleeful joy in order to bring said dreams to life. More than that, the metaphor gains so much within the context of the Wachowskis’ personal lives, as we now can look at so much of their work within the landscape of trans messaging—to the point that a lot of their work now has slid into “full text” metaphors of trans identity shifting, such as with Cloud Atlas and Sense 8. In that, I find their work to be the most powerful. By reclaiming destiny and the hero’s journey, they take it all away from “you are destined to be better than everyone else” and make it instead “you are becoming who you always really were, while discovering empathy in all those around you.” This is precisely the sort of loving, hallmark messaging that many too-cool-for-school folks would eye-roll at, but there is no doubting that the Wachowskis’ arrival at this earnestness is both hard-fought and hard-won.

This is all not to say that I’m unaware of the contradictions within their work, most specifically within the catch 22 of violent glorification against anti-violence. But within the “hyper language” of cinema, their violence just becomes part of the operatic aching sincerity.

But I understand that a lot of people aren’t sure what to do with the aching sincerity of it all. I remember how many people saw Jupiter Ascending and made fun of Eddie Radmayne’s truly gonzo performance, but I feel like he was the only one who really knew what movie he was in. He wasn’t pushing it too far; everyone else’s plasticity was weirdly holding it back. I genuinely love him in that film. Sure, the performance might be “too corny” and make you feel “weird,” but it’s precisely the kind of weird that opens the world up and imbues it with life and verve.

Maybe weird and jarring is exactly what we need. For, in a cinematic world full of carefully structured disaffection, the Wachowskis are still the most passionate, jarring and unworried filmmakers we have. And in that journey of self-discovery, it’s the odd mix of gee-golly sincerity of Speed Racer that is both exemplary of (and marks the transitional point of) their entire career.

Which only leaves me with one question: why, in a career full of identity questions, systematic oppression and selfhood, is their most exemplary film about the message of family perseverance and togetherness? In truth, I don’t know what their relationship is like with their larger nuclear family, nor does it matter. What we do know, and have always known, is who Lana and Lilly Wachowski are to each other: friends, collaborators, sisters. They are as loving a literal family as we have ever seen in cinema. And within their art, they’ve been telling us of their specific, powerful experience in the most universal and commercial of cinematic ways.

For well past 10 years now, they’ve telling us by shooting, chopping, rocking out, screaming, singing, dressing up, joking, lecturing, goofing, laughing and anything and everything in between. Many often roll their eyes at such naked, heartfelt audacity. “Too corny,” they say out of the side of their mouths. But such disdain is all part of the pains of being pure at heart.

And really, they are the joys.

< 3 HULK

#Film #Favorites #Speed Racer #The Wachowkis #Essential Truths

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fullvoidmoon · 7 years

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Goddess

Pairing/s: Thorin x (human!wife)reader

Setting/Timeline: Years after BoTFA, Durins live!AU

Warning(s)/Genre(s): Angst, eventual fluff, may trigger depression, self-loathing, a little steamy (I think)

Word Count: 1,489

The Hobbit and the Durins © J.R.R. Tolkien The Hobbit films and Tauriel(mentioned) © Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, Warner Bros., Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and New Line Cinema Context © me

Based on my imagine.

A/N: I just wrote this to slightly make me feel a little better as I am now a year older. And it seems that I went overboard, again. This is clearly the longest that I’ve written in a one-shot/drabble so I’m sorry.

And this is also for the lovelies @fizzy-custard and @igotanaddixon, who’re having some tough times as I do. I hope this makes you both feel better. We do need Thorin in our lives. ;)

The Hobbit tag list: @fizzy-custard, @sdavid09, @life-is-righteous, @igotanaddixon, @fromthedeskoftheraven, @kittenwritesstuff, @deepestfirefun, @dreamsofrivendell

Masterlist: HERE

Part 1 - Insulted

“We are sure about this, Auntie.”

“Yes, Aunt (Y/N) let us take care of our little cousin.”

Bless Fili and Kili for always appearing at the very right moment, just like they did a few years ago during the quest to reclaim the now thriving Kingdom of Erebor.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, sister. I will be there in case the boys become reckless again.” Dis, your ever protective and caring sister-in-law, says as she carries your son’s bag filled with his essential needs.

Fili, while carrying little Thráin, gasped mockingly, “but amad, we are not reckless around our little cousin.”

“How could you ever accuse us, amad. You’ve hurt our feelings,” Kili added while clutching his chest to add the necessary effect.

“Do not ever go there and be overly dramatic, boys.” Dis reprimands, though humor is evident in her sapphire eyes. She turns to face both you and Thorin with a reassuring smile on her beautiful face and whispers, “I will also call for Tauriel’s help in case if I need an extra helping hand, and to put Kili in place just in case.”

Like you, Tauriel became a resident of Erebor when Kili made his courting official as she works as an ambassadress for Mirkwood. She also became your people’s center of insults, but she’s ever the resilient one. And it is something that you envied and wished to have during your darker days.

“Thank you, sister. And be sure to put him to bed on time, boys.” Thorin says gratefully after blowing a raspberry at your son’s chubby cheeks.

You could only do so much as to smile at the scene and giving thanks to your sister-in-law and your nephews as they take their leave to their bed chamber, with little Thráin a giggling mess in Fili’s arms as he continues to make fun of his older cousin’s braided mustache. Though you couldn’t help but fear that she only does this out of pity.

And it only made you feel worse.

You, and your then unborn son, were insulted by your people months ago. The damage was gravely inflicted that your confidence had diminished greatly, and insecurities and self-doubt have taken hold of your psyche.

Though Thorin had put an end to the insults, according to Fili and Kili, the negativity brought by the ordeal still lingered. And it became worse after you gave birth to your and Thorin’s first born.

“You look tired than ever, amrâlimê.” Thorin sighs as he leads you to your shared bed. “Are you worried about our dwarfling not being here with us tonight?”

“I’m not worried, my dear.” you reply while giving Thorin’s hands a reassuring squeeze as you try to look positive for him.

He couldn’t help but furrow his brows, his eyes ever pure like the brightest sapphires slowly dim with worry; both your fears and perturbation never escape from your husband’s ever observant eyes no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“But your eyes tell me differently,” Thorin says almost in a whisper, “please, tell me what my ghivashel troubles her so.”

You haven’t realized Thorin guiding you to your shared bed until you take a sit on one edge, still warm from when your son was lying and trying to learn to roll. He sits beside you, his eyes filled with concern and pain for seeing his wife in such a state.

“I believe I do not deserve you, Thorin,” you whisper after moments of silence. “Nor do I deserve to be blessed with such a wonderful son like our little Thráin.”

Thorin couldn’t believe what he is hearing. You, the light of his life, the mother of his son and his future children, his wife and Queen, do not deserve him? Though his visage conceals his disbelief his azure orbs show otherwise; how your self-accusations are anything but pure lies and how each word cuts him deeper than the ones he received in all his battles.

“Please do not speak such words, (Y/N),” he pleads while enveloping you in his embrace, hoping that it will serve as your anchor from drowning deeper in your pain, “it is I who does not deserve you.”

You couldn’t help but disagree. How could such a wonderful dwarf, King or not, is the one who is unworthy?

“But you deserve everything!” You exclaim while in between tears as you break away from his hold, your fears and worries now out in the open for Thorin to see, “you deserve only the best and I am not one of them.”

You are pulled back into your husband’s embrace as you let go of your pain; your heartache, your fears, your self-criticisms. Thorin knew he could’ve prevented all this if he had done something when news of the insults reached him for the first time, and it only makes him feel more responsible for it.

“I do not know why someone so imperfect and unworthy like me would be a mother to such a wonderful dwarfling like our son and wife to such wonderful and perfect husband like you!”

He suddenly captures your lips as he holds you closer, pouring out his undying love and devotion for you. As he feels you kiss him in return he slowly lowers his hand to your lower back in a slow, circular motion, calming and warming you slowly from the inside.

“You are the best among everything that had ever happened to me, amrâlimê,” Thorin says with endearment, his forehead leans on yours as he gives your nose a nudge with his own, “no one cares and loves our bouncing baby dwarf like his amad does.“

He then leans in to your ear, giving it a light nip before whispering.

“Have you also not realized you still make my knees weak and ignite my desires for you after all these years of our marriage?”

Though his words bring butterflies in your stomach and make your cheeks flush, your disbelief is still evident in your visage as you shake your head no, “impossible, I am not as beautiful as any of the dwarrowdams who still hound you wherever you go.”

“Clearly you are mistaken, my dearest.”

You are suddenly pushed down on your shared bed, your back against the soft fur covers as Thorin hovers on you. He then lightly runs his warm calloused fingers on your hands up to your exposed arms, leaving light but electrifying trails of burning sensations.

His eyes, ever the bluest hues that you’ve ever seen in your life, are now eclipsed with his pupils, almost making it look black, filled with burning adoration, love, and desire.

“No matter how those dwarrowdams hound me they will not have me divert my love and affections away from my wife.”

He then leave trails of burning desire on your face and neck with his fingers followed by his lips, just like how he traced your delicate features for the first time on your wedding night. Though your mind is still clouded with self-doubts and fears, you can’t help but mewl as you lean further into his touch, hoping to feel his desires for you even further.

“Your beauty is unmatched by any living maiden in Middle Earth, whether of men, those of the elves, or the dwarrowdams,” Thorin says, his voice dropping in a couple of decibels, “they do not make me swoon, make me weak in the knees, make me look at you like a young dwarrow who falls in love for the first time.”

He then gently nips your neck, looking for that particular pleasure point that makes you moan his name, “and they do not make me crave for you like a starved man deprived from food and thirsty for water.”

“I still cannot comprehend why you chose me, my Thorin,” you whispered as few tears of happiness cascade your cheeks as you cradle his bearded cheeks with your shaking hands; your inner demons slowly losing its hold on your mind.

“It is simple, my (Y/N),” Thorin replies as he slowly unties the laces of your dress, his eyes filled with love like nothing matters in this world than you, “because you are the love of my life; my light, my lifeline, my world.”

“And you are a goddess; a goddess that makes my life a true blessing,” he adds, giving each of your palms with kisses.

"So please, let me show you how my words are true, ghivashel.”

As the light of the full moon shines above the Lonely Mountain, with all life under it welcome the sweet calling of slumber and faint giggles of a dwarven prince could be heard within its walls, sweet moans and rough grunts surround the chambers of the royal couple together with words of pure love, promise, and adoration.

“Let me love and worship you, not just today but until forever, like the goddess that you are.”

#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin reader #thorin imagine #FVMfanfics #FVM fics #FVM thorin fanfics

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wallpaperpainting · 4 years

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argentnoelle · 7 years

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Chronicles of Narnia fic rec list (2)

for more recs, my first (and somewhat shorter) list is here

Stick in the Mud by Transposable_Element <> “Winter comes to the northern marshes. Who is better prepared for disaster than Marsh-wiggles?” (pre-LWW)

Mazy Rings, Troublesome Things by rthstewart <> ““Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary, and dungeons for the overbold.” - J.R.R. Tolkien - In the book, The Magician's Nephew, there was a family with two sisters and a brother. Their names were Mabel, Letty, and Andrew Ketterley. This is the story about Mabel, Letty, and Mrs. Lefay and how this whole adventure with Narnia began.”

Have Dominion by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling) <> “The Talking Beasts of Narnia are waiting for their names. Regardless of Aslan's words, Helen isn't at all sure she has any right to name them.” | Helen

Carpetbaggers by cofax <> “After the coronation festivities, the real work begins.” In which Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy realize that respect has to be earned; travel the bounds of their kingdom; and have many great adventures. {longfic} | Pevensies

A Heady Draught by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling) <> “The Fauns of Narnia attempt to reclaim their winemaking heritage after the long winter. Bacchus takes an interest in the results.” | Tumnus, Bacchus

Familial Food Planning by Lirenel <> “or Queen Susan's Plan For The Cheering Up Of Her Brother, King Edmund.” | Susan, Edmund

Reclaiming Winter by Lirenel <> “As the first winter after the defeat of the White Witch approaches, Peter and Susan worry about the effect it will have on their younger brother.” | Pevensies

The Value of Sisters by Snacky <> “"If I had but my cordial with me," Queen Lucy was saying, "I could soon mend this. But the High King has so strictly charged me not to carry it commonly to the wars and to keep it only for great extremities!" The story of how well Peter's command went over, and what Susan did to smooth things over.” | Lucy, Susan

Of Monarchs and Men by makinhistory <> "We won't live forever, you know," Edmund replied mildly. "And I, for one, wish to die and leave Narnia with as many loyal allies, strong defenses, efficient means of transportation and education, heirs, and as few enemies as possible." The Pevensies take a day off from being kings and queens to play in a pond. | Pevensies

Water and Wine by songsmith <> “True harvest has finally come to Narnia. After a century of Winter, Bacchus returns, bringing revelry and joy to long-repressed Narnians. Susan learns something important about herself.” | Susan

Memory of Heaven by Corbeaun <> “The passage of the sun will represent heaven / the bones will represent time.” (Golden Age) [somewhat dark] | Edmund

Home Is by Elennare <> "Aravis had thought, as she carefully re-read her letters before sending them, that she had managed to keep her moments of homesickness well hidden." (Golden Age) | Aravis, Lucy

Crowning Glory by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling) <> “Edmund combs Susan's hair.” (Golden Age) | Edmund, Susan

Commonly to the Wars by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling) <> “Queen Lucy the Valiant rides to the wars, despite Father Christmas's prescription that women should avoid battles. How did that come about?” | Lucy, Peter, Edmund

Annals of Kings by ilysia_039 <> “Even in the dark of night, no one speaks aloud of what must be done to keep the kingdom afloat.” (Golden Age) spycraft; epistolary fic | Edmund

Calligraphy by Muriel Candytuft <> “Susan is sick and tired of Peter tyrannizing over her romantic life...but does he have good reason?” (Golden Age) | Susan, Peter

The Horse and His Boy Revisited by Transposable_Element <> SERIES <> “A collection of fics in a unified timeline, taking place before and after the events of C.S. Lewis's A Horse and His Boy.” (HHB) | Pevensies, Aravis, Cor (and many other characters...)

The Donkey and His Boy by Lirenel <> “Shasta's first and dearest friend was the old donkey his Calormene father owned. He never knew that the donkey was an enslaved Narnian who spent his life caring for the lost northern prince.”

Epithets by Transposable_Element <> “How would you prefer to go down in history?” | Edmund, Susan

All Heart’s Desires Met by liminalliz <> “The war at home.” (Golden Age) epistolary fic [somewhat dark] | Edmund, Susan, Lucy

Castling by genre <> “Susan and Edmund play a game. The parallels it has to reality aren't lost on either of them.” | Susan, Edmund

Bargains by whynot <> “Peter raises his sword. "You are in no position to bargain, witch." She laughs. "Oh Peter, I am not bargaining. I am simply laying down the terms."” (Golden Age) [somewhat dark] | Peter, Jadis [note: this was an untitled drabble. The name “Bargains” is for convenience in this list only]

Too Old for Lullabyes by whynot <> "That's all the whiskey we have left to drink."(post-LWW) | Peter/Susan

The Magnificent by Capegio <> “Susan was gentle. Edmund was just. Lucy was valiant. But away from Narnia, how can one be magnificent?” | Peter [(WARNING: tragedy)]

The Apple Tree by Capegio <> “Patience is a virtue.” (post-LWW) | Lucy, Peter

Joy in the Mourning by Andi Horton <> “They don't quite fit, anymore. But even as they long for home, even as the city falls around them and mourning is the order of the evening, it's not impossible to find moments of joy.” | Pevensies

The Counsels of Princes by songsmith <> “Miraz and Edmund face each other across a negotiating table.” | Miraz, Edmund

it’s autumn in the country i remember by be_themoon <> “Susan and Edmund have a conversation in three parts.” (Golden Age & after) | Edmund, Susan

The Better Part by Andi Horton <> “Lucy sees things differently; she always has. Some would rather that she change, and others wouldn't want her to change for the world.” (post-PC) | Lucy, Edmund

Endurance by Elizabeth Culmer <> Endurance - "The thing is," Susan tells Edmund once, "you have to live in the world you're given." Remembrance - Just as no one is told any story but her own, no one can live any life but her own. | Susan

Of England by Straightforwardly <> “Years after the train accident, Susan returns to the Professor’s house.” (Crossover-LoTR) |Susan/Goldberry

Adonai by whynot <> “Lucy knows Aslan by many names.” (post-PC) | Lucy, Edmund

Swashbuckling by Transposable_Element <> “Reepicheep visits the Enterprise. Luckily, the first person he meets knows just how to entertain him.” (Crossover-Star Trek) | Reepicheep, Sulu

Patience by flirtyfroggy <> “Eustace is trying Caspian's patience.” (VDT) | Caspian, Eustace

Counterbalance by Straightforwardly <> “There's one place Tom always visits when he returns to the orphanage for the summer.” (Crossover-HP) | Tom Riddle/Edmund

The Long Wait of Becoming by annakovsky <> “Lucy, after she sailed to the end of the world.” (VDT & after) | Lucy, Edmund, Caspian, Eustace

Dichotomy by snitchnipped <> “As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.” —Carl G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, 1962 (Golden Age/post-VDT) Two conversations, one in Narnia, one in England, at the same time of their lives. One brother gives the other counsel. | Peter, Edmund

Troubles Melt Like Lemon Drops by Francienyc <> “If anyone would find a way to come home early, it would be Peter. Still, a watched pot never boils, they say. Perhaps I can tempt you out to the cinema? Edmund and Lucy go out together on a sleety night in London.” (post-VDT) | Lucy, Edmund, Susan, Peter

Catch by Transposable_Element <> “They watched the sun set, its last rays glowing crimson and gold across the mudflat, while they gutted and cleaned their catch.” | Puddleglum

#chronicles of narnia #fanfiction #Fic #fic rec #my stuff

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fyccb · 7 years

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One For the Grandkids: TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN

"I should follow YOU?" - Miles Davis, to a fan expressing his wish that he go back to playing ballads At the end of Episode 16 of Showtime's TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN, we saw Audrey Horne (Sherilyn Fenn) briefly rescued from mid-life marriage to a man who was something less than the man to whom she once aspired by an invitation to dance. She then returned to her husband's side and a reality-shattering crash through that illusion into what appeared to be a confrontational collision with her own makeup mirror. I spent the past week wondering where this scene would take us. In a way, it took us nowhere, because we don't see Audrey again in the miniseries' last two episodes; then again, this scene tells us exactly where we are headed. The last two episodes, or hours (if we accept - as I think we should - David Lynch's description of this latest collaboration with Mark Frost as "an eighteen-hour film" rather than a miniseries) of this story suggest to me a one-hour or 90-minute story with a 15-16 hour prologue and a one-hour epilogue. It does not accommodate traditional narrative structure, and therefore is doomed to disappoint most audience expectations geared to that experience. Many times as the weekly chapters rolled out, I found myself responding to them not as narrative, not even as cinema, but as digital painting - making use of live actors selected much like emotional colors. As some others have observed, the quality of the digital effects suggested an unusual transparency that might look bad or cheap to those whose standard of measure was reality; but I always felt the point was never to suggest reality but different graphic ideas put into motion. A noble attempt to reclaim the viewer's right to suspend disbelief with their own senses, rather than have the technology rob them of that privilege. As the entire arc of the program is revealed, this level of artifice has a point to make. As with the original series finale, the general response I've been seeing has been disappointment, even anger, sometimes followed by a slowly blooming acceptance and enthusiasm. The disappointment, I believe, comes from a thwarted authorial impulse: it didn't go where we wanted it to go. But as characters in the story have been saying, "The past dictates the future." Therefore, any attempt to return to the past is a sentimental urge, a romanticism doomed to failure or, if indeed such contact is made, we run the risk of monkeying with our present vantage point in the future. Which is exactly the trajectory of the final chapter. In the last moments, when Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) asks "What year is this?" I don't think he's asking which year he's inhabiting. Rather, he's questioning our expectations of the narrative, our demands for clarity and a happy ending - even a satisfying reunion. Why did we want to go back to a murder scene? What did we want to undo? Or do? Were these characters not supposed to change - though we, their creator and television itself has? And finally, Cooper is also asking the wrong question, which points to a suggestion of his condemnation to another long detour through mystic circles - his penance for his ego in assuming superhuman responsibilities and a god-like role in setting everything right. When Cooper and Diane (Laura Dern) risk "changing everything" by riding the electrical coordinates to new identities, they soon lose each other and Dale finds himself alone in the American west, in the city of Odessa. It's not only the name of a Ukrainian city, but the feminine form of Odysseus or Ulysses, the hero of Homer's THE ODYSSEY, and finally a Greek word meaning "full of wrath." (The ODYSSEY connection to Cooper is quite interesting, particularly if we consider the interpretation that it took Odysseus so many years of wandering to return home because he didn't want to go home.) The Cooper whom we see cruising the streets of this melting pot American city is neither the all-good Cooper of the original series, nor the Bad Cooper, whose negative energies have been conquered by this point, or at least redistributed. As earlier events have shown us, Cooper's efforts came very close to saving Laura retroactively - indeed, he does seem to prevent her murder, at least on one plane of existence - but in doing so, he interfered with her own karmic destiny and sent that compulsory drama elsewhere to find its fulfillment. But he has not yet learned this lesson, and when he sees the fateful name Judy on a restaurant sign in Odessa, he follows the sign to a breakfast interrupted by the modern-day equivalent of an Old West shootout, as he butts in to save a stranger's honor. The melting pot signs (Odessa, Maersk, etc), the open carry laws, people living in accordance with romantic ideas of freedom in a conspicuously unfree word... Lynch's purpose here is plain - this is the America we now inhabit, viewed through a pair of THEY LIVE eyeglasses, as it were. Cooper continues to take lawful responsibility for Laura Palmer's metaphysical fate by tracing Judy to her lookalike counterpart - an apparent kook and murderess whose name is not Judy but rather Carrie Page (Sheryl Lee) - and hoping to discharge the evil energies riding her existence by introducing her to her mother (Grace Zabriskie), who is dealing with devils of her own. But it's no longer her house... for the rather obvious reason that "You can't go home anymore." What Cooper may suddenly be inhabiting outside the Palmer house is not a different year, but a different tense - namely, reality. (This reading of the ending would appear to be supported by the casting of Mary Reber, the real-life owner of the Palmer House property, as its present owner Alice Tremond.) In short, David Lynch and Mark Frost have addressed themselves to the fact that art is a thing of process and progress that does not move in reverse; only the longing of the human heart does that. In so doing, it may well motivate the creation of art, but such art is usually wrenching in its torment, bringing us to terms with more innocent times that were never really so innocent, the nostalgic songs that closer scrutiny reveal to come from places of real pain, the high school sweetheart who got away and fired a bullet through the brain of the fellow lucky enough to catch her. Because what such investigations usually signify is that the present, our present, is in some way unsatisfactory - but if we dare to move back, we risk changing or losing connection with where we were. The original TWIN PEAKS series still exists, and that experience can be repeated to the heart's content, leaving THE RETURN to warn us of the myriad dangers awaiting anyone careless enough to rifle backwards through the spent pages of life. (c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

My favorite Lynch critic, Tim Lucas of the recently late and very lamented Video Watchdog magazine, sums it up. If this interests you at all, please check out their website here. Lucas literally wrote the book on Mario Bava, and has been writing about Lynch for at least thirty years. Would have posted this as a link if I could have figured out how.

#tim lucas #video watchdog #twin peaks: the return #TIM I'LL TAKE THIS DOWN IF YOU WANT THO I DOUBT YR LOOKING AT TUMBLR

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anideawhosetimehascome · 7 years

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rant about music~

OH MY GOD this makes me feel so warm and fuzzy I can’t stop smiling. Thank you so much. I’m so grateful for this opportunity.

This is gonna be so messy just prepare yourself.

I have to say, right now, my favorite band is City and Colour. I’ve been saying that for awhile, maybe half a year or even a year, god it’s been a long year. I’ve bought two concert tickets to see him. I had to sell the first one (it was a really good seat, third row :(..) but hopefully I can see him with his band with my other ticket (general admission smh) and once more on a fully solo tour like the first ticket I bought.

One Direction comes next as always but each individual member of one direction is ranked differently… louis, harry, liam, and niall in terms of whose music I care most about. I know louis has only put out one collab so far but he’s my favorite,of course I’m most excited for his stuff.

AND I BOUGHT A TICKET TO SEE HARRY HOLY FUCK !!!! I GOT A SEAT IN SECTION 5 IN PHOENIX SO FUCKING CLOSE TO THE STAGE. I GOT SO LUCKY BECAUSE I WAS A COUPLE MINUTES LATE AND I GOT AN AMAZING SEAT. THE PIT IS IN FRONT OF ME AND SO IS 30 OTHER ROWS BUT THATS IT IM GOING TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM WITH HIM AND HEAR HIS BEAUTIFUL CROONING VOICE LIVE AFTER 5 LONG YEARS. I’m just trying to imagine doing the same with louis and my head is exploding. Shoutout to my mom for letting me use her debit card since I haven’t got any paychecks yet.

Protest the hero is an anomaly in my life, I really haven’t been into them in like over a year, but they remain top 3 because I can’t let them go. I love all of their albums (except I only listened to their most recent one once rip) but if I ever got to see them live I would know almost every song IF NOT every single one by heart and that’s an experience I haven’t gotten to have yet. Hopefully twice this year I’ll have that. Maybe I’ll look out for a protest the hero tour and see if I can swing a ticket.

After that it’s really hard to rank everything. I have my favorite albums that differ from favorite artists.

Alt-J is high on my list. They’ve put out some really good shit. I liked An Awesome Wave multitudes more than the other album. I’m hoping his most recent one kinda brings them back to that era.I wish I could travel to the U.K. to see Aquilo. Their album Silhouettes is the best fucking album EVER and yet they’re so small they can only tour their tiny home country. They need more recognition.The Shins are coming to a local venue only a couple hours away and it blows my mind because I fell in love with Wincing the Night Away but they have a plethora of other albums that I didn’t love and I wouldn’t feel right going to a concert where I only knew like 3 of the songs. I wish they did a Wincing the Night Away revival tour where they only sang songs from that album just to appease me lmao.Kendrick’s new album is such a mindfuck. That’s been on repeat the past few weeks. I need to listen to his other stuff too.Sweet Sexy Savage by Kehlani is the genre I’ve been really into lately. That sultry R&B pop is just SO delicious. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever heard before. Her voice is like brown sugar and butter. Everything she does with the instrumentals, her voice, and the backing track is just MIND BLOWING I love it so much.Of course The Weeknd has to come in here. I just saw him live a week ago. It was the best concert I’ve ever been to (the only other one was Taylor swift. She sounds good live, but I’m not a huge fan). STARBOY IS THE BEST ALBUM EVER SERIOUSLY. I was a bit disappointed he didn’t sing more tracks from Starboy because I didn’t know some of the ones from his older albums. Also perpetually disappointed that kendrick never showed up for sidewalks.

Old Crows/Young Cardinals by Alexisonfire has been very high on my list lately. Reminiscent of protest the hero for the reasons I like them, but their voices are COMPLETELY different. It always takes me awhile to get used to screaming and really rough jagged voices, but once I do, I’m either head over heels in love with them or I fucking hate them. Usually the former. If Dallas Green (city and colour) wasn’t involved in this band, I would have never touched them.

Spirit by Depeche Mode has also been a genre I’ve got into lately. I just kept seeing the same fucking google ad every time I opened the app “Spirit by Depeche Mode is out now!” why the FUCK google gave me that ad I don’t know, but it caused me to find one of my most treasured albums. It’s very politically charged which I LOVE. I see the message of each song loud and clear as a movie in my head and it makes me fall deeper in love with it each time.

Now I’ve forgotten everything else, so I’ll start going through albums alphabetically.

Arctic Monkeys is a band I really need to listen to more. I’ve only listened to A.M. once fully through and only stuck with a couple of the songs. I listened to Humbug and liked it a LOT more, so I have a feeling I’ll love their older stuff.

Ahhh how could I forget about CATFISH AND THE BOTTLEMEN. God I spent an hour on YouTube watching them play old versions of The Balcony the other day, it was the best live video I’ve ever watched. He sounded even better than on the album, and I was transported to those shows for that moment where he seemed to be playing in some seedy basement. I wanted to see them live last year for my birthday but didn’t get a ticket. Maybe I’ll be able to get one sometime soon. That’s a band I NEED to see live before I die. They are fucking amazing. Their songs are everything I love about bands.

I’ve listened to a bit of Two Door Cinema Club. I need to listen to more. It’s hard with Apple Music. As you can see I have so fucking much to listen to and it never ends. I think I like music… a lot more than most people. It’s weird to think about. But anyway. Sun, that’s a good song.

Space Oddity by Bowie makes me feel high. R.I.P.

Frank Ocean has been a recurring name lately. Chanel and Self Control are two gems of his.

Cold by Maroon 5 and Future is one of my guilty pleasure songs. I could listen to it for hours and it wouldn’t get old. I don’t even know why I find it so orgasmic.

Cake is one of those bands that wormed their way into my heart a long time ago and I don’t really know how or why and I haven’t listened to enough of their songs because they have too many albums and they’re all from the 90s and I’m so young yet I feel so old when I listen to them. It makes no sense and I love it.

The Dark Side of the Moon. Need I say more? Yes. Us and Them. Brain Damage. Eclipse.

I’m a fan of Blackbear’s new album digital druglord. Very different from what I usually listen to. I don’t always have a usually, but when I do, Blackbear’s not in it.

Message to Bears is the best study music. They’re what I put on when I need to have a quiet night with some undertones of depression and existential realization. Still one of my low key favorites that I always forget about.

FOUR saved the music industry.

I need to reiterate how perfect Protest the Hero is. Listen to Kezia. LISTEN TO IT.

Oh, every time I get the chance to rant about this I will. Little Hell by City and Colour is an album about going from Catholic to atheist, and each song is showing his progression in realizing that. Now this is just my headcanon, but with the first song being about “finding each other in the dark” sounding suspiciously like someone finding God and the last song being a blatant message on being raised religious but rejecting the “make believe” stories. I could theory craft on this album all day. It has seriously made me reconsider naming Sometimes, his first album ever, my favorite, and instead reclaiming Little Hell, City and Colour’s third studio album, as my new favorite. But since it’s just a theory and I have yet to confirm or deny anything, I’ll keep it at my second.

Listen… I know he’s a snake but Zayn’s album was actually really good. I literally haven’t touched it for a year but I really enjoyed it for a long time.

I like the Radiohead quote. I’m not like that at all but I can get into their music, like Nice Dream. Maybe because when I found that song I would have related to that quote. Music is so strange, man.

The Beach Boys, Coldplay, The Boxer Rebellion, Fun., Syd Matters, Breton, The National, Secret & Whisper, G-Eazy, and Bastille all get honorable mentions for being some of my favorites at one point in time.

I hate how into music I am. But I love it so fucking much. I remember in 2010 when I bought a Britney Spears song on the radio and I decided to listen to the mixtape my friend made me because I needed some new music. It changed my life forever because it opened me up to a whole new world that I had never heard before. I’m eternally grateful to her for introducing me to musical curiosity. I will never get over it and I don’t want to.

Despite what I’ve written, I’ve only just now realized how much music I have on my Apple Music library that I’ve literally added and never listened to. I need to work on that.

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thefashionnarrative · 4 years

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Public Relations: Helping Me Improve my Relationship With Me

I’ve already had the privilege to meet Garth Jackson before the start of the third term, and my first few encounters with him left my expectations for Public Relations class with excitement and intrigue. I have no idea about what entails the subject or the career itself, and I have little semblance in its relation to Fashion Marketing. Eventually, the subject confirmed some of my assumptions I had about Public Relations, and allowed me to best understand the essential tools that comes with being in the industry. However, what surprised me the most about the class was the sheer amount of writing assignments that came with it.

It’s been a while since I’ve actively put thought into type, at least when it came with a deadline. Usually it’s been chronicling thoughts and entertaining fantasies and dreams into Notes on the iPhone. The first assignment had me feeling excited for the challenge, to finally tap back into my joy of writing about theory and culture. At first, my intention was to combine my love of cinema and fashion together into an analysis of imagery and narrative. The deadline eventually lead me to settle for a horror film, and my first blog focused on “Midsommar”. Except writing it left me feeling unfulfilled and unsatisfied. I was passionate about film, but it wasn’t exciting enough to have me write about the subject over three times.

Upon the second class, Garth inspired me to just let the creative flow take over. Without knowing what exactly to blog about, I just put my thoughts on the fashion industry into writing. I wrote about the impacts of beauty and fashion on diversity and representation as a minority in a Western Society in an Asiatic Community. I wrote about individuality and social mediaI. I was critical, personal , and many times sarcastic. Eventually I find myself chronicling about my life and experiences as a freelance stylist and art director, and sharing my experiences as an artist and how to stay creative. In addition, I feel excited every weekend to hear Garth’s feedback to understand what I could do to improve as a writer. Through writing, I’ve reclaimed a part of my identity that made me feel confident since it compensates for my awkwardness.

One of the other things I knew about the Public Relations class was the magazine project. I knew that it was an important part of the program, and I was looking forward to it. However, I never expected Garth to choose me as one of the Editor-In-Chief. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to be one, but I assumed I was going to be someone’s Creative Director in the process. Verbal communication is one of my biggest areas of needed improvement, but Garth encouraged me to feel confident in my voice, especially when it came to writing and direction. I enjoyed the challenge, and I liked helping my team hone their voice as aspiring fashion moguls. Most importanly, the project helped me fully realize one of my goals in life, and that is to work for a major fashion publication like Conde Nast as its Creative Director or Fashion Director.

Public Relations helped me specify what I wanted to do as a career. I enjoy working and collaborating with local brands, and helping create content for them through my direction and styling. I like to find innovative ways to communicate with the public by creating art while simultaneously solving business problems. In addition, writing helped me realize why I wanted to work in fashion in the first place. My goal is to fulfill the disparity between cultures and subcultures by using fashion build connections, as often the concept of fashion becomes marginalized within its own genre of interest. Despite this, my ambitions have me feeling anxious and excited for the steps I might need to take in order for that dream to come to fruition. What’s worse is as I near graduation, the dread begins to slowly consume me as I continue to feel lost in the trajectory of my career. However, I won’t falter, and I continue to soldier on with my dreams.

If there’s one thing I am most grateful about Public Relations , it is that Garth makes efforts to help improve each student by catering to their individuality. He’s sensitive to the needs of the class, and finds ways to help make class feel less stressful and more unified. Although I still struggle with identifying his sarcasm, I’m glad to see the positive relationships he’s fostered with everyone. Leaving each class makes me feel empowered and assured in my skills and abilities and I’m sure every student feels the same. Right now I only wish that Public Relations with Garth was longer because he has so much to teach in class.

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dye-ann · 5 years

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Trick or Treat Exchange Letter

For convenience purpose, I’m also sharing this here:

General likes : bittersweet atmospheres, symbolism, recovering, slices of life, 5 times +1 and the likes, Fluff With A Deeper Meaning, intimacy, found families, future fic, fix-it, letters, witty banter (seriously you can never go wrong with that one), elaboration on what characters like to read/listen to/watch, sensory notations, memories, integration of historical elements in the background (i.e. acknowledging canon is set at a certain point in time and that has an influence on who the characters are and what they can and can’t do), extremely competent female characters, but also characters being allowed to be Wrong even if I love them, characters playing Junior Detectives, very specific canon references, literary references, nocturnal settings, anything involving plants and trees, seasonal moods.

Ships-wise : tension, pinning, slow burn, things changing so gradually it’s hard to pin words to it, but also relationships discussions, people struggling but still trying, first kiss, femslash, I have a soft spot for the good ol’ « fake/pretend relationship » trope, moderate angst, sensual things going on at a slow pace, people being bad at feelings, realistic (and loving) depiction of bodies, sex positivity.

General DNW : anything E except if the prompts specify it’s cool for that particular fandom or pairing, abuse painted in a good light, non requested ships, unmotivated conflicts for the sake of drama, sickfic in a shippy context, established relationships.

Twin Peaks

If you want to write more than one requested character for this, feel free to explore any & you like, especially the strangest ones (eg Candie&Constance&Albert, Diane&Catherine, &Monica Belluci, etc). If you want to add your own favourite characters in the mix, be my guest, I love everyone in this canon (well, maybe not the most trauma inducing characters, but this could still be interesting in a “trick” approach).

For tricks, supernatural, mysterious and [whooshing] elements suggest themselves.For treats, anything from sweet and friendly to humor, to poetic and comforting, get wild.

For this fandom, I’m okay with E.

Candie: I’m so intrigued by her (and Mandie and Sandie too, if you want to include them). She’s one of those characters in the show who are both very distracted and very focused on small details, which always interest me because I want to know how she sees the world, and how she interprets the events she witnessed. What does she think of Twin Peaks, of the people she meets at the station? Alternatively, is there something supernatural going on with her, something traumatic, how do the Mitchum brothers and her counterparts fit in the picture?

Catherine: As Catherine is canonically one of the most “soap opera” character in the show, I would be interested to see her confronted to the most supernatural elements of the show, the mythology and the weird electric wind in the woods. Could have something to do with Pete’s death and why she closed the mill, or not. I’m also interesting in the more problematic aspects of the character, namely racism, but also her dysfunctional relationship with Pete. If you would prefer writing a treat, it could have something to do with a brighter moment between those two, at any point in time. Alternatively, she could have an unexpected connection/friendship with a more likeable character of your choice, who knows about her faults but still manage to make it work.

Constance: I. Love. Her. So really anything is fine. Something I really would like to read one day is her interacting with the whole Sheriff station. Why would the station want with a coroner who’s not Albert? What does everyone think of her? Huge bonus points if she’s there at the same time as Albert, and it’s an occasion for banter, irritation, and general comedy. Alternatively, any interaction with Albert at any point, anywhere and under any pretext (casefic?) is good too. I’m super happy with & but I also ship them a bit, so if you want to write an extension of that restaurant scene or anything like that, it’s the occasion.

Diane: Diane interacting with anyone is really my jam, especially unlikely characters. An old idea of mine is also her turning the tables on Cooper or other characters (Gordon? Albert? Janey-E? Sonny Jim? who knows) and sending tapes to people, in a context that can be dramatic (because she’s been separated from the recipients for various reasons) or lighter (playing with her own image since she was just an invisible ear for 2 seasons, and doing it to annoy the hell out of her colleagues). I low-key ship her with Cooper, so if that’s your thing, go for it.

Monica Belluci: well, it’s hard to be precise for that one, so I’ll leave it very open. But I admit I’m curious about the “Gordon dreaming about European cinema” aspect of that scene, and would ideally like to see it explored (are they in an actual movie? Do they visit others? Meet other actresses and actors? You can go super meta with it). Inclusions of small realistic details in this dreamy setting is also an interesting idea, I think. Alternatively, who else may be involved in that dream? Gordon doesn’t sound like the most apt character to strike a conversation with that “Monica Belluci” apparition, but I’m sure other characters could manage to actually talk to her, your pick.

Remains of The Day

Miss Kenton/Mr Stevens: This is one of the most frustrating canon ever, and well, I really want romance for those two. One scenario that especially interests me is: what if she did come back after he offered her the job at the end of the book/movie? How does one go back to being a servant in the 60s, when so much has changed socially speaking, when the house is emptier and when you’re older than you used to be? Not to mention how do you rekindle an old romance, especially when both parts are aware that your return has something to do with it but no one dares mention it at first? Alternatively, for something lighter and set at an earlier time: Miss Kenton has given up on Mr Stevens, and that’s when he suddenly decides to court her. She’s oblivious because it seems so unlikely, tension and/or comedy ensues. If you’re uncomfortable with writing romance, I would be interested in reading a character study on any or both of them, especially if this has to do with how they see service, and what they put into it, emotionally.

Bedknobs and Broomsticks:

It’s a small fandom, so if you want to enrich it in any way I’ll be forever grateful. Basically, I ship Eglantine/Emelius, but I’m also interesting in the found family dynamic here.

Carrie: I’m interested in her relationship with magic. What does she want to use it for? Is Eglantine inspiring her to want to be a witch, or not? And what does it mean to her? I’m also curious about the way she adapts to her new setting and family structure. Feel free to include information about the (deceased?) Rawlings parents, and any other character.

Eglantine: any character study would be great, I’m especially interested in how she comes to accept the children and why she was so reluctant at first. Also I’m a sucker for a bit of Mr Jelk ridiculousness (does she rebuke him? Does Emelius help or just watch the whole thing from afar?). Regarding Eglantine/Emelius, I like their “prim and proper/super flirty and annoying dynamic, even if I think Emelius’s misogyny needs to be called out in some way too (if anyone is going to be the assistant, it’s him). I’m curious about how Eglantine might see relationships in general, and Emelius as a suitor in particular. That being said, I like that he’s so amazed with her from the start, and so open with it. I’m annoyed with the whole marriage thing being pushed on them, I’m more interested in exploration of feelings in a less “Disney” way, something more mature. Especially with Eglantine trying so hard to be proper, and Emelius being such a tease, I would be interested to see how they handle sexual tension and such things. I mean, when one has a magic bed, allusions come to mind…

Emelius: any future fic about his return from the war, and how it feels to return is very welcome. I think the character has unsuspected depths, and the idea that he basically fails to be coward is one that I find fascinating. I’m also interested by his past, and the way he sees Eglantine and the children: he doesn’t seem like lover or father material at first glance, but does a surprisingly good job when given the chance. Anyway, how does it feel to be the constant but ultimately successful underdog?

Cosmic Creeper: this is an occasion for an “outsider” point of view if there ever was one! How does Cosmic sees the building of the family in the house, what does he (she? I think it’s a he but I’m not certain) makes of the magician, is he maybe slightly tired of magic ruining his lunches, what is his relationship to the children? I’m sure he can read Eglantine’s moods better than anyone, too. Is he involved in one more ridiculous magical accident? You decide.

Broadchurch

I’m mostly interested in ships for this show, and I’m okay with E stuff.

Ellie: either a romance piece with Hardy or something about Ellie slowly reclaiming her agency, and healing, maybe through meaningful interactions with other characters? I like the idea of Maggie trying to cheer her up and ending up mentoring her, Jocelyn offering her awkward but comforting silence, that sort of things. What I’m especially attached to is Ellie’s attention to everyone, her love of people, and that’s what she looses in the show: I desperately wish she could win it back. Does it involve interacting with children, too? Perhaps. A great occasion for a trick or treating fic, in that case. If you’re willing to write Ellie/Alec, I think my favourite situations involve bickering, behaving like a couple while refusing to acknowledge it, and sudden sexual tension that comes from nowhere and leave them dumbfound. I like that Alec is ultimately the one who’s desperate to offer her physical comfort but she’s always pushing him away, when she used to be the “nice one”. But everything is fine, really.

Jocelyn: I find the character so interesting, and a character study or/and something shippy would be perfect. I wonder about how she came out to herself, and how she handled her relationships with women, especially Maggie. How did they fall in love?

Maggie: Maggie being a BAMF is always my jam. I’d like to see her in a situation when she fiercely defends someone, Jocelyn or maybe Ellie, and it leads to some exploration of her past (was she an activist for some cause or other?). Bonus point if you keep her mannerisms. Concerning Maggie/Jocelyn: I love everything, but for example a fill-in-the-blanks of what leads to Jocelyn’s declaration on the cliffs could be very nice. Alternatively, any quasi-domestic scene between those two when they’re not together yet. Or sexy times, before or after that declaration.

Much Ado About Nothing

To put it simply, I’m here for the banter. And the tension that goes with it. I like the atmosphere of the original play, but AU are fine for this one if you want to get creative.

Prompts ideas:

Beatrice and Benedick teams up to prevent Beatrice’s arranged marriage. Benedick only does it to save a poor man’s soul from eternal misery, of course. Of course...

Alternatively: Beatrice and Benedick both making fun of the other when masked at the ball, and being privately delighted about the other’s way with words. Of course it goes off hand and the atmosphere ends up being much more charged with romantic tension. They’d like to say they’re drunk but… that would be a lie.

Or: Benedick trying to resist falling in love with Beatrice all he can, but of course it doesn’t work that way. Instead, it puts him in all sorts of ridiculous situations.

Portal

Note that I’ve only played the two games and am unfamiliar with any other parts of canon.

I'm basically in love with GlaDOS and with Caroline and her relationship to Chell, and I'm a sucker for Nemesis relationships in general, so you've been warned. In this fandom I really love fics that stay faithful to the game atmosphere.

Caroline: Where to begin? I’m curious about her transformation into GlaDOS (and probably the abuse that goes with it). How does she feel (or not feel)? I’m also very curious about the possibility of GlaDOS being turned back into her former self, and re-accustoming herself to being human. How does that impact her relationship with Chell and the other residents of the center?

Chell: Basically how does she regain her sense of self? And does she, or does she resolves herself to being part of the center, for better and worse? I sort of ship Chell/GlaDOS but I think the most interesting approach to it is a very ambiguous one, a love-hate relationship with a lot of issues. Or maybe GlaDOS act as a sort of evil stepmother figure to her, and helps her rebuild a robot family. Bonus point for any Companion Cube apparition.

Turrets: I’m so fond of them, they’re adorable (and deadly. And adorable). Globally I’m curious about how Portal’s events might look form a turret’s point of view. I’m sure they have their own culture, beliefs and politics, a special turret mythology, opinions on defective turrets, on GlaDOS, Wheatley and the different cores, on Chell. What were they originally? Were they always weapons? How do they see humans in general?

Space Core: Spaaaace! What can I say, it’s my favourite core. I’m curious about how it relates to GlaDOS’s personality: in short, what’s up with space? You can’t go wrong with comedy here, but I would also be interested in the deeper fascination for stars, space and what is out of reach (when you’re stuck underground). Also, what’s up with the father-son conversation this core is imitating? Is GladDOS the metaphorical father here, does he want to make her proud, or does this has something to do with Cave Johnson, and his relationship with Caroline? Interactions with turrets, other cores, or any character is very welcome.

Harry Potter

I’m familiar with every part of canon, up to and including Cursed Child, but I’m not especially keen on listening to everything JKR said, especially when it’s on Pottermore.

Luna: I love the idea of Luna unexpectedly being the wiser character, and having a lot of thoughts on all the psychological issues people around her are bound to have after the war, or even before. Maybe she becomes a healer or the equivalent of a psychiatrist, and we get to hear snippets of her conversations with patients/other characters? She has of course her own sadness to deal with, but there is something that feels so resilient about her, and I’m intrigued by it. Apparently (I mean, JKR said) she’s also a painter, and I like the idea so feel free to include bits of that. Alternatively, I’m also interesting about the time she was in captivity with Dobby. The relationship between those two is bond to be fascinating, and I would love to read a conversation on freedom, or on being “odd”.

Minerva: I love her so much and I sort of see her as a model? My jam is Minerva being simultaneously severe and kind (that “take a biscuit, Potter” quote has to be my favourite in the books), and a BAMF. All of her dignified moments are fabulous. I’d love to see her wins fights (verbal ones) against Snape or, even better, Umbrigde. And this is a bit specific, but I also love the idea that Umbridge has a shameful, very unrequited and very secret crush on her and that it shows during their fights. Alternatively, giving academic guidance to students: Luna would be an interesting choice, because she’s not a one of her students and she might not know her that well, which would make for an interesting interaction I think. Or the Weasley twins, that interview must have been hilarious. Sidenote: I don’t particularly ship her with anyone in the canon BUT for something different, if you want to ship it with any Old British Lady from another canon, I’d be delighted (I’ve heard of Minerva/Miss Marple, Minerva/M from James Bond, Minerva/Eglantine Price, for example).

Petunia: A complex character who deserves a bit of development. She’s done terrible things, of course, but there are signs of something else that could be interesting to explore. What about a visit to Hogwarts after the war, when she tries to make amends and indirectly to tell Harry she’s glad he’s not dead. Maybe she meets other characters there, for example Luna or Minerva, but I think a conversation with a ghost could also be interesting on her path to...well not redemption, but trying to become a better person? I think she should confront the extent of what she’s done to Lily and Harry too. Alternatively, I would like to know what she thinks, over the years, having resented her sister for getting all the attention and thought their parents preferred Lily, observing Dudley and Harry interacting, and witnessing the first signs of Harry’s magic before he understand it himself.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Sally: there’s something so heartbreaking about her, and I would like to see her through a more complex lens than just her relationship to Jake. Interactions with other characters, especially Oogie Boogie’s three minions, are welcome. I’m especially curious about her relationship with her own body: how does it feel to be in pieces, and to be able to “be all over the place”, whether on purpose or by accident? An idea I’m especially fond of is Emily going on a trip around Halloween to discover the country after she’s been freed from her cell for good, and familiarize herself with customs she didn’t know about because Doctor Finkelstein never celebrated anything. How does she use her needle talents in her new life? Sidenote: if you’re into crossover, I would be interested in seeing an interaction between her and Emily from Corpse’s Bride. I think they both have issues they could help each other with, and there’s so much they could do together (sewing Emily a new dress so that she doesn’t have to be an eternal bride, for example, or taking a trip together via Emily’s butterflies, since Sally is always locked up).

Night In the Woods

For this fandom I love the small but meaningful interactions, the seasonal spirit, unsolved mysteries and social commentary. I also played the other bonus games associated with the main game, and any reference to them will be very appreciated!

Bea: I would love to see her reconquer a bit of her childhood happy memories and lightheartedness one way or another, especially if this has something to do with Mae. Also interested by memories of her mother, and the relationship they had. Also, does she have a connection to Adina Astra? Prompts ideas: The spring fair is holding a pie competition, and usually Bea couldn’t be arsed, but there’s money to be made, so whatever. She’ll use her mother’s old recipes, it’s nothing, really. It’s really nothing. And of course, Mae (and the others? I’ll leave you to it) want to help. Shenanigans and emotional outbursts over overcooked raspberries ensue. Alternatively: Bea explores the underground part of town (with friends of your choice): a subterranean fishing trip turns into an adventure along the trolley tunnels and into the piles of junk where all sorts of treasure can be found.

Mae: what does her dream journal looks like these days, now that her friends managed to get her out of the woods, more or less? Is she getting better, does she run into Bombshell from time to time? I’m interested by family memories too, and by her relationship to the town: does she want to help it live again or just run away as soon as possible for greener pastures? All interactions with minor characters interest me greatly. Sidenote: I’m cool with Mae/Bea if that’s your thing.

The Janitor: who or what is the Janitor exactly? I’m interested in the “mythology” of the game. Is he somehow related to the constellations and various legends we hear about, like Adina’s? Is he connected to the town or to the woods? To the social history of the place or to the nature surrounding it? Is he just a very unusual janitor that Mae invested with some imaginary powers? What does it means to be a janitor in a crumbling town? Feel free to be as mysterious and experimental as you want.

The Black Goat: same as the Janitor, I would be interested to read something that remains mysterious enough but explore the signification of the Black Goat for various characters as well as for the town as a whole. This can get as experimental as you want. Alternatively, for a more action-oriented scenario, imagine the Goat coming back for Mae and the others, but finding some sort of resistance there, be it the Janitor, Mae’s grandfather, Bea’s mother, anything you may think of.

#trickortreat exchange #this took me forever to write #so I guess it's also a know me better post in the end #hello I only ever request female characters #I'll never understand why I have so many het ships though

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