#the iron claw spoilers
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“I used to be a brother and now I’m not a brother anymore.”
THE IRON CLAW (2023)
#the iron claw spoilers#this movie is my roman empire#the iron claw#the von erichs#zac efron#harris dickinson#jeremy allen white#stanley simons#kevin von erich#david von erich#kerry von erich#mike von erich#iron claw#sean durkin
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THE IRON CLAW (2023) | dir. Sean Durkin
#the iron claw#theironclawedit#jeremy allen white#harris dickinson#stanley simons#filmedit#filmgifs#movieedit#moviegifs#cinemapix#tvandfilm#movies#this is the part that got me#i was fine up until this#then it took me an hour to recover#the iron claw spoilers#mystuff#mine: movies
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cowboy like me (David Von Erich x reader) - evermore series
A/N: It was 3am, I was listening to Evermore, and this popped into my head as the perfect title for a David fic. I’m taking some parts of the song for the storyline but not the full thing so Ig try to spot where it pops up!
Summary: He was wearing a cowboy hat and he asked you to dance.
Word count: 4,183
Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, heavy angst, major character death, movie spoilers!!!, grief (please let me know if I missed any)
Disclaimer: This is based solely on the portrayals of the brothers, not the real people. I do not own any of The Iron Claw characters. I do not claim to own any of The Iron Claw characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)
“Hey, you wanna dance?” There was a tap at your shoulder and you turned around with a mischievous smile.
You knew exactly who it was. He had been glancing at you all night, only the smallest smille of embarrassment any time he was caught. You were waiting to see when he would make his move, when he would finally decide to stop watching and actually speak to you. It had been a while since you actually wanted a guy to speak to you. You tilted your head back so you could meet his eyes, slightly taken aback at how tall he actually was now that he stood right in front of you.
“Oh I don’t know, dancing is a dangerous game, you know,” you shrugged, pursing your lips though that did nothing to hide the shine in your eyes and the tilt to your lips. He just laughed, though it was more like a huff out of his chest and he dipped his head lower so his hair fell forward. It was like locks of sunshine, and you stopped yourself from reaching out and touching it, wrapping it around your fingers.
“I’m ready to take that risk, are you?” He reached his hand out, and your stomach felt all tingly, your hands beginning to shake just slightly. You reached up and hit the edge of his cowboy hat lightly so it dipped forward. His smile widened and he stepped even closer. “I could even request a song if you don’t like this one, I have an in with the band.” He smirked proudly at that and you laughed.
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“Well,” he turned to face the stage and you moved with him. He pointed to the lead singer, a young kid barely out of highschool with a bowl cut and the talent of a true musician. “That, right there, is my brother.” Your smile widened and you turned to him, mouth open and laughed incredulously.
“You’re kidding?! He’s so good! Does that mean you’re a talented musician too?” You asked, though you suspected that really wasn’t the case.
“Unfortunately not,” he sighed in such an exaggerated manner that you pressed your hand to your mouth to hide your giggles. “These hands were not made for the guitar,” he held them up and showed them to you but you were now overcome with your laughter.
He opened his mouth to say more but loud hoots and cheers began to rise from the connected patio and both of you turned to see a young man fall back onto his feet from his position over the keg, beer shining on his cheeks and wetting his shirt. You began to laugh hysterically as he cheered with everyone else, going so far as to rip his own shirt down the middle.
“That is also my brother,” the man beside you sighed and you just continued to laugh, turning back to him and reaching out to gently grasp his hand.
“Let’s dance,” you said, pulling him toward the dance floor. You both wriggled your way to be near the front and you threw your hands up into the air, moving your hips side to side along with the beat. You could feel him press against your back, his lower sternum pressed to your back. His hands slowly rested on your hips, as if trying to give you the space to push him away. You just smiled and threw your head back to rest on his shoulder for a moment. His hold on you tightened and he began to move with you, smooth motions that meant he was surely a practised dancer.
You danced until you couldn’t anymore. You danced until your feet hurt and if you didn’t have something to drink you would die of dehydration. The last song had been a slower one, you had swayed with him to the crooning voice and gentle guitar melody, your head against his chest, arms wrapped around him as his were around you. He lay his cheek against your head, blond hair falling around your face and hiding you from the party. You closed your eyes and focused on his heartbeat, on the warmth of his body that gently touched your skin, like sitting close to a heater that was put on the lowest setting. As the song began to change, you pulled away from him and he smiled at you, gentle and cute, the kind of smile that made you want to pinch his cheeks and kiss him until you couldn’t breathe.
“You want something to drink?” You asked, lips brushing his ear. He shivered in your arms and you moved your mouth without saying anything in the hopes that it would happen again.
“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” he grasped your hand and began leading you toward the table in the patio with all the drinks and solo cups. You glanced toward where his (presumably) other brother had been, and you caught his eye. He was smiling at you, arm wrapped around the girl with him. He dipped his head in a nod and your own smile grew.
Both of you stood in front of the drinks and the crisps and after grabbing the only bottle of unopened club soda, you reached into the bowl and grabbed a handful of crisps as well. He laughed at you as he took a beer from the cooler filled with melted ice. You just shrugged, chugging from the bottle like you had never drank water before.
“So, what exactly is your name?” He asked, and you spluttered, water dribbling down your chin and onto your top. You coughed and laughed, choking and giggling as he smiled and began patting your back.
“My name, heh, guess we never did tell each other,” you huffed after the burning in your nose finally subsided. “Y/n, you?”
“I’m David, David Von Erich.” He said his name with pride, shoulders lifting slightly and you nodded. He reached out and gently wiped the water from your chin and the edge of your bottom lip. Your entire body began to tingle, your lips especially.
“So, David, what are you studying?” You shoved some of the crisps into your mouth and then offered him your hand. He gently pried one from your grip and popped it into his mouth as he shook his head.
“I don’t go to school, I’m a professional wrestler.” You raised an eyebrow before stepping back and eyeing him up and down. You pushed out your lips and furrowed your brows, nodding as if you were appraising a piece of furniture.
“I see it,” you finally said, putting down the soda to pinch at his arms and lightly tap his stomach. He just laughed, tipping his hat with a ‘thank you ma’am’.
“You study here then?” He asked, taking a swig from his bottle.
“Yup,” you nodded, “second year nursing student, so call me if you need someone to patch you up after a match.” He laughed again and you couldn’t help but smile as well.
“I’ll do that then, though expect a call every weekend,” he raised an eyebrow but you just nodded, eating more crisps to hide your smile.
He was the most jovial person you had ever met. Even his voice, all deep and southern, still sounded so happy any time he spoke. A dimple appeared in his cheek and you reached up and poked your finger into it.
“Sorry,” you blushed, cheeks burning, “I just wanted to feel how deep it went.” He only smiled and grabbed your hand, bringing your pointer finger back to his face and pressing it to the dimple. This time you laughed, moving to grip his cheek in your palm and falling forward to press your forehead to his chest.
“I have never met anyone like you, David,” you mumbled against his shirt and you felt him sigh, leaning down as you moved your head back. He wasn’t smiling, just staring into your eyes, and then he was kissing you. His lips were so soft, like marshmallows covered in butter. You pressed harder against him, wanting to meld into his skin. He tasted like beer but you didn’t mind. He kissed you like he would never kiss you again, like your lips held the antidote and he would die if you even tried to move away. Your hands slid into his hair and he groaned, gripping your waist so tight that the waistband of your jeans began to dig in.
He slowly began to pull away, but it seemed like a struggle as every time his lips almost detached from yours, he began to kiss you again. Finally, when your chest was heaving and you couldn’t stand on your own legs, he pulled away, eyes fluttering open. You gazed up at him as if he was the first human being you had ever seen and he felt his entire body flush with pleasure.
You could see that the crowd had begun to dwindle and one of your friends was standing by the door, a clear signal that she wanted to leave but had no one to go with. You sighed, gently banging your forehead against his chest a couple times before smiling up at him sadly. He was about to ask what that smile was for, about to pull you into another kiss to wipe it from your lips, but you quickly reached up and plucked his hat from his head. He blinked owlishly, and you just deposited it onto your own head, pulling it down at the back so the front didn’t dip into your line of sight.
“So you have a reason to try and find me,” you winked, and then spun on your heel and jogged toward your friend. He was left standing there, statue-still, watching after you. Just as you were about to step out of the door, you turned back and winked, tipping the hat in his direction before disappearing.
+++
It was three days later when he finally saw you again. The day after the party, he had gone back to the college and asked around for the nursing building. He had walked around the entire thing, peeking into lecture halls and classrooms to no avail. The next day he stood outside the building from nine am to three pm, watching every student that walked in and out, but you weren’t there then either. On the third day, he did the same thing, slowly losing hope as the minutes ticked by.
This would be the last time he would try. He was already skipping out on helping his dad and brothers put up fencing, and they were all asking about what exactly he was doing going to the university every day. He was desperate to see you again, hat be damned. Then, just as he was standing to walk back to the truck, a group of girls came walking out of a building next to the nursing one. They turned and took the path that went by the bench he was sitting on. Someone in the group laughed, a loud sound that echoed off the buildings and he watched the group as they got closer. A girl near the middle was the one laughing, and in her arms, she was carrying a cowboy hat. His heart leapt and he jogged closer, squinting in the sunlight.
There you were, head thrown back in laughter, a bag over your shoulder, and your arms wrapped around his cowboy hat, pressing it closer to your chest. David’s smile almost broke his face and he almost ran over to you, forcing himself down to a jog so he wouldn’t be out of breath when he met you again.
You noticed him approaching and your cheeks began to hurt, lips pulling up and eyes squinting with glee. Your heart was running though you weren’t, and you began to walk even quicker, leaving your group behind. You stopped just when he did, not barely two feet away. Your friends called your name but you ignored them, holding the cowboy hat by the rim and moving closer to him until your chests brushed together. You reached up with both hands and settled it on his head, shifting it from left to right until it was centred but still stayed leaned back so you could look into his eyes. His beautiful, beautiful, eyes that you had dreamed of for the past three days.
“You found me,” you breathed out, voice slightly higher than usual.
“Took me long enough,” he chuckled, reaching out to cup your cheek. He didn’t wait another breath, just leaned down and kissed you, nose pressing into your cheek. You laughed into the kiss but wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself as close to him as you could. You could hear your friends gasping and whispering in the background, clearly so could David as he began chuckling into the kiss, but neither of you pulled away until you had had your fill.
“So that means you’ll let me take you out on a date, right?” He asked as soon as you had detached yourself from him, and you began to laugh though you were breathless. You nodded vigorously, pulling out a notebook from your bag and ripping out a piece of paper from it. You pressed it to his chest and wrote your number on it, scolding him to stay still as he giggled about the sharp tip of the pen feeling ticklish. You folded it up and pressed it into the chest pocket of the jacket he was wearing then reached up and quickly kissed him again.
“Call me and maybe we can play that dangerous game again,” and then you walked back to your friends, dragging them away from where he was standing as they giggled and squealed questions at you.
David stood there for a few moments just staring at the spot where you had stood and smiling like an idiot. He reached up and touched his lips, pressed his finger to his dimple, then yelled a ‘WOOHOO!” into the air, pumping his fist up before walking back to the truck, with such an aggressive spring in his step that he was almost skipping.
+++
David turned onto his back in the bed and groaned. His stomach had been hurting randomly for the past few days and he couldn’t understand why. But then his eyes landed on you, curled up around a pillow beside him but with your back pressed into where his chest had been moments before, and any other thought went out of the window.
You had this thing about being close to him, even in sleep. You loved hugging a pillow, but you had to have your back pressed to him in some way. Sometimes, if he moved onto his other side during the night, he could hear the little snuffles you let out in your sleep before shuffling back until you could feel him again. It might be his favourite thing about you.
You had been dating for half a year now, the best six months of his life, and last weekend he had gone and bought a ring. Kerry had said it was too soon, but still came along to help him pick it out. Kevin and Michael had come too, each one pointing out different rings they thought you would like. He mostly ignored them because he knew you, he knew exactly which one to get, and they were mostly just there because they had jumped into the truck before he could peel out of the driveway.
It was sitting in his left cowboy boot under the bed right then, just waiting for the perfect time to be pulled out and presented to you. He was thinking about doing it after he came back from the match in Japan, that way if he won, you could marry a champion, and if he lost, this would be the perfect thing to console him. He knew you would say yes, you seemed to love him enough, but doubt was the brain’s best friend, and he knew he would worry about your answer until you finally gave it to him.
David turned back onto his side as a pang of pain shot through his stomach again and he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling himself close to you until he could press his nose to your hair and breathe in your smell. You seemed to purr or hum, snuggling further into the bed and him, and he closed his eyes to go back to sleep.
+++
“How’s Japan?” You asked him excitedly. You were in his room, on his bed, the phone sitting on his side-table and the handset sandwiched between your head and shoulder. You were painting your toenails a beautiful sunshine yellow with red accents to match his costume.
“Bright,” he chuckled, “Tokyo is all lights and people, nothing like home.” He seemed to sigh at the thought and you wanted to reach through the phone and kiss him. “How is home by the way? How’re the brothers?”
You basically lived in their house now, had done for the last month or so. David never wanted you to leave and living there was better than a cramped student dorm anyway. He drove you to the university for all your classes and you came along to watch his every match. You helped his mom cook dinner, ate with the entire family every night, and then you went to sleep in David’s bed. Well, your bed too considering that the sheets now had small flowers on them.
The rest of the room was beginning to look a little more mixed as well. His dad had moved the old vanity from storage into David’s room by the window so you had somewhere nice to get ready. His cologne and your perfume shared the windowsill, and your different craft projects now took up any random free space. A second side-table had even been added and you kept a framed picture of you and David on it.
“Same old, same old,” you sighed down the phone, sticking your tongue out as you tried to paint right to the edge without getting any nail varnish on your skin. “Kerry’s been practising and working out like crazy, He caught his hand in the wiring of the fence yesterday so I got to practice my stitching skills,” you could almost see the smile on his face.
“He’s ok though, right?” He asked, and the urge to hug him was almost paralysing.
“Yeah, he’s all good, keeps trying to train with the punching bag and I have to stop him every damn time,” you huffed and this time when he laughed you stopped painting your nails to press the phone a little harder to your ear. You wanted it to be as close as possible, as if he was sitting right next to you, just laughing by your ear. “He’s gonna rip his stitches David! He refuses to listen to me, and it’s not like your dad is any help, he just wants Kerry to keep training.” You huffed again but there was no malice in it.
“You know what they’re like, he’ll only learn his lesson once he’s ripped them and feels the pain,” David pointed out, and you knew he was right. “How’s Michael?”
“He’s ok, but I do feel a bit bad for him. Now that you’re not here to focus on, your dad has a lot more time to try and push Michael to wrestle, and the poor kid just wants to play guitar or go practice with his band.”
Since David had left earlier in the week, you had made sure to be the one to pick Michael up after school so you could take him to practise with his band. You did whatever you could to distract their dad so Michael could even practise in his room. Last time you asked Fritz to go into extreme detail about his gun collection and even though he could clearly hear Michael playing, your acting was convincing enough to make him keep going until the last gun.
David didn’t say anything for a few moments, and you knew he was struggling with his feelings. He never quite knew how to feel about his dad and brother’s constant conflict. His dad was his mentor, the reason he was where he was, but he could also see how his dad hurt his brothers, how he had flipped on Kevin like it was nothing, and refused to even acknowledge that Michael might not want to wrestle.
There was a muffled groan from his end, like he had bit down on something to stop the sound but it hadn’t completely worked. There was a cough, wet and ragged, and your heart began to pound. You sat up straighter, disregarding the clink of nail polish bottles.
“David? You ok?” You asked hurriedly.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just have a little cough,” he brushed it off but he sounded more tired than before.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound great,” you clutched the phone with both hands, trying to listen to a sign of anything else.
“Seriously, I’m alright, just a little cough, I promise. It’ll go away soon, I already got some cough syrup for it.”
“Ok, ok, good, you’ll tell me if it gets worse, right?”
“You’ll be the first to know,” he placated, and you could hear the smile.
You were both silent for a few minutes, just listening to each other breathe. You wished you were there with him, to do all the little things you know he would ignore when he was on his own. You wanted to check his temperature, pour out the cough syrup for him and force him to drink it. To run your hands through his hair and wrap him up in a blanket. Instead you stayed quiet until a few more minutes had passed.
“I miss you,” you whispered, and you heard him take a deep breath.
“I miss you too, but soon you’ll be able to say you’re dating a champion,” he joked but you didn’t laugh.
“I already do.”
+++
You were at home when the news came. You were sitting on David’s bed, hugging his pillow and trying to figure out the time difference so you could stop worrying about why he hadn’t called yet. The bell rang from downstairs and you began to wonder who would come visit in the middle of a workday. You waited for any indication that you were needed but you couldn’t hear anything, just murmurs. Something dropped and hit the floor, like a stack of papers or a phone. It was quiet for a few moments, the air almost sterile of sound, then the main door opened and closed and you heard a car engine slowly begin to fade away. Dread settled on your chest, like an anchor slowly being pulled back onto a ship, heaving and heaving slowly onto you. You ran down the stairs, almost slipping on the wood in your socks. You came into the dining room where Fritz was sitting at the table, the phone in front of him but the handset on the floor.
“Is he okay? Is he hurt? What’s the-”
“He’s dead.”
It was quiet for a full minute. Then someone hit a gong right next to your ear. It rang, over and over and over. It wouldn’t stop ringing. One of your hands came up and began to claw at your ear, bending the shell and pressing it down but the ringing wouldn’t stop. There was gauze over your eyes, you stared at the phone, at the handset on the floor, but you only saw bits and pieces, flashes of white.
“A ruptured intestine,” he continued, “they found him in his bed, must’ve passed in the night.”
It echoed in your brain, bouncing around in the spinal fluid. You heard ‘a ruptured intestine’ over and over and over. You sat down on the floor where you were, the skin on your legs rubbing uncomfortably on the rug. You pressed your hands to your head, hoping if you squeezed it enough everything would stop. But it kept on.
‘A ruptured intestine, a ruptured intestine, a ruptured intestine.’
+++
His boots were still under the bed. You had gotten on your knees once, and looked at them, just sitting under the bed, waiting for him to return. You had to look away, had to stand and move, because you knew that if you didn’t, you would have just stayed on the floor and cried for the rest of your life. You couldn’t even touch them.
Every night you lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling. Some nights you cried so hard Doris came in and lay next to you, shushing you like a baby. Other nights you just stared. Stared and stared and stared. Some nights you whispered to yourself, and it was always the same thing. “I’m never gonna love again.”
@tourturedfolkloredepartment
#david von erich x reader#david von erich#david von erich x you#the iron claw#the iron claw fic#the iron claw fanfiction#harris dickinson#harris dickinson character#angst#major character death#spoilers#the iron claw spoilers
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im finally emotionally stable enough to write out my iron claw thoughts. summoning mely here because its all spoilers <3 @delicatepoets
the performances were PERFECT!!!! i knew harris dickinson would be amazing but zac CARRIED the movie!!!! not that the other actors weren't good but sm of it relied on him. compared to something like aftersun, where the performances were amazing but the script/directing was really creative and thoughtful, it felt like the iron claw really needed top acting to work.
maura was SO!!!! in every scene!!! i could not stop watching her and trying to figure her out. and i was surprised how good the actor who played mike was bc he faded into the background the majority of the movie. but when he became the focus - i sobbed during the press conference. everyone did a good job. the only thing is that i didnt really 'get' kerry? i was most surprised ab that because of how good he is in the bear. i think it had to be the script.
overall it broke me. i hope zac gets some awards attention but i think the campaign might be undermined by the 'averageness' of the directing and script. apparently a lot of the story was left out, it messes with the timeline a lot, and the pacing was not great. and i think the director could've used angles better!!! i wouldn't normally notice but when physicality is part of the movie u think they would make sure the wrestlers dont look smaller than the announcer!!!!!!! i noticed some people say this ab zac but he looked massive. i didnt think he looked short at all. but they should've done a better job filming kerry.
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Ok, some of you may know that I used to be a wrestling fan, but I haven't watched anything in years, but I think this is important for those of you who are planning to watch 'The Iron Claw' and don't know the Von Erich family. I'm not posting to scare anyone away, I'm planning on watching it myself.
I'm putting this under a cut since this is a biographical movie that may not be in the fandom of many who are going to watch it, and I think that some people may need more than a general 'this story is really dark and heavy' warning.
I'm a bit late on this, I have no idea why I didn't put together 'The Iron Claw' and the Von Erich family. I guess I just haven't been paying attention to new releases.
Of course you are free to look up the story of the Von Erich (Adkisson) family, I'm just putting specific content warnings under the cut if you think you may need them and you don't already know the story.
If you don't know the story and don't want to be spoiled, don't look under the cut, but be aware that this is a very dark story.
Child death, adult death, mental health issues, substance abuse, physical disability, suicide.
Content warnings:
Be aware that the following either is in the movie, or is highly likely to be in the movie:
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I might regret it but what is the iron claw about. I need to know whether I should pack tissues to see this movie 😭
Ok so it’s about the Von Erich family, who have been inducted to the WWE hall of fame. Like if you want all the details you could just read their Wikipedia page. But it’s about 5 brothers whose dad is obsessed with wrestling and desperate to have the World Heavyweight Championship belt in his house. He doesn’t care which son it is but he needs it in the family. He is incredibly aggressive and a terrible father, and all of his sons submit to his will and get into wrestling because they simply can’t disappoint their father.
It’s the most tragic film I’ve ever watched because all but one of his sons die, and 2 of them commit suicide. In reality there were 6 brothers, and 3 of them committed suicide, but they left one of the brothers out “because it would’ve made the movie too sad.”
All that being said, I think it’s a fantastic movie with incredible acting, and yes you should bring tissues.
#the iron claw#iron claw#the iron claw spoilers#iron claw spoilers#spoilers#zac efron#jeremy allen white#tw suicide#suicide#tw death#death#child death#like it’s an objectively good movie but man it’s a downer
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This was the saddest fucking movie I've ever seen.
This review is going to be all over the place, but as per usual I'm going to start with a deeply personal overshare of where I'm at for this viewing. I'm seeing this as the first watch of the New Year after coming off of 2 months of deeply missing my sister, who lives in another state. This movie understands what it is to go through your little everyday needs while having a giant sibling sized hole in your heart. I sobbed at this movie, especially during the dream sequence of the afterlife, but throughout the whole film I was getting chills. I sobbed last week at Christmas Mass because the priest started his homily with a comment on how all of his Christmas memories are of him and his two older sisters, in the house that they grew up in, which has been sold so that place truly only exists in his memory now. The first thing I thought of when I woke up on Christmas morning was how my sister and I would always get up extra early, before our parents, and just sit together in front of the tree and look at the lights. That's what Christmas means to me. My childhood house is also now sold. I was so affected by Kevin's statement that he doesn't even need to be doing anything in particular with his brothers-it's just the being together. I will be going to my sister's for Christmas next year.
It cannot be overstated how masterful Zac Efron is in this film. When David is announced as having the match against the heavy weight champ you just see Kevin embody every emotion. The betrayal, the holding himself together, the wanting to cry, the disappointment, the growing cold. Then again when Kerry gives his father the gun and Kevin bores his eyes into Pam as if to say, maybe if we just pretend we aren't here it'll be okay. I cried very hard at the sight of absolutely swelling Zac Efron cradle his little baby. So beautiful and you just know that this man will try his hardest to not be his father (whether that means running away to protect them from the curse or by remaining and being triggered by his own grief). There was such a delicate balance of conveying his limited worldview, wanting to live up to his dad's expectations (manipulations), and support his brothers above everything else. Just masterful from Efron, and I didn't think I'd see that to this level.
I came to this movie because A24, I love Richard Reed Perry, and I'm a huge fan of the talent that is Harris Dickinson. I think the final straw was that A24 mailed me my zine which had the pinup of my baby, Harris Dickinson. I hope to continue to watch everything he does (plug here for FX's mini series, Trust). Every time Harris was on screen I had the dopiest grin on my face because he just makes me happy and especially so as David. And then the unexpected happened. I didn't know anything about the Von Erich's and I certainly don't know anything about wrestling (I did love the Netflix series, GLOW), so this was almost completely foreign territory to me. Wrestling is just heterosexual drag, right? I knew this movie would be sad, and I knew that I'm super susceptible to anything that showcases siblingship, but this was a new level. The tragedy of it all. Sometimes the movie felt clunky but that kind of fit with the body shapes thematically. Some lines, especially from the father didn't feel natural to me. I think Maura Tierney was outstanding for what little screentime she had. The music, the costuming, as well as the camera work was all superb. I also did like seeing Michael J Harney and Lily James. Also I LOVE when a movie has a, Thank God I'm A Country Boy, needle drop (looking at you, Pauly Shore's Son-in-Law)!!! Once again, I was crushed by the ending dialogue and the way this movie just gets what it means to love your family. I loved that two background wrestlers were actual Von Erichs! Maybe I should rewatch Blue Valentine or Dead Man Walking before saying this is the saddest movie I've ever seen but man, I have not sobbed like that in a theater before. I'm glad I managed to stick with it. This movie bonzo gonzo'd my heart.
#the iron claw spoilers#the iron claw#zac efron#harris dickinson#lily james#michael j harney#maura tierney#Sean Durkin#A24#a24 films#a24 movies#film#cinema#movie#movie review#films#review#movies#film review#film reviews#movie reviews#sisters#sister#brothers#brother#siblings#sibling#siblingship#richard reed perry#thank god im a country boy
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The Iron Claw 2am thoughts with spoilers
Still thinking about The Iron Claw and how we are driving in the car with Kevin and David when they pick up Mike from band practice and then driving with him to the house to learn of David’s death and driving with him to the house to be there to hear Kerry kill himself.
How the shot to find Mike is wide and so far away from the family searching for him that even when the scene ends when they find Mike, the family is still separated by space.
How it highlights the loneliness Kevin will/does feel in these moments like when Kevin purposely sleeping at the gym instead of going home to his little family because he’s afraid of giving the curse to his little family.
I have so many thoughts right now
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"Claw Noir should've had a buzz cut or a mohawk. Why does he have so much hair?" I don't know, maybe it reflects how wild and unrestricted he feels:
#I told myself I wasn't gonna make this post but here we are#seen some people say that Cat Walker and Claw Noir's hair is the same green#I thought the same when i first saw it but uh.. definitely not#anyway I'm having way too much fun with Claw Noir's design#I both unironically and ironically love it#miraculous ladybug#ml paris special#ml paris spoilers#claw noir#cat walker
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i had a fun time :)
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S E X Y
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Love Wyll lots and lots, but roleplay-wise the game is really lacking an option to say "My guy please look me in my infernal eyes and tell me exactly which ones of your new features make you a devil and a monster people won't trust until you prove yourself, I'm waiting" when you're playing as a tiefling
EDIT: a necessary clarification that I understand WHY else he feels wrong about those features! I just think we should've been able to comment on the phrasing if our tiefling decides to be bitchy about it.
(should be able to welcome him to the club like he does with our eye too, but that's not an option either, sigh)
#tav posting#wyll i get it i do you're traumatized and dysphoric in this new body but#mourning claws and ridges and spikes as negative features in the middle of a tiefling party#TO a tiefling PC#“people may see a devil after their souls” thanks for the reminder#did YOU see people with these features that way before the Grove?#can't decide if it's ironic or just evil that they made the only black man in the party be this inconsiderate to in-universe fantasy racism#bg3 spoilers#THIS ISN'T HATE I SWEAR I love Wyll I just think he himself would hate to come across that way which is why it's sad we can't call him out
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Sharing this tweet I just saw with pictures of Harris Dickinson and his on-screen kids from both "A Murder at the End of the World" and "Scrapper" and they're such cute pics!!! 😀 First time I've seen the one on the left with the kid that played his son Zoomer (and tagging as spoilers since it sort of is though all the episodes are out of that show). Loved both of the projects and seeing Harris play a dad, and again makes me wonder what it would've been like if "The Iron Claw" kept in about David and his baby daughter Natosha, though again I get why that and other parts of their story was cut as it would've been even more tragic than it already was.
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running to mely's inbox as soon as i have a coherent thought but zac efron better be nominated for all the major awards for the icon claw!!!!!!
#his performance was perfect#ill never recover from 'we'll be ur brothers dad'#the iron claw spoilers#the iron claw#.txt
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”know it’s for the better” ; aventurine
summary — memories come in waves and tonight, he’s drowning; the grief of his past haunts him and visits him in his dreams; alternatively, you comfort and assure him after his nightmare.
pairing — aventurine (w/gender-neutral reader)
warning — 2.1 QUEST SPOILERS (about his past)
tags — established relationship, angst with comfort, soft and kind of insecure aventurine, mentions of alcohol (he just drinks a glass that’s all), there’s some fluff if you squint, lots of metaphors, mentions of death, mentions of depressing and negative thoughts, all told and narrated in aventurine’s POV, i never proofread, 2.1k words ; one-shot
tagging — @toorurs !! dedicating this to you
note — this is what reading his character analysis, character essays, scene and dialogue interpretations, and his whole ass lore and dissecting each one of it does to you. day 3 of writing for him.
“kakavasha.”
he opens his eyes to the sight of his planet: seemingly empty, barren, as nothingness continues to stretch towards the horizon. there was nothing on this land but the stench of death and cruelty that lingers in the air—it was heavy, thick, as if the clouds were binding him down to the ground and forcing him to look at what once was. he could feel the ache in his chest, the feeling of familiarity starting to seep into gaps between his fingers, and the the lump starting to form in his throat.
he knew this place, the stones that surrounded him and the mountain that leered over him. he knew of this, was all too familiar with it—the sunken ground and disturbed dirt from when his sister knelt before him with tears in her eyes as she uttered her promise of reunion before she bid him her farewell (he’ll always carry her last words as if it was part of his existence). the memory plays in his mind all over again, the voice of his sister echoing:
“this is where we go our own way, kakavasha…”
“...this is a gift from gaiathra, and you are kakavasha, whose good fortune will bless your sister with success.”
“as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry. so run, kakavasha, do not be afraid, and do not look back…”
he could feel the rain starting to pour down on his form but he doesn’t run, he doesn’t move, he doesn’t seek for something that will shelter him from the cold. instead, he stands under the pouring rain with heavy shoulders and thoughts that seem to claw and scratch at him. no matter how much he tries to cover up and escape from his past, to run and run until his feet hurt, until he falls and crumbles to nothing, it will still haunt him. it chases after him; it hides in the corners of his room, behind the wallpapers, and amidst the settling dust and cobwebs, and it creeps up on tuesday mornings as he tries to revere the sun that once never shined on him. he’s always painfully reminded of the things that he has to carry—the weight of his sister who carries her parents, and who carries their parents.
“...the rain will accompany you, and the rain will bless you.”
the distant cries, screams, and roars all ring inside his ears but the sound of the rain breaking into smaller pieces as it falls to the ground that he walks on masks it all.
he feels so pathetic. the hatred that he has for himself continues to gather and manifest into his likeness to sing choruses of condemnation in the guise of shattered and broken praises that are shaped like knives, stabbing his guts and making blood spill from his lips (he doesn’t know what his mother looked like anymore yet he could remember the distinct smell and taste of iron as blood stains his skin).
“why are you all doing this…” he remembers what he answers to her sister before she walks off to her death. he remembers asking her as he covers his ears with his small hands—too weak and frail to even carry stones, much less move boulders. he remembers the pain, the confusion, the guilt of it all. he was just a small child who had too much to hold.
what even is the worth of his life? it was just merely 60 tanbas. even if he dresses himself in luxurious and expensive clothing his past self could never dream of having, it doesn’t rid of the grasp the ipc has over him; his shackles. the cold and harsh metal is not there anymore but he could still feel it tugging on his neck, he could still feel the letters burn as it engraves itself—death would have been a more merciful fate for him than being held by such cruel and dirty hands.
“kakavasha.”
aventurine opens his eyes to the sight of his ceiling. there was no empty land that is of semblance of his planet before him but instead there were the patterns, the walls, and the chandelier that hangs in the middle of it. he was in his room; the silence accompanied with the ticking sound of the clock strikes a balance between quietude and noise.
1:56, he looks at the time. it was still deep into the night—the stars cast its light into his room as it poured itself on the cold floor. there was a rustle by his side and he turned his head to look at you, peacefully sleeping in the comfort of his blankets and you mumbled something underneath your breath though he couldn’t hear it. your face scrunches for a moment before it relaxes into a soft one and he watches all of it happen; he wonders what you’re dreaming of.
unable to sleep—a heavy feeling resides in his chest ever since he woke up—, he slides himself out of the bed. slowly and silently, dare he might disturb your sleep. he slips into his slippers before walking off to the direction of his kitchen. he doesn’t even know what he’s going to do there; he’s not even thirsty nor hungry, he just follows where his feet brings him (that’s how it usually was for him, often aimless and wandering with no direction in mind, he just doesn’t where to go, where he belongs).
he’s not an alcoholic but sometimes he just seeks for the bitterness of the liquid—to replace the taste of blood on his tongue and momentarily feel what it’s like to have nothing on your shoulders; his hands are empty yet it holds so much. he pours himself a small glass, honey-coloured liquid spills into it and a few drops gets into the surface counter. he picks the glass up, swirls the liquid for a few moments and watches its motion, before he brings it to his lips and drinks it all.
the scent is harsh against his nose and the liquid burns at his throat. the taste was too bitter and he felt like spitting it all out but he didn't, he continued to swallow it until there was nothing left in his fill. he tried to think of something else, to avoid those thoughts from entering his mind: the plant there needs to be watered, that reminds me of the light bulb has to be changed, do i even have a future ahead of me?, the painting there is slightly out of place, am i even supposed to survive?, are you still in his room?
he wonders if you’re still tucked in his sheets, if you’re still sleeping in his bed, he wonders what you were dreaming of that got you mumbling and knitting your eyebrows, he wonders when you’ll walk away from him after you realize how ugly and utterly worthless he actually is.
“‘rine?” a voice calls out to him along with the light sound of approaching footsteps. as soon as you enter the kitchen, you are greeted by the sight of him: an empty glass in his hand with a newly-opened bottle of alcohol in front of him. it was currently 2 in the morning, your lover was missing from your side when you woke up but you found him drinking alone in the kitchen.
“what’s wrong, my love? are you okay?” you ask, worry following your tone as you spoke. but aventurine remains silent. he can’t tell you his thoughts, of the overwhelming despair that drags him back down to his misery, and it’s not because he doesn't want to but he can’t—it would break your heart.
(and you know his silence too well. you didn’t carve yourself inside his heart just for nothing, you didn’t consume his flesh to not know the humming of his thoughts inside his chest.)
“you know you can tell me anything, right?” you didn’t care that he’ll break your heart. you wanted all of him and that includes his hatred and anger. if it makes him feel better, break it, shatter it into pieces and you’ll keep on picking yourself up for him. even if you don’t have the ability to stop the downpour, you’ll walk with him through the rain.
after what seems to be moments of hesitation coming from him, he shuffles from his seat and approaches where you stood. and he lets himself fall and crumble for you to catch him in your embrace—he feels safe, he feels okay but the grief, misery, and guilt still tugs at his heart ever so often as it beats.
(“where do i put all of this grief?” he asked you once while you admired the stars with him. “you hold them until it turns to love.”)
you caress his back softly, a small act of comfort as you cradled him in your arms. he doesn’t put all of his weight on you but he pulls you close and buries his face on the crook of your neck, heaving out a sigh as he did; you let him, let him whisper his worries and write his thoughts on your skin.
“did you have a nightmare again?”
“…not really.” the faint smell of alcohol wafts to your nose as he speaks. “i just…”
“it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“i’m sorry.” he says and you didn’t fail to notice the crack in his voice and the feeling of something warm and wet on your skin. you hold him closer, tighter, and you brush your hand against his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft locks.
“you have nothing to apologize for. it’s not your fault, kakavasha. nothing is ever going to be your fault.”
“it feels like it does.”
“no, no, my love… you were just a child. you did all that you can to survive and fulfill your promise.”
you start to gently sway him into the melody of your hum and he follows your form like the wind would on your hair. this continues for long until he’ll let go—you’ll hold him for as long as he wants to if it would lessen his burdens.
“i wouldn’t love you any less nor will i think of you as worthless.”
he has days likes this, days where he contemplates and thinks of everything, days where he doesn’t know what to do or what to say, days where he feels like he never changed and he’s still the same weak child who walked away from his sister instead of begging and asking her to go with him (the survivor’s guilt goes hard), days where it feels like everything is falling apart and he’s left on his own again, days where all he wants to do is to just cry in your shoulder—
“are you feeling better?” you ask him as he lifts his head from your shoulder; dry tears are left like trails of stars on his features. you cup both of his cheeks and wipe away the remnants of his misery and ache.
“mhm, a little bit.” he nods and you beckon him closer to your lips just so you could kiss his forehead before peppering his whole face.
—but there are days of warmth and sunlight. days where it all feels a little bit bearable and he can breath, days where every step he takes isn’t heavy, days where he could taste the kindness of the sun on his lips, days where he wakes up with you by his side and thinks he could have this forever, days where he could hear his mother’s lullaby that would comfort him, days where he could hear his sister’s voice telling him that she’s proud of how far he have come, days where everything feels okay and worth it.
years of these little bits of happiness—in silence, in chaos, in tranquility, in destruction—he wants a lifetime of it with you. and though kakavasha was never a greedy man, the ache, the yearning, and craving for those moments with you fills the empty spaces of his thoughts; you looked like what peaceful dreams are made of.
“i love you.” he knows that you know that already, he just thought he’d say it again.
© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
#aventurine honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#honkai imagines#honkai x reader#honkai#hsr aventurine x reader#hsr x you#hsr aventurine#hsr x reader#aventurine imagines#aventurine x you#aventurine#star rail aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventurine angst#honkai x you#honkai star rail x you#azul.writes
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y’all me and my bestie got high and went to the movies and we decided to watch the iron claw bc zac efron and jeremy allen white. we knew it was a wrestling movie so we were like hell yeah we get to watch hot guys fight for a couple hours this is gonna be great. we were so wrong.
#i don’t wanna post spoilers#so if you’re curious hmu#or send an ask and i’ll just tag it as spoilers#but jesus fucking christ#that was the saddest movie i’ve ever seen#we were not ready for that#i was gonna call it a rollercoaster but it is just always going down#apparently it’s about real people???#fucking hell#the iron claw#jeremy allen white#zac efron
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