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a-singleboat · 4 years

Text

Virtual Reality

Word Count: 2.4k

Request: hi! if your taking requests, i was wondering if you could write a damien x reader, where they meet through Twitch? add anything else you want i always love everything you write, thanks so much!! - anon

Warning(s): like, one swear

It was a Thursday night when you first met him, or rather, heard of him. You had been streaming for five hours heading into your sixth when you decided it might be time for you to log off for the night. As per usual, you took at least thirty minutes at the end of your stream just to talk with your viewers, usually about how their lives were going in exchange for a story from your own day.

Tonight, however, there was an influx of people asking if you’d ever heard of a streamer by the name of Damien Haas, which you hadn’t, and if you would do a collaboration with the man anytime soon. Apparently, your content was eerily similar and you were, and I quote, “Practically the female version of him, looks aside.”

“Damien Haas…” you rolled yourself back closer to your desk, hands settled on your keyboard. You typed his name into the search bar, patiently waiting for Twitch to pull up his account. You clicked into the first one, making an impressed face at the purple checkmark next to his name. You squinted at the screen. “Is this him? In the profile picture with the LEDs in the background?”

You glanced at your chat, chuckling as the viewers started spamming ‘yes’ and ‘oh my god it’s happening,’ and your personal favorite, ‘mom come pick me up the best crossover of 2020 is happening and im SCARED.’

“He plays a lot of Animal Crossing,” you observed, clicking on one of his videos and dragging the tab onto your main monitor so the stream could see it. You skipped through the beginning part, biting into a pretzel as you watched.

“He’s kinda cute,” you commented, laughing as your stream freaked out once more. There were a few people commenting what looked like it could be a ship name though you ignored it. “Shame I’d never meet him, though.”

You paused his video, taking note of the time, before rolling out your shoulders. “I think it’s time for me to head out so I’m gonna end this stream with a huge thank you to you all for sticking with me through this entire stream and if you didn’t stay the entire time, I’m glad you decided to join in on the ride even halfway through. I’ll see you guys next time.”

You ended the stream, waving goodbye to your viewers before the light went out and you could relax the smile off your face. Don’t get it twisted, you loved streaming and you loved your viewers but just like any other job, it could get exhausting at times. You shut down your monitors, the screens turning blue before fading to black. You stretched, taking your phone up from its charger and launching yourself into bed, opening your phone and clicking on Twitter.

Much like staying thirty minutes after you were done streaming to talk to viewers, you usually went on Twitter right after to answer questions and respond to DMs. This time, however, instead of opening the app to see a bunch of post-stream questions, your mentions were filled with the video clip of you saying, “He’s kinda cute,” as well as maybe a million people tagging both you and Damien in them.

Well, shit.

Soon enough, that was all that filled your timeline. You couldn’t move in one direction without running into another screencap of you admiring the man. God, you knew the consequences but something in the back of your mind was urging you to reach out to him.

After a few moments of contemplation, the lonely side of you won out, forcing you to message him against your better judgment. Without even thinking about it, you found his Twitter and sent this message:

Hey, I’m sorry about your mentions blowing up because of me tonight. My viewers recommended your Twitch to me and I spoke without thinking about it on Live.

And with no expectation of his response, you fell asleep right there with your phone on your chest and the DM still open.

You woke up the next morning with a sore neck and a dead phone, which was a terrible way to start your day. You rolled over, plugging your device into an outlet before crawling out of bed to start your day. When you weren’t streaming, you worked as a freelance editor for different YouTubers, helping their editors with their workload or even staying on as a Temp for different companies. Occasionally you edited the odd commercial here and there, but those gigs were rare.

Most recently, you had received some material from a group of YouTubers, Smosh. This job was different, however, because if you did well on this you could be looking at a permanent place of employment through their parent company, Mythical Entertainment.

You knew Mythical Entertainment, it was hard not to, especially since your aunt was one of the producers within the company, but tended to ignore everything the company did. The last you’d heard, they’d onboarded another YouTube group (which you did later find out to be Smosh, the same YouTubers whose video you were hired to edit).

After a quick shower and a half-assed attempt at a proper breakfast, you were ready to start your day. You situated yourself behind your monitors, opening the video clips that had been sent to you. The first was a sample video, something that gave you insight on what their editing style was actually like.

But imagine your surprise when you’re staring down the same man you have called cute the night before, his approximately five-eleven stance taking up one-sixth of the space. He was standing next to a blond, who had been marked as “Shayne Topp.”

Despite there being five other people in frame, your eyes kept moving back to Damien’s figure, watching his mannerisms through the screen and laughing along to his jokes when they fell upon deaf ears.

Your eyes slid over to your phone, now decently charged after sitting for so long. On your screen were dozens of notifications. There were maybe two from your mom, asking if you’d be coming home for dinner sometime that week but the majority came from Twitter. You picked up the device, unlocking and responding to your mom with a, “yes,” before opening Twitter.

Nothing much had changed from the night prior. Your mentions were still being flooded with the video from last night but newer content had been ushered in, namely fan edits using footage from your streams and, you assumed, his.

The only major difference, however, was the fact that Damien had responded to your DM from the night prior. The first message read:

It’s really no problem! My stream had mentioned your name before, too.

Followed by the second:

P.S. I think you’re cute, too.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Mr. Damien Haas, the man that you had made a thoughtless comment on stream about, also thought that you were cute. Suddenly, the fact that you had been staring at him for the past hour seemed less stalkerish and more like a blooming crush. You wrote back:

Aw, thanks! Have you seen the newer fan edits? They’re all so talented.

You cringed at yourself. A cute boy started talking to you and you’ve suddenly forgotten how to be suave, not that you really were in the first place. But still, you liked to think you had some tact when talking to people that you found attractive.

Not even a moment later, there came a response.

Yes, I have, he responded. And I agree! They are all very talented individuals.

You looked from the monitor in front of you. You had about a quarter of the footage left to go through before you could start editing but this technically wasn’t due until the following night. Feeling emboldened by the fact that he had actually responded, you replied:

Are you going to TwitchCon on Friday? We should meet up or something.

Anxiously you awaited his response, taking his silence as an opportunity to watch a bit more of the footage and take down notes according to the sample they’d given you. Roughly thirty minutes later is when the next response came in, reading as an affirmative to both questions.

You didn’t respond, choosing to leave your social media for after you’d finished editing the video. Your heart still pounded, however. Just the thought that there was a possibility for the two of you to meet was, simply put, insane. You’d just heard of the guy the night before and decided that he was going to be your latest hyperfixation.

But who could blame you? He was a nice, funny guy that showed the slightest bit of attraction towards you. It didn’t help that you were a sucker for guys that were nice to you.

Fast forward to the Friday of TwitchCon, also known as the first day of TwitchCon. You and Damien had been talking steadily over Twitter DMs and just last night you had gained his phone number, giving you even more access to the man than you had before. But of course, who were you if you didn’t tease your fans with the prospect of you meeting.

The night before, at the end of your stream, you’d given your fans the little tidbit of information that you and Damien were, in fact, planning on meeting up sometime during TwitchCon and would be greeting fans together for an hour at your booth.

That sent Twitter into a frenzy, both of your combined fans getting your ship name to trend within the hour, which confused the hell out of a bunch of locals.

It was nearing the time you and Damien had set to meet up. The plan was you’d meet around twelve for lunch, take an hour for yourselves, before going back to your booth and meeting with fans for an hour or so as promised.

You had never been more nervous than you were in that moment. Not only were you about to meet your three-day-old crush but apparently a very popular YouTuber. You tried not to let the thought mess with your head. One of your friends, Wilbur Soot (who you played Minecraft with from time to time) was poking fun at you for being nervous about meeting a popular YouTuber.

After three years of streaming and gaining a solid following, you’d think you’d be used to meeting other popular content creators. But because it was him, you found yourself unable to think straight.

“What if I fuck up?” you asked Wilbur anxiously. He’d flown in from London for this event at your insistence and because you’d offered to pay half his airfare to get there and back. He didn’t have his own booth as his arrival was very last minute, but he didn’t mind. He signed the occasional poster though his main purpose was to provide you mental and emotional support.

“You won’t fuck up,” he comforted, leafing through one of the comics a fan had given you. The entire thing was hand-drawn, which was an insane fact in itself. It looked professional, which was what blew you away when you’d received it. “Well, you won’t fuck up as badly as you did when you first met Schlatt.”

You groaned in embarrassment. “Don’t remind me.”

Long story short, you’d dumped a red in color slushy on the man accidentally after tripping over an unmarked cable. It really wasn’t your fault but the boys hadn’t let you live it down since then.

Half a moment later, Wilbur was poking your side. “Is that him?” he asked, jabbing his pointer finger into your side while looking in the opposite direction. He was looking at a familiar figure walking down the hallway toward your booth. He stopped for a moment to take a photo with a fan, talking to them about something, before continuing on his way toward you.

Your eyes locked and you gave him a smile while trying to beat Wilbur into no longer poking you. He stopped when you slapped his arm the first time, sticking his tongue at you before going on his phone. You rolled your eyes at his half-assed attempt of pretending he wasn’t about to start listening in on your conversation.

“Hey, Y/n, right?” Damien asked as he approached. You nodded, reaching out for a handshake but becoming pleasantly surprised when he instead pulled you in for a hug.

“You ready for lunch?” you asked glaring slightly at Wilbur as he made kissy faces over Damien’s shoulder. Luckily, Damien hadn’t noticed your moron of a best friend.

“Yeah, I saw this sushi place on the way in if you wanted to try that?”

“I’d be down,” you agreed, reaching behind your table to grab your bag. Wilbur was set to meet with a few other Minecraft streamers, meaning you didn’t have to worry about him while you had lunch. You looked over your shoulder, making sure everything was set for you to leave before saying goodbye to Wilbur.

Over the course of lunch, you and Damien had gotten to know each other pretty well. Once the conversation moved away from your fans and, well, work, and more into personal details, you found that you actually weren’t all that similar. For starters, Damien loved watching anime while your guilty pleasure was Gilmore Girls. The one show you both had a love for, however, was Avatar the Last Airbender, which made sense.

Another thing was that he actually enjoyed being in front of the camera while you tolerated it on most days, really only putting on your face cam for the last thirty minutes on most days. Despite that, he still classified himself as an introvert.

You returned back to your booth much later than you anticipated, thoroughly shocked at the line that had formed with Wilbur at the front of it, entertaining the fans that had shown up early to meet both you and Damien.

“Y/n!” one fan called, pointing in your direction. Immediately, the entire line turned and gaped at the sight of you and Damien walking together. You greeted them happily, stopping for pictures and verbally promising that you’d stay until you got to meet everyone personally.

“You really love your fans,” Damien observed as you put your things back down behind the table. Wilbur had set up shop on your right side, chatting with a few people at the front of the line.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere without them,” you admitted, pulling a silver sharpie from your bag. You handed a gold one to Damien. “I also wouldn’t have gotten to meet you without them, which I’m still sorry about, by the way. Your feed must have been chaotic.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded, grinning up at him. “Yes, they do.”

Permanent

@beautiful-holland @toms-order @starlightfound @grandmascottlang @positiveparker @bippity-boppity-boopa @caswinchester2000 @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch

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deepdaleducks · 5 years

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Different League

Author’s Note - I wrote this based on one of my favourite songs - Heathrow by Catfish and the Bottlemen. Maybe it’s because of their aesthetics or the way a large number of their music videos are shot, but whenever I hear this song and imagine the relationship playing out it’s always in black and white. This song reminds me of drives late at night down empty roads and cold mugs of tea in the kitchen. So when you read this I recommend listening to the song first, during or after whatever your style is. I just really want you guys to listen to the song so you can maybe understand the inspiration behind this piece. It’s the first thing I’ve written in a while so let us know what you think. I did say this was the kind of piece you should read at night but I’m posting at noon because I want to go out tonight. Hope you enjoy.

He hasn’t heard from you in weeks when your name is lighting up the screen of his phone. You’ve been away, been busy, and he knows that. He’s surprised because he never expects to hear from you, never calls or texts first, never thinks that maybe someday it will be more than it is.

It’s earlier than usual when you call. The sun hasn’t even begun to set outside his window but he’s already wound down for a night on the couch. You’re not even on the phone for long. A quick “Hi I just boarded a flight back to London; can you pick me up later?” before you’re gone again. He’s agreeing - of course he’s agreeing – because no matter what Eric says he can’t seem to let you out of his life. Even if all he gets is the odd day with you every other month, or the three am call when you can’t sleep or the photo on Instagram of you somewhere out in the world.

The next time his phone is lighting up its Eric’s name flashing across his screen, almost as if Eric had some kind of sixth sense that would tell him when you had called. He answers after a minute, trying to act nonchalant when Eric asks if his night on the couch is boring enough for him to want a game of FIFA. He plays it off saying he’s busy but Eric doesn’t believe him, so he presses further. They’ve had similar conversations in the past and so he already knows how it will turn out. Eric will tell him not to go. To let you get a taxi and stay in a hotel. To ignore every one of your phone calls until you decide to stop calling. Instead of shedding any details, he’s vague – saying something has come up and he has to go out – and he’s quickly trying to end the conversation before Eric can begin to ask any more questions.

He’s setting off with plenty of time to spare, the sun now set but the sky far from black. He stops at a service station on the way and contemplates buying you some flowers. But people greet their loved ones at the airport with flowers. People greet their wives, fiancées and girlfriends at the airport with flowers. And you weren’t any of the above. He settles for a pack of your favourite crisps and a bottle of Lucozade, knowing you’ll be hungry from your flight.

Your plane hasn’t landed by the time he reaches the airport so he parks his car and walks to the terminal. When his phone rings he thinks it’s you so he answers without looking at the caller ID. He expects your voice but instead he’s greeted by a deeper voice, Eric’s voice.

“Why are you at Heathrow Airport?” Eric asks, forgoing any greetings. He responds with a lie, saying he’s not, but it’s useless. “Yes you are, I have your find my friends on and you’re at Heathrow Airport.” Again it’s another conversation they had had in the past so Eric skips ahead in the script. “You’re picking her up again, aren’t you? Oh for fuck’s sake, Del. You know she’s only gonna leave again, so what’s the point?”

Eric doesn’t understand, Eric can’t understand. He’s never been there in the car at 1am watching you sing along to your favourite song. He’s never had the pillow talk, or the 6am coffees. He’s never experienced a second alone with you when your defences are down, and so there’s no way he could know how all the pain and heartache is worth it. Even just for a second.

“I don’t care, Eric. She needs me.” And Eric tries to fight, tries to tell him to go home, but he hangs up when he sees you coming through the door into the arrivals lounge. The world is stopping around him and it’s as though he can see colour for the first time since you left. And it’s worth it.

It’s always awkward at first. Neither of you knowing whether to hug or kiss. The boundaries you established on your last visit erased by the time. You stop in front of him and take him in, his eyes a little tired and his hair not as neat as it usually is.

“Your hair is different,” He states with a nod.

“Yeah, I cut it a little – a couple of months ago actually.” You pause for a second, “It really been that long?” He nods again, reaching out a hand to grab your suitcase, motioning for you to head out the door. You fall into step together and when your hands accidentally brush you together it’s like electricity shooting up your veins. Like magnets, your fingers are drawn together and all of a sudden its like no time has passed.

He doesn’t need to ask where you want to go. He knows you want to go home. You always want to go home. And so he lets you sit in silence in the passenger seat as he drives, gorging on the crisps he bought you. The low hum of the radio fills the car and you’re on the M25 before he speaks.

“Where did you fly in from?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Lisbon,” You reply and he hums in response, “I was working there, but my job ended last week,”

Silence fills the car once more and soon he’s pulling up into his driveway and you’re following him into the house. He puts your bag at the bottom of the stairs and heads into the kitchen. You slip off your shoes and follow him, hovering at a distance from where he stands by the kettle.

“Eric says this is a bad idea.” He says, eyes facing forward. “He says its stupid of me to do this with you whenever you need it. Because what do I get out of it? A couple of days with you before you’re gone again?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, unsure of how to respond to his confession. “I just. I’m always gone for so long and then when I’m home,” you hesitate for second, “I never really feel at home unless I’m with you.”

The kettle finishes boiling and he makes you both a cup of tea. The air is still tense, and he remains stood by the kettle arms, pressed down on the counter, looking out the window towards the garden. The magnetic pull between you draws you closer to him and you tentatively wrap your arms around your body pressing your chest into his back and resting your head on his shoulder blade. He lifts a hand to hold one of yours splayed against his chest and for a minute you stay like that – together, finally.

He moves first - turning to face you and raising a hand to cup your face. Every time is like the first time with the two of you. You know each other - each other’s bodies - so well, and yet you’re always so timid, so hesitant. He leans in first, lightly brushing his lips against yours as though he can’t resist. When he pulls away, your eyes meet for the first time.

“I miss you when you’re gone,” He confesses and his words draw you back up to his lips. This kiss is deeper than the last, the hesitation easing away by the second. You both become more confident with your hands again, rediscovering each other’s bodies for what feels like the millionth time. Your fingers wind their way into his hair, pulling him closer until there’s no separation between the two of you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes never want to leave. It’s the kiss you’re always coming back for. And you think it could go further, up the stairs, under the sheets, where you usually end up. Instead he pulls away and you follow his lips as he straightens up.

You’re confused watching him turn on the radio, Lemmonworld by The National softly humming through the speakers. He outstretches his arms and when you wall into them he begins to sway you lightly in time with the music. It’s out of character for him – he’s not a dancer, he’s never been a dancer. But you love to dance, and so occasionally he would play the role of a man who knew how to dance, the way you play the role of a woman who plans on staying. The kitchen is lowly lit and the music is quiet so it feels like heaven – like the rest of the world doesn’t exist – and it’s perfect.

You break first, pulling yourself out of his arms and tugging him up the stairs by the tips of his fingers. And he knows from the look in your eyes that he could have you tonight, but something in his mind tells him that he would rather lie with you under the cover of darkness and just talk, than love you in any other way. He’ll be kicking himself when you leave because he only gets so much of you so often, but right now in the moment it feels right to face you on the pillows and take you in through your words and your laughter.

It’s light conversation, made naturally now all the initial awkwardness of your reunion has subsided. He updates you on how his season is going and you act like you haven’t been following every single one of his games. You tell him about the various jobs you’ve worked whilst being away and he mentions that he saw your old group of friends a few weeks ago in a bar. He doesn’t mention that he bought them all a cocktail each, and you don’t say that you saw the snapchats they sent you asking you to thank him. The air falls silent for a while, your bodies tangled together under the sheets, hands whispering through gentle movements.

“Do you remember the night we met?” He asks, his voice quiet and raspy. You nod subtly, even though he’ll hardly see the motion through the dark. “God, I knew I loved you instantly. I just remember looking at you and thinking wow she’s something else.” His confession makes you laugh lightly, half in embarrassment, half in amazement. “I don’t mind it. This. You coming and going all the time. You only ever calling when you need me. I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry I do it.” You apologise, “You know why I can’t stay though.” He exhales in response, a yeah I know falling from his lips, pillow talk from years ago coming back to him. You had fought that night – the night you confessed everything to him. You’d been back for a longer time than usual. Two weeks. Normally you’d stay a few days, a week at most. But this time was different. You didn’t have anywhere to be and you only wanted to be with him. It was perfect. Two weeks of waking up in his arms. Two weeks of drives at 3am when you couldn’t sleep and matching cups of tea in the dimly lit kitchen. Two weeks of what could be forever. And then the call came in and you were packing your suitcase ready for an 8am flight out to New York. He was begging you to stay when you told him. Saying how much he loved you, how this really could be forever if you didn’t take the job and just stayed. His voice was bitter the whole argument; accusing you of lying to him, leading him on. You yelled back too, saying he could easily end it, easily just not pick up the phone next time you called, easily find someone else. And even after all the bitter words, you fell into bed together, needing one last night connected before it could all crumble apart in the morning. So when you’re breathing had slowed and you were wrapped up in his arms under the sheets, you confessed it all; opened your entire book for him. And he understood.

He didn’t force you to stay, didn’t make you get a taxi to the airport, didn’t look at you like something that was breaking his heart into a million pieces. Instead, he gave you one of his hoodies with the thumb holes bitten into the sleeves, drove you to the airport before the sun had come up and kissed you in the departures lounge like his life depended on it. And when you called three months later and said you would be back in London for 36 hours, he answered and he loved you the way he always does.

When you wake up in the morning, his face is pressed into your neck, arms wrapped around your waist possessively, as if he decided in his sleep that he was never going to let you go. He stirs with your movement, peppering light kisses over your shoulders and up towards your ear. The feeling makes you moan slightly and he takes it as a cue to go further.

In an instant he’s rolled you over so you’re on top of thighs straddling him. He smiles at the sight of you – your hair messy, eyes low, his shirt hanging of your shoulders. Confidently, he tugs at the hem of the shirt, pulling it up slightly until its over your head and discarded on the floor. He’s locking your lips together once more and making you forget why you’re always leaving with every movement.

He takes it slow, not letting a single second be taken for granted. It’s giving and taking, moving in harmony together as the sunlight cracks through the gap in the curtains. It’s electricity in your veins and caffeine to your brain, waking you up more than your morning cup of coffee ever could.

And afterwards, it’s pulling him down the stairs for a morning of breakfast and card games at the dining room table. He’s happy to be here – in your company, hearing your laughter, letting you win at 301 because he knows you love the glory – and he could stay here all day, keep you in doors, not share you with the world.

But he doesn’t mind when you’re pulling him into the city in the afternoon, desperate for some cakes from your favourite bakery. He doesn’t mind when you’re dragging him round every tourist spot in the city because you hardly get to spend time here. He’s more than happy to fork out the money for the last-minute tickets to see The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time on the West End because “it was your mum’s favourite book growing up and it’s only showing until the end of the month”. And he’s watching you in amazement, fully immersed in the play in front of you, and he’s wondering how someone like you could even give him the time of day, let alone give every second you have in the country to him.

When the play finishes, he’s wrapping his jacket around your shoulders to protect you from the cold London air on the walk back to the train station. He doesn’t mind that he’s now cold, because you look warm. He doesn’t mind not getting a taxi, because you look at home. He doesn’t mind being recognised on the tube because the look of content on your face is worth it. All of this is worth it.

“You’re leaving tomorrow aren’t you?” He asks as you’re walking through the door of his house. There’s an air of sadness in his voice but you know he’s not going to fight it. “I saw the text on your phone.”

“Yeah, I, um. I was going to tell you tonight. My flights at 1.” You reply, stepping closer to him, desperate to feel connected to him as much as you can.

“It’s okay,” is all he says, pulling you up the stairs back to his bed so he can make the most of the few hours he has left with you.

In the morning it’s breakfast at the local Wetherspoons, a conversation about the future, and a drive to the airport that feels like it last forever. He’s holding you in the airport as you wait out every last second, letting you go only when you can’t stay any longer without missing your flight.

“I love you, whenever you need me.” He whispers lowly. The noise of the airport is blocked out in the little cocoon you’ve created within each other’s arms.

“I love you, always.” You reply, locking your eyes with his, meaning it.

He hesitates for a minute, taking in your words, unsure of whether to echo them in return. “Yeah me too.” He says, giving up the battle with himself. With that you turn and leave him alone in the airport once more.

He goes home knowing he’ll spend the whole week missing you, listening to Eric’s “I told you so’s”, wishing he hadn’t let you go. But all that, all the hurt, will disappear soon and he will be left with dreams of you under his sheets, in his passenger seat, at his dining room table.

He prepares himself to do it all again, go through the motions, the late-night airport pick up, the slow dance in the kitchen. And although he goes on various dates and meets random girls in clubs none of it compares to you. And none of it could ever come close to the feeling he gets when he turns his phone on after training one day to a missed call from your number and a voice mail attached.

“Hi. So, I just got offered a job in London. A permanent job. I’m gonna take it. So would you maybe pick me up at Heathrow one last time?”

He’s agreeing – of course he’s agreeing. He’s making the familiar drive to the airport under the cover of darkness. Stopping off at his usual service station for your favourite crisps and Lucozade. Meeting you in your usual spot in the arrivals lounge. And you’re tentatively walking towards him, like always, scared you’ll have to start again. But he’s grinning at you like a fool and opening an arm to pull you in and kissing you as though you were oxygen and he hadn’t breathed in a lifetime.

When he pulls away, he’s revealing a bouquet of your favourite lilies from behind his back. Because people greet their loved ones at the airport with flowers. People greet their wives, fiancées and girlfriends at the airport with flowers. And he was hoping you were about to become one of the above.

#i hate writing tags on these things #dele #dele alli #writing #footballer imagine #england nt #spurs #tottenham hotspur #eric dier #different league

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lefilmdujour · 7 years

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500th movie celebration

Last month I have quietly passed the 500th movie landmark on my Tumblr, so I decided to make a post with text instead of pictures for a change.

Five and a half years ago, I have decided to create a Tumblr, my own personal space where I would upload film frames, mostly so I could remember all the many movies I watch. By associating an image to a title, it helps to maintain my mind fresh and pinpoint exactly why I loved or despised a certain movie, linking them to the people I have watched them with and the surrounding circumstances.

The criteria is simple but methodical: no more than one post per day, all films I watch are represented even if I am ashamed of having spent time with them, all films are represented only once regardless of the amount of times I’ve re-watched them throughout the existence of the Tumblr.

I like to watch Artsy Avant Garde movies. Trash movies. 80′s “classics”. 70′s sleaze. Documentaries, a whole lot of them. Surrealism. Nouvelle Vague. The occasional Hollywood blockbuster. Skin. I usually get complaints from people about the amount of nudity represented in the Tumblr.

Movies, regardless of how bad they are to the viewer, always mean something special to someone, so I respect them all.

To celebrate the 500th movie landmark, I decided to pick 50 of the ones that evoke the most vivid memories in me. Quality and circumstance were the deciding factors. Random order. I recommend them all.

The Virgin Spring (Ingmar Bergman) - An inspirational exercise on mythology, symbolism, and pacing.

Philanthropy (Nae Caranfil) - Romanian New Wave is my latest passion. This one is a highlight. A very entertaining tutorial on how to scam and be scammed.

Wings of Desire (Wim Wenders) - Poetry in motion. Falling in love every day.

The World is Big and Salvation Lurks Around the Corner (Stefan Komandarev) - A road movie, on a bicycle. Friendship, memory gaps, backgammon.

The Red Turtle (Michael Dudok de Wit) - If a movie makes me cry, it goes to the favorites bucket. The story is simple, the animation is fluid, the outcome is expected. Yet, its message is always powerful.

The Imposter (Bart Layton) - More than a very compelling story of deception and manipulation, this documentary shines due to its brilliant editing. Made me feel pity, anger, compassion and repulse, often at the same time.

American Movie (Chris Smith) - If you love movies, then you cannot skip this documentary about a film director who makes his life mission to finish his crap movie, despite lack of funds, means, and talent. Funny and heartfelt. Highly quotable.

Mustang (Deniz Gamze Ergüven) - Growing up as a woman in traditional Turkey. A feminist look on a closed society. Beautifully shot.

Mad Max Fury Road (George Miller) - A throwback to a time when action movies were being made with a sense of movement and a requirement for suspension of disbelief. Amazing cinematography, highlighted in the recent “Black & Chrome” edition.

Nights of Cabiria (Federico Fellini) - The fruitless search for true love. Finding it, losing it, finding it again, losing it again, getting up, trying again. “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks in it”.

Bicycle Thieves (Vitorio de Sicca) - A masterpiece. The importance of a bicycle as an instrument of survival in 40′s Italy. Puts things into perspective. Nothing can be taken for granted.

Underground (Emir Kusturica) - In my opinion, the greatest Kusturica movie. The sad story of a country that no longer exists.

The Hourglass Sanatorium (Wojciech Jerzy Has) - A very surreal experience where time and space are meaningless. Living in a lucid dream.

Despair (Rainer Werner Fassbinder) - The only Fassbinder movie I ever watched to date. I always want to watch more of him, but somehow keep forgetting. This movie makes justice to it’s title, despair creeps in slowly, but overwhelmingly by its end.

Mary and Max (Adam Elliot) - A claynimation film about friendship and mental health. Funny and melancholic. People should write letters to their friends more.

Blue is the Warmest Color (Abdellatif Kechiche) - A beautiful love story.

The Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson) - Twee as fuck, like all Anderson’s movies. This man can do no wrong.

Blue Jasmine (Woody Allen) - I have a special interest in movies related with mental health. The last great Woody Allen movie to date.

Grave of the Fireflies (Isao Takahata) - I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I claim that this is the saddest movie ever made. It took me days to recover from the emotional impact it left in me. War makes victims of us all.

Teorema (Pier Paolo Pasolini) - What would you do if you have been touched and subsequently abandoned by Divinity? The final scene is one of my all time favorites.

Forbidden Fruit (Dome Karukoski) - Two girls escape from a oppressive religious cult and experience life for the first time. The scene when one of the girls watches a movie for the first time, in a theater, left a good memory in me.

Forbidden Zone (Richard Elfman) - I like musicals too! This one in particular was scored by Danny Elfman, who also plays the devil in its most memorable scene. A weird freakout of a movie. Specially recommend the colorized version that adds up to the surreal atmosphere.

Enter the Void (Gaspar Noé) - To be seen on a big screen with the best speakers money can buy. Intense psychedelic experience. Stay on the safe side, remain sober while watching this one.

My Best Fiend (Werner Herzog) - I find most of Herzog’s documentaries to be very relaxing. Not this one. Klaus Kinski was a fabled asshole. Werner Herzog is an eccentric lunatic. How these two geniuses managed to work together without killing each other (although both came very close to it) is definitely documentary material. An intense story about friendship, respect, and guttural hate.

The Big Lebowski (Joel Coen & Ethan Coen) - My favorite Coen brothers film. The week from hell on an otherwise quiet and unremarkable life. Improves with repeated viewings.

Mulholland Drive (David Lynch) - Spent years analyzing and trying to make sense out of this movie. I only understood it upon giving up on my quest. My favorite Lynch movie.

Female Convict Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (Shunya Itō) - 70′s Meiko Kaji is a Goddess. A talent wasted in exploitation movies. Her eyes talk louder than all of the movies’s dialogue. This film is a Pink Women-in-Prison Japanese cheap thrill on surface, but the amount of symbolism and surrealism adds weight to a paper-thin plot. And the title song was borrowed to Tarantino’s Kill Bill. Truly one of my favorite movies ever.

Battleship Potemkin (Sergei Eisenstein) - Soviet Propaganda? Yes. Compelling gut-wrenching story? Yes. Cinematic masterpiece? Yes. Regardless on how you feel about the topic, there is no question that the Odessa steps sequence is a work of art.

The Holy Mountain (Alejandro Jodorowsky) - Watch in on psychedelics, or don’t bother.

Heima (Dean deBlois) - A documentary about Sigur Rós’ return to Iceland. Even for people who are not fans of the band, the landscape is undeniably beautiful.

Django Unchained (Quentin Tarantino) - I am finding the latest Tarantino efforts to be a tad boring on repeated viewings. I usually love them when I see them on cinema, but then abandon them half-way when I try to watch them at home. But this one passed the home test, so it gets my thumbs up!

Disquiet (João Botelho) - Squeezing in a Portuguese movie due for national pride reasons. Not that I care much about those things. But I believe more people should watch this movie. The dialogue is lifted from my favorite poetry book, written by Fernando Pessoa. Heavy, dark, contemplative narrative.

Baraka (Ron Fricke) - There is a particular documentary style associated with both Ron Fricke and Godfrey Reggio that I find very appealing. Visual snapshots of people in their homelands. The silent contrast between traditional and modern. And the omnipresent feeling that all life is meaningless and mankind is a just a random occasion on a ball floating in space. Baraka is the best of all.

Rashomon (Akira Kurosawa) - There is nothing in the World like Kurosawa’s samurai movies, and no better samurai than Toshiro Mifune. Rashomon rises above the other excellent Kurosawa movies by its symbolism and usage of light. A murder story told by four different characters. The truth is somewhere in between the lies.

Dogtooth (Yorgos Lanthimos) - A perverse tale of innocence and isolation.

Gomorra (Matteo Garrone) - Disturbing stories from Napoli’s crime underworld. Realistically shot, no sugar coating, no happy endings, no poetic criminals.

Kids (Larry Clark) - I had this one on VHS, a double feature that also included Trainspotting. Found memories attached to this movie, I saw the actors as a parallel to the kids in my street. Several of the participants in the movie are dead or living miserable lives nowadays. Just like the street kids from my youth.

A Woman Under the Influence (John Cassavetes) - It is not easy to get into this director. And this is a psychological scarring movie. The audience is led to descend into madness like its main character.

Down by Law (Jim Jarmusch) - “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.”

Daisies (Vera Chytilová) - My most popular post for some reason. An excellent, imaginative, innovative, playful, senseless fun movie to watch.

Taste of Cherry (Abbas Kiarostami) - A man’s quest to end his life. The ultimate taboo.

Black Orpheus (Marcel Camus) - Greek Mythology meets Brazilian Slum. A wonderful, poetic ending makes up for some dull parts in between. Excellent soundtrack!

The Cabinet of Dr Caligari (Robert Wiene) - Insane expressionist film with lovely painted backdrops that add a sense of depth and misdirection to its scenes. Timeless movie experience!

Amélie (Jean-Pierre Jeunet) - Modern Fairy tale. Inspirational. Makes me want to enjoy life more.

Oldboy (Park Chan-Wook) - Part of the Vengeance trilogy, I picked Oldboy because I now realize that I haven’t seen Sympathy for Lady Vengeance again ever since I started this Tumblr. Both films are excellent tales of twisted revenge. Oldboy’s fight scene has inspired a generation of copycats.

Spring Summer Fall Winter... And Spring (Kim Ki-duk) - Episodes of the life of a Buddhist monk, from childhood to old age. The wheel of life and rebirth. As Buddhist as it gets.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Terry Gilliam) - This got me into Hunter Thompson. There’s no such thing as too much drugs.

Battle Royale (Kinji Fukasaku) - A high school class is taken to a remote island and instructed to kill each other until only one survives. Classic 80′s video game plot, tickles the nostalgia bone just right without resolving to remakes and rehashes. Incredibly fun!

House (Nobuhiko Ôbayashi) - A horror movie, a comedy, a fever dream, an art-house lysergic extravaganza. Don’t know what to make of this movie, just that watching it is an amusing experience.

Band of Outsiders (Jean-Luc Godard) - I love all Anna Karina’s movies with Godard, so it’s hard to pick one. I went with Band of Outsiders because of its dance sequence. Godard had fun while experimenting with filming techniques, and this feeling is contagious to the audience.

Thanks for reading and sticking around.

#50 movies #yay me #movie recommendation

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donsalome-blog · 6 years

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FIFA mobile as well as ways to obtain even more FIFA mobile coins

As we understand, FIFA is one of the most popular game when it pertains to sports. It's numbers are staggering (even more compared to 100 million duplicates marketed by 2010) and also unparalleled by any kind of various other game in its style. While PES is creating a fine tailgating ploy, the majority of followers stay unconvinced concerning the Japanese company's vision, and also whether it'll ever before be addicting and as great as its extremely popular counterpart.

FIFA Mobile, introduced this year to be used mobile phones, is a mashup of Madden Mobile-- possibly as a result of the significant appeal of the last. The system for Madden Mobile is a better match for mobile phones than EA's previous efforts, where they attempted to recreate the console video gaming suggestion, FUT (FIFA Ultimate Team), on cellular phone and tablet computers. One obvious change when you compare FIFA Ultimate Team from in 2015 with FIFA Mobile of the current year is just how much quicker the system seems to work. If you liked this post and you would like to get even more information concerning fifa mobile coins kindly check out the web site. Granted, EA's web servers, as normal, are total crap, yet it's still an upgrade from the turtle rate of previous versions of the game.

After that there's the total gameplay. It seemed at one factor EA was over-complicating things. Today, they have actually finally made FIFA fun to play on hand-held gadgets. The spruced up Attack Setting (see Madden Mobile's Head to Head Setting) is a satisfying experience.

So, the game's pretty good. But exactly how can you understand it? Just how will you have the ability to have fun with your all-star team?

There's just one way to do this without investing loan: placing hrs right into the game every day. If they keep looking, any kind of clever person will figure out technicalities and profitable investments. Whether it be a details plan from the Strategies section, or a particular gamer, if you keep looking you'll witness voids and have the ability to make coins off it.

But, the absolute one point you must not and could refrain is spend your coins on packs. Yes, the "12 gold or better gamers" line is tempting; but it's implied to be appealing. In truth, there's a factor EA do not put a price on FIFA Mobile (and do not utilize third-party marketing), think it or otherwise. They do not should. From EA's capitalist release, it could be presumed that the FUT system (and also FIFA Mobile) generates north of $1B from things such as FIFA points. All while providing you sensations like Emmanuel Adebayor as well as Peter Crouch.

Obviously now, but you're truly doing even more injury compared to excellent to your opportunities of developing your desire group by getting packs.

Complying with is a list of points you can do to increase your coins:

I: Gamer trading-- Seemingly one of the most popular method, it's not my certain individual favorite. Mainly since it takes a massive quantity of time (specifically if you're starting midseason, when it gets actually affordable) and gives hardly any real profit each player when you represent EA's ludicrous 10% tax obligation. Yet, no matter, right here's just how it functions:

You look for a player with a minimum rating of 70 from the market.

You attempt and also buy for the absolute least expensive you seem to actually be able to purchase before others snipe them best before your very eyes. If you're reading this near the moment of creating, the optimum rate must be appropriate around 1400 coins.

You offer them for a profit of a few hundred coins. Undoubtedly, you'll enjoy far better rewards if you inspect the market rate of each specific gamer and also set the sell rate that means, however that takes in a massive amount of time. Typically, the agreement to select is to browse players by rankings-- for instance, you 'd browse for 72 ranked gamers without setting a cost tightness-- as well as costing close to the lowest price that you see at which they are selling.

II: Gold Gamer Trade-In Strategy-- This is definitely my individual favorite. As opposed to marketing the gamers that you get using the above outlined technique, you could as well as must trade them for a pack of 10 trophies. Currently, certainly, opportunity is not something individuals want to contemplate and play with on their course to success, however this trade-off is in some way different. Of the zillions of times I've done this plan, an elite prize-- the ultimate return for financial investment for this strategy-- has actually revealed up once every 4 packs. This could undoubtedly be various for you, however possibilities are that if you repeat this trade-in a couple of times, you'll get your money (~ 14,000 coins ideally) back, and after that some.

A note of caution: Avoid from trading in the gold, silver, and bronze prizes that you build up for a Quicksell pack. Chances of you getting the 1,000,000 quicksell has to do with the exact same as you obtaining Messi or Ronaldo in a Pro Pack. Mentioning, just what the hell took place to Pro Packs?

Team Party Strategy-- Each week EA recognizes the teams that do stupendously well (success by 5 goals) in their domestic league competitions by having their Group Crest be qualified for a trade-in that can award you with approximately 10 random Group Crests. At the time of writing, this strategy has the potential to earn you 70,000 coins in revenues. Rather a great deal of dough, that.

Team Crest trading-- Get as low as you can, and after that offer for the typical market value. Tip: After establishing all the standards in the search food selection, if you keep touching on where the hypothetical very first item would certainly turn up, and also striking reload when there's no item, you have a much better shot at getting them prior to others. Keep revitalizing, as well as maintain tapping. New items usually hop on the marketplace between intervals of roughly 4 mins.

Silver Player Trade-In Plan-- It worked wonders for me in Madden Mobile, yet seems not to have the very same type of range in FIFA Mobile. my site ; elitesplay.com I have actually found it impossible to get an elite trophy with this strategy, though it remains among my faves since it takes so little investing to obtain one done. Regarding 4000 coins is the quantity you must preferably spend to finish a collection of 10 players to obtain this strategy done. Gold prizes are an usual occurrence-- though it's likewise fairly typical to obtain all 6 bronze prizes. As soon as you have more coins to invest, attempt to relocate right into the previously mentioned Gold Player Trade-In Strategy.

International Cup Trade-In Plan-- If you go to the marketplace as well as look for exclusive international cups, you'll see that there's a significant distinction in price in between them. The Asia Cup usually sets you back a lot lower (regarding 20-30k reduced) than the others, as well as when it comes to the Africa Cup, regarding 100k lower. You have to have an elite mug and also an elite prize to obtain this plan done, and also it could just be completed when every 3 days. Although in some cases it can be annoying when you obtain a cup that's of a comparable worth to your original (and hence shedding an elite trophy at the same time), the opportunity to earn 100,000+ coins in profits is too good to skip.

#fifa mobile coins

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