#PLUS IT WAS AN HOUR FORTY MINUTES. PERFECT MOVIE LENGTH

[vulpinesaint]

becoming a john wick fanboy :) i get the whole american male action film star thing now i'm totally into it

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

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[jmeelee]

Sterek Bingo 2019 • Theme: Wild Card

1

Cora’s twenty-first birthday party is in full swing when the vibration of an incoming text jiggles Derek’s right ass cheek. He pulls his phone from the pocket of his too-tight jeans to find a befuddling text: There myst be sumething wrong w my eyes.

Derek’s future does not include being an Alpha, and that’s fine; he’ll happily leave the politics, management, and difficult decision-making to his older sister, Laura. Instead, he’s been training the last few years—learning languages and studying cultures and meeting werewolves all over the world—to become his pack’s liaison. He’s young, but his good name and reputation are already circulating, so he automatically thinks, this must be a young werewolf in need of help. Plus, it’s no secret to the supernatural community that his beta-shifted eyes are blue, instead of gold.

His thumb’s hovering over the touchscreen when a drunk girl bumps into him, her red solo cup full of cheap beer exploding like a water balloon all over the front of his olive-green henley. “Oops,” she slurs, lids drooping over bloodshot blue eyes. She gropes his soaked pectorals with her bare hands.

Derek’s eyebrows berate her before he heads for the staircase. He’s tired of pseudo-babysitting intoxicated college kids anyway.

By the time he’s showered off the stale booze and changed into pajamas, almost an hour has passed. He grabs his phone off the nightstand to finally reply to his cryptic messenger, and finds a new text: i can’t take them off of u.

What the hell? It wasn’t a cry for help at all; it was a lame pick up line. Derek’s mood sours as he imagines Cora egging one of her immature girlfriends into sending him the terrible come-on. The culprit is probably downstairs right now. He swipes over the message, deleting it, and powers off his cell before climbing into bed, pulling a pillow over his head to drown out the noise.

He’s so done with this day.

2

A week and a half later Derek’s pushing a cart up and down the aisles at the grocery store when his phone chirps. He stares at the flashing number of the unknown contact, wondering why it looks vaguely familiar before he opens the text. Did you invent the airplane? Because you seem Wright for me.

At least there are no typos this time.

He almost deletes the message right away, but the split second he hesitates gives him an excuse to type back. This is clearly Gustave Whitehead erasure and I won’t stand for it.

The return response comes before he can black out his screen. Dude. Are we having our first fight?

Derek doesn’t hesitate this time. Find someone else to annoy.

Rude.

He puts his phone away and staunchly ignores the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

3

He’s already in bed, and would never have heard the vibration except for his supernatural hearing. My name’s Microsoft. How about I crash at your place.

Derek blinks the sleep from his eyes enough to type back, I own a Mac.

In the morning, he sees the response. Harsh dude.

4

You must be a trumpet because you’re making me horny.

Wow. This is your worst one yet.

Is that a challenge, Derek?

NO!

Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine? Because you a snack!

Please stop.

5

“Derek, answer that or I’m going to punch you in the face,” Laura threatens between spoonfuls of cookie-dough ice cream. The harsh buzzing of his phone sounds like a jackhammer to their sensitive werewolf ears, and it’s disrupting their movie marathon.

If you were a transformer, you’d be Optimus Fine. Oh lord.

“What’s with the sappy smile, big brother?” Cora coos.

Derek schools his face into a scowl. “Nothing.”

She throws the blanket off her lap and lunges for the phone in his hand. A tussle ensues. Derek is older and stronger, but she’s fast, sneaky and not above fighting dirty, and she grips the phone before he knows what happened. “What the hell is this?” She’s screeching with laughter, holding his cell out so Laura can look. “Who’s sending you lame pick-up lines?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” he gripes. “You put her up to this.”

Cora furrows her brow. “Uh, what?”

“The night of your birthday party, the first pick-up line came through. It was someone at your party. I figured you put her up to it as a joke.”

She checks the number again. “The only person I ever gave your number to was Erica, for official pack business. This isn’t Erica’s number.” She grabs her cell off the coffee table and punches in the digits. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Cora laughs so hard her eyes water.

“Who is she?” Laura asks.

“Not a she.” Cora holds out her phone with a shit-eating grin so Derek and Laura can read her contacts. “It’s Stiles Stilinski.”

Terse silence follows her declaration. Then Derek asks, “Who the fuck is Stiles?”

6 & 7

“Forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one…” Derek counts out his squats in a whisper, monitoring his form in the full-length mirror. He feels his phone vibrate, and the grin reflecting back at him is disgusting. He should be ashamed.

He gently places the weight back on the rack when he completes the set and digs the phone from his mesh shorts.

Is your phone in your back pocket? Because that ass is calling me!

Derek honestly can’t say what possesses him to turn around, open his camera app, and hold the phone over his left shoulder. Perfect timing ur not following me r u? he writes back, attaching a photo of his butt. A dude doing kettlebell lunges across the gym gives him the stink eye.

Stiles answers with a string of peach emojis, which Derek understands, and a single unicorn emoji, which he doesn’t.

I know who you are, btw. Stiles Stilinski, the sheriff's kid? Cora figured it out

Usually, the response comes immediately, but Derek’s walking out to his car before he receives two simultaneous replies.

Well since the cat (be gr8ful i didn’t say pussy) is out of the bag

my mother used to tell me to follow my dreams so… where will you be tonight?

Derek sits behind the wheel, staring at his phone, weighing the pros and cons. He’s never gone on a blind date before, and he’s been burned, badly, in the past. Being single is sometimes lonely, but at least it’s safe. He doesn’t want to put a defenseless, unwitting human in harm’s way. His brain keeps supplying him with a list of perfectly rational reasons why he should leave their playful correspondence in the sandbox of cyberspace, but his heart furtively whispers what if.

8 & 9

There’s a live band at the bar, guitar player crooning a popular rock ballad while Derek nurses a beer for show. He checks his smartwatch for the seventh time in a span of three minutes and happens to catch the message notification as it pops up.

Do you know CPR? You better learn because ur taking my breath away

He spins around, searching for guys on their phones, frustrated to find almost every man in the bar staring at their screen. A baby-faced guy plops down on the open stool next to him as Derek’s eyes scan the crowd.

“Scott bet me I wouldn’t be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful person in the room.” Derek glances back, startled, to find a generous mouth smiling at him. “What should we do with his money?”

His first thought: HOT. His second thought: young. “Tell me you’re twenty-one,” Derek greets him. “Actually, please tell me you’re legal.”

Stiles dramatically crosses his heart, eyes wide. “I only look seventeen, I promise. It’s a blessing and a curse.” He holds out a sturdy but slender, long-fingered hand. “I’m Stiles. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

Derek takes his outstretched hand in a firm grip and swears he feels a zing when their skin makes contact. It’s official; he’s been single too long. “Derek. Let me buy you a drink, and you can tell me how you got my number in the first place.”

Stiles winks as Derek flags the bartender. “A gentleman never reveals his secrets.”

“Gentleman?” Derek, cold, fresh beer in hand, arches a brow. “Based on some of the texts I’ve received, I’m not sure gentleman is the correct term.”

Stiles clinks his drink against Derek’s. “Touché.” He eyes Derek over the lip of his brown bottle. “So, did you lace your pilsner with wolfsbane, or do you enjoy the taste?”

Derek, mid-sip, spits his beer onto the bartop. “What the hell?” he sputters, mopping at the mess with the world’s least absorbent cocktail napkin.

Stiles calmly takes a sip. “Come on, dude. My father’s the sheriff, and this town is literally a supernatural shit-show. If that wasn’t enough, my best friend is Scott McCall.”

“McCall?” Derek leans closer, soggy napkins forgotten, to whisper, “The True Alpha?” Derek’s met Scott at a few local pack gatherings.

“Yup,” Stiles replies. “He was bitten by a rogue werewolf when we were sixteen. So you could say I’ve been a little-” He makes exaggerated air quotes- “involved in the supernatural scene the past few years.”

Derek leans back, accessing Stiles in a new light: deceptively lean physique, handsome, impish face, the ability to make Derek laugh, and take him by surprise. The laundry list of reasons not to do this quickly goes up in smoke in the face of being able to show his true nature to a partner. Stiles smiles like he knows exactly what Derek is thinking.

“So, what do you say? Do I pass the test? Should we give going on an official first date a shot?”

“One condition,” Derek demands, holding up his index finger. “You’re not allowed to use a single pick up line all night.”

Stiles squawks, tossing long arms into the air. “You might as well ask me not to breathe! Or the Mets not to lose!”

“Chicken?” he asks, leaning into Stiles’ space. Derek quirks a brow and lifts his chin, eyes drawn like a magnet to Stiles’ tongue when it sneaks out to wet his lips.

“Hell no. Challenge accepted. Eight pm Saturday night.” An impish grin. “I’m gonna date you so hard, Hale.”

10

As far as (official) first dates go, it’s pretty damn amazing. The conversation flows as easily as the wine at dinner, and Stiles’ running jokes and commentary during the shitty movie doesn’t bother Derek at all. He’s thrilled to find their easy banter translates to real life, after weeks of electronic flirtation.

“Hey,” Derek whispers as they say good-night at Stiles’ apartment door. He wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, pulling him close. He brushes a kiss, feather-light, across Stiles’ mouth and smirks. “Are you a magician? Because when I’m with you, everyone else disappears.”

Stiles leans back, arms still locked around Derek’s shoulders. “What the hell, man! You said no pick-up lines!”

Derek tuts. “I said you couldn’t use any. I never made the same promise.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow. “Serious question?”

“Shoot.”

“Will there be a second date?”

A second, a third, and more, if Derek has any say in the matter. “Absolutely.”

Stiles’ grin is slightly manic as he untangles slim fingers from Derek’s hair. “Well then, there’s probably something I should show you.” He holds up a hand in front of Derek’s face and snaps his fingers. A spark of light fizzles to life before his eyes, emanating from Stiles’ palm, and burning ozone singes the fine hairs inside his nose.

“Huh,” Derek replies, dumbly. “I did not see that coming.”

Stiles’ coy smile ignites something hot inside him. “I have some other party tricks I could show you if you want to come in?”

Derek leans forward again, chasing the bright glimmer of magic between them, the one that’s been there the whole time. “Oh, absolutely.”

——

For @evanesdust and based on THIS PROMPT by @faladrast

[oscopelabs]

3D, Part 1: James Cameron and the Broken Promise of the Third Wave by Vadim Rizov

[Note: This essay is the first in a two-part series on 3D. Part 2, coming soon, will discuss the unexpected peak of 3D as an artistic form. —ed.]

It’s not fair to say that James Cameron ruined projection standards by pushing for a digital changeover—the industry impetus was already under way—but Avatar left less of an impression as a movie than as technological advocacy, resulting in unintended, still-lingering side effects. Cameron dreamed of 3D cinema arriving, finally, at what he viewed as its overdue narrative fruition; he couldn’t have imagined compromising projection standards or undermining film archiving in the process. This is a two-part essay: The first is a grim recap of the Third Wave of 3D, which has unfolded over the last decade. The second will advocate for a secret classic of 3D cinema at its inadvertently experimental peak.

****

The not-too-reductive standard narrative goes like this: 3D was popularized contemporaneously with widescreen in the ‘50s as half of a two-pronged initiative to lure audiences away from their TV screens by giving the theatrical experience something unavailable at home. By decade’s end, widescreen was normalized; ’60s and ‘70s one-offs excepted, 3D wasn’t. 1980’s Comin’ at Ya! kicked off its second wave, which had a similarly short lifespan. In both runs, 3D failed to transition from passing gimmick to standard filmmaking option, mostly due to the diminishing thrill of seeing things flying at you, but also due to technological flaws that made the results physically difficult to watch. This history’s a bit of an oversimplification: like sound, color, and widescreen (all of which were experimented with long before they became standard options), 3D had test-run incarnations well before its ‘50s boom. Still, this story is largely accurate. So what makes the third wave different?

Cameron’s ideal 3D would be to create totally immersive worlds, refusing to throw objects at viewers the way the first two 3D waves had done. These effects were presumably cheap grabs for attention, while Cameron was focused more on depth rather than breaking the proscenium. In a (troublesomely unattributed) quote from 2009, a collaborator summed up his approach: “There’s a scene early in [Avatar] where something jumps out of the screen. Jim said, `I just did that so that they would know I know how to do it. But then I stopped doing it because that’s not what 3D is; 3D is bringing the audience completely into the environment of the movie.’” Narrative disruption was not on the agenda; Cameron’s films have always followed conventional dramatic arcs, and Avatar has a particularly unchallenging (“archetypal”) story. This meant yoking 3D to digital projection, which would straighten out the format’s numerous problems once and for all by eliminating both the visual eyestrain and eyeline problems of watching 3D, either polarized (the default standard until digital) or in anaglyph (the infamous red-and-blue glasses format that became a stand-in image for the format, despite being relatively rare) and the double potential for error caused by an incompetent projectionist. Cameron had spent years preparing audiences—and, more importantly, the industry—for a digital conversion. In 2005, he, George Lucas, and Peter Jackson appeared at ShoWest, the trade theater convention to boost for 3D and, by association, digital projection. “I’m giving you guys plenty of warning,” Cameron said. “You’ve got two years to get ready.” His timeline was off, the larger idea was not: In 2009, 16,000 screens worldwide were digital-ready. The next year, that had shot up to 36,000.

It’s not clear digital projection is the optimal way to see Avatar; the late 3D advocate Ray Zone saw the film five times in multiple formats in its first run, concluding not only that film-based IMAX 3D (with two 70mm projectors running simultaneously) was the correct way to see the film, but that “One hint that IMAX 3-D 15/70mm was the native 3-D format for Avatar was that the new large platters would only hold two hours and forty minutes of 15/70mm film—the exact running time of the film.” Nonetheless, Avatar’s overwhelming success sped up a slow-moving push to digital conversion, which the industry had been inching towards for some time. George Lucas had some digital screenings of Phantom Menace, but locally, I remember digital first rearing its head at the arthouse—specifically Austin’s long-closed four-screen Dobie Theatre, an independent that had by then been bought by Landmark Theatres. The arthouse chain went in early for digital projectors, a bright future ushered in Windows Media Player 9. (From a press release at the time: “The film is a milestone in digital origination — a genuine work of art that takes full advantage of new technology. Windows Media 9 Series will show it in all its glory.”) “We can hear the techies in the crowd oohing and ahhing already,” The Austin Chronicle’s Marc Savlov wrote. “It'll only be a matter of time before the entire industry goes digital and the notion of scratched and blotchy film and frazzled frame adjustments will seem very quaint indeed. Progress, baby. We live for it.” My first screening in that format was Russian Ark, Alexander Sokruov’s one-take Hermitage film that would have been impossible to realize on celluloid, with its inherent time limits on how long each reel can be. That projection (the Dobie was only one of four US theaters to play it that way in the film’s initial run) made sense: digital in, digital out.

Still, the stakes of first digital conversion were relatively small; Avatar’s success upped digital’s presence significantly while coupling it to 3D. This is the part that’s different: where previous pushes for 3D worked with (extensively) modified versions of existing film hardware, this time the medium’s perfection accelerated the wholesale rethinking of film production and exhibition. Striking and shipping 35mm prints was expensive, as was paying qualified projectionists, and said prints would get beat up; the longer you waited to see a film, odds were the worse it would look. And “qualified” projectionists certainly weren’t the baseline standard by any means: I remember going to see Talk to Her improperly projected in 2002, the frame misaligned so that the bottom of the frame showed as a sliver at the top from start to finish. (Here’s a much more dramatic projection fail story from back in the day; probably everyone has at least one.) As with any new tech rollout, unforeseen problems followed: smaller theaters crowdsourced funds for new projectors or risked going out of business, digital files proved anything but foolproof in practice, a push for digital archiving placed the history of film at risk as new storage formats proved highly unstable relative to well-preserved film. (This last sentence is a heavily compressed version of what David Bordwell tracked at length in his highly recommended “Pandora’s Digital Box” series.) More succinctly, this is the first time 3D introduced a specific ghost in the machine: every time you go to a multiplex to see a movie that looks way too dark, the odds are good someone left the 3D lens on, and no one’s around who can fix it or who would even care to. What started as an attempt to perfect 3D had the inadvertent effect of undoing 2D digital projection standards.

Again, none of this is directly James Cameron’s fault. He’s just the one who helped push through a change faster than it might have been implemented otherwise. Avatar’s blockbuster breakthrough was followed the next year by Alice in Wonderland, which harvested a billion-plus dollars worldwide, making the case that it didn’t matter whether 3D was native or, as in Tim Burton’s film, post-converted. Not a year later, Jeffrey Katzenberg—another 3D booster—was already worried “the bloom was off the rose” because cynical types “thought they could just deliver a kind of low-end crappy version of it, and people wouldn't care, or wouldn't know the difference.” Five years later, Katzenberg was blunter, quoting (intentionally or not) Easy Rider to convey the extent of his disappointment: “we blew it.” 3D’s never had as big a year since 2010: its revenue has declined every year since, and production of 3D films has gone down. The technology stuck, but 3D’s potential as a normative storytelling tool remains once again questionable until further notice.

Setting aside the grim trajectory of 3D’s current wave, which has seen revenue (and audience demand) for the format decrease, it’s worth reflecting on Cameron’s original idea that 3D would add “depth” to the familiar, instead of a better brand of comin-at-ya effects. For years, whenever people would ask which 3D movies I liked, I’d say Yogi Bear. This is (not entirely) a smartass answer: obviously Goodbye to Language would be a better response, but Godard sought to dismantle all 3D’s rules one event shot at a time, and no one will (be able to) follow up on its visual inquiries. Pina made visual sense (the performers are dancing outside, depth is important), Hugo looked neat, and Tron: Legacy was a cool lightshow (though that had more to do with sheer color overload and Daft Punk’s super-loud score as rendered on the biggest speakers theatrically available, and a 3D expert friend swears it has some of the worst use of the medium he’s ever seen); otherwise, my 3D sampling has mostly been review assignments of bad-looking movies. The worst are the post-converted monstrosities. A real low here was the new Pete’s Dragon, which Disney screened in 3D: it looked extremely dark, which was predictable, but worse, a bunch of shots which were clearly shallow-focus, had all been rendered as three to four separate planes of depth, casting blurry background areas in semi-sharp relief, each shot an unintentional diorama. It was sort of possible to tell what the compositional intent was, but impossible to really envision it.

So Yogi Bear is peak 3D. Why not? At a cost of $80 million, Yogi Bear renders a depth-filled Jellystone Park entirely on par with Pandora, with all of the depth and none of the tacky colors. Both movies tell stories, both benefit from depth to spatially reconstruct a largely external environment: the differences are mostly details. In an interview Google will no longer let me find, but which I swear I remember, Cameron said only 19 shots (or thereabouts, let me hedge) in Avatar featured zero CG. These are, I presume, the shots of Jake Sully back on base; to me, they’re easily the most memorable parts of the movie, capturing the full depth of a set (and its metal walls) in a way that’s way more compelling than a fully rendered fake ecosystem . What if Cameron was wrong and 3D is, fundamentally, not just a way to enhance immersiveness but one which, when deployed in the non-CG constructed world, can recode the nuts and bolts of narrative filmmaking visual language itself? In Part II, I’ll look back at the much-derided second wave of ‘80s 3D to make the case that 1983’s Treasure of the Four Crowns, a little-regarded Raiders of the Lost Ark knock-off, is one of the format’s greatest, most progressive and inadvertently suggestive moments.

[jpat82]

Work Out

@vampireshavemorefun I lied, this will have three parts.

Part 2

Mature content

Mature content

It was a long four hours, your boss had you running around the entire city picking up stuff for his party at the end weekend. You were exhausted by the time you were done doing your own errands but you still changed into leggings and a loose tank. You pulled on your running shoes, and had left the apartment you lived in.

No way in hell were you going miss this run with Sebastian, you parked in the gym parking lot locking the door as you rounded the building. There he was leaning up against the brick building, track pants and a loose shirt. He looked up from his phone, smiling as you neared.

"Hey, how was work?" He asked, as you walked up.

"Tiring." You laughed, the two of you walked to the end of the street towards the huge near by park. "I swear I've been in every corner of this city today."

"Really?" He questioned as the two you crossed the street.

"Yeah, my boss is throwing a huge charity event at the end of the week so I get the luck of having to get everything for it. And it's forties themed so.. yeah, every corner of the city." You both started to jog as you hit the trail on the other side without even questioning where you were going.

This was your usual trail you ran after work, so it was just natural that you took it.

"Forties? Sounds like fun." He stated, ducking under the low cherry branch, pink blossoms just over his head.

"It will be, just a lot of preparations. He's ocd when it comes to detail, so everything has to be perfect. From the catering, to the wine and liquor, to the table clothes and music." You chuckle as you both rounded the dirt corner. "He can be hell to work for, but the pay is amazing and I get full benefits. Plus the vacations, last year I got to see Rome and not spend a dime on travel expenses."

"Dang, sounds like you got it made." He laughed, you glanced over smiling at him.

"Yeah, but I don't have much of a social life. Five of my work days I work twelve hour shifts, the other two are four hour over time shifts." You replied, seeing the pond looming into view, completely engulfed by willow trees. This was one of your favorite spots in the city because it was so far removed from everything.

"No days off?" He asked, pointing to the benches up a head.

"No, not really." You replied, slowing to a walk as you approached the benches. He frowned at you as the two of you stretched. "I got the job shortly after I moved out here so it's not like I have a lot friends I would hang out with."

"Still, everyone needs down time." He remarked. "A pretty girl like you, should have guys lining around the block to ask you out.”

“Uh.” You could feel your flush up again as your eyes darted away from him.

“It’s even cuter when you get al flustered.” He smirked, grabbing your hand pulling you flush up against his toned body. “Ready to grab a bite to eat?”

You tried to find your words while staring up at those beautiful eyes but nothing came out. You just nodded your head slowly, smirk plastered on his face knowing that he was making you nervous.

“Alright, race you to the entrance?” He grinned letting you go and took off sprinting down the path.

~~~

The two of you found a small little pizza shop to stop and grab a bite. It was humble and quiet on the inside, and neither of you looked out of place being dressed in work out attire.

“Seriously if your ever in New York you have to go, best pizza hands down.” Sebastian stated, wiping his mouth.

“I doubt it but I’ll try it if I ever find myself there.” You laugh, the last hour conversations just seemed to roll like water. He turned out to be the biggest dork, although still bit of a mystery, a dork nonetheless.

“If I’m wrong, then I’ll buy you dinner, wherever in New York you want.” Sebastian smiled as he took another drink of his beer.

It was starting to get late and you knew you should probably be heading back. You just couldn’t bring yourself to leave, you were a couple beers in and also knew that even when you made it back to your car you shouldn’t be driving. Not that you were drunk, just still was a habit.

“Come back with me to my hotel.” He blurted out, catching you by surprise. “We can just hang out, watch a movie, I just don’t want to hang out by myself tonight.”

“Sure.” You replied, this probably wasn’t the best idea, you barely knew him but what the hell.

He hailed a cab as the two you stepped out into the darkened street. The ride to the hotel was quiet, but comfortable. The two of you walked into the hotel lobby, Sebastian pressed the button for the elevator. He smiled of at you almost bashfully as the elevator cab dinged its arrival.

You walked in with him behind you, time seemed to slow after he pressed the button for the top floor. He turned to face you, taking a step into you, grabbing your hips firmly in his hands. You pulled you roughly against his body as his lips crashed against yours. Heart in throat, you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you hadn’t wanted this to happen when he asked. But still you knew nothing of this man.

He stepped you back against the cab wall, You tongues caressing each other, he pressed his hips into you and you could feel his length against you. Your breath caught in the back of your throat. Slowly he worked down your neck as your brain started to clear.

“I don’t even know your last name.” You breathed, as his hand slid up your body cupping your breast.

“Stan.” He replied in a low voice as he nipped at your collar bone. Your hand slid up into his hair, tangling it way close to his scalp.

“Sebastian Stan.” You breathed, as rolled his hips into you, enticing a moan from your lips. The door rolled open to the penthouse suite, Sebastian grabbed your hand pulling you with him into the open room.

“God your adorable.” His voice was husky as he pulled you into him again. His lips meeting yours, his kiss was full of hunger as he walked you back to the couch.

“Why’s that?” You asked as he pulled your shirt over your head, his lips finding yours again.

“Cause you have no idea who I am.” He chuckled as you pulled his shirt over his head.

“Serial killer?” You giggled as he shoved you lightly to the couch.

“Not quite.” He laughed as he pulled your leggings off.

“Now you have me intrigued.” You chuckled as he pulled his pants from his body.

“Maybe later.” He grinned as he laid his body across yours, his lips seeking yours.

The minute his lips connected with yours all thoughts went out the window. He rolled his boxer covered hips into you again, sending a wave of heat to between you legs. Sebastian kissed down you neck, nipping lightly as he went. His hand sliding down your body to the junction between your thighs.

You moaned again, tilting your head back as he teased you through your panties. Sebastian continued to kiss down your chest, he stopped as he reached the top of your sports bra. He grasped the bottom with both hands, you sat up lightly and allowed him to pull the tight material from your body.

His mouth found your nipple as soon as it was free even before he had dropped the discarded item. His tongue swirling around the sensitive area, his teeth teasing it further. His hand went back to teasing your core.

“Someone is a little excited.” He said against your breast, slipping his finger inside your panties. Flicking your clit, you gasped in response.

“Sebastian.” You breathed out as you felt him slide his finger in you. Slowly he pumped his finger in you, hooking his fingers slightly upward stroking that spot inside of you.

Sebastian leaned back slightly, watching your face as he slowly started to building you to your climax. You grasped onto his arms as your body tensed up, getting ready to release your orgasm.

“Come on beautiful, I wanna watch you as you cum on my fingers.” His voice heavy with arousal. “Before I slide my cock in your tight pussy.”

That was the tipping point, you bit your lips as your orgasm washed through you body. Your walls contracting around his fingers, your breath coming out in short pants. He slowly pumped his fingers in you allowing you to ride out your high.

“Fuck, That was hot.” He chuckled.

@kitkatkl @octobermermaid

[emberlydakota]

Her Boys

Part 1

Rory continuously stared down at the packet of papers that arrived the day before. She knew that this was a great possibility, which is why she gave him a choice in what he wanted to do. Being tangled up in his dynastic plan could lead him to be pushed away further than he already was.

And it did. For good.

It shouldn’t have come as a shock. She could see after that last night he wasn’t going to be with her. Maybe he was waiting for her to give him the option of being together. He was the one with the fiancee and he needed to leave on his own free will if he wanted.

Clearly, his choice was made when Logan hadn’t even bothered to call to let her know his decision. He over-nighted the papers to terminate his parental rights to the child, that gender hasn’t even been found out yet.

Now her growing baby would never know their father. A tear dripped off her face. Rory couldn’t help crying over the situation. This wasn’t how she expected her life to go. Only recently a paid employee, still living at home with her mother and her new husband, in her childhood bedroom that looks like a museum of her glory days.

She hadn’t expected the world of journalism to change. Everything was about click-baits. It didn’t matter the content as long as websites were getting their clicks. Rory struggled to find her place in this new world, following her job on the campaign trail and freelance jobs that took her all over the world.

Then Logan came back into her life, leading her to strike up the Vegas agreement, only keeping Paul as a cover when Logan was set up with Odette. To make matters worse, her grandfather passed away and Rory was just lost. Flittering around trying to make roots somewhere.

One bad decision left Rory pregnant by an engaged man. Now she has to deal with those consequences alone.

Knocking on her mother’s front door interrupted Rory’s thoughts. Pushing the papers aside, Rory stands up. Hand on her stomach, she frowns wondering who would be here. It was a surprise as she peeked out the glass to see three familiar faces. She hadn’t seen them since her final goodbye.

They smile sadly as she opened the door. She knew that they knew of the situation. Finn, being the closest, opened his arms wide, which Rory ran straight into. As her tears poured out, she felt more arms wrap around her.

“We got you, Rory,” Robert whispered. Somehow she knew with her boys, things will be okay.

Her boys were with Rory every step of the way during her pregnancy. It took Lorelei a while to get used to and before long they were part of the family. They helped her move into her new place making sure it was safe for their future niece or nephew.

Robert took over Rory’s diet, feeding her extra fruits and vegetables, much to Rory’s protests. He earned Luke’s approval for properly taking care of his stepdaughter when he wasn’t around to feed her. Robert also limited Rory’s junk food intake. In the evenings when the weather would permit, they would take walks around her neighborhood.

Colin with his crazy buying habits made sure Rory lacked for nothing. She had everything she could ever need, making having a baby shower useless. The day she found out she was having a boy, Colin went into overdrive, giving his credit card a workout. Rory fears that it is only going to get worse once her son is old enough to play with toys.

Finn alternates between being tolerable and intolerable. He was always willing to help Luke and Lorelei in setting up any furniture in Rory’s home, sometimes getting in the way. In his downtime, Finn would come up with a list of baby names. He was terrible at it or at least joking about it. Names such as “Dugal” or “Mort” would be texted to her in the late-night hours. His favorite was Finn Jr.

The day she went into labor, her boys happened to all be over. Each would make sure someone was always with her towards the end of her pregnancy. That evening they were watching a movie and she had not realized that she started labor early that morning until a contraction hit that made her yelp in pain. The boys were frantic, yelling over one another on what to do. Should they call an ambulance? Once she got them calm and her a fresh change of clothes they nearly left her in the house heading for the car.

When Dorian was born the next day a picture was taken. Rory and all her boys.

Part 2

Rory once again found herself flooded with tears. This time for an entirely different reason. Rory is attending wedding number three in four years. Her boys one by one found their perfect matches.

Robert was first after meeting one of Rory’s nurses after she delivered Dorian. Within a year the couple found matrimonial bliss.

Finn wasn’t far behind Robert who already had been seeing someone while Rory was in her late stages of pregnancy. He had everyone they wanted to be flown out to Vegas eight months after Robert’s wedding to tie the knot.

As for Colin, he was happy being single. Marriage wasn’t appealing to him after seeing his father’s many failed relationships in his nearly forty years of life. Which is why this day is surprising to many. He fell head over heels and had no problems proposing. Now they are less than an hour away for him to meet his bride.

“Put the tears away mother. Today is a happy day,” Colin teases fixing his bow tie.

“I know and I’m so incredibly proud. You all are going to be in the married club. You won’t need me anymore.”

Colin thought she was joking until he caught her expression in the mirror. Colin turned around. “Hey, that’s not true. We will always need you especially when we piss off our wives.”

“That’s very true,” the other two agreed.

“Maybe it’s time for you to start dating. Plenty of single men here tonight,” Robert offers.

After what happened with Logan, Rory was not eager to start dating again. Then she threw herself into motherhood, work, and book writing she made excuses when anyone would want to set her up. She wasn’t in love with Logan anymore but avoided him. She was still hurt by what transpired between them.

“I better go get Dorian and see where my mom found seats. Love you guys.”

The three men let things go for now as Logan arrived shortly after to check upon them. They still had their friendship with their old friend only it wasn’t the same after they learned he brushed off his responsibilities. Plus they made sure Logan stayed far away from Rory and her son.

It was during the reception where her boys sat around scotch in their hands and cigars hung from their lips. Finn spoke up.

“I think we should find someone to set up Rory with.” Robert and Colin quickly agreed. The question is with who? This led to an argument on who would be a better match for the woman who took care of them for the last twenty years.

“What about Cas?” Colin suggests. Caspian, a distant cousin of Colin and also works at the same company as Robert.

“Cas!” The men agree with excitement. “So do we just lock them up together somewhere?” Finn asks, earning glares from his friends.

“No. We need to come up with something that doesn’t involve some mild kidnapping,” Robert tells him. He taps his finger on the table, as he eyes the crowd trying to think of a plan of introduction.

“I don’t think we need to do anything,” Colin said, causing the other to look in the direction Colin was pointing discreetly.

A few feet away from them, Rory was trying to stop her son, Dorian from racing off without her. He wanted cake that his Uncle Colin had promised him. Right as Rory reached out to take his hand, her son ended up sprawled out on the floor. He inherited her gracefulness.

“You alright there buddy?” A man stopped and helped him up.

“I’m okay,” Dorian replies ready to take off again. “Thank you,” Rory tells the man, noticing how good looking he was. The first thing she thought was attractive. His pale green eyes are what she noticed first. A strong jawline, with just the right amount of scruff, very few men could pull off. He was a few inches taller than her. A good height. Rory blushed as she realized that she was checking this man out.

“No problem,” the man smiles at her. “Your son?” He questioned.

“Yes. Dorian here got excited about the cake,”

The man smiled wider. “One of the best parts of a wedding.”

“Mommy,” Dorian whined, not wanting to stand there a moment longer. Before Rory had a chance to say anything Finn whisked her son away. “Bye, you two. Go have fun, dance a little.”

Rory stood there dumbfounded, unsure what just happened. That was Finn for you.

“You know Finn?” Rory nodded her head slowly turning her head from her retreating friend. “We met at Yale. He’s been like my brother for a long time.”

“Ah.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Caspian, one of Colin’s cousins. I also work with Robert so I know that whole gang.”

Rory shook his hand. “Rory.” Caspian held onto her hand not letting it go.

“Well, shall we go dance? I believe that is what Finn told us to do?”

Just like that Rory found herself agreeing.

Part 3

Rory stood in front of a floor-length mirror smoothing out her dress. She was alone at the moment, everyone leaving the dressing room to give her a few minutes of peace.

A knock sounded on the door followed by hearing Finn bellow, “Darling, may we enter?”

She chuckles softly, calling them in. Her boys walk into the room and she slowly turned around.

“You look absolutely stunning, Rory,” Robert comments with a grin.

“Thank you, Robert. Colin, are you crying?”

Colin hastily wipes at his eyes. “No. You are losing it, Reporter Girl.” Finn clasps his shoulder. “Good if you were crying we all would be,” she hears him sniffle followed by Robert.

“Damnit, someone hand me a tissue before my grandmother throttles me for ruining my makeup before I walk down the aisle.”

Colin hands her his handkerchief. “It’s not too late to back out you know. We can get a car waiting out back in less than two minutes.”

Rory laughs. “I’m not surprised at that, but I think I’ll keep Cas. We do have children together.”

Rory and Caspian started dating shortly after Colin’s wedding. It was one of the best decisions she made. He got her like none of her other boyfriends. He stayed with her after she told him all about her not so great past. Most importantly he loved her son like his own. He was more than Rory could ever picture for herself. He was outgoing while enjoying a night in. He loved to joke and mock. She could also talk about books and current events with him without him getting bored or tuning her out.

He proposed just after a year together. Caspian didn’t let his failed first marriage stop him from falling in love again. Just four months later, Rory knew for sure she found the love her life when she found out she was pregnant. She was terrified after what happened with her first pregnancy. She was almost scared to tell him. Once she did she had nothing to fear. He was over the moon, happy.

They put their wedding on hold, deciding to wait until after Rory gave birth, much to Emily’s dismay. Now their daughter Lorelei Violet, or LV as they call her is eight months old. Once they wed, Caspian is going to adopt Dorian, making their family more official.

It took Rory a long time, but she finally found all her roots.

At the reception, she danced with her new husband. She felt light and happy.

“Excuse me, may I cut in?” The audience laughed when Dorian asked to dance with his mother. Caspian grinned and bowed out. “Certainly. There’s another pretty lady I want to dance with.

As Rory danced with her son, Caspian returned with LV in his arms swaying her side to side causing giggles to erupt. Rory stayed on the dance floor a while longer taking turns with each other her boys.

Rory may not know a lot. One thing for sure if she hadn’t met her boys all those years ago her life wouldn’t be what it is today.