#but as a film the writing needed to be refined more

[oak23]

The Barbie movie was... Unsatisfying from a writing perspective where none of the arcs felt fulfilled or earned enough to actually be called good besides being a vent piece that'll connect to people who went through that specific form of trauma and it's left up to be vague enough that any interpretation is seen as valid as long as you liked the film

[araneitela]

Me staring at test results: It makes so much sense for her, but if I don't specify or elaborate, then we end up with the fanon take. Ugh, how do I easily explain that if you look at the word 'sex' through a much more old-fashioned lens instead of the modern one, that you'll get a vastly different picture of it?

/takes angycat.png typing to my tags

[todayisafridaynight]

CANNOT BELIEVE IT'S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO REPLY YOU'VE ALREADY FINISHED THE SECOND MOVIE LOL BUT

I LOVE showing The Mole Song to people because it's like, love it or hate it, you can't possibly have a lukewarm reaction to it. I'm thrilled you liked it so much!!! Hong Kong Capriccio definitely has its moments and I'm glad you enjoyed it too; on that note, I haven't seen Final yet, and it doesn't seem to be hardsubbed online, but I was able to find a raw and subs separately. They seem okay from the scene I skipped to twenty minutes in but not positive lol

It really does set the tone early! I love the cutaway gags too The manga has a lot of absurd non-sequiturs and it was a fun way to adapt that to a new medium. As an adaptation as a whole, Undercover Agent Reiji in particular definitely has the tone down and I appreciate that it kept a lot of the Moments I liked.

Hiura had me from the blood oath… one of the guys of all time… despite how I sound from what I just said, I actually didn't even know there was a manga or a sequel when I first watched it, so I was SO relieved he survived the explosion. I was honestly 100% convinced he'd crash the plane at the end though lol, but I guess that ended up happening in Hong Kong Capriccio anyway?

BUT YEAH LIKE THE GUY JUST HAS A HYPERFIXATION AND I HAVE TO RESPECT THAT. Which, you know, in-universe, to have the whole butterfly motif and then dress your man up in florals… I repeat, Reiji was slaying in that dress… I love everyone's costuming in these movies. SPEAKING OF THE AUCTION, the PSP segment onward was insanely RGGcore wasn't it… good god……

It's kind of funny how little Reiji changes--I guess that's how you keep a manga going for like 900 or whatever chapters so far--because he'll pretty much Always have things he needs to figure out. Still very much fun to watch, though!

ALSO the drugs reminded me (I was expecting them to be In The Dogs too lol), shoutout to manga Tsukihara for having the exact same character arc as Mine and ending up an invaluable ally. Also getting to beat up Ryuji Leo (sorry my boy but Mine is overall the stronger combatant to me and I am tired of the Reddit-y discussions on the wiki saying otherwise </3). Living vicariously while Mine's status is still uncertain lol

P.S. I Too Treat Your Blog Like The Morning Paper and it means a lot to me to have the opportunity to write in and talk! I would also love to join a stream if you ever go for it!

P.P.S. NOOOOOOO PLEASE THE SLOW DANCING…….. UNWELL. I've imagined the same thing but at home… in the light of the refrigator… Jo is still tense as hell both because of the situation and it's such a waste of electricity and they really should close the door as soon as possible… but Arakawa insists if it's only for the duration of the song, it's fine……

YEAH THE MOLE SONG MOVIES WERE REALLY FUN thanks again for recommending it to me (I found out it had a manga series the moment I went to look it up, but I haven't read a lick of it. I'd say I'm surprised it's still running but I mean... manga like One Piece have over a thousand chapters at this point, so I shouldn't be too surprised. Maybe I'll give it a read sometime just to check out how the movies and manga compare-and-contrast with each other)!

1.) BIGGEST HONOR I'm glad my blog can entertain a lot of people (and a big part of that is due in part to people writing in and giving me a chance to chat a bit, so of course I always have to thank you and everyone else for sending me asks as frequently as you all do. They're absolutely the highlight of my day whenever I get the time to answer them ^^)!! I've always liked the idea of streaming (I've attempted to years back but I never tried again afterwards), though I always end up getting too anxious about it (plus I tend to get performance anxiety and I end up taking a lot longer to draw whenever people are watching me). I hope to get over that anxiety one day though- I bet it'd be fun to respond to people in real time or take quick doodle requests mid-stream :)

2.) AW THEM DANCING IN THE KITCHEN THOUGH I CAN SEE IT..... Jo being worried about the electric bill though that's so accurate..... I'll definitely think on the concept of Slow Dancing AraSawa with all the apparent enthusiasm around it.. I promise..

YAYA my friend (who made the post) told me a moment after I told her (also PLEASE I was so heinous reading the name- first thing I said to her aside from 'new movie night plan' was 'how many times does this man play a dude named 'Jo' ☠️☠️)! I wasn't able to find any recordings of the actual play (I know a trailer was posted last year so I don't know if they've actually performed live since then) but here's to hoping one day there's a recording of it posted somewhere...

[hvlcy0n]

SAY IT (PT. 1) . . . hayato suo x fem!reader

+ you’ve never reciprocated any of suo’s confessions of love, but a chance to eavesdrop on a conversation among you and your friends grants him all the insight he needs.

+ 4.2k words

+ NSFW (MINORS DNI) // UNEDITED // brief mentions of sex // mentions of edging at the end // brief mentions of overstimulation // mentions of past heartbreak/insecurities // established relationship // manipulation // i got all the big stuff but i’m definitely forgetting some minor stuff i’m just tired of looking at this

+ this is my first time writing suo so plEASE cut me some slack, i got tired of seeing it every time i opened google docs. i left any descriptions/names of your friends extremely vague on purpose so you can fill in whoever. the NEXT part of this will be centered around smut, but this one was more just kinda the build-up to his decision to push you out of your comfort zone.

suo has always been able to see right through you.

granted, that was his area of expertise—the ability to pierce through people’s defenses as if they were nothing more than a gossamer film and unearth whatever information he resolved to discover. he was regarded as dangerous by both allies and enemies, capable of sinking his fingertips into peoples’ psyches and peeling back the layers until their self–control began to fracture and ruby welled beneath his touch and trickled down to obscure his opponents’ vision in an all–consuming bloodlust that left them vulnerable and uncoordinated. 

he had a critical eye and a terrifying intuition; and while his friends wouldn’t trade him for the world, they were also aware of the uncharted territory of suo’s complex character—not to mention the existence of a small distance between them that had been discreetly established by suo himself. while he genuinely enjoyed the presence of his friends, he valued his privacy and space, and he often kept information about him restricted. he was more enigmatic than anything else. 

so, when suo offhandedly mentioned having a girlfriend, they were shocked. although emotionally intelligent, none of his friends pegged him as a romantic, his secrecy and manipulative tactics seemingly too insurmountable an obstacle in a relationship. generally, he was kind and respectful, but his demeanor could flip on a dime in the face of discourteous behavior. he could be mean—unfair.  it wasn’t uncommon for him to mask his slick tongue and cruelty behind refined language and his gentlemanly composure as he subjected his targets to public humiliation. sometimes, his emotions could get the better of him, and he could be frightening when they do. a gentleman? maybe. but there’s more nuance to him than that.

unbeknownst to them, suo was remarkably softer with you. warmth and genuine kindness emanated from every content smile and careful dance of his hands over your skin, calloused fingertips bearing an ardent reverence that would cause even aphrodite to flush. the sharp edge to his tongue smoothed, his teasing light-hearted and devoid of the faint, underlying drip of venom that could sometimes be heard punctuating his words if someone listened closely enough. when he observed you, his eyes glowed with innocuous curiosity and rather than distant analysis. 

the more time he spent with you, the more he could read you like an open book, deft fingertips tracing over even your most tattered, weathered pages and the most smudged ink to wholly bare the contents of your soul to him. he sought to know you in your entirety—your likes and dislikes, how you like to be touched, how you react to certain things. after all, the more he knows about you, the better he can protect you. 

the better he can love you.

love.

that’s a tricky subject for you to navigate, he’s learned.

you were never one to shy away from his affection. in fact, you clearly delighted in the attention he lavished you with. there was never a question as to whether you would hurry to lace your fingers with his if he reached out to you, if you would lean into his caresses, or if you would let him pepper kisses across your cheeks. you were so receptive to his ministrations, so much so that it was almost natural for your body to drift toward his in search of some sort of closeness. whatever he doled out, you returned, and that included the light banter and flirtatious remarks you two often exchanged. you fascinated him, kept him on his toes. 

the only area of your relationship that you fell short in was verbal confessions of love. suo knew that you were fiercely protective of your heart, already having subjected it to enough bruises and scrapes throughout your life to make you want to guard it to the best of your abilities. he was fortunate as it was that you had trusted him enough to relinquish it to him.

he knew that you were still learning to navigate the choppy waters of vulnerability—true vulnerability. it was easy enough to bask in suo’s attention and rely on his ability to comprehend the unspoken, but to say the words aloud would be to speak it into being, to charge the universe with the magnetic force that will bind your fate to his, to make it real. you never said anything that you didn’t mean, and suo understood that after all your hard work fortifying your emotions, to openly admit it would require you to let down your guard entirely and let him in.

there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him. he can feel it in the way you pour every ounce of heartfelt emotion into the kisses you press to his lips, your dedication toward memorizing and analyzing all of his microexpressions so that you can understand him on a deeper level, and the adoration that pools in your eyes like molten honey as you observe him when you think he isn’t paying attention. only a fool would mistake the depth of your feelings. 

he can read you like a book, that much is true, but it’s much more enjoyable to have it read to him line–by–line than to flip through the pages on his own. 

it’s quite endearing, actually, the way your skin would warm and your brain would stall whenever his lips would brush a saccharine “i love you” over the shell of your ear, or the way goosebumps would scatter across your skin and you would clench around him whenever he’d pair the words with a well–timed thrust inside you. he thrives off flustering you and witnessing your demeanor crumble into a delightful shyness that never fails to cause a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.

even so, he sometimes finds himself yearning for that reassurance that you’re as irrevocably enamored with him as he is with you—that you crave him the way he craves you. he understands that it’s greedy of him and that he should tamp down such self–centered emotions. he knows what your feelings toward him are; it would be inconsiderate of him to pry you out of your shell until you’re ready in order to satisfy his own desires. the concept of love operates differently for different people, and he can accept that. 

it always slips his mind how swiftly things can change.

it was a complete coincidence when he’d stumbled upon you in the outdoor seating area of a restaurant, accompanied by a few  friends of yours. he recalled you telling him that you were going out for lunch with them, but he had no idea that his outing in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his worn ones would cause your paths to cross. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation, only to simply greet you and then continue about his business, but he paused when he heard his name leave one of your friends’ lips.

“so, are you and suo still together?”

oh? before he can even acknowledge the gravity of contravening your privacy, his body is sparked into motion all on its own. he’s quick to retreat, melting into the slanted shadow proffered by the slim alleyway he had been poised to exit, just beyond the scope of your view.

he’s well aware that this is an infraction of the trust you extended to him, but he forces himself to disregard the prick of guilt aside in favor of potentially learning valuable information about the inner workings of your brain. it may not be ideal, but it’s for the best, he reasons. what if you reveal to your friends ways that he could better serve as your boyfriend? what if you feel more comfortable explaining to your friends your reservations about returning his heartfelt confessions? besides, the conversation is technically also centered around him, so surely it would be rude to bar him from listening in.

“of course,” the thought of you denying your relationship was never a concern for suo. you both trust each other implicitly, but to hear you stake such an immediate, explicit claim over him rouses a ticklish spark of delight in his stomach all the same. you scoff, as if the idea was so improbable it was ridiculous. “i’ll tie that man up in my basement before i let him just leave.” suo chuckles gently to himself. perhaps you truly are as invested as he is, after all.

“the dick must be fucking life–altering, if that’s the case.” she laughs. “come on, tell us. is it?”

“wh—” suo’s lips settle into a small, amused smile as he watches you flounder under her questioning, eyes feverishly flitting to your other friends for help, only for each one of them to leave you to drown with their own wide–eyed, inquisitive stares. “oh, my god, i’m not telling you that!” nervous laughter wracks your chest. suo’s shrewd gaze can practically perceive the memories flickering through your brain as you try to maintain your composure, each one spliced together in a salacious collage that has blood thrumming beneath your skin. suo has always been one to fine–tune his craft, and his perfectionism extended to the bedroom as he used his meticulous attention to detail and acute awareness of your reactions to guide you to your peak over . . . and over . . . and over again until he was satisfied.

and of course, you knew that.

“but seriously,” another girl props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, observing you closely. “i’ve never seen you like this before. before him, you were all ‘ew, gross, men’—not to say that isn’t still valid, but y’know. maybe suo really is a good match for you.”

“do you love him?” the first girl pipes up ecstatically.

now we’re getting somewhere.

it requires significant concentration for suo not to laugh outright when a jolt of surprise grips your body, your muscles visibly tensing and eyes rounding. your lips part to speak, but the words remain wedged in your throat. “i—uh . . .”

“wait, for real?” the third girl, who had remained quiet this entire time, finally speaks up. “do you not actually love him?”

this time, when you don’t at least make an effort to deny their claims, suo’s smile begins to wilt. from suo’s angle, your expression is sapped of the typical bashfulness he had been anticipating. rather, your features are murky with conflict, brows furrowed pensively and fingertips drumming against the chilled glass of the untouched beverage sitting between your palms. for the first time in a while, he can’t read you, and while he’s always enjoyed a bit of reticence and mystery, he doesn’t want it like this—not when such uncertainty is founded on the future of his relationship. did he misunderstand you somehow? was he wrong? no, there’s no way that you’d have done everything you did if you didn’t harbor some type of love for him. it’s simply not plausible. right? 

the silence is unnerving, causing a chasm of apprehension to split his stomach and swallow up the candlelit flicker of warmth that once resided in his chest. he’s never been an anxious individual, typically collected and level–headed under pressure. in fact, he’s always prided himself on his ability to remain composed; but now, as he stands here, body stiff and heart thumping as he waits for you to continue, he figures that love really is one hell of a drug. only the wideness of his eyes betrays his usual poise, but even that would be enough for any of his friends to notice that something is amiss. well, mature as he may be and as far above the fragility of human nature that others believe he is, he’s still only human. and it’s times like this that remind him that he’s still weak.

god, how far has he fallen? how much power did he give you?

“all this time, i thought you guys were in love.” the second girl gasps, hand flitting up to cover her mouth. “so, what’s going on? what’s wrong with him?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to find your voice to defend him, but for some reason, it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest or the worried spin of his mind. “he’s wonderful, it’s just—”

“is he mean to you?” the second girl presses. “because if he is, i can—”

“he’s obviously not mean to her if she’s still with him.” the first girl retorts, silencing her with a dismissive wave of her hand. before the second girl can argue, she continues. “it could just be that it’s too early for her to know if she does.”

“it’s been months.” the third girl points out. “something has to be up if she doesn’t love him—”

“i do!”

suo’s fingers twitch.

your friends fall silent as the words burst from your chest, unwavering and aflame with conviction. your voice quiets as you fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, eyes still fixated on the cup in front of you. “i do love him, it’s just . . . i’ve never felt like this for anyone, and i don’t know what to do. it feels so real and intense, and it’s scary.”

your words reverberate through suo’s mind as he expels a breath he didn’t notice was wedged in his chest. “i do love him.” his entire body seems to decompress, the tension in his muscles alleviating. “i’ve never felt like this for anyone.” suddenly, your hesitance makes sense. not only were you protective of your heart to begin with, but the magnitude of the importance of this was much larger and therefore more frightening than he realized. suo’s heart swells in his chest at your confession, pride licking up his sternum to grace the apples of his cheeks with a feather–light kiss of ruby. he’s honored to be the first person you’re entrusting with such a privilege—well, even if he’s not supposed to know about it yet.

“what do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” the first girl stares at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. she flips her hands over with her palms facing toward the sky. “tell him?”

“i can’t just do that!” this time, it’s your turn to look at her like she just told you she ran over a family of five with her chevy tahoe, and suo chuckles.

“and why not?” she flops back in her seat incredulously.

“i just told you, it’s scary!” you insist matter–of–factly. “you remember the last guy i was with? it lasted one month, and in that amount of time, i aged thirty years and had stress levels that would’ve gotten me sent to the emergency room.”

suo hums softly in surprise. you didn’t tell him about that. of course, he had suspected that someone had dragged you through the trenches prior to accepting him as your boyfriend, but he felt as though that was a topic that would be better left to your discretion. you would tell him if you wanted him to know, so he never questioned you.

“yeah, but suo is way better than him.” the third girl reminds you. “at least, i think so. i only met the guy like twice.”

“helpful.” the second girl remarks dryly.

“no, he seriously is so much better.” you insist. “he’s everything i could’ve asked for, but it’s just . . . exposing myself like that would mean he has everything he needs to hurt me, and if i end up flat on my ass again, i don’t know what i’m gonna do. and i know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but . . . ugh, this is impossible.” you let your head loll back. 

there’s a brief stretch of silence before the second girl speaks up again, and this time, her voice has flattened into a deadpan. “girl.” she blinks at you. “that’s the issue?”

clearly not anticipating that reaction, you stare blankly at her for a moment, searching for the right words. “i—what?” you bristle defensively. “what’s that supposed to mean? is that suddenly not a good reason to bare my heart and soul to this man?”

“no, it’s actually really not.” the third girl joins the second’s campaign. she scoots forward in her seat and folds her hands delicately on the table. “let’s reflect. this is suo we’re talking about. this is the same man who stayed the night and took care of you religiously when you were sick with food poisoning from your first date, the same man who gave you earrings similar to his for your birthday, and the same man who showed up at your house in the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on his back to accompany you when that storm knocked your power out—as a ‘friend.’” 

“why did you use air quotes around the word ‘friend?’” the first girl narrows her eyes at the third.

“because he was playing the long game, okay? he was plotting. stay with me now.” she answers quickly, placing her hand on the first girl’s knee. 

suo chuckles, raising his brows. he has to admit, your friends are impressive.

“so,” the third girl continues. “those are just a couple examples, but it’s crystal clear that suo is devoted. like he’s in this to stay.”

“or he’s some sort of supervillain.” the second girl interjects.

“don’t say that!” the third girl snaps, aghast. “no, yeah, you’re right. the ‘untouchable’ furin graduate who took a bat to the ribs just to keep her safe is definitely here to create lifelong trauma for her. anyway, as i was saying,” she turns back to you, “if that’s not enough, think about it this way. suo is really private, right?”

“right.” you nod.

“well, he was probably in a similar boat as you, then. i mean, you said that you were worried that you’d be giving him what he needs to hurt you, but the inverse is also true, and he already told you he loves you. he trusted you not to hurt him with that information, so you should be able to trust him not to do that to you, either.”

“that’s . . . wait,” the wheels rotate in your brain as you mull over her advice, and your hand drifts up to conceal your mouth in a moment of clarity. “oh, shit. no, wait, yeah, you may have a point. i didn’t think about it like that.”

“that’s what you have us for.” the third girl grins.

“so, does that mean you’re gonna tell him?” the second girl quirks a brow at you. “maybe? probably? hopefully?”

“uh . . . probably not . . .” you wince, only to jump when you’re promptly subjected to an onslaught of groans and complaints from your friends.

“dude, what the fuck?” 

“i know, i’m sorry!” you yelp.

“did you get nothing out of the conversation?”

“no, i did, i swear!” your desperate attempts to defend yourself against your friends are fractured by bouts of laughter. “trust me, i did.”

“so, what’s the problem now?” the second girl drags her palm exhaustedly down her cheek.

“the issue is that it’s still embarrassing!” you whine. “you literally said it yourself earlier. i’ve never been like this—ever! just thinking about saying it makes me wanna crawl in a hole. it makes me feel, like, exposed or some shit, i don’t know—quit looking at me like that! i don’t know how else to explain it!”

“don’t piss me off.”

 “what?” your lips pop open in indignation. “but—”

suo’s slender fingers settle delicately over his lips as he chuckles to himself and steps completely behind the alley corner. his eyelids flutter low, gaze soft with contentment, as he listens to you scramble to defend yourself against your frustrated friends. it’s alright, they’ve done plenty. he can take it from here.

the conversation bounced around between the four of you has certainly altered the circumstances, providing you with the clarity needed to shed your reservations about setting yourself up for a potential heartbreak and unfurling the remaining layers of your defense to reveal the lingering issue still barring you from being honest about your feelings. at this point, it seems to no longer be about you being ill–equipped and underprepared to handle such a divulgence, which he could certainly accept. now, it appears to be about disentangling yourself from the binds of shame and embarrassment. about you requiring a little push in the right direction—well, less of a small nudge and more of a guiding hand that you would trust to unravel you down to the strings of your heart.

fortunately for you, there is no one more aware of what loose threads of yours to tug on in order to achieve his goal than suo himself.

maybe it’s unfair of him to change his mind and concoct an excuse to denounce the leniency and understanding that had been fueling his patience thus far. maybe it’s unfair of him to take the initiative to strip you of the protective cocoon he had previously been more than prepared to allow you to reside in. maybe it’s unfair of him to press you, to utilize his silver tongue and honeyed words to draw out your rawest and most vulnerable state.

but when the opportunity has practically tripped and fallen into his lap, how could he not? it isn’t as if it would be a detriment to you. he has never led you astray, and he certainly isn’t going to start now. 

a venereal plan is already brewing in the back of his mind as he mulls over how to best extract such a confession from you. no matter what type of attitude you may acquire or how sturdy you believe your resistance to be, pleasure has never failed to whittle and melt you down into a pliant puddle that’s all soft edges and hazy, trusting eyes. an even trade—a release only he can provide for the secret you’re trying so hard to keep from him? this evening, perhaps, if he plays his cards right. you don’t have plans tomorrow, which means you certainly can’t be too angry if he keeps you awake into the darkest hours of the night. 

he can practically feel the ghost of the warmth of your skin under his fingertips as he keeps you pinned so that you can’t escape his ministrations, taste the salt brimming in your tears of frustration as you war between your pride and surrendering to the pleasure he plans to dangle in front of you, and hear your whines and moans as he keeps you just barely balanced on the precipice of release. he can already predict how you’ll label him as mean—manipulative, even. and maybe he is.

he’s only human, after all. 

and what would humans be if not flawed? if not a bit cruel? if not a bit . . . selfish?

[elizais]

when you know, you know.

when they realise just how much they love you ft: nikolai, bram, poe part 1 here content/warnings: mentions of murder (poe's ability), shortttt, i tried to keep it as a gn reader but i might have slipped up at points. i wrote bram without the sword and in current day bcs i was struggling dudesss i think this is my first time trying to write for bram and poe so please take these with a pinch of salt but the lovely person who requested it was so polite i couldn't pass it up <3

nikolai was.. lively to say the least. i mean, just having a partner would be (in his eyes) something tying him down. but, for you? being with you would comply with him wanting to be free. you granted him freedom from all of the negative thoughts that could plague him.

walking down the high-street with you, hand in hand as he pondered all of these ideas. the both of you were strolling towards a cafe that kolya had begged to go to for its "famous pirozhki".

he was not in his usual attire today, wearing a simple blue turtleneck sweater and jeans that fit him loosely. you had to admit, he looked close to incredible when you contrasted it to his usual wear. even though his outfit was different, his personality did not falter in the slightest.

swinging your arms forwards and backwards quickly as you walked, he giggled at whatever joke he was thinking of. turning towards him, you smiled. "kolya?" you poked his upper arm for his attention. "what type of bird is that?" you asked, glancing at a small bird hopping through tree branches. as he looked over, it flew away.

his braid fell over his shoulder, laying softly as he considered making a witty joke. the truth of what he was thinking was of how much he adored you, how you pointed out birdies, watched comedy shows with him, tried your best to cook his favourite meals, put up with him using his ability to scare you..

he thought back to earlier, you had brushed his hair into the usual neat braid as he spoke about what tricks he was going to pull on sigma and fyodor too. he laughed as you frowned, claiming "leave sigma alone, he has a casino to take care of, babysitting you is my job."

bram was, aside from being a vampire and that, perfect. his personality was complex, but you often joked that it wittled down to him just wanting to sleep.

today, you were both sat on the sofa as he spoke about aya. you were brushing through his hair. "she was telling me about some artists, i think she meant composers." he explained, going on about music as you giggled. his hair was showing some curls towards the ends that you were entertaining yourself with.

he was kneeling in front of you so that you could face his back and toy with his hair.

"what is amusing?" he asked politely, refraining from turning around incase he messed up the braid you insisted so stubbornly on putting in his hair. you pulled the long braid onto his shoulder and he saw how you had refined the hair past the bobble into a sweet curl.

he smiled softly as you spoke, "what genre do you want to listen to? does aya have any recommendations?" you teased and he let out a soft chuckle. cherishing these sweeter, saccharine moments were as good at keeping him alive as his ability was.

he put up with the garlic jokes, playing dumb vampire films on tv (he really does love hotel transylvania!), the teasing.. all because he loves you !!

poe was like a breath of fresh air to be around. there was never a need to be loud or extroverted with him. and those were just bonuses on top of getting to hang out with a raccoon all of the time. you were currently in another room trying to trim karl's nails.

key word: trying

ed was in the study, writing another novel. whether it's for ranpo or not? who knows. karl wasn't putting up a fight but more so.. wriggling around. any sane person would have given up by now but with the amount of time this raccoon spends around your shoulders? zero chance.

once you finally finished, you swooped karl into your arms and carried him back to edgar. "ed? have you eaten or drank water recently?" you asked, setting down karl and walking over to him as he closed the book before him. he nodded as he looked up to you from his armchair.

"yes, and i have finished it!" he exclaimed, you furrowed your brows in confusion. "finished what, love?" he presented you the book proudly. "it's just like the film we watched a few weeks ago. you said you wanted to live in that manor house, no?" and that's when it clicked for you.

he carried on, "when you want to go, all the characters will be there! i had to add in another to die but other than that? it's the same!" he excitedly explained. tracing over the clothbound cover with your name on the front, he added one more thing. "oh! and to figure it out in one of the office desk drawers it will let you know what happened."

you smiled at that, he didn't want you to struggle. unfortunately, his ability was only murder mystery related so he couldn't write a book about a sunshine land where nothing went wrong. yet he tried his best, for you!

[makingspiritualityreal]

Sleeping Beauty - Why the Moon and the Feminine Debilitate in Vishakha Nakshatra

For the best understanding of my writing, I recommend that you watch the movie in question, even if you see it after having read my post I’m sure your experience will leave you enriched and with a greater sense of understanding of Vishakha Nakshatra energies.

Vishakha Nakshatra traditionally debilitates the Moon in the 4th pada of Scorpio if you use traditional Lahiri Ayanamsa. I don’t, as anyone who reads me knows about my endorsement of the Mula Galactic Center Ayanamsa, which places the entirety of Vishakha in Scorpio in our times, and I believe I can show you how this theme carries through the entirety of the Moon in this Nakshatra.

It is important to understand, that the struggle described here concerns women in particular. The reason why it’s so prominent in female charts, is that this Nakshatra's ruler is Jupiter and men are naturally more inclined to carry Jupiterian energy more gracefully, while women are fundamentally at odds with it. Men are designed to withstand pressure to protect the feminine, as it increases their Masculine polarity through giving them "a tough hide" over time. Women's Lunar energies however, react to being subjected to this energy with trauma, that they compensate heavily for to survive.

To an extent, the struggles described here can be relatable if you have any of your big 3 in Vishakha Nakshatra, but even with prominent Vishakha energy in your chart, the experience is not quite the same as having your Moon there, and your Sun there can actually become a positive placement over time. The Sun is born in Vishakha Nakshatra and this combo can turn out auspiciously due to the natural synergy of Solar energies in a female chart.

Let’s begin by describing the feminine qualities of planets - Venus and the Moon. The Moon is nurturing, adaptable, giving, caring, receptive, reciprocal. Venus is receptive but discerning, making her also a natural receiver and refiner, a strategic taker, who lays down and relaxes, while taking in only what’s best, ultimately spending oneself on what is worthy of one’s admiration. It is also a conqueror of the finest things, but it is never defensive, as it represents the sentiment of pride.

These feminine principles in theory should represent the apex of female behavior through those qualities. A woman is supposed to be proud, relaxed, discerning and freely respond to her environment. Her garden is supposed to grow and expand, nurture and be nurtured. And those qualities all fail in Vishakha Nakshatra due to its fundamental giving nature and Jupiter rulership, making it the gardener, not the object of worship.

Jupiter is giving and tolerant, Venus is taking and critical. The Moon adapts and attaches to its environment, Jupiter absorbs negativity from others to provide relief. What do we get as a result of this combo? A woman who can’t function in her basic feminine principle without a massive struggle.

Our Moon Nakshatra is what our earliest environment raised us to adapt to through our nurturing female figures. It is what we fundamentally have burned into our psyche and what we emulate as women. When your Moon as a woman is in Vishakha Nakshatra, you fundamentally have adapted to endlessly giving passes to other people as a result of your upbringing. You can see an example of that in the film, where Sleeping Beauty’s Mother calls her to get money out of her, despite her daughter struggling for basic survival financially. You can also see Sleeping Beauty working several jobs to carry that load and to fulfill everyone’s expectations of her, while they don’t treat her well and are never grateful for any of her sacrifices. Sleeping Beauty is willing to sacrifice all of her basic needs, just to satisfy a mother who drains her. As a result of such a conditioning, she grows into a pathological people pleaser, who can’t say no, even to her own detriment, and ends up putting herself in uncomfortable situations over and over, thinking that making a demand or advocating for her own well being is going to result in a punishment from her environment. We see this in the scene where she needs to rent a new apartment and ends up picking the first building on the flier, just to make things easier for the real estate agent, even though she can’t afford it and doesn’t enjoy it.

What is a Woman? A creature of delight and senses. Comfortable, open, giving, splendorous, cherished and protected. It radiates caring to others, because it feels effortlessly cared for. It expands, because it caries within so much comfort and abundance. But when the Moon is in Vishakha Nakshatra it gets none of those things. Instead, the feminine is neglected, spending itself for everyone else.

You can see that throughout the film as everyone, men and women, treats Sleeping Beauty instrumentally, to the point of subjecting her to a horrifying final experience of laying directly with death for the sake of someone else’s relief, someone avoiding responsibility for their own life and using the Vishakha woman for self gratification.

What is the tale of a Sleeping Beauty? A tale of a selective woman, patiently waiting forever if necessary, until the Prince with enough courage proves himself by rescuing her and showing initiative, and then promising to care for her for the rest of her days. Yet in the movie version, no prince is found and instead men use Sleeping Beauty to feel cared for, objectifying her and erasing her identity, which eventually leads her to snap. There is no Jupiterian Prince coming to save the Moon in Vishakha woman.

The Moon in Vishakha Nakshatra promises such a scenario in a woman’s chart, sentencing her to a very difficult fate.

There is a reason this Nakshatra is of an Out Caste. After suffering so much on the hands of so many people, Vishakha doesn’t really want to be part of them, finally embracing one’s freedom and individuality. And for that it is condemned, discarded and casted out the moment people can’t use it as their desired object. They only had any semblance of acceptance in slave roles to begin with, and that cannot be sustained, for the Moon is a Royal planet, of a "Queenly" nature according to Jyotish classics. A Royal planet will not accept a submissive role, Vishakha Nakshatra doesn’t want to offer natural, effortless splendor, so a Vishakha Moon becomes the queen of the wilderness, the queen of the outcasts and the downtrodden.

We don't see a continuation of this scenario in the movie, but if you follow Emily Browning's career she stars in roles, where a fight for her own freedom and agency leads to her own demise, as her feminine energy is oppressed for all attempts at self expression. This Nakshatra is the only one classified as Rakshasa, Demonic, among others of Jupiter rulership due to the struggles one must endure here just for the sake of their basic life. The sister Nakshatra of Punarvasu is of a Deva, Angelic nature, preoccupied with creativity and higher ideas, attracting a certain amount of divine sovereignty and protection. Purva Bhadrapada is of a Manushya, human temperament making them expert social climbers and using status and collective themes to buffer Jupiterian energies, despite that Nakshatra being such a testing point. But it is the Vishakha Nakshatra that is the rawest point of the Jupiterian soul, enduring the most negativity and hardship.

With the Moon in Vishakha, a woman's inner Queen needs to go through literal Hell to earn the right to live.

[alilixx]

Hugh Laurie X FEM!READER

Hello, hello everyone! As promised, I'm making a SHORT Hugh Laurie x Fem!Reader which will be more NSFW for my girls <3 because I'm working on a longer one alongside with a James x Fem!Reader, so this is more of a "teaser." I PROMISE TO STAY AS ACTIVE AS POSSIBLE. WRITE SOMES SHORTS STORYS ARE THE BEST THING FRRR (i'm not struggling). Don't forget my request are open. Love u <3

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

After a tiring week at the office, you need to unwind, to escape. Deadlines have piled up relentlessly, interminable meetings and tensions with colleagues have turned each day into a marathon. Tonight, you decide to give yourself a well-deserved break. Slipping into your favorite dress, the one that always boosts your confidence, you head to a chic bar downtown, known for its pleasant ambiance and refined cocktails.

As you enter the bar, a wave of relief washes over you. The dim lighting, soft music, and relaxed atmosphere are exactly what you needed. You settle at the counter and order a Martini. The bartender smiles and serves you promptly, and you start sipping your drink, savoring each sip.

Your gaze sweeps across the room. You see groups of friends laughing together, couples whispering sweet nothings, and a few solitary souls, like yourself, enjoying their own company. That’s when you notice him. Seated a few stools away, a man alone, sipping a whisky. He has a familiar look, but you can’t quite place him immediately. His features are both charismatic and understated, exuding an intriguing presence without being overbearing.

Your eyes meet, and you feel a spark. Maybe it’s the effect of the Martini, or perhaps it's simply the desire to feel alive tonight, but you decide to make the first move. Taking your glass, you stand up and walk over to him, your heart beating a little faster with each step.

"Good evening," you say with a smile, sitting next to him. "I couldn’t help but notice you’re enjoying a whisky. Would you recommend it?"

He looks up at you, surprised but pleasantly so, and responds with a warm smile. "Absolutely. It’s one of the best I’ve had in a long time. And what about you, what are you drinking?"

"A Martini," you reply, holding up your glass. "It’s my favorite cocktail to unwind after a long week."

"A long week, huh?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "I know that feeling. I’m in town for the filming of my latest movie, and days on set can be exhausting."

"Oh, you’re an actor?" you ask, feigning surprise while finally recognizing him. "That’s fascinating. What kind of film are you working on?"

"A drama with a few touches of comedy," he explains. "It’s an exciting project, but very demanding. I needed to get out and change the scenery tonight."

"I completely understand," you reply, nodding. "Sometimes you just need to escape the routine and find a place where you can relax and be yourself."

The conversation continues, smooth and natural. You talk about your respective experiences, passions, and lives. He shares funny anecdotes from the set, and you tell him about your own work challenges. Time passes unnoticed, and you feel increasingly at ease in his company.

"So, what brings you here tonight?" he finally asks, looking deeply into your eyes.

"I just needed to get out, to escape," you answer honestly. "I love this place because it has a relaxing vibe and I can meet interesting people. Like you, for instance."

He smiles, clearly flattered. "That’s kind of you to say. I’m glad our paths crossed tonight."

"Me too," you say with a smile in return. "I didn’t expect to have such a great evening."

The chemistry between you grows stronger. The exchanged glances become more intense, and the mutual attraction is palpable. You order another round of drinks, and the conversation continues, a mix of laughter, confessions, and subtle flirting.

"You know," he says after a moment of comfortable silence, "I don’t want this evening to end. How about continuing the night somewhere else? Maybe in a more intimate spot?"

Your heart races at the thought of extending this moment with him. "I’d love to," you reply, taking his hand as he offers it to help you up.

You leave the bar together, the night air adding a refreshing touch to the excitement building inside you. Hugh leads you to a quieter street, slightly away from the lights and noise of the city. You walk side by side, your hands brushing against each other from time to time, each touch heightening the mutual attraction.

"So, where are we going?" you ask, curious.

"I’ve heard about a small lounge not far from here," he says with a smile. "It’s quiet and perfect for continuing our conversation."

You quickly arrive at a discreet yet elegant little establishment. The interior is cozy, with velvet armchairs and soft lighting. You settle into a more private corner, out of sight, and order drinks once more. The conversation picks up naturally, now with a more pronounced touch of flirtation.

"You know," you say, sipping your cocktail, "I really didn’t expect to have such a pleasant evening."

"Me neither," he replies, looking at you intently. "I’m thrilled that our paths crossed tonight."

You talk about everything and nothing, sharing anecdotes from your respective lives, laughing together, and discovering unexpected commonalities. Hugh tells you stories from the set, funny moments, and challenges faced. In return, you share snippets of your life, your passions, and your dreams.

"Tell me a bit about yourself," he says suddenly. "What are you passionate about in life?"

"I love literature," you reply with a smile. "Reading, writing, escaping into stories. It’s what helps me escape from reality, just like tonight."

"That’s fascinating," he says, nodding. "I’ve always admired people who can create worlds with words. It’s a talent I don’t have."

"Oh, but you create worlds with your acting," you counter. "You bring characters to life and transport people into stories. That’s just as impressive."

He smiles at you, touched by your words. "Thank you. It’s nice to talk with someone who understands and appreciates what I do."

Hours pass, and the atmosphere becomes increasingly intimate. At one point, Hugh leans slightly closer to you, his gaze locking with yours.

"You know," he murmurs, "I don’t want this evening to end."

Your heart races, excitement and desire mingling. "Neither do I," you reply softly.

He moves even closer, and before you can say anything, his lips find yours in a tender yet passionate kiss. You lose yourself in the moment, forgetting everything else. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you and this intense connection.

When you pull apart, you feel a pleasant warmth overwhelming you. Hugh looks at you with a tenderness and passion that makes you melt.

"We could go to my place," he suggests softly. "Continue this evening away from prying eyes."

You nod, unable to refuse such an invitation. "Let’s go," you murmur, ready to follow this unexpected path to the end.

You leave the lounge hand in hand, excitement and anticipation skyrocketing. Tonight, you’re ready to fully embrace this adventure with Hugh, without worrying about tomorrow.

Hugh hails a taxi, and you both climb into the back seat. The tension between you is palpable, each glance, each smile, each brush of hands heightening the intensity of the moment.

The ride to Hugh’s hotel seems both too short and interminable. You feel his gaze on you, and every time your eyes meet, a wave of desire washes over you. You exchange a few words, but it’s the unspoken promise in the air that dominates your thoughts.

When you arrive at the hotel, Hugh confidently leads you through the lobby. You take the elevator, and as soon as the doors close, he turns toward you. His hands gently rest on your hips, pulling you closer. Without a word, he lowers his head and captures your lips in a deep, longing kiss.

The elevator doors open on his floor, and you part just long enough to exit and walk to his room. Once the door is closed behind you, the intensity escalates. Hugh gently pushes you against the wall, his lips finding yours again. His hands explore your body with a restrained urgency, sliding down your waist, caressing your hips.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck.

You shiver under his touch, your hands exploring beneath his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. Your clothes fall away slowly, piece by piece, as you move towards the bed. Each movement is charged with desire, each kiss deeper, hungrier than the last.

Hugh guides you to the bed, gently laying you down on the sheets. He leans over you, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with passion. His hands continue their exploration, discovering every curve, every contour of your body.

"You drive me crazy," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I want you so much."

"I want you too," you whisper, your body responding to every touch, every word.

Hugh slowly descends along your body, his lips and tongue tracing fiery paths on your skin. Each kiss, each touch ignites you further, drawing you closer to ecstasy. Hugh takes his time, savoring each moment, each reaction of your body under his expert hands.

His lips leave yours, trailing gently down your neck. He lingers on this sensitive area, placing light kisses that make you shiver. You feel his warm breath against your skin, each exhale heightening the intensity of your sensations. He nibbles lightly at the base of your neck before continuing his descent.

He lingers on your collarbones, tracing circles with his tongue, leaving a trail of warmth behind. His hands follow the movement of his lips, gliding down your arms before returning to your hips, caressing them gently. Each touch is like a spark, igniting a fire of desire within you.

Hugh moves further down, his lips finding the hollow between your breasts. He plants soft kisses there before venturing further. His hands rise to caress your breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around your nipples, hardening them under his expert touch. You let out a moan of pleasure, your body reacting to each caress, each kiss.

His lips continue their descent, tracing a fiery line down your abdomen. He pauses for a moment to place a lingering kiss there, his warm breath against your skin. You feel your desire rise, each touch bringing you closer to ecstasy. His hands slide gently over your hips, caressing you, preparing you for what’s to come.

Hugh finally reaches your lower abdomen, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of skin. He looks up at you for a moment, his eyes glowing with desire, before leaning in to place light kisses on the inside of your thighs. He takes his time, savoring every reaction from your body, every shiver, every moan.

"You’re beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his words making you shiver even more.

His lips and tongue continue their exploration, slowly moving up the other thigh before finally finding their destination. He kisses you with infinite tenderness and passion, making you lose your mind with pleasure. You feel his tongue tracing circles, each movement bringing you closer to ecstasy.

Hugh wraps his arms around you delicately, his hands gently caressing the inside of your thighs to keep you open and exposed to his attentions. His kisses become more intense, his tongue playing with your warmth, alternating between soft licks and firmer pressures. Each movement sends waves of pleasure through you, making you sigh and moan under his expert touch.

"Hugh…" you murmur, your voice trembling with desire and pleasure.

He responds with a satisfied growl, continuing his touches with total devotion. His tongue glides along your folds, finding each sensitive spot and exploiting it with precision that drives you wild. Your hands grip his hair, encouraging him to keep going, to push you even further.

He intensifies his movements, his hands becoming bolder, his fingers caressing your entrance as his tongue focuses on your most sensitive point. He alternates between gently sucking and vigorously licking, keeping you on the edge of ecstasy. You feel your breath quicken, your body responding to each stimulation, tightening under the growing intensity of pleasure.

"Oh my God, Hugh…" you gasp, your body arching under his attentions.

Feeling your pleasure building, he gently slides one finger inside you, then a second, his movements synchronized with his tongue. He penetrates you slowly, preparing you with infinite tenderness, his fingers quickly finding a rhythm that makes you gasp with pleasure. His touches are precise, his movements expert, pushing you further, keeping you on the edge of orgasm without ever letting you come down.

Ecstasy rises within you, each movement, each caress bringing you closer to the point of no return. You feel your muscles tensing, your body ready to explode under the intensity of pleasure. Hugh feels it too, and he intensifies his movements, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to take you to the peak.

When the orgasm hits, it’s like an explosion of sensations, overwhelming you completely. You cry out in pleasure, your body arching under the intensity of ecstasy. Hugh continues his movements, guiding you through each wave of pleasure, keeping you in this state of pure bliss. But fortunately or unfortunately for you, it wasn’t over, and it was far from finished.

After your breathing settles, your lips meet, and the kiss you share is gentle, imbued with the passion of the moment you’ve shared. Hugh looks at you, his eyes shining with unsatisfied desire.

"I want you," he murmurs, his voice rough with longing.

"Then take me," you respond, the burning desire still within you.

He positions himself above you, and you feel his desire pressing against your entrance. He looks at you one last time, making sure you’re ready. You nod, and with a moan of pleasure, he slowly enters you, filling you completely.

The rhythm he finds is perfect, each thrust bringing you closer to ecstasy again. Your bodies move in harmony, each movement heightening the intensity of pleasure. Hugh leans in to kiss you, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss, your breaths mingling.

The sensations are intense, each touch, each kiss, each movement bringing you both closer to the peak. You feel your pleasure rising once more, each thrust pushing you a little closer to the edge.

"Hugh, I’m going to…" you murmur, unable to finish your sentence.

"Me too," he growls, his movements becoming faster, more urgent.

The orgasm hits you again, overwhelming you with pleasure. Hugh follows almost immediately, lost in his own bliss. You both cry out together, your bodies tensing under the intensity of shared ecstasy.

As your breathing calms, Hugh remains beside you, his intense gaze never leaving you. His hands gently caress your skin, his fingers tracing light circles along your arm. He shifts slightly, his eyes glowing with renewed desire.

"I’m not done with you yet," he murmurs, his voice deep and promising.

Before you can respond, he gently turns you over, positioning you on your stomach. His hands glide along your back, massaging your tense muscles before settling on your hips. He lifts you slightly, positioning you on all fours in front of him. You feel his burning gaze on you, making you shiver with anticipation.

"You’re beautiful," he says, softly caressing your backside. "I want to make you scream with pleasure again and again."

He positions himself behind you, and you feel his hardness pressed against you once more. With a slow but determined motion, he enters you, filling you completely. The sensation is intense, each movement making you moan with pleasure. Hugh begins to move, finding a fast and powerful rhythm, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you in place.

"Oh yes, Hugh," you cry out, your body responding to each thrust, each contact. "Harder!"

He obeys, his movements becoming faster and more intense, driving you with every thrust. His hands glide from your hips to your breasts, gently caressing and pinching them, adding to the intensity of your sensations. You feel your pleasure rising again, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

"You’re so tight," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "I’m going to make you come again and again."

He continues to penetrate you, his movements becoming more and more frantic. You feel your orgasm building, inevitable and powerful. Your moans turn into cries of pleasure, your body tensing under the intensity of ecstasy. Hugh doesn’t slow down, pushing you even further, bringing you to a second orgasm even more intense than the first.

"Hugh, I'm going… I'm going to come!" you cry out, unable to contain your pleasure.

"Me too," he growls, his movements becoming faster and more powerful.

When the orgasm hits, it’s like a crashing wave of pleasure, overwhelming you completely. Hugh comes shortly after, his hands tightening on your hips, his groans of pleasure echoing in the room. You remain there, your bodies tensing and contracting under the intensity of shared ecstasy.

You then collapse onto the bed, your bodies exhausted but fulfilled. Hugh holds you in his arms, his hands gently caressing your skin, allowing you both to enjoy the calm after the storm.

To calm down, you decide to watch a short series. Eventually, as he caresses you, his touch becomes more intimate, and you take the lead. You position yourself on top of him, sitting on his thighs. You feel his hardness pressing against you, and slowly, you lower yourself onto him, taking him deeply inside. The sensation is electrifying, making you moan with pleasure.

"You’re incredible," he murmurs, looking at you with admiration.

You start to move, finding a slow and sensual rhythm, savoring each movement, each sensation. Hugh watches you, his hands on your hips, guiding you gently. You establish a perfect rhythm, each movement bringing you closer to ecstasy.

Minutes pass, and you feel your pleasure building again, inevitable and intense. Hugh shifts slightly, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. His hands slide along your back, caressing and guiding you.

"I'm going to come," you murmur, your voice trembling with pleasure.

"Me too," he replies, his movements becoming faster and more urgent.

When the orgasm hits you again, it’s like an explosion of sensations, overwhelming you completely. Hugh comes shortly after, his hands tightening on your hips, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours.

The next morning, you wake up in Hugh’s arms, the daylight gently filtering through the curtains. You turn to look at him, a satisfied smile on your lips. Hugh opens his eyes and returns your smile, his fingers gently caressing your cheek.

“Every movement counts,” you murmur, recalling the previous night, your eyes sparkling with desire.

Hugh leans in towards you, his lips brushing your ear. “Especially those of my hips against yours,” he murmurs in a husky voice, making you shiver.

He then gets up, leaving you in bed as he heads to the kitchen to find something to eat. You watch him, admiring his muscular back and the way he moves with grace. A few moments later, he returns with a tray of fresh fruit and coffee. He sets it on the nightstand and joins you on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I brought you something to recharge,” he says with a sly smile.

“Thank you,” you reply, taking a strawberry and bringing it to your lips, the sweet taste exploding on your tongue.

Hugh watches you with renewed intensity, and before you can react, he pulls you back to him. “But before we eat,” he murmurs, his lips finding yours in a burning kiss. “I’m still hungry for you.”

He gently pushes you back onto the bed, his hands sliding over your body with palpable hunger. You feel his desire against you, and your body responds immediately, desire surging again. Hugh positions himself over you, his movements urgent and determined.

“Ready for another round?” you ask, your voice trembling with desire.

“Always,” he replies with a smile, his eyes shining with mischief and desire.

Hugh enters you with renewed urgency, his movements fast and powerful. Each thrust is filled with passion, making you moan with pleasure. You quickly fall back into the rhythm of the previous night, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“Hugh, this feels so good,” you murmur, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails leaving light marks on his skin.

“I want to see you come again,” he growls, his movements becoming even faster and deeper. Even though he had to go to a shoot soon, he didn’t care. He wanted to stay with you for as long as possible, so he drew out your orgasm to the maximum, tormenting you until you begged him to let you climax, which he finally allowed with a satisfied smile.

After the shared ecstasy, your bodies collapse onto the bed, exhausted but fulfilled. Hugh holds you tenderly in his arms, his hands gently caressing your skin, letting you both enjoy the calm after the storm. You stay like this for a few minutes, savoring the warmth and closeness of your bodies.

“Come on,” he murmurs eventually, gently getting up and leading you with him to the bathroom.

He runs a warm bath, the steam quickly filling the room. Hugh helps you into the tub, gently settling you between his thighs. The warm water gently laps against your back, creating an intense feeling of relaxation.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his hands softly massaging your scalp.

You close your eyes, enjoying the sensation of Hugh’s hands in your hair, each movement gentle and attentive. He takes his time, lathering and rinsing your hair with infinite tenderness. The warm water and Hugh’s expert hands plunge you into a deep state of relaxation, each tension slowly melting away from your body.

“You’re incredible,” you finally murmur, your eyes still closed, a contented smile on your lips.

“So are you,” he replies softly, placing a light kiss on your shoulder.

After the bath, Hugh helps you out of the water and dries you off gently with a fluffy towel. You return to the bedroom, and he offers you one of his shirts to wear, which is far too big for you but incredibly comfortable.

“It looks great on you,” he says, looking at you with a tender smile.

You lie down on the bed again, and Hugh takes you into his arms, your bodies entwining in a soft and intimate embrace. You talk about everything and nothing, sharing anecdotes and laughter. The connection between you is palpable, every word and every glance reinforcing this special bond.

"I could stay here forever," you finally murmur, snuggling against him.

"Me too," he replies, placing a kiss on your forehead. "But I have to go to a shoot soon."

"I know," you say with a slight sigh, savoring the last moments before he has to leave.

Hugh gets up and starts getting ready, but before he leaves the room, he bends down to give you one last kiss, tender and passionate at the same time.

"I'll be back tonight," he says with a smile.

"I'll be waiting for you," you respond, your heart light despite the inevitable temporary separation.

After he leaves, you curl up in the sheets, his comforting scent still lingering. You feel incredibly lucky to have shared these moments with him, and you already look forward to the evening to come.

Looking for something comfortable and practical, you choose to wear one of Hugh’s shirts. It's far too big for you, but its softness and familiar scent comfort you. Wearing it makes you feel close to him, even though he's far away. You do a light makeup and fix your hair, ready for a busy day at work.

Upon arriving at the office, you receive a few curious glances from your colleagues. It’s clear that the slightly oversized shirt doesn’t go unnoticed. You laugh it off with them, explaining with a smile that it's a piece of clothing borrowed from a special friend, without going into details.

The workday passes quickly, filled with the usual tasks and a few professional calls. Despite the pressure of work, you feel calm, thoughts of Hugh and your morning together floating in your mind like a sweet melody. As evening approaches, you wrap up your tasks and prepare to return to the apartment. Your mind is set on the evening ahead, hoping to see Hugh again and enjoy a quiet moment together after a busy day.

Returning to the apartment, you find Hugh already there, looking tired but still as charismatic as ever. He smiles warmly when he sees you, his eyes lighting up with a joyful gleam. "You’re back earlier than expected," you say with a smile as you see him enter.

"I got lucky with the shoot," he replies, moving towards you with open arms to welcome you into a comforting embrace. He pulls you into his arms, and you snuggle against him, savoring the warmth of his embrace. His hands gently caress your back, making you feel safe and loved.

"I'm glad to see you," he murmurs against your ear.

"Me too," you reply, lifting your face to look at him. "Today felt long without you."

Hugh places a tender kiss on your lips before gently letting you go. "I was thinking we could have a quiet evening. Maybe have dinner together and watch a movie?"

"That sounds perfect," you say with a smile.

You spend the evening preparing dinner together. Hugh turns out to be an excellent cook, and you have fun making simple yet delicious dishes. You share anecdotes and laugh, the meal punctuated by small moments of tenderness.

After dinner, you settle on the couch, snuggling under a cozy blanket. You pick a movie that you both want to see, and as the images play on the screen, you get lost in pleasant conversation. Hugh wraps his arm around your shoulders, holding you close. His fingers gently play with strands of your hair, his touches light and affectionate.

"This evening is perfect," you murmur, eyes half-closed, enjoying the comfort of his arms and the warmth of the moment.

"I agree," he says with palpable tenderness. "I couldn’t dream of a better evening."

The movie ends, and you stay there, savoring the silence and the tranquility of each other's company. The hours pass, and you feel increasingly connected, the bond between you strengthened by this simple yet wonderful evening.

Before going to bed, Hugh pulls you into his arms again, holding you close. You share one last soft and sincere kiss.

"Good night," he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

"Good night," you reply, your heart full of gratitude and happiness. You fall asleep in each other's arms, hearts light and serene, ready to face a new day together.

tags: @nerdyfangirllife @kittenlittle24

[wildflowerteas]

wait omg you mentioned a bit ago that you have ocs?

I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm taking this as permission to go on a little ramble so here it is, under the cut ->

here's a messy character sheet i never finished for an OC I'm cooking up a webcomic for! This is Rin ( aka. Zen. aka. Zenshirou ) He's got red markings ( inspired by kabuki markings ) on his face that he hides with the black veil.

if you'd like to know more about the story . . . I've dropped my notes app lore dump here . . .

ah jeez thats long. moving on. since I don't ever plan to continue writing anything for it ( at least not in the foreseeable future ), I have a Notion page for my high-fantasy stuff, which looks like this ->

i've been sitting on this world for like five years now? At least, I think i started it in 2019, and it's gotten a lot more sophisticated since then ( like the languages and everything and the MAP . . . phew ). But those are the characters ( at least, some of them. the ones in the main cast bar are, well, the main cast. The ones in the ToT bar are less important but still lore-relevant ).

I also have some post-apocalyptic sci-fi stuff going on ( phew this is a lot, now that I'm looking at it ), that is more world-building and blueprints than characters at the moment ( though I do have them fleshed out--just not drawn anywhere ). I've always been really into post-apocalyptic stories, especially those with an environmentalist touch. Nausicaa is and will forever be my favorite Ghibli film. But here's some worldbuilding blueprints stuff I did for that one. These are from 2021 . . . and in desperate need of refinements clearly.

and thats it!

[natlacentral]

I'm not gonna post my full write-up, but this was a really enlightening listen and clocks in at about 20 minutes if you want to give it a whirl. Here are a few of my favourite tidbits from Albert Kim and Jabbar Raisani's commentary on the official trailer.

They try to visit lots of locations because Avatar is a road show and they want to show the expansiveness of the world

Kim loved the eco message of the original and wants to convey it in the adaption as well

Raisani says Appa is a core member of the team who they wanted to bring to life as much as any of the humans

"Katara is the character who really recognises Aang for who he is, and that is a symbol of hope. And the return of the Avatar for her means that hope has returned to a world that essentially has lost hope for the last hundred years. She's the first one to see that, and over the course of the season, we're gonna see that message of hope spread throughout the world."

The juxtaposition of Katara's POV and Sokka's POV and their clashing opinions is an important dynamic especially in the beginning of the season and informs who they are as brother and sister and their journey coming together to support Aang.

They chose to choreograph and shoot the first Agni Kai, which they describe as the defining moment of Zuko's life, because you understand a lot more of Zuko's character when you see it in real life.

The Agni Kai goes to the core of Zuko's story. "What did his father really want? Does he want him to succeed and find the Avatar and come back? Is he using him against his sister? What is really required of him or desired of him by his father, and then is he going to do that or is he going to do what he thinks is right?"

Momo is a digital creature. They use a puppet so the actors know what they're doing.

It was important to them that Sokka not just be the butt of the joke but have his own humour

"Despite the burden that all these characters are facing and the fact that the fate of the world rests in their hands, they are just kids, y'know? Aang's a goofy twelve-year-old and Katara and Sokka aren't much older and we wanted to make sure that we conveyed that, because that's a really important part of not just the characters but of the story. And if they are gonna be these harbingers of hope, as we said, they needed to express that through their kind of childlike sense of optimism."

Commander Zhao is one of the main villains of the first season and primary antagonist for our heroes. Ken Leung brought humanity and ambition to the character. We see his ego swell over the course of the season as he gets more and more power and comes closer and closer to capturing the Avatar.

Suki will talk about how when you're not a bender, you have to be better than the benders. The Kyoshi Warriors have refined their combat to the point that they can more than hold their own against firebenders.

Sokka and Suki will have a "beautiful journey" in finding commonality in not being benders and what it means within this world.

While Kyoshi can exist in the real world, Omashu can only exist in fantasy, so they built it from scratch. Kim and Raisani would have conversations about the colour of the rooftops and mechanics of the delivery system. They want Omashu to be a city that even new audiences will look at and think, "Wow, that somewhere I want to go to. That's a place I want to visit."

They tried to do practical wherever possible. They'd start with actors and everything around them, build out as far as they possibly can, then extend from there. For the shot of Aang flying over Omashu they started with actors on rigs, filmed on green screen, then did a full digital shot.

They call the sequence, "The Joy of Flight." Like the animated series, they have scenes that are just fun. Aang and Teo could fly from Point A to Point B but they want to make things engaging and fun to watch.

All actors doing bending had to go through extensive training before shooting. The core cast did a six week bootcamp where they had to learn all four bending techniques.

Utkarsh Ambudar (King Bumi) was eager to do everything himself. While they did use stunt performers for parts, he was always down to do another take despite being exhausted.

The Avatar State is the ultimate power, to be treated seriously, so they don't have Aang going into it as much as the original first season so it felt special and communicated that Aang could only access it in specific circumstances. They've tweaked the rules for when and how he can access Avatar State.

"There are certain things we are going to modify, going to change, and hopefully fans will see that it's all for the good of the story as a whole and in dimension-alizing the story and bringing it from one medium to the other."

[taylortruther]

idk if we've discussed this at length but taylor is right, what matt berninger says about writing music with his wife is really fascinating

What advice would you give someone in their mid-20s regarding love and relationships? I’m yet to have a serious long-term relationship. It always destroys me when things end but the thought of things lasting also terrifies me. monocleman1

[...] You have to allow the other person to grow. Learning to recalibrate is not easy, but that’s how stuff lasts. I’m always trying to paint the shadows to figure out what are the things that make relationships fall apart and how to avoid that. I write a lot about things I want to avoid – Eucalyptus is about what would happen if we really did split up, whether the band or marriage. I have a really healthy marriage but I think that’s because I write about looking into the abyss.

I’m curious about how you and Carin write the lyrics. tallsaint89

[...] We refine together. We have learned where our boundaries are. Eucalyptus is a funny one – she’s like, “This song is so great, but we should probably talk about this later.” But the art always comes first. Since Boxer [the National’s fourth album, from 2007] she was always pushing me into the cold dark water because that’s where the most interesting swimming happens. the guardian

On writing for "I Am Easy to Find" (short film)

"It wasn't hard to write about ourselves and understand that it was going to be repurposed to be more universal... the purpose of writing wasn't autobiographical, or for our needs, it was for [the film], but you still just write about yourself [...] we're always just writing really really close to the bone." + they talk about how having the film and the fictional characters allowed them to be even more honest because it wasn't 'about' them. i am easy to find short film with commentary

[scyllas-revenge]

when I saw all your wips i was paralysed by indecision because they all look sooo good but I will say Christmus in Connecticut or if someone's already said that the matchmaker fic!

I've already been asked about the matchmaker fic, but the Christmas in Connecticut one is one of my favorites! (even though I haven't actually made progress on it in at least a year, lol)

Since you asked about it, I'll assume you're familiar with the movie, but for anyone who hasn't it's this beautiful film here:

which is THE fake dating story. It's got so many levels of fake dating XD In fact once I realized how much fanfic potential it had I knew I needed to write a LOTR Christmas In Connecticut AU.

It's a Farawyn fic, with such a convoluted premise that I'll just paste in the fic summary here:

After the War of the Ring, Faramir is injured and exhausted in both body and spirit. Knowing that he’s never had a happy home life, Boromir sends his little brother on a much-needed holiday in Rohan for Yuletide. After all, there’s no better place in Middle Earth to experience a peaceful, cozy, nurturing household. Everyone in Gondor has heard about the elegant, refined Lady Eowyn, who famously oversees the Golden Hall’s sumptuous kitchens, tenderly cares for the refugee children of Edoras, and maintains a stable, thriving home in Meduseld alongside her loving husband. The problem? Eowyn might have lied about a few things. And under no circumstance can Faramir find out.

I swear I'm going to write this thing someday! Every Christmas when I watch the movie I get newly motivated XD Anyway here's a slightly longer snippet of the first chapter:

“I step away from my loom and take in the enchanting view from windows of the Golden Hall. There is nothing like the Riddermark for sheer, wild beauty. I have never seen the ocean, but I have heard tell that our rolling hills are much like the rolling blue waves of the sea. “As I look out over our golden sunset, a cool, gentle breeze wafts through my window, and I smell the elaborate Yuletide feast our kitchen is preparing—" “A cool, gentle breeze?” Merry exclaimed. With an enormous shove, he forced the shutters closed against the howling winter wind, his chest heaving with the effort. “They’ll never buy this in Gondor, you know.” “They will if I can help it.” Eowyn adjusted the parchment in her hands, her fingers smudged with ink. She had learned to write several years ago, but she had never exactly been good at it. Certainly her writing was not very tidy, like the snippets of script she’d seen from Gondor. But it didn’t matter—her letters would be rewritten time and again by more elegant hands in Minas Tirith, shared among the highest circles of noblewomen in the White City. Copies of Tales of the Golden Hall were being spread all along the coast of Gondor, last she’d heard. The thought made her heart flutter with pride. “Well, go on then,” Merry urged. “Alright: I make my way to the kitchens, where our servants are hard at work crafting the rich courses I planned. Freshwater fish and eel will serve for our first course, braised to perfection. Flashing in the firelight as though they still live, they rest on a bed of hearty winter vegetables, which are perfectly sliced to resemble the gleaming stones of a riverbed. Next comes a flock of whole-roasted pheasants, stuffed with apples and cloves. As bewitching as these dishes are, however, our third course blows them all away: a boar so large I half-fear the table shall buckle under its weight. Its skin crackles pleasantly as—" “A boar?” Merry interrupted again, snorting. “A whole flock of pheasants?” Eowyn shrugged. “These letters are meant to show off the Riddermark’s strength. Its resilience. Gondor need not know we’ve been half-starving since the war ended. They cannot, if we wish to increase trade with them.” “If you were half-starving last winter, you must be fully starving now.” “We’ll get by.” She studied her writing nervously. “Does it ring false? I can rewrite it.” “At the pace you write?” Merry laughed. “We’d be sitting here until spring comes.” He yelped and dodged the empty inkwell Eowyn threw at him.

[anonameisadditions]

So You Want To Write #2: The Roguish Type

It’s the 1930s in America, and the world is a dim, grimy place. Gone is the Jazz Age- with slick art deco, free-flowing illegal liquor from every speakeasy across the nation, and get-quick-rich schemes smothered under The Great Depression. The Great American Experiment seemed to be over- the rot in the once-great society (In the eyes of the vastly more empowered Caucasian men of the time) had become septic, and foul. The banks had shown themselves just as greedy and selfish as the average American, failing to properly plan for an economic bubble burst and ending up going insolvent within days of the economy crashing. The entire country would be placed out of work- the great boom of industry transformed into a sputtering, dying foghorn in the mist. It is no shock that in this era, our art would turn mistrustful, angsty, and depressed. And nowhere would this deep illness be reflected so cleanly as Film Noire.

These films- seedy, provocative crime films based around smoking, whiskey-swilling private dicks, and smoldering, vicious women would depict the dynamic of a dying society- a place where the police were rotten, the men weak, and the women hard. This is the environment we associate with the icon of the film noire- The private eye.

A “good” man, in a matter of phrase- for they always had some canny sense of right and wrong, a belief that their work was making life truer for someone. But, they’d be shaken- a dame, a woman worth trusting, beautiful and convincing, would lead them astray, tricking them into a deadly tango of treachery that would have them once again asking- Is it worth it to be good in a world that’s so bad?\

In steps The Man Who Knew Too Much.

“The Man Who Knew Too Much” is the common DNA of the modern rogue, in our modern conception of one. It stars Leslie Banks- a man known primarily for playing gruff, menacing bad guys across the pond at this point- and casts him as a leading man. He’s a brawler. He shoots first and asks questions later. He puts himself up against terrible odds- an entire criminal conspiracy to destabilize the political situation in London- and steps through with candor and charm, at each step along the way. He gets way too involved with a situation and ignores all rational advice given to him by the police- all because he trusts himself more than he trusts any institution.

And the audience EATS THIS UP

“The Man” becomes an instant classic, and Hitchcock begins to truly accue stateside appeal- and this only gets refined in his spy-fiction follow-ups, the best known being “North By Northwest.”

What’s the point of this brief history to the topic at hand- The Roguish Type, and how you want to write them? Everything. Because to write is to render fat from meat- it’s to understand how society changes a story as society adapts to it, to understand the underlying psychological underpinnings of motivation that makes an audience resonate with an archetype. And none is as misunderstood and spiritually confused as “The Rogue.” A scoundrel, A criminal, a scumsucking mouthbreeder who sits below the expectations of society- he flits from job to job, obliged to no one but himself- a modern cowboy, perhaps, but without an obligation to protect anyone but themselves. Within the rogue, however, lies an exceptionalist ideal we all wish we could live up to- the idea of innate goodness. 

Art from 2nd ed. Dungeons and Dragons, Kyle Punk and Tim Shepard

Prince Of Thieves

When we refer to “rogues”, the Jungian ideal in our world is drawn to the Tolkienesque, fantasy-focused interpretation of a rogue- a man bundled in leather, with a meaty look to him and a small, sleazy smile. He plays with knives, idly- using the point of his blade to clean out under his fingernails, suggesting a propensity for violence, and skill with a dagger. His eyes size you up and down, boldly, questioning whether a quick robbery could solve some problems that need solving, right, bub? 

But then we see him act. He joins our merry caravan, the rogue- this criminal outcast, this thief, this reject- and we see that he’s more than some petty criminal- he’s a self-styled robin hood, who won’t screw over people he likes, and will actively target those he doesn’t- but he' never given someone something they didn't have coming. He’s a self-styled anarchist- a true believer in individuality, who smiles and accepts the dog-eat-dog world of the undercity- and yet, this dog only eats a meal worth having. This “Robin Hood” didn’t need an education, a religion, a cause, or a care to be good to people- He only needed his wit. 

When Indiana Jones goes deep, deep, into the jungles of some tribal colony to steal their precious Incan gold relic, he does so to do… what? Sell it to a museum? He’s certainly making a buck off this. But, Jones is then contrasted to what a man like Beloq is- unprincipled.

A true asshole, willing to work with Nazi’s as long as they pay enough. He is quite rich from this-- His resources are plenty, his palette refined, his Jordan’s unsoiled. But then, as you see them interact, you realize that Jones and Beloq could not be more similar- The only thing stopping Indiana Jones from exceeding Beloq- no, what makes Beloq unable to win against Jones, with it’s final act, is the fact that Jones, despite his bad behavior and bad traits, still desires to be good. 

This is where I draw the core concept you must adhere to in “The Rogue”. Within our society, we have a strange relation to criminals. Our court system’s biggest inherent flaw- by design- is that ultimately, a jury of your peers will be the ones to convict you. We use this concept because we believe that a man must be considered a true criminal, a malintented traitor, worthy of punishment. This is why the jury must be convinced of the fairness of the charge to cast judgment on the offender, and why we don’t treat manslaughter and murder the same. Criminality is not inherently defined by breaking the law- it is defined by breaking the law for reasons that the state views as invalid.

Some say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. But the rogue presents a different hypothesis- that one can use the tools of evil and still be good, as long as they can keep their moral code intact. This places the rogue in the place of the outsider- a common character used to question societal norms with pluck, determination, and humor. 

Examples? Right. Examples.

Look, Your Worshipfulness, let’s get one thing straight. I take orders from just one person: me.

Han Solo occupies an interesting role in the first Star Wars film. He’s a smuggler who’s working under the boot of a powerful fascist army, driving a spaceship that’s widely considered one cherry vehicle, and shows a reluctance to get himself involved with the fleeing Luke Skywalker and Obi Wan. His introductory scene- the infamous “Han shot first” under-the-table pistol blast helps establish Han quite well as a rogue, using an unscrupulous and dishonorable trick to remove an obstacle in his path. But as Luke spends time with Han, so do we, and we start to realize there’s more going on in the heart of this smuggler than he lets on. He implies a background working with the resistance, several times through the film; He quickly bonds with Luke like a big brother. What’s most important for this roguish character, however, is the clash of sentimentality and practicality. Han Solo denies an opportunity to work with the rebellion to strike a major blow against the empire, in what is considered practically a suicide run. But, in the last moments of the film, while Luke is left to perform the trench run, alone, Han Solo comes back, with a quip and a cheery face; For the rogue, despite his dog-eat-dog psychology, sentimentalism and heart is why he lives to fight another day. 

"It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."

If you thought for a fucking second i was going to use Benedico Cumshlupper or whatever, you have a lot to learn about me.

Hows this for a head teaser? It’s often easy to forget that Sherlock - the insufferable, upper-class advisor for all manner of criminal mystery - is, as accounted by the original short stories and novels, the roguish type. Consider- Sherlock seems to regard absolutely zero importance to the laws and rules of polite society, making an absolute terror to his landlord, doing large sums of illegal narcotics to stave off boredom, and generally treating the police as ineffectual at best and annoying, abusive bullies at worst.

Sherlock may be better off than the average rogue, but do not be mistaken- His interests, as selfish as they are, are still interested in helping his fellow man. Most Sherlock stories have Sherlock professing a lack of care towards the problems of “average people”, save for the mystery- yet most of his stories end with a brief segment of sentimentality, of Sherlock making right what was wrong often at personal expense, and recognizing the humanity in the poor souls who come to him, seeking his help. Sherlock utilizes both the concept of authority and breaks the law to bring justice and truth to people- despite his assurance of having nothing but self-interest in mind. 

"ARGH! The common language doesn't have enough swears!"

Chilchuck, from Dungeon Meshi allows us to explore this tendency further. Chilchuck fits our archetypical rogue- a highly skilled, vaguely illegal operator with a focus on the fine arts of thieving- mainly lockpicking, athletics, trap navigation, and other roguish skills. But while Chilchuck doesn’t typically encompass the criminal miscrent side of the rogue, he does showcase the other commonality between the last few examples- the eruption of sentimentality. Chilchuck constantly comments on how he shouldn’t even be working with the twins, and empathizes, again and again, that there is no possible way that he’s going to stick his neck out for his party beyond what he’s being paid to do. Yet, what does Chilchuck do every time the situation gets tough? He runs to danger. He only threatens to leave when he feels his concerns are unheard by Laius about the state of the adventure. Chilchuck can pretend all he wants that he doesn’t care about anyone but himself- but actions speak louder than words. 

Conclusion

The identity of the rogue is based in a rejection of the concept of nature vs nurture in a work of fiction. The Rogue, despite his background in skullduggery and criminality, showcases an intact moral compass that even the most polished wonderboy can recognize as a heart of gold. He exists in this environment to prop up an element of heroic fantasy- the belief of innate goodness, that one can utilize the powers of evil for the purpose of good and avoid letting it corrupt themselves too far. They work in contrast to other, more pure-of-heart characters to exemplify that circumstances don’t always make the man- and to let us, the audience know that we didn’t need to grow up a soft-eyed farm boy or be promised a great destiny to make a difference- only have our hearts in the right places and to do what we can to make evil lose. If you liked this blogpost, Give it a reblog and a like, and don't forget to follow me for more media analysis and creative endeavors. Below, you can vote on the focus of my next entry in "So You Want To Write" series.  

Yours Paradoxically, 

AN0N

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Menu (2022)

The Menu is a delectably unhinged horror-thriller. Even if you can guess what sinister culinary delights are on their way, you’ll never figure out every detail until the last moment. This movie has so many little revelations about its characters that knowing everyone’s fate ahead of time might make it as fun to rewatch as the initial, surprising viewing.

Foodie Tyler Ledford (Nicholas Hoult), his date, Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy), and several other guests arrive at an exclusive restaurant on a private island. They’ve booked a meal with celebrity chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes), who delivers an unsettling monologue and then serves courses that reveal this meal will be like none other.

Earlier this year, I watched Hunger. The films are only similar in two ways: they both feature chefs in prominent roles and avoid making the food being served appealing. It's the first sign that something is off with the dinner and/or the people. Tyler, for instance. He’s obsessed with Chef Slowik. His fanaticism makes you not like him - or the chef, in fact. Slowick is undeniably talented… but he’s forgotten that cooking is about making food for people to enjoy. It’s not about making statements about the futility of the daily struggle, or whatever. His “genius” seems more like pretentiousness at best and insanity at worst. At least Tyler seems to know what he’s talking about when he explains to his date why this dish needs to be eaten this way or how these ingredients have been selected to complement each other. Business partners Soren (Arturo Castro), Dave (Mark St. Cyr) and Bryce (Rob Yang) are there to show off; they only care about how prohibitively expensive the food is. Washed-up movie star George Diaz (John Leguizamo) wants to learn - or at least that’s what he’s telling his assistant, Felicity (Aimee Carrero). Actually, he wants to revitalize his career via an eating tour-type reality TV show. Also attending are wealthy regulars Richard and Anne Leibrandt (Reed Birney and Judith Light). He seems up to something because he’s giving Margot awkward looks. Finally, there's food critic Lillian Bloom (Janet McTeer) and her yes-man editor Ted (Paul Adelstein). How they fit in with this crowd isn't hard to figure out.

Out of everyone, the person you like the most is easily Margot because she doesn’t belong. She doesn’t have money, she doesn’t have “refined tastes”, she was a last-minute invite (something the staff seem concerned about) and the person that resembles the audience the most. This crowd of people, the weird air that’s emanating from the kitchen and Slowik’s descriptions of the dishes scream "Get out!" but what's going on?

We find out relatively quickly that the chef and his staff… have become more than a little unhinged. The why is the fun part, as is discovering what their ultimate goal is. Bit by bit, you learn all about Tyler, Margot, the chef, the investors, the critics, etc. The revelations recontextualize conversations you heard earlier or give a whole new context to something you noticed a couple of scenes back. You put yourself in the people's shoes as they realize they're trapped on this island. What would you do? Who would you reach out to for help? What would you say to get yourself out of this? You try to predict which of these people - if any - will escape, how, what detail you might’ve dismissed earlier that could be the key, etc. It’s a fun puzzle to piece together and often darkly funny. Tyler, for instance. He’s so into this experience that he is determined not to let anything ruin it. You start to wonder if he’s not insane himself. As you find reasons why everyone should get their comeuppance, Margot stands out more and more. This makes her part in this story even harder to understand.

The one aspect of The Menu that doesn’t quite work is the ending. It isn’t a complete write-off, but there comes a point where several characters accept everything Slowik has said and decide to go along with it. Their reactions don’t match what we saw previously. As the movie lays out all of its cards on the table, we’re supposed to feel a certain way about some of the guests, like George Diaz and Felicity, or Mrs. Leibrandt and the film never convinced me. It’s almost like the story by Will Tracy (who wrote the screenplay with Seth Reiss) could’ve ended in one of two ways. One made more sense and the other was funnier, so that’s what they decided to go with. Normally, that’d be the right choice, but this is a dark comedy, so “funnier” is a relative term and even though it is funny, it doesn’t add up. Right before that final decision, however, this is a devilishly clever film.

I may have mixed emotions about the conclusion, but I'm sure that's exactly the reaction director Mark Mylod wanted. The Menu is a ghoulish essay about fine dining and the points it makes could easily be extended to other industries. It takes things to such extremes you’ll have a great time cackling while rubbing your hands in mischief - when you’re not horrified, of course. (December 5, 2023)

[steampunkforever]

Past Lives flips the script on love stories and the sophistication with which it did so kind of blew me away. "A24 does Asian American film" is a formula at this point, and the trailer pitched me on the tension of "old flame shows up to visit you but you're married now" without selling me on the sheer elegance with which the movie handles this.

I'll say this now. This is a movie where the day is not won. The ending is not rapturously happy. The movie focused its story in a very refined manner, but the plot itself is unsatisfying, intentionally. This is not a movie to write 1k word yearning fanfic about. It's something more, and "fixing" it won't address the director's exploration of what it means to navigate between cultures as a child thrust into a world with no true home.

Obviously knowing my background, a film about belonging to the "third culture" using unconsummated romance--much more elegant than similar romances I wrote in my own work, but I'm also not Celine Song, who directed "The Seagull on The Sims 4"-- would be right up my alley. That said, I had no idea it was going to pull it off so smoothly.

This is Celine Song's cinema debut, and boy is it cinema. After Barbie and Oppenheimer, which had their issues with poor structure and overindulgence respectively, Past Lives was exactly what I needed. A tight, sophisticated drama that executes almost flawlessly. I'm so glad I caught the encore showing at my local arthouse theater, and I suggest that you catch it in theaters if you can as well.

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

L'Argent

By the time he made his last film, L’ARGENT (1983, Criterion Channel, Max), Robert Bresson had so refined his stripped-down style all he has to do is show the objects in his characters’ lives to communicate their stories. He uses non-actors in almost every role, so their flat line readings and opaque expressions provide little key to what’s going on inside. What we learn from are his closeups of doors, a car’s steering wheel, water in a sink and, most importantly, money — money withdrawn from a cash register or in an envelope or pulled one bill at a time from an ATM. But he’s such a master filmmaker that’s all we really need.

The plot, derived from a Tolstoy novel, starts with a student receiving his monthly allowance and unsuccessfully asking his well-off parents for more to cover a debt. A friend gives him a forged 500 franc note that he successfully uses in a photography shop. When the owners realize it’s fake, they use it to pay off Yvon, a man delivering heating oil. He’s caught with the fake money, and the shop owners lie, costing him his job and eventually his freedom, his wife and his child. Ultimately, he even loses all trace of humanity. Connection becomes just another transaction, only valued if it brings him the means of survival.

Yvon’s fall may be depressing, but Bresson’s depiction of it is exhilarating. His elliptical use of details draws you in, so you’re almost writing the film with him. Yes, it’s a cold, unforgiving world he paints —one where greed rules and class is still a barrier — but it’s one we can all recognize and in which we can even find humor. You can’t help laughing at the sheer venality of it all. When the original counterfeiter’s mother tries to reimburse the store’s co-manager, as much to get her son off the hook as to make up for his misdeed, you may wonder if the recipient will ever share the money with her partner.

[firespirited]

In other news my Dune fixation caused by some amazing tumblr meta writing has not been sated by watching the DUNCs.

I had a long pretty good post typed out after the first one and tumblr ate it:

here goes:

I considered it an alternate timeline (by the time we get the non-Alia and Chani choices of DUNC 2, we're definitely in a different version of this story - I like not knowing if Messiah will be much like the book, I like it if there's no escaping the plots set in motion). I had to repeat Alternate Timeline as a litany when there was no diplomatic party, no tweaking methhead bitchy Piter and Kynes didn't get That Moment with nature.

Was disappointed by the fact Paul isn't already tormented by potential futures at his first major fight wondering if dying might be the best way to avoid mass death and escape the machinations. To me, in that fight, he's chosen a path to the suffering of billions and justifies it and refines it later.

Lynch Dune remains fun because it's bonkers, this is fun too but definitely alternate timeline and neither are at all how I imagine it. Lynch seemed to nail the spirit of some of the characters better despite massive creative liberties with the plot details. It's its own weird and wonderful artefact.

Villeneuve remains the king of ovoid spaceships, mega landscapes and letting the fashion and sound designers get a great budget. I love the Chani additions, not canon and I don't care, it works!

The lack of Arabic complex concepts and more references to eastern religions was sorely lacking: flow has to be more than just a picture of moving sand, i wanted that cells interlinked within cells interlinked: galaxies and molecules and populations easter egg.

I also had a hope for DUNC 2 that it would show the whole universe as deeply religious, as in hardwired to give themselves over to a higher power even if that belief is atheism or eugenics. It didn't and I think that's really important context to properly understand what the story is saying. We've got political devotion bad and religious zealotry bad with both being culturally groomed into people but not the larger context of other "cults" that aren't explicitly about power but self-improvement or belonging or even service.

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

My silly pet theory is that the font is like that because we're probably never getting the two other "ones who bridge everything" of the trinity: sad worm god emperor and our man DUNC potadaho the ultimate renaissance man with a thousand lives. (As much as I'd love DUNC 8 2039: we're putting silver fox Momoa in situations again)

The dream will always be the cartoon/anime adaptation:

52 x 50-minute episodes that teeter wildly between dense political machinations, ecological exposition, that Bakshi LOTR trippy violence and even trippier visions interrupting action scenes, but most of all, near blasphemous levels of religious symbolism top to bottom, the Abramic sure, but the Buddhist, Hindu and Taoist. If they could add Paul getting a big dose of gender WTF: trill-style after being exposed to the water of life that would be amazing.

But yeah I need to get my hands on large print books - yeah yeah, the migraines will murder me regardless. I missed being in everyone's head. Like, the films are great a conveying scale but not how much it's an interpersonal drama first and foremost... for many of the side characters too.