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candy-and-writing · 4 years

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What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore.

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

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haxorus-imp · 3 years

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Human Perspective - Reader LBP fic

Gender neutral Reader - No romance - Little Big Planet - No dialogue

A human is lost in the imagisphere and is struggling to cope with their new surroundings. AO3 for those that prefer to read it there - > https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741977

You really don’t remember how you arrived here in this strange place. One moment you were resting peacefully, the next thing you know, you were being woken up by a small little humanoid fabric creature.

Once your eyes focused, you had gotten startled upright from the presence of the being, which was obviously understandable. In a hurry, you scoot away from the being and frantically look around. Despite just waking up, it took mere moments for you to realize that something was completely off about the land you were in...let alone how you got there. You were left completely dumbfounded. The small little humanoid seemed a bit worried about you, despite just meeting you.

Flustered, your confusion only grew when you tried to ask the little creature where you were and it simply spoke in sign language. Which you didn’t understand. Seeing your expression of complete loss, the little being thought for a moment before it decided to wave at you in a ‘follow me’ motion as they turned and waddled away. Still lost and confused, you really didn’t have a choice.

You picked yourself up and followed the little being through some garden-like areas before the landscape began to change and buildings made out of wood and cardboard slowly appeared. While on the walk over to who-knows-where, you decided to slightly distract yourself with looking around at your surroundings.

It was strange, as it almost felt like you were back home on Earth. However, this was far from the case. An example of your strange predicament lies in the horizon and around yourself. It was all made of fabric...just like the ground was...with an exception of other things. Like the cardboard buildings and creatures that dwelled nearby, as well as the fabric clouds that floated on by. The only thing that could be deemed ‘normal’ around here, at least to you, was the water that flowed in the rivers under the bridges you two passed by. Everything was strangely made to look like projects of arts and crafts.

Not even the locals were exempted from this rule. As the little creature that was leading you somewhere was made entirely of knitted wool. I just left you puzzled and completely stumped at where you even were.

But hopefully this little biped would be able to provide some answers. Your first set of strange contacts was with a small group that the little sack...thing...person...was leading you towards. Your approach didn’t go unnoticed. Once you and the little creature arrived, the three figures were giving you wary glances. But the little sackperson stepped forward and began to sign to them. It was quite a surprise to learn that these larger beings seemed to be British...despite this place not looking like Earth. A bit of back and forth later and you finally managed to introduce yourself and explain your situation to the three larger beings. In which, they introduced themselves to you as well.

There was Larry Da Vinci, an elderly individual with a paper beard and cardboard 3D glasses, who seemed to be rather forgetful, as it took him a moment to remember his own name before the bun-having blonde next to him spoke up.

Her name was Victoria, who had doll-like features and a steampunk-inspired body. She also seemed to be very polite too. Despite being an older female, her and Da Vinci even seemed to be a thing. If the sweet-based names he kept calling her had anything to say for it.

Then there was a rather depressed-looking individual named Clive, who was a man with an eraser for a body and a cyan desk calendar for a head, which was just to name a few things that caught your eye about him. It was just so strange to see paperclips merely sticking to a body without an anchor. But he was still polite none-the-less, even if he wasn’t as enthusiastic as Larry or Victoria.

As for yourself? Well, you were a human. Made of flesh and blood, unlike the natives of this realm you happened to get lost in. It wasn’t hard to take notice of how the others would look at you strangely from time to time.

Not only just because you showed up out of nowhere, but because your appearance just seemed...as that Ginger-Haired prideful loudmouth ‘Avalon’ would put it - “Highly suspicious-looking”. You didn’t think you looked that bad...or creepy. So, you just played down their doubts by just explaining that you're from very far away and that you were lost. It took a bit of convincing from Sackthing to see if Larry had any leads on what to do.

Many of them acted like they had never seen a human before and it wasn’t hard to see why. I mean, they even thought you looked ill and took you to an apple-headed nurse, who was strangely in a birdcage of all things, named Eve to have a look at you. She apparently tried to find your ‘stitching’, which took you awhile to explain that you weren’t born with ‘stitching’. She seemed completely lost with your explanation on a normal human body and she did some typical tests. Took your temperature, tested your reflexes, and gave you a few psychological tests. All came back okay, showing that you were in fact a perfectly normal human being. Even if she seemed slightly disappointed. The rest of the time was spent visiting the other creators once word got around that a unique stranger was visiting Craftworld from ‘very far away’. Despite meeting a fair chunk of them within the first few hours.

It was most likely Avalon who let the cat out of the bag, the dude probably can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. If your first encounter with him had anything to say about it. Dude even had the nerve to call you a ‘rubbery-looking tall weirdo’.

Thankfully, Larry chewed him out for his rudeness before you could. So one by one, you met the creator curators and visited their homelands with Larry as your guide, since sackthing had other duties to attend to at the time.

It was quite an exhausting trip. Thankfully most of the realms could be accessed by rocketships that were provided by Larry Da Vinci. Yes, rocketships. Made out of cardboard...with a jet attached to them.

You didn’t understand how they worked, so you pretty much just went with it and didn’t ask any questions. Each encounter was as unique as they came as you headed off to the other parts of Craftworld with Larry. Your first encounter was with the lovely baker you met before, Victoria. She was very interesting to say the least, having a lab and bakery hybrid that she called home. She explored the possibilities of pastries and science. A strange combination. She even tried to offer you some of her baked goods, which you sadly discovered you couldn’t eat. At all . You just couldn’t force yourself to eat a literal SPONGE cake, so you had to turn her down gently but gratefully thanked her for the offer anyway. After that was Clive, the same depressed individual from earlier. You eventually discover that he has lived in a factory for most of his life and just knows the day in and day out of being at work constantly. No wonder the poor sap was so blue. He obviously needed a long vacation. After a typical meet and greet, you toured the factory he called home and had a lot of fun watching how things operated while Clive rambled on and on about work and various activities he would perform around the factory. You even got to meet the cute little sackbots while you were there. Which was a pleasant experience in itself! After that was Eve’s Asylum where she and Professor Higginbottom were located. You met Higginbottom at the Asylum. Which was probably the strangest thing you have ever experienced...aside from being lost in this fabric dimension. He seemed like someone who got into the bong and never came out. Though, listening to him talk was quite entertaining. Even if you didn’t understand anything that came from his mouth. Eve was present there as well. Despite the underwhelming encounter from earlier, Eve was still elated to observe you and see how you were coping. She apparently ran the asylum that was filled with beautiful flora, magical trees, and crazy people. Which wasn’t a surprise, but you were just happy that they were under the care of someone as loving as Eve. Even if she got a bit frustrated that she couldn’t make heads or tails about your ‘strange biology predicament’. Even with an unnecessary ‘second analysis’. Then finally, there was Avalon. The dude was about as loud and as arrogant as they came.

However, he pushed it to a point where he made it endearing rather than annoying, but your traveling companion could beg to differ. It seemed that Larry and Avalon had a lot of disagreements on who was the leader of “The Alliance”. Whatever that was. Both of them mixed like oil and vinegar, like broccoli and pizza, like boomers and millennials...it was honestly kinda funny to watch them bicker. However, you haven’t forgotten that rude comment he made about you. So you were still on the fence with him. Still, Avalonia was a wonderful place to visit. Looking at all of the strange gadgets that were made, the types of vehicles, and the sheer ethereal aura that the place radiated...Avalon really did have a strong reason to flex after all.

But as fun as it was to visit these Curators, you still needed to find your way home. Plus, you had to keep moving if you were going to be able to find anything to eat.

I mean, you have been offered food on numerous occasions while on your trip, however it wasn’t anything you could actually eat. ‘Sponge’ cakes, icing that was too sweet, jam that was too sticky, crackers that were made of cardboard, cookies made out of paper, fruit made out of fabric or plastic… It was all fake...and you were starting to starve.

Your lack of eating also seemed to worry Larry, but you feigned being fine. Despite the fact that you hadn’t really eaten in days. It was wearing down on you pretty bad at this point. Despite your lie, Larry seemed to still be lost on what to do with you. You honestly couldn’t blame him though. You were quite an enigma. Then, Larry was reminded of something and had explained that he was going to go to a place called Bunkum to attend a session in a place called Popit Academy and graciously offered if you wanted to visit while he was participating. At that time, you really didn’t know that you could explore other planets...but this was a strange new universe with strange new ways. So what could possibly go wrong?

So, from one planet made of patches to one with strange gadgets on it, you arrive at a place called “Needlepoint Peaks”.

Which was filled with crisp mountain air and little floating objects that harassed you at every angle. It was quite frustrating, as they would cling to you and you would have to constantly shake them loose. It seemed to amuse Larry to the point of chuckling as you both headed down the mountain together. While on the way, you even decided to take a bite out of the crackers that were sticking out of the ground. Which turned out to be a big mistake.

The ‘treat’ was about as stale as they come. It was hard to chew and it had the lingering scent of cardboard and dust. You promptly spat it out and coughed violently while Larry looked at you like you had lost your marbles.

Despite everything looking tasty, it was all dried and stale, nothing more than deceptive decorations for your ever growing hunger that gnawed away at you from your insides. You could only sigh helplessly as you passed the deceptive goodies and just focused on following Larry to the next destination. Once down from the mountain, both of you arrived at a place called ‘Stitchem Manor’, which seemed to be occupied by two lightbulbs and a monster. The family greeted Larry and seemed to notice you, despite you attempting to hide your taller figure behind the Elder Curator. The smaller lightbulb seemed to be very eager to meet you, as he strode up and waved and said a rather friendly hello. You timidly come out of hiding and meet up with him too. Returning the greeting politely. The lightbulb seems to happily chitter about as you stare at him. He then graciously introduces you to his father, a clear idol in his eyes, and his mother. Who wasn’t a monster. She just looked scary as hell.

You politely greet them in return and Larry explains your situation to the family. It seemed that Larry had decided to see if you could visit with the Pud family, which was a rather strange name, until he was through with his lessons at the popit academy. Seeing if one of them was available to show you around Bunkum until he came back later. You almost rolled your eyes at the thought of needing a guide or babysitter, but you didn’t know this place. So you really should stick with someone until you understand the ropes. The younger-looking lightbulb, who was named Newton, proudly volunteers to show you around Bunkum. A desire to give his ‘new strange-looking chum the best tour of Bunkum they have ever experienced’. So he says. Apparently, his parents were both worried about his proposal. Not because of you, but apparently Newton had caused a heap of trouble for the natives of Bunkum and was still in too-hot water because of it. Despite making peace with most of the locals and trying to clear his name from the titan incident...whatever that was. It sounds bad just by the name alone.

However, after enough begging, his parents gave in and decided to allow him to show you around Bunkum. Satisfied with the ordeal, Larry had headed off and Newton’s parents headed back inside the large manor.

Once alone, Newton had grabbed your hand before suddenly letting go in surprise. When questioned, he just stared and made a comment about how your ‘knitting’ felt strange against his hands. You just merely shrugged and walked ahead, Newton quickly taking the lead again as he rambled on and on about stuff to do while you were visiting.

The first stop was Manglewood. Which could only be reached by boat. Which just made the ride over much more boring than usual, except when Newton would talk about it and mention all the things to do there. It helped to pass the time until the island in question came into view. By appearance alone, you would’ve thought you both were lost in some bayou in the heart of Louisiana, but that wasn’t far enough from the truth. There were film reels, movie cameras, and set pieces all strewn about the landscape. Making it look like a set that was covered in moss and willows. However, you also took notice of a strange figure sitting at the edge of the landmass. Simply sitting there and watching the boat. Once close enough, you seemed to make out that it appeared to be...dog-like? Like a sock puppet type of dog? It was just waiting there and once you both touched down on land, it sped over to investigate. In which, it happily jumped aboard and sniffed around.

Once it glanced at Newton, it’s face changed to a certain type of disinterest but once it scanned over to you, it began to wag its’...butt...and bark happily. You confusedly look at the animal before waving and greeting the...dog-thing. Having it jump up on you and lick you with a fabric tongue, thankfully it didn’t seem to leave any slobber behind.

Newton explained that it was a creature called Oddsock and it seemed to be protecting Manglewood. He almost seemed a tad bit jealous that Oddsock had taken a liking to you so quickly, even if he didn’t show it openly.

He led you off of the boat and further into Manglewood, the dog sticking close to your side.

There, you both found a man who introduced himself as Marlon Random.

He was quite a character. Looking like a spool of film with a strange hairstyle to go with it, the dancing, the personality, the references to movies and such...he was probably the most enjoyable to be around. He didn’t even seem to mind Newton. Greeting him as if it was any other day, in which Newton had replied half-heartedly and explained your situation. Once Marlon heard of your plight, he stopped and looked at you closer. Taking notice of your strange appearance as well, he nods and laughs lightly. Eager to show Manglewood to you, despite Newtons’ protests. You had decided to visit the space area and discovered that floating in space was incredibly fun. The zero gravity, peaceful music playing in the background, and just the weightlessness of it all...it was truly an experience. After that, he took you over to the old-style diner. You jammed out to some old-style tunes, which strangely came from Earth of all places, and you even tried to take a few bites out of the food laying around. Getting the same result as the one from Needlepoint Peaks. You even tried the milkshakes. Which were SO SWEET. Too sweet even!

It was like everything around here was made out of two dumptruck loads of sugar. Plus, you couldn’t really force past it, as it was strong enough to hurt your teeth anyway. One secret spit out later and you lot had decided to settle in for a bite.

With the exemption of you. So while Newton, Marlon, and even Oddsock enjoyed the food...you found yourself without a meal yet again. Your aching belly rumbling in disdain as you sigh quietly. You just had to endure for a bit longer...you would get home soon...hopefully. Thankfully there was water to drink. So you had that instead. Still, you had a kick watching Newton shove fries and pieces of food into that hole in his neck. Which made sense, as he simply couldn’t shove it past the glass that covered his head. It just made you wish you could enjoy it with them...wait...why were they looking at you...why were they laughing --? A tickling sensation pretty much crawled around you as those bothersome floating objects began to stick to you again, resulting in you crying out in agitation and shaking about in the seat to dislodge them. Your companions seemed to find the situation hilarious as you pluck them off and flick them away from yourself. Huffing a bit at your group as they laugh at your grumpiness. But once it was all said and done, the last places being too ‘dangerous’ for you to explore, you both decided it would be time to head out to the Ziggurat. You would’ve headed to a place called ‘Zom Zom’s’ however Newton explained that he only took a special type of currency called ‘collectabells’, which got a chuckle out of you. Sadly, you didn’t really have any currency at all. So you skipped on going there. He probably wouldn’t have anything in your size anyway. So, both of you cross the bridge and ride the gondola into the distance while Marlon and Oddsock waved you both off. In no time at all, the temperature began to drop and snow began to fall from the sky. The wind from the gondola didn’t help the situation either, your clothes could barely keep out the chill. Newton didn’t seem bothered by it, which wasn’t a surprise to you. That fluffy coat he was wearing looked comfortable.

You would ask to wear it, but it was just too small for you. Plus, Lightbulbs radiate heat, so he was probably all warm and toasty underneath that fabric. Talk about being lucky.

Finally, the gondola came to a hill and along that hill seemed to be a towering figure. It almost looked like a burlap sack...like something you would shove potatoes in. Once closer though, it seemed similar to the last creature you encountered.

If logical reasoning could be fathomed here, that must be this land’s protector as well. Seeing by how they grew alert to the approaching elevator. Once it stopped and you and Newton stepped off, the large figure approached curiously. Similar to before, the creature met Newton with a poker face about as blank as the snow, but he gave you a rather silly smile once he looked in your general direction. What you didn’t expect was a large friendly hug to accompany that smile. You were pretty much scooped up and pressed against the taught cloth-chest of the large figure, gasping for air as it cuddled you. Newton began by explaining that this was the Ziggurat, which also happened to be Toggles’ home. Which was the name of the creature hugging you. He told you about the grand library and the ballets that would be held here every day and that hopefully you would enjoy the shows while you both were here. With a few desperate taps on Toggle, you were released and were finally able to get a full breath of air. You almost felt bad for Toggle’s worried face, but a reassured pat on their arm seemed to make them satisfied that you were okay. You walk along, following Newton as he gives you a brief tour of the entrance. Toggle following close behind you both as you walk towards a large and towering brass-like structure that was the centerpiece of this frozen wasteland.

Then, you met Papal Mache in the temple sanctum. Who gave Newton a rather skeptical glance after your arrival before staring at you for a brief moment. Once again, another remark on your appearance was made.

It almost made you wanna put a bag over your head and hide away from the world.

And what is with everyone asking where your ‘stitching’ was? You’re not made of fabric!

You just let out another sigh as Newton repeated the spill from earlier encounters while you busied yourself by looking at the temple architecture. From the looks of it, it seemed to be the insides of a large pipe organ, with stained glass windows of ballerinas and russian-esque soldiers. Which made sense, as Russia was known for its musical culture and revered classics in the modern world. While you admired the art and such, Papal Mache seemed to understand and decided to escort you both down to the library. Which was being looked after by...a dog...woman...thing.

You simply just shake your head and decide to listen in on her history lessons that were offered to you, which were indubitably interesting and selectively inspiring.

Especially once you began to read some of the pamphlets that Toggle helped save from a flood. Toggle even stayed and sat down to listen to his heroic deeds for a bit. Out of curiosity, you pick up one of the pamphlets. No wonder the lady-dog would’ve been so upset to lose some of this history, it was pretty interesting! However, it was short-lived once Newton grew bored and pulled you away from the library with a rushed goodbye to the friendly dog lady. Nearly leaving Toggle behind. Only then did you realize how cold you were getting from the temperature after sitting still on a cold floor. You begin to shudder as the cold wind brushes against you and you slow down as the cold bites at your flesh.

Curiously, Newton had questioned what was wrong as you trembled helplessly in the frigid gales. Once you explained that humans can get something called hypothermia from excessive cold and die, Newton practically flipped his lid.

A quick grasp of your hand and he took off with you in tow.

He quickly rushed past Papal Mache and through the temple to get you to a large furnace on the other side.

Once close enough, you could feel the warmth of the furnace melting away the freezing ice that had wrapped itself around your body. Replacing it with warmth and comfort. Once at the entrance, you graciously sit down on the warmed metal and let out a blissful sigh of relief. You were pretty much scolded by Newton for not telling him earlier and a worried Papal Mache arrived on scene not much later. A brief questioning later and Papal figured it might be best if you don’t stay here too long. Not that he didn’t enjoy new visitors, but because you just weren’t equipped for such freezing temperatures. Which were even worse when night fell.

You nodded in understanding and let out a sigh of brief disappointment, but the snow was hard to endure at this point. Once you thawed out, you both would be heading to your final destination, Bunkum Lagoon.

The sound of small rapid footsteps grace your ears as a smaller version of the big guy came scuttling onto the scene. A brief slide later and suddenly it was the big guy again! Only then did you realize what ‘Toggle’ meant. It made you almost wanna laugh. Papal Mache decided to speak up to the large silent hero about your incident and Toggle seemed to become saddened by the news, but nodded in understanding anyway. You felt bad for such a rapid departure, but what else could be done? It was best to finish touring Bunkum so you could get back to Stitchem Manor so you could wait for Larry. Once you got warm enough, you stood up from the ground and Newton rejoined you as both of you walked back into the temple and towards the back where a large elevator awaited. Both of you got on and Papal Mache and Toggle waved their farewells as the elevator began to move and drop down. You had no idea how this would get you to a lagoon, but if you weren’t at the risk of getting hypothermia, you may like it a bit more… Newton seemed to be more apprehensive about this place, unlike the last two places you both visited. He began to talk about a wicked queen who probably boils her disrespectful subjects in hot oil and how she would probably tear him limb from limb if she as much as smelled him. You probably broke a sweat listening to his anxious worries about the next destination. Didn’t seem to be as peaceful as the last two places, just from what he was saying alone. You gulped as the air began to become more humid as the elevator slowed to a stop.

Once outside, the first thing your eyes caught was the sunset that was glistening over the very large lake that resided in a city filled with towering spires and buildings. You couldn’t hide a gasp of awe as you stepped out into the residential areas and admired the masquerade theme that the city had going for it. Plus, there were airships and clouds as far as your eyes could see. It was truly breathtaking. Newton slowly slinked out after you, scanning around as if to keep an eye out for danger. You had thrown caution to the wind as you walked out further into the Lagoon, Newton squeaking and following behind you for a change. You pretty much just happily stroll through the town, looking at all of the cardboard, stickers, and crafted creatures fluttering about. A stark contrast to a human like yourself.

Suddenly, a sudden shout came from above. The noise made Newton cry out in fear as he hid behind yourself as a hovering platform came into your view. On top of it was a marionette looking female as she called down to the both of you. From the tone of her voice, you already knew you weren’t gonna like her. Her tone was bratty and easily portrayed the type that she was. That type being a heavily spoilt princess that expected everyone to obey and respect them, despite them not deserving any. She was also being followed by another sack creature, this one resembling a bird. She immediately began to chew out Newton for one reason or another, you weren’t exactly paying attention as she hissed at your companion. It was almost like she was demanding an explanation as to why he was in ‘her’ kingdom. Newton had managed to pluck up enough courage to creep out from behind yourself as he explained your situation once more. About how you were from ‘very far away’ and a friend had asked if someone was willing to show Bunkum to the newcomer. Despite the fact that he tried to pass it off as him trying to make amends by doing this ‘tour’ with you. Despite the fact that he selflessly volunteered for it, no pressuring from his father or anything. Still, you said nothing as the ‘Queen of Bunkum’ introduced herself to you and you to Swoop, who had landed and was staring at you after giving Newton another neutral passing glance. It even almost seemed to flutter happily for a bit. It made you wonder why all of these sack creatures seemed to be happy to see you, but that can be pondered later. Right now, you just wanted to go and explore this last location before the night began to fall.

With courtesy, you bowed a bit and greeted Pinky. Being sure to call her ‘queen’ in a respectful manner. She looked like the type that was prone to suck-ups.

In which you assumed correctly. Almost seemingly flustered with your polite behavior, she cackles a bit before welcoming you to the Lagoon and ‘knowing fully well that you WILL enjoy your stay ’. However she does give you a warning to keep ‘that yellow ninny’ out of trouble, to which you assured her that she had nothing to be concerned for. Satisfied, she calls swoop back to her side and the levitating platform hovers off into the distance. A thankfully short encounter. Newton lets out a relieved sigh as you continue on. A desire to explore in your veins as the sun continues to set. It was kinda sad that you couldn’t hang out with the bird like you could the other two, but it probably has a job protecting the queen. Still, you continued on. Your lightbulb co-conspirator follows you from close behind. Just waiting to see what you decide to do with the rest of your day. And It was a rather eventful rest of the day.

Both you and Newton had attended various events. Such as an air joust festival, a puppet show, and you two even climbed the tallest tower in the district and listened to the bells of the tower ring. You even got to see the ‘legendary creative heart’, which was strangely disturbing. Despite it being just a giant valentine heart with large bird wings, it still pulsed like an actual heart. You honestly didn’t know how the locals could stand being next to it for so long. Even from this distance it was loud enough for you to hear. You just brush it off and try to ignore all of the bothersome floaty things that came from it. Hopefully none of them would stick to you. At the end of your trip, you both stopped on a pier to watch the sunset over the lagoon. The purple and pink clouds just brought out a tranquility in the atmosphere that almost made you forget about your troubles and your lingering sleepless exhaustion. Despite being here for about a few days, you were starving and getting any sleep was rather rare. Mostly since weird things would occur while you were dozing.

You fell asleep in the rocketship once and a large flower garden had grown up around you while you had slept and you only took notice when you woke up. It was hard to explain it to Larry. You even crashed in Clive’s factory and when you awakened, some new robots were by your side. Seemingly not made in the factory at all, as they didn’t even have the same body shape as the Sackbots. Clive was about as stumped as you were when you showed him. It was just...when you fell asleep, weird stuff would happen to you and the things that surrounded where you were sleeping. So now, you just try to stay awake as much as possible. Even if your eyelids felt like cinder blocks and tiredness nipped at your aching muscles. The thing that bothered you the most as your empty stomach.

If you couldn’t sleep nor eat, how would you even make it out of here?

There was no sustenance to keep you going. You’re pretty much running on emergency energy right now. Burning stored calories and trying to stay alive while you were at it. The constant insomnia was also wearing down on you. You just felt like you could fall asleep right here on the pier. But Newton jostles you awake by reminding you that you both had to head back to Stitchem Manor before night fell on Bunkum. You nod slowly in understanding and finally muster the strength to stand up with a long stretch. From there, Newton led the way back to his home. Leading back the way you came. Back up the mountain, back through the Ziggurat, back down the mountain, through the swamp again, and back to the boat. Once you both set sail, you watch the sinking sun with a lazy gaze.

It was quite a trip...but you really wish you were home. It wasn’t like you were miserable here. These strangers were so nice and open to you, despite your off-putting appearance. You just wished you had something to eat right now...and maybe a nap. Or a thousand year sleep, which would be far better. Still, Stitchem Manor came into view at the cliffside and you both began to dock the boat. By the time you both arrived home, the sky had turned to twilight as you slowly walked after Newton.

Who seemed to be rather jovial after todays ‘adventure’. Both Nana Pud and Captain Pud were there to greet you both at the gates of the manor, Larry Da Vinci was there as well. Seemingly having an idle chit chat while you both arrived. Once you two were noticed, you sluggishly came to a stand still next to Larry while Newton griped about being pampered by his doting mother. You and Larry couldn’t help but chuckle as you all said your goodnights and you and Larry headed away from the manor. You manage to look over your shoulder as the younger lightbulb seems to be happily waving to you while he and his parents go inside the manor. You returned the favor, albeit a bit more slowly as exhaustion slowly caught up to you. Once you were out of sight of the manor, Larry had asked how your day went. You pretty much told him everything. About the fun you had in Manglewood, the freezing experience in the Ziggurat, and the jousting shows in Bunkum Lagoon. You spoke of all the people you met and how Newton was informative and made sure to look after you. It seemed to earn Larrys’ approval as he nods as the pod comes into sight. Once you both were aboard and a course was set for Craftworld, you decided to settle in on the pillows on the far side of the pod. Where it was a bit quieter than the control room. Larry decided that he would drive you both back to Craftworld while you took a nap. You didn’t mind and happily accepted the offer. Though, he probably could tell that you weren’t getting enough sleep. You could practically see the darkness lining your eyes.

Now you were wrapped up in soft materials and laying in a nest made from pillows and such. Your mind was so tired and strained from being awake for so long that all you could think about was how many people you met in the last few days. How many potential friends you could make...but it was still a mystery as to how you arrived on Craftworld in the first place. Let alone how to get out of this dimension and safely back to Earth. If you wanted to go back...that is. I mean, you were still hungry. Even more so now. You could only sigh as the feelings of hunger went away some time ago after you tried to not focus on anything. You were still lost. Even if you met some friendly faces along the way. Still... how did you get here? And how do you get back? You merely blink as these questions run through your mind and you just let out a deep exhale and close your eyes tightly. You just needed some sleep for now. Maybe this is all just one big fever dream and you’ll wake up back in your normal bed with normal humans around you. No fabric, no cardboard, so sponges...just flesh and bones. Organic stuff... REAL stuff.

Or...at least the things you HOPE were REAL things. Oh, but it was just another problem to solve for tomorrow.

You let out another final long sigh as your heavy eyes finally close and you drifted off to sleep in record time.

Blissfully unaware of the images and energy seeping from your head while you slept peacefully throughout the whole trip back to Craftworld.

#little big planet #LBP #reader insert #No romance #LBP1 #LBP2 #LBP3 #LBP fanfics #no dialogue #I love this idea of humans seeing the imagisphere #Imma keep on with this idea #Newton and Reader will become great friends

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

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Pain Is So Close To Pleasure (Platonic!Reader x Modern!Queen)

Summary: As a recently promoted Soloist for the Royal Ballet, you move closer to Covent Garden with your four-year-old daughter, Rose. But your new neighbour turns out to be the last person you'd expect to pop up on your doorstep.

A/N: Fun fact, there is a woman called Elizabeth Harrod who is a soloist for the Royal Ballet, has a 4-year-old child and once played the character mentioned. All by coincidence. And she is married to Steven McRae who was the inspiration for the fic I was hugely inspired by. Fun times guys. I used to dance ballet once or twice a week for about 5 years but stopped 4 years ago. And I may or may not be regretting my decision to quit. Oh well. I really hope you liked this, do leave feedback if you don't mind and perhaps a like or even a reblog? I have at least 3 more ideas for this but if you think of anything then please please please let me know! Stay hydrated kiddos!

Warning(s): swearing, mentioned arguments, crying, mentioned nightmares, reader is female btw

Inspiration: Brian May’s instagram, Incandescent by @immistermercury on AO3, Modern Times Rock N Roll by @rhapso-kei on Tumblr and AO3, Outed by @platawnic on Tumblr

Word Count: 7.2k+ (it’s a big boi lads)

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty

Ask to be on my taglist if you want!

Never in a million years had you ever expected moving to a new house to be this fun. For it was only carrying boxes into the house repeatedly for hours at a time. Right?

Wrong!

It turned out that the opportunities for games increased tenfold when you have a child. The child in question had barely even stepped out of the van when she suggested that you compete against each other to see who could carry the most boxes into your new house. Given that you had actual professionals lifting the heavy stuff – chairs, tables and so forth – racing would actually speed things up with getting the smaller boxes in the house.

Small footsteps increased in volume before a similarly small voice asked, “What next, Mummy?”

You looked up at you daughter from where you were awkwardly crouched inside the delivery van, shockingly ungraceful for a ballerina, just for one moment amidst all of the chaos that came with moving to a new house. All wrapped up in her khaki green coat, her nose and cheeks were tinted with the pink of harsh January mornings. Her eyes were the same colour as yours, the most beautiful shade of (Y/E/C), and were always alive with excitement; today was no exception. She was almost the perfect likeness to you: the same skin, the same nose, the same lips. Her hair was more like that of her father’s, but she was beautiful all the same, and more importantly your precious girl.

You dragged yourself out of your daydream and passed a relatively small stack of books to Rose, “You got it?” you asked uncertainly, images of newly-ruined books spilt over the floor flashing through your mind for a second.

“Yup!” she was already running into the house and up the stairs by then and you chuckled despite yourself. You dragged a transparent plastic box from the back of the van to where you had now positioned yourself. This one was full to the brim of dead pointe shoes, each pair decorated with paints and lace and beads and whatever you had in the house at the time; one even had uncooked pasta stuck to it. You were sure that you were going to find more boxes like these considering how many pairs you had worn over the years.

It had become a sort of tradition for you, to decorate each pair of pointe shoes once they died, never quite being able to let go of them. You wrote their date of ‘birth’ – when you wore them for the first time - and their date of ‘death’ – the day they finally broke – on the sole of each shoe in gold paint and a fine brush. Often, they were the same date, which was evidence of how hard you worked. You liked to decorate the wings and the vamp using a random theme, usually shows you had performed. The ones you had oh-so-carefully picked up however was Tangled-themed, chosen by Rose when you had had a lack of inspiration. You placed it back down and swapped it for another, this time a Swan Lake pair. You smiled to yourself at the memories attached to that particular pair; it had been your first ever professional show, when you were still in the Royal Ballet School and the company had merged with the school for the first time since your arrival. You looked at the dates on the soles and almost gasped despite yourself.

16.12.2012 ~ 23.12.2012

Just over 5 years ago.

Those shoes were almost an entire year older than Rose. You couldn’t quite believe that you had been involved with the Royal for so long. It felt like mere days, weeks at the most. The only thing convincing you otherwise was the sheer number of shoes in the box and the combined weight of them all, seen as you went through upwards of 100 pairs every season. Fortunately, ballet wasn’t just turns, leaps, plies and wearing gorgeous costumes, it required a great deal of strength so carrying the box into the house was hardly a problem.

From a stranger’s glance, your new home appeared to be a house, Georgian with bricks the colour of coffee, immaculately painted and symmetrical to every other house in the immediate vicinity. But this was London, more importantly this was central London, and that meant you’d have to be a multi-millionaire in order to afford an actual house. It also meant that the whole block was once something that could only be described as a miniature mansion, and had been split up into houses and now, several flats. One of which you were now the proud owner.

You had spent a long time saving up for this flat; you had needed more space for you and your daughter for a while now and you had been long overdue a change from that studio flat in Camden. So, when this flat came up for sale, you felt as if all of your prayers had been answered. Compared to your previous home, this one had buckets of space, you had a bedroom each for a start. It was a mere twenty-minute walk to the Royal Opera House, making it so much easier when you had late performances or overrunning rehearsals. Or when you accidentally forgot your leg warmers or spare pointe shoes, incidents that happened more often than you would like.

You climbed the staircase to your first-floor flat; you supposed that that would take some getting used to, especially after long days of back-to-back classes, rehearsals and shows. You pretty much dumped the box of pointe shoes on the floor of the living room and turned around to leave only to have Rose collide straight into you.

“Sorry, Mummy!” she giggled, as sweet as ever, and blew you a kiss as a form of apology.

“That’s alright, darling, it was only an accident,” you blew her a kiss back, “Now, where did you put your books?”

She grabbed your hand and tugged you incessantly to your bedroom, “Look!” she pointed proudly to the stack of books on your bed, which looked as if it could collapse at a moment’s notice, but a stack, nonetheless.

Your heart broke slightly when you realised: she still thought you had to share a room. You crouched down to be eye-level with her, “Rose, why don’t you put them in your room, instead? They’re your books, sweetie, not mine.”

“But they are in my room,” she frowned, head cocked to the side in confusion.

“No, this is Mummy’s room. Your room is next door,” it was your turn to lead her into her own bedroom, a tad more gently than how she’d done it, and her eyes opened wide with wonder.

“I can have my own room?” her voice filled with disbelief and your heart ached terribly.

“Of course, princess. This flat is much, much bigger than our old one.”

She squealed with excitement and threw her arms around you, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, before running off to grab her picture books. You stood up, shaking your head with a chuckle before returning to the van. You grabbed another box, this one stuffed with Rose’s toys, “Rose! Can you come and bring this one in?”

She catapulted down the stairs, forever a tiny hurricane, and snatched the box out of your hands. You made your way to the front door with another box in your arms for about the hundredth time that day but stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the pavement.

Rose was wandering down the street, box of toys long forgotten and left on the stairs, heading straight for the busy road perpendicular to your own. You dropped your own box on the pavement and broke out into a full-on sprint to stop her, heart pounding with fear. She was reaching the end of the pavement, completely oblivious to the cars speeding along to her right, and to the car that was indicating to turn left. For a fleeting second you thought the reckless driver was going to hit her, when a man suddenly ran out f the pharmacy at the end of the road and swept her up into his arms. You scowled, endlessly grateful that she hadn’t been hurt, but more than slightly annoyed that a complete stranger had the audacity to pick up your precious girl. Your maternal instincts went into overdrive and, once you reached them, you snatched Rose back from the man.

“Get your hands off my child,” you glared at him. Now you could get a far better look at him, you could tell he definitely wasn’t young, his white hair and beard gave that away instantly. His eyes were masked by sunglasses, confusing you slightly; it may have been sunny that day, but it was only January. Something about him was strangely familiar to you, it was hard to describe but you were sure you recognised the overall aura he had about him. You shook off the thought for now, you could ponder over it long after Rose had gone to bed and you finally had some time to yourself. Speaking of Rose, you shifted your focus to her; she seemed unharmed, if a little shaken up. You placed her on your hip and she instinctively tucked her head into the crook of your neck and looked at the man curiously.

“Well, I did just save her life, you could at least say thank you,” the stranger muttered, his voice gruff but somehow light.

Your gut dropped; you recognised that voice. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but that voice was way too unique to be anyone else’s. He must have seen the cogs turn in your head for he smirked slightly.

Internally, you were freaking the fuck out because holy shit you think you just met Roger fucking Taylor, but externally, you attempted to keep your composure because it didn’t matter who he was, he still grabbed your daughter and he was crazy if he thought you were going to let that slide.

You were frantically trying to think of something, anything, to you say when Rose felt the need to come to your rescue, “Are you Santa?”. When no one said anything because you were both, quite frankly, too stunned to reply, her excitement just grew, “Mummy, look, it’s Santa! Santa saved me!” she turned to look at him and put on her sweetest voice, “Thank you, Santa!”

He sighed, knowing full well he was about to break this poor girl’s heart, and said, “No, I’m not Santa, he lives a long way away.”

She pouted before finding something else that entertained her, “Why are you wearing sunglasses?” she giggled, holding out a hand to try and rip them off of his face and nearly falling out of your arms in the process. You placed her back on the pavement, just to be on the safe side.

He reluctantly took them off and gave them to her, and she grasped them excitedly. She tried to put the sunglasses on, but they were far too big for her, so they just kept sliding off, amusing her to no end.

You forced yourself to look at the man, now you were definitely sure it was Roger and fucking hell you hadn’t expected your day to go anything like the way it had. He raised an eyebrow and you only just clocked that he was still waiting for a reply. “Thank you for stopping her,” you said somewhat sheepishly; now you’d had the chance to think over what he’d actually done, you felt a little guilty for berating him like that. You’d naturally assumed he meant to cause harm somehow, but if he had had such intentions then surely, he wouldn’t have waited for you. He could have run off with Rose, but he didn’t. Naturally, you were still a little wary but while Rose had been interrogating the man over whether or not he was in fact Father Christmas, you had come to the conclusion that he was probably harmless.

*********************

By around lunchtime you had actually carried in everything that you could, so you’d decided that the rest of the day could be a well-earned lazy day. As you expected, Rose had had no objection to that whatsoever, seen as lazy days more often than not meant Disney marathons. You were making a light lunch, knowing that you’d need to save room for sheer amount of popcorn you’d bought from the corner shop, while Rose was picking out a film to start with.

“Mummy, I got one!” she called as you brought your sandwiches into the living room. She was sat by the TV, surrounded by DVDs with one in her hand. She squinted hard at the blurb of the DVD she was holding, as if she was trying to read it, which made you chuckle to yourself. “What are you laughing at?” she looked at you quizzically.

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to burst her little bubble, “Nothing, sweetheart. Which one did you choose?”

She stood up wobbly, coming incredibly close to falling right back down again but only just regaining her balance, “Zootropolis!” she had to say the word very slowly; the word was very hard to say for a four-year-old, even you struggled with it sometimes.

Zootropolis was one of her favourites at the moment, second only to Tangled, so you weren’t all that surprised by her choice. This would have been the fourth or fifth time watching it so far that month alone, and you were only about halfway through January. The joys of having a child, you thought wryly to yourself. Not that you’d ever complain to Rose. Besides, you’d much rather Zootropolis to Frozen, which you didn’t think you could ever watch again after being subjected to hearing Let It Go every day for weeks and then much longer in your head.

“Ah, good choice,” you said as she thrust the DVD in front of your face. You put the sandwiches down on the coffee table and took the DVD from her, “Why don’t you go and get a couple of your toys to watch the film with us while I set it up? Maybe you could get Nick and Judy.”

Her eyes positively lit up at the idea and she raced off to find them. You’d gone to Oxford Street just before Christmas to see all the lights and Christmas decorations, which then turned into going to the Disney store, which led into incessant begging from Rose to get one of the Zootropolis plushies. You’d ended up compromising, meaning she could get two of her choice, but she couldn’t play with them until Christmas. So now, any excuse to play with them was a good excuse and was guaranteed to keep her entertained for hours on end.

You had just put the disc in the TV when you heard the buzz signalling that someone was at the door. You were a little puzzled; you’d only just moved into this flat, how on earth did someone already have your address? You made your way to the door and held the button on the receiver, allowing you to talk to whoever was there, “Hello?”

“Hi, is this (Y/N)?” an unfamiliar female voice asked, only adding to your confusion.

“Yeah, who’s asking?”

“Well, my name’s Sarina, I think you met my husband this morning?”

A few minutes later, Sarina and Roger were sitting on your sofa with a cup of tea each, with you on the one-seater in front of the window, rhythmically pointing and relaxing your toes, a habit from dancing ballet pretty much every day for about fifteen years. It was around then when you started thinking about how weird this day was turning out to be. First, Roger Taylor saves your daughter’s life, then you give him your address even though you were sure you had no memory of that, and then him and his wife turn up to your flat for no apparent reason other than to have a chat.

You heard Rose’s obnoxiously loud footsteps run down the corridor and once she got to the living room, she stopped dead in her tracks. She had her arms full with soft toys but dropped them all when she noticed your visitors, “Mummy, look it’s not-really-Santa!” she pointed, face lit up with glee at meeting her saviour once again. Then she noticed Sarina and pouted with confusion, “Who are you? Are you not-really-Mrs-Claus?”

“Darling, we told you he’s not actually Santa,” you lightly chastised her.

Rose just looked at you as if she was trying to be patronising, “I know, that’s why I said, ‘not really’!”

Sarina only laughed and said, “My name’s Sarina, I’m Roger’s wife.”

Rose just looked even more baffled than before, “Roger? Who’s Roger?”

Roger waved awkwardly, having not said anything the whole time he’d been there.

A quiet ‘ohhhh’ came from Rose, but her attention quickly returned to her dropped toys, which she promptly rescued from the floor and popped onto your lap. You raised an eyebrow at the pile and looked back at your daughter, “That’s quite a few toys, darling.”

Rose grinned cheekily, “Well, I got Judy and Nick because they’re in the movie but then I thought that my other animals would be sad that I left them out so I got Dumbo, Minnie and Mushu and then I got Rapunzel because she’s my favourite and she loves Pascal and he’s a chame-,” she stopped, understandably struggling with the word.

“Chameleon,” you whispered to try and help her out.

“Yeah, that,” she giggled, not even trying to say it. You put it down to having new people over who she wanted to impress so you made a mental note to help her with it later on.

You turned back to your guests, forgetting momentarily that they were even there, something which you often did while talking to Rose, “Sorry, we were just about to watch Zootropolis as a sort of ‘well done’ for moving all of our stuff inside in one morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt or anything, we just wanted to, well, welcome you to the neighbourhood, I guess. We live just down the road from here,” Sarina justified, and suddenly their surprise visit made so much more sense. You were infinitely grateful as even though it wasn’t like you had no friends at all who lived in London, it couldn’t hurt to have some close by.

“No, don’t apologise, it’s really sweet of you both, thank you so much,” you smiled at them both.

Roger then decided to speak up for the first time since he got there, and you were still wondering why he was being so shy, “Listen, is there anything we can do to help you out at all? I know moving house can be a pretty big deal so if we can help you with anything then do say.”

Your instant thought was to say that you were fine, that you’d be able to manage. You weren’t one to ask for help unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, it was difficult for you. But once you considered it for a moment, you remembered that you had a full day of classes and rehearsals tomorrow, Rose didn’t start at her new pre-school until next week and you hadn’t booked a childminder or a babysitter. You looked at the couple on your sofa, kind and eager to help, and finally opened your mouth to speak, “I have work tomorrow. Is there any chance you could look after Rose for the day?”

******************

“I promise I’ve almost got it; I just need to get the footing right after the grand jete,” you reached for your water bottle, “I’m not sure why I can’t land properly.”

“I think it’s because you’re making the chaines more aggressive than they need to be. If you take a gentler approach, then you can put more energy into how you jump and then how you land,” Samantha, the ballet mistress of the company, suggested.

You pulled your fuchsia leg warmers right up to the tops of your legs and tried again, this time taking Samantha’s advice. You landed perfectly flat on your right foot, unfolding straight away and placing your arms in fourth on impulse. You pointed your index fingers as part of your character’s variation which, as it differed from the traditional ballet hand, still took some getting used to.

The Sleeping Beauty would be your first performance since being promoted to a Soloist, and you had received the role of the Fairy of The Golden Vine, meaning you had your own solo in the prologue. You obviously wanted to do really well, you wanted to prove to both the audience and to the other dancers that you deserved the role and the position in the company, despite the little gremlin back at home who was also known as your daughter.

You absolutely adored the name you had chosen for your angel. Rose. The flower thrown onto the stage at the end of a performance which more often than not ended up in a vase on the kitchen windowsill. The colour of the leotard you rehearsed in. The rose-coloured glasses that all children wore at some point in their young lives when they were oblivious and innocent. The colour of optimism, love, joy. The word rose, in and of itself, had so many positive connotations for you, which was exactly what you had needed when you had been expecting her.

Samantha broke you free from your daydream, “Well, we have about half an hour left, is there anything else you wanted to look at before the show tomorrow night?”

It still had yet to sink in for you that the first of eight performances was tomorrow. You hadn’t given it much thought because you didn’t want it to stress you out. Especially when you had other things to worry about, like polishing your part in Act III. Which reminded you, “Could we go over the wedding scene?” you asked sheepishly.

********************

You lightly knocked on the door, looking at your phone yet again to check the address. You rubbed your hands together to fight the bitter cold of winter evenings, suddenly regretting not wearing gloves. A forget-me-not blue sky hung overhead, already getting dark even though it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. The pristine door in front of you opened after a few seconds of waiting, but what you were not expecting, however, was for Dr Brian May, guitarist for Queen, arguably the best in the world, astrophysicist and animal rights activist, to answer the door with pen all over his face, “Ah, hello, you must be (Y/N).”

“Err, yeah, hi,” you nervously chuckled, a little starstruck at the man in front of you.

“Mummy?” a small, uncertain called out, soon accompanied by an awfully familiar face peeking out through the doorway to the living room.

“Hello, sweetheart,” you crouched down to be eye level with Rose, holding out your arms as an invitation for a hug.

“Mummy!” she quite literally took it with open arms and the brightest smile you had ever seen plastered on her face.

“Did you have a nice time, princess?” you asked between soft kisses pressed to her head.

This launched her into a fit of giggles and she only just managed to gasp out, “I’m not the princess, Roger’s the princess!”

You stood up with Rose sitting comfortably on your hip, “Is he now? Then who are you?” you bopped her nose with each of the last three words.

Of course, more light-hearted laughter ensued, “I’m the queen! And Brian’s the royal ad-” she stumbled on the last word and pouted, only for the man in question to whisper something in her ear and for her to shout, “Advisor! And Brian’s the royal advisor! Can I show you the kingdom?”

You set her down on the floor carefully and curtseyed like you would at the end of a show, “Lead the way, your most royal highness!” You exchanged a curious glance with Brian and followed your now running daughter into the living room.

To the ordinary person, the living room would appear to be in a state of total and utter chaos. Dining room chairs held up bedsheets, forming a makeshift tent in the centre of the room. Pillows were scattered around the fort, along with seemingly ancient colouring books, with pages the colour of buttermilk, washable pens and sweet wrappers that had yet to be picked up.

Rose dived in, luckily into Roger’s arms rather than the wooden floor. He swept her up into the air, the girl squealing with excitement, before returning her safely to the ground. “Roggie, you’re silly!” she smiled sweetly at him, making his face flood with the red of embarrassment.

“Roggie?” you laughed at his expression and sat down on the other side of Rose, sandwiching her between you and Roger. You were secretly loving how much humiliation could be brought on by a four-year-old child.

Roger looked desperate to salvage whatever was left of his dignity, “Well at least it’s not as bad as ‘Bri Bri’!”

Brian just scratched his head awkwardly and took a seat opposite you all, “I thought it was cute.”

You just chuckled at the state of them both; usually it was you who felt like that, more often than not it was when you brought Rose to work with you, so you found it rather amusing to have someone else on the receiving end of your daughter’s jokes.

Brian cleared his throat, clearly wanting to change the subject as soon as possible, “Mind if I take a picture? You guys look pretty cute in there.”

“By all means,” you agreed, knowing that you had to get a picture too. You were almost guaranteed to tell your friends about this later and they wouldn’t believe you without some kind of proof.

He pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket and quickly snapped a photo of you all in your rather adorable tent. He put his glasses on to examine the image and, with a satisfied nod, leaned over to show it to you, “I’d put it on Instagram but with Rose’s age…”

“Well, I don’t have a problem with it,” you said. It was such a sweet photo, you thought it would be a shame to not share it with people, though you figured that might be the performer in you speaking. It was the nature of the job; the performing arts were, at their core, just complex forms of storytelling. You turned to Rose, deciding that she should have a say on the matter, “Darling, would you be alright if Brian put that picture of us on Instagram? A lot of people would see it,” you warned.

She just beamed up at you, “Yeah because then lots of people can see the kingdom I made with Roggie and Bri Bri!”

You just laughed at her and pulled her into a hug while Brian posted the photo onto his account. You froze when your phone vibrated mere seconds later. It’s fine. You could just play it off. Maybe a friend texted you or-

“Mummy, look, your phone lit up!” a girl with sweet and innocent intentions somehow managed to flood you with embarrassment and suddenly you felt bad for laughing at Roger and Brian earlier.

Fuck.

You looked at her with the fakest possible smile and said, “Thank you, darling.”

“Is somebody a fan, then?” Roger taunted, not helping the situation whatsoever and instead making you want to throw your phone out of the nearest window and then you along with it.

Of course you were a bloody fan, why else would you get a notification when Brian posted on Instagram? “You see, it’s a long story, I err, just got, um, a text from one of my friends about the show tomorrow?” It came out as more of a question than an answer.

Brian and Roger exchanged a knowing look before muttering to themselves that you were ‘definitely a fan’ and ‘who do you think you’re kidding’.

To hide yourself as much as humanly possible, you decided to open the app and check the post. It turned out that you weren’t the only one who had the post-notifications turned on. Other fans were already beginning to shower it with likes and comments, and you were intrigued as to what people were saying.

Who is the little girl?? She’s so cute 💖💖

Yes we stan Bri and Rog being grandads

Is it me or does she look like that dancer from the Royal?

How someone had worked out that last one, you would never know.

Brian, being the saint that he was, decided to save you from your shame, “Rose mentioned that you’re a ballet dancer,” he smiled, finally starting to clear up the mess of wrappers and pens.

“Did she now?” you asked playfully, bopping her nose much to her delight before helping Brian out.

“You any good?” Roger asked.

“Well, I’d hope so seen as it’s my job,” you joked.

Roger’s brows furrowed instantly, “Wait, it’s your job?”

You nodded, giggling slightly, “Yeah, I’ve danced professionally for about 5 years-”

“Mummy, that’s older than me!” Rose interrupted, mouth open in bewilderment.

“Yes, sweetheart, that is older than you, but remember to wait for your turn to speak, OK?” you reminded her. You’d been working on that for a little while and she was mostly getting the hang of it, although she slipped up every now and then as you’d expect from a four-year-old.

“Sorry, Mummy,” she apologised in a singsong voice.

“Thank you, my darling,” you kissed her head and pulled her in for a hug, “Anyway, I dance with the Royal Ballet down in Covent Garden. I just got promoted to a Soloist so I’m starting to get better roles than I was before.”

“So, what have you been doing today?” Brian asked, eyes bright with the same curiosity you saw in Rose from time to time.

“Well, I had my warm-up class at nine, then my technical one at eleven. I’d usually have another class or physio but we’re opening The Sleeping Beauty tonight, so I was in rehearsals for that all afternoon. Oh, and we had a final costume fitting just after lunch,” you counted them on your fingers, smiling bashfully when you were met with looks of bewilderment and awe.

“And you’ve got to do a whole performance too?” Roger asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I mean technically I should still be at the Opera House to eat my dinner but I had to come and get this little munchkin first,” you tickled Rose, her adorable giggles filling the room.

When you finally showed her mercy and ceased the tickles, she said, “I get to watch Mummy dance from the side!”

You quickly filled Roger and Brian in when they shot you looks of confusion, “She means the wings. I can’t afford to hire a babysitter for every performance I do so she gets to watch for free. Besides, she loves it, sometimes we dance together backstage when I’m not needed seen as the music’s loud enough.”

“Forgive me for asking,” Brian began warily, and you were already dreading the question that was sure to follow, “But why isn’t there anyone else to babysit her for the evening?”

Ah, the wonderful question that was asked of you nearly every time you met someone. You quickly shot him a look of not in front of Rose, and thank God he understood, for he nodded and sent you a smile as an apology. You turned Rose around so she was facing you instead of leaning against your front and said, “Darling, we have to go in a minute so why don’t you run and grab your toys, OK?”

She jumped up and ran off, hopefully to find her belongings, always oblivious and you hoped she’d stay that way for quite some time.

You took a deep breath and finally answered Brian’s question, “Rose’s father and I split up when she was two, and none of my family live in London,” you shrugged; Rose’s dad was still a bit of a touchy subject. Understanding washed over the both of them immediately, and suddenly you remembered they had both gone through the same thing.

Brian quickly changed the subject yet again, somehow sensing that you weren’t feeling all too comfortable, “Do you think we could come and watch one of your shows? We could bring Rose with us and that way you won’t have to worry about her being backstage.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you. I don’t think I can get you tickets for tonight but I probably can for tomorrow if that’s alright?” you smiled at his enthusiasm, especially considering you had only known him for about twenty minutes at the most. Roger didn’t seem as excited, though you were expecting that because, if you remembered correctly, he wasn’t a huge fan of musical theatre and ballet wasn’t far from that.

*********************

It was around one o’clock in the morning and even though you were yawning what felt like every ten seconds, you somehow found yourself sitting on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You knew that you should be settling down, Rose had gone to bed about an hour ago and you normally followed not long after, but you weren’t quite ready yet. With every passing minute, you would be feeling even more regret tomorrow, but it felt as though something was physically stopping you from sleeping.

“Mama?” a small, tired voice called from the doorway. You never closed your bedroom door all the way for this exact reason. Rose shyly tottered into the room, dragging her blanket on the floor behind her and hugging her stuffed dragon toy with her other arm, “Mama?”

You placed your phone on a cardboard box full of things you had yet to unpack and gestured for her to climb into your bed, “What’s up, sweetness?” she clambered into your arms and you shuffled back to lean on the wall behind you. Her cheeks were damp against your shoulder and your heart leapt into your mouth, “Hey bubba, it’s OK, you’re OK, I’ve got you.”

Tiny sobs escaped her mouth and you rocked her gently, patiently waiting for her to calm down. Fortunately, it was only a matter of minutes before her crying ceased. You took this opportunity to gently approach the subject of what had caused all of this, “Did you have a nightmare, darling?”

She nodded, keeping her movements and voice as small as she could, as if someone was confining every part of her, “Daddy.”

You took a breath to ground yourself because fuck you didn’t want her to have to deal with your mistakes and said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, “What happened with Daddy?”

She rubbed her eye with a tiny hand and murmured, “You. Daddy. Loud.”

You tried to put the pieces together, assuming that you’d been arguing with him. This happened when she was scared, or sad, she would act like she was two instead of four, which restricted her language especially. You supposed acting younger was a comfort to her. When you’d split up with her father, you’d hoped to God that she was too young to remember any of the arguments she’d overheard. You and him had been a classic case of ‘settling down far too quickly’. Rose had been an accident and simultaneously the one to show that the both of you weren’t thinking any of it through at all. He’d walked out after the biggest fight that you’d had, and you were quite grateful for it, if you were honest.

“Me and Daddy didn’t get on very well, darling,” you explained, “You won’t ever see him again, I promise. And I won’t be loud like that, OK?” You felt her nod against your chest, and you could feel her settling down already, “Did you want to sleep in Mummy’s bed tonight?”

She perked up at your suggestion; sleeping in your bed was always a treat reserved for special occasions, and you despised the thought of making her go back to bed by herself. “Please, please, please, Mama? I like your bed, it’s soft and warm and snuggly.”

You responded by turning off your phone and the lamp on your bedside table, and tucking you both in, still cradling her against your chest like a baby. You wondered as she already began to drift off, if it had really been procrastination that had been stopping you from going to sleep earlier, or if it was just a mother’s instinct. Or if you were just thinking that to try and make yourself feel better about yourself.

**********************

Backstage was even more alive with excitement that evening. Someone had seen Brian and Roger in the foyer and word had quickly spread, though you hadn’t said a word on the subject to avoid the rush of inevitable questions. It would make the tabloid headlines by tomorrow morning; you could guarantee that.

The whirlwind rush of backstage never changed, and secretly you hoped it would always stay that way. It was absolute chaos, someone’s pointe shoes had gone soft, or someone’s lost a bit of their costume, or someone’s tights had ripped. It was strange compared to the scene of calm and serenity seen on stage; it was as if each dancer was put under a spell of some sort the moment they stepped out of the wings. While most would find the constant change of environments unnerving, you quite liked it, it kept you on your toes better than the pointe shoes on your feet.

It was a tad strange not having to chase after Rose every five seconds, tonight she was out in the audience for the first time ever. You’d never thought to take her to watch a ballet, she’d seen basically every show in the Royal’s repertoire from the wings, sometimes more enthralled by what went on behind the scenes than the dancing itself. She was forever trying to help anyone who needed it, usually it was looking over a costume or a hairstyle and pointing out anything that was out of place. It was one of the only times people were grateful for the brutal honesty that came with her youth. When she wasn’t doing that, she’d sit somewhere where she could watch the performance through the wings with a sticker book to keep her occupied during the ‘boring bits’, or she’d sleep on the sofa you’d asked Heather to put in place for exactly that reason.

You always felt guilty about making her stay awake so late, considering evening performances didn’t end until around eleven o’clock at night, meaning she wasn’t in bed until just before midnight. Luckily, it wasn’t most nights as you didn’t perform every night, and you had asked to not do as many evening performances as possible, making up for it by doing almost every matinees available. However, that didn’t stop your heart from breaking slightly every time you saw Rose yawn as a result of the lack of sleep. You just didn’t have any other options, until tonight that was. And in secret you were hoping that Brian and Roger would be able to help out again, though you’d never bring it up with them.

You shook yourself back to reality when Meaghan, the dancer in front of you, made her entrance, meaning you had to step forwards, ready for your own. The fairies had to line up in the wings and you were the last one to go on and dance your solo before the Lilac Fairy. You watched Meaghan dance, adrenaline coursing through your veins as it always would just before an entrance, and her beautifully danced solo was done in what felt like thirty seconds rather than two minutes. You took a deep breath and ran on when you heard your cue, plastering a smile on your face that was real for the most part.

You felt the music flood every corner of your mind. You didn’t even have to think about the steps you were dancing, letting muscle memory take control. You lost yourself in the beauty of the music, and in the beauty of yourself. You knew you looked like a real fairy, you sure felt like one, and you hoped that at least one child out there in the audience was watching you and thinking wow I want to be able to do that. You ran over in your head literally everything you knew about ballet, every little piece of advice you’d ever been given, something you probably should have done backstage but that didn’t matter because there you were. You were dancing on your own, all eyes on you, and you relished in the attention that you’d usually shy away from. If that is what it felt like every time you performed on your own, then fuck you were hungry for more. It was over in what felt like a heartbeat but also an eternity, and you ran over to your place further downstage.

Now you had the opportunity to pause for a moment, you took it to scan over the audience, though it was in pure vain as they were obscured by darkness. You supposed it helped dancers with stage fright, though you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d become a dancer if your stage fright was that bad. It was no longer a problem for you, but it had been helpful when you danced on that stage for the first time, especially considering you had only been a teenager when you first started performing with the Royal. You had to admit that you were trying to find Rose, Brian and Roger, knowing they were out there somewhere, watching with wonder in their eyes. You forced yourself to give up with that particular challenge; it was a rookie mistake to try to find loved ones in an audience. You just hoped they recognised you from wherever they were seated.

Elation just ran wild through your veins and you couldn’t stop the blush of pride filling your cheeks, not that you wanted to. This was the reason you danced, for the childlike joy that it brought you, the kind of glee that was the cause of each and every one of Rose’s giggles. It was pointe-shoe pink, it was ice cream on a hot day, it was a butterfly flying past you. It was ephemeral, blink and you’d miss it, but the hangover feeling of sheer bliss, that was the reason you danced.

You were hardly conventional, you knew that. A young single mother, a ballet dancer who had been promoted to a Soloist in her early twenties and living in London of all places. You were a ballet dancer, dancing to the melody of her own piano and to hell with anyone who said that you couldn’t.

#Brian May #brian may x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ballet #ballet au #modern queen #queen #queen x reader #royal ballet #the sleeping beauty #child character #brian may imagine #roger taylor imagine #queen imagine #london

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imnothinginparticular · 4 years

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+My 2019 Top Films list. 1. Atlantics- Mati Diop Haven’t seen this unpredictable supernatural style…yet rooted in social realism sort of film since Apichatpong’s classic Uncle Boonmee. Add in the fact this is the director’s debut film who was the actress in my favorite French film of this millennium in Clair Denis’s Ozu tribute, 35 Shots of Rum. 2. Parasite- Bong Joon Ho Ya he probably had the best film of the year, just with the director’s level of greatness at this point I judge in comparison to his past works. I noticed in this and his last film Okja how obvious his messages are becoming whereas I prefer the poetic nuance of Memories of Murder which is something a Korean film last year mastered in Lee Chang-dong’s Burning. I didn’t release a list last year but I felt that was the best film easily of the last 5 years and had that fresh in mind while watching this. 3. Varda by Agnès- Agnès Varda If you really love cinema how can you not love her swan song. I just adored her on stage recalling her career beginning in the Left Bank movement (not new wave). Varda and her contemporaries are the reason I wanted to make films and the film captures that naive fun of making films for the right reasons. 4. Hale County This Morning, This Evening- RaMell Ross A mix of the realistic atmosphere of Burnett’s Killer of Sheep with the pictorial sensibilities of Rinko Kawauchi. This is a beautiful personal portrait of black life in very rural Alabama county that we just don’t see. 5. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood- Quentin Tarantino Also with Tarantino you judge him by his own merits. Coined as an ode to Hollywood, I would call it an ode also to the two post Italian art cinema movements: Spaghetti westerns and Giallo films. Rather obscure I appreciate that he doesn’t care if he looses people. The violent ending can be explained by a quick viewing of Dario Argento’s The Bird with the Crystal Plumage that would of been released in real life right around the time as this film was set in.

6. The Irishman- Martin Scorsese It is a Scorsese classic genre film, akin to Kurosawa’s late samurai films like Ran….in that we view simply with appreciation. How can we not appreciate all of his stars coming back in this? Also he uses CG correctly. And that is not to make your film, but to better it by giving the actors more freedom to do what they do. 7. The Lighthouse- Robert Eggers Liking this art house horror genre him and Ari Aster are doing. I love the subtlety and less is more approach of Eggers though. Casting teenage heartthrob…ahh I don’t know his name as the opposite of William Defoe in such a gritty economical manner that plays out as a horror parlor film was a real achievement. That would be like Howard Hawks in something like Key Largo with he sensibilities of Edgar Allen Poe. Like the continuing motif of the birds consuming us as he did in The Witch.

8. Ash is Purest White- Jia Zhangke I just love his social realism, he is like dramatist with the eye of a documentary filmmaker. He doesn’t rely on cliches to draw emotion in his films…he just shows. 9. The Farewell- Lulu Wang It is like Yi-Yi A One & a Two… with American cynicism. The way it dances between tragedy and comedy is what our most classic forms of entertainment come from in Greek tragedies. The dynamics of culture are well played it in this as well. Just a fun film.

10. The Dead Don’t Die- Jim Jarmusch/Us- Jordan Peele These I lumped together simply because they are the same films using a genre as symbolism. Both are American political horror films.I wouldn’t consider either innovative but that becomes the point.The former is over the top and if you look closely all for a reason and the latter is ambitious exploration into our nation’s past oppression that we are still afraid to address. Every shot in both film is clue with multiple metaphors that has become the American dream deferred….a nightmare.

Honorable mentions: Hotel by the River- Hong Sang-soo I love the repetitions in his films. If you have even seen one of them, the prevailing egotistic…humility is rare as he constantly blurs his films with his real life. Asako 1 & 2- Ryusuke Hamaguchi I was excited the first time a Japanese film, not made by Kore-eda could crack my top ten this decade. It didn’t. It was a film that took heavily from the “it” anime director Makaoto Shinkai (minus his masterful atmosphere) and relied heavily on coincidences with a strangely poor cliched acting performance by the female lead. The films saving grace was strangely the actor’s performance in his doppelgänger role that was cleverly metaphored by the reoccurring theme of photographer Gocho Shigeo’s work Self and Others. The ending as well…that was an ode to Kore-Eda’s first film which in turn was an ode to Ozu. Midsommar- Ari Aster A decade from now this will probably be the most remembered from 2019 (besides parasite) achieving a cult status exactly for its pretensions. Yet it was audaciously unforgettable. Long Day’s Journey Night-Bi Gan Like Midsommer this as will be remembered for its pretensions. An unnecessary 3D 59 minute one shot one take and copied Wong Kar Wai aesthetics complete with a misleading marketing plan that pitched this as a mainstream romantic drama although it was an unnecessary complicated art film that bored us with its unoriginal atmosphere. I list it still for the sheer audacity. The Souvenir- Joanna Hogg Sight and Sound rated this as number 1 as they always prop up their British films. I wanted to hate it but enjoyed the director’s exploration into her own maturation. Monos- Alejandro Landes Was really excited to see this! Much rooted in the realism of the Zhangke and Diop film it just missed what the other two innovated.

#filmlist #2019

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hellyeahomeland · 4 years

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“Chalk One Up” | Directed by Seith Mann, Cinematography by David Klein

The episode opens with Carrie arriving from a long night out doing… God knows what with God knows who. We love the starkness of this close-up on the exterminated motorcycle light. According to Lesli Linka Glatter, this mode of transport is based on a real life story:

“The scene where she gets out of the embassy was based on the real agent who Carrie is based on. She was based in Iraq at the time and that’s how she got out: by dressing as a man and traveling on a motorcycle. So, we used that for this. Also, you can’t leave in Kabul without an armored vehicle.”

...as the camera slowly pans up to reveal it’s Carrie underneath that (gigantor) motorcycle helmet, the question becomes clear: where the fuck was she?

Sara loved these scenes between Samira and her friend. Homeland has depicted several cities in the Middle East over the years but has rarely given us glimpses into the world outside the walls of a hotel or CIA station, especially without our main characters. The market that Samira and her friend walk through is vibrant and filled with color, as are their outfits. It’s a stark contrast to the interiors of the CIA station. And Samira’s line that the Taliban didn’t go away but were no longer hiding proves remarkably predictive of the rest of the episode’s events.

The real highlight of the scene is the selfie, of course. We love the detail of the man on the far, far left being cut out. Samira’s friend is the master of the one-arm selfie!

This shot of the various players at the Kabul station looking outward at Carrie is striking. It’s almost a reverse fish bowl. Carrie remains on the outside but everyone’s looks are in her direction. Jenna standing at the front of the room further suggests she was never “stuck in the starting gate.” She’s in the same position of power in that room as the Chief of Station and the commanding military officer at right. From afar, the dynamics are almost similar to early season one, Carrie running an ops meeting with Saul by her side. All of which is to say… is Jenna the Carrie to Mike’s Saul?

Dog.

This was such a specific detail that we thought it required pointing out, but 27 is not a significant number on this show (at least that we can remember), so we’re not sure why they bothered to show this.

...unless it’s a reference to the general ominousness of the 27 Club and a hint that Carrie (who, to be fair, is far past the age of 27) is going to die.

This week the show confirmed that Tasneem is the Director of the ISI. Which means that (after President Elizabeth Keane) she’s the second most powerful woman ever depicted on this show. And boy does she dress the part!

Tasneem’s all-white ensemble is attention-grabbing and distinctive (the other women in this frame are dressed in dark clothes). It’s also visually similar--especially with her long, black hair peeking through the sheer fabric of her headscarf--to the dress worn by several other men at the reception.

Homeland has told lots of stories over the years--whether intentional or otherwise--about the challenges women face living in a patriarchal, misogynist society. Whether it’s Martha losing her career because her loser husband couldn’t stand having a wife who was more powerful and smarter than he…. Or Allison dying in the back of a car near the Russian border in an act of scorned lover revenge. Or Carrie, screaming and crying at the end of “The Vest”... but being right the whole time.

Or, as Abigail Nussbaum said more elegantly than we ever could:

“Carrie is, in many ways, a boogeyman; she is what professional women, and particularly ones in male-dominated professions, have been taught never to become - emotional, hysterical, crazy. Emotion is how women who want to be taken seriously are undermined and dismissed. Even if you’re perfectly sane, being emotional - and most especially, being angry - devalues you and your professional contribution. A woman can be called crazy simply for behaving like a normal human being rather than a robot (and of course, if she behaves robotically and unemotionally, she’s a cold bitch). But Carrie isn’t simply emotional (though she is that too, and worst of all, she allows her feelings for a man to cloud her judgment) - she actually is crazy and hysterical, in the proper clinical sense rather than the exaggerated one which attaches to any feminine display of emotion, and profoundly pathetic and unattractive in that state. And she’s completely right, the only person who figures out Brody and Abu Nazir’s plans and motivations, and the person who saves the day by being hysterical, infecting Brody’s daughter with enough of that hysteria that she calls her father and convinces him not to blow himself up.

It’s certainly possible to read this arc as purely tragic, Carrie’s self-destruction being the cost of saving the world (though this is a character arc that is applied to men as often as women, for example in Thomas Harris’s Red Dragon), but to my mind its effect is more complex. It makes a crazy, hysterical woman into a hero without in any way mitigating her craziness or hysteria, and thus defangs the argument that emotion in women is a weakness. It’s the rational, sane men around Carrie, who turn away from her unattractive mania with distaste and embarrassment, who are blind and incompetent, and it’s that same inability to look past surfaces that leads them to put their trust, wrongfully, in Brody - just as Carrie performs hysterical femininity, Brody performs stalwart masculinity. Both are misleading.”

All of which is to say, we’re really fucking pumped to see how Tasneem’s role expands for the rest of the season, and we think the array of women in Tasneem, Carrie, and Jenna and their varying degrees of power is going to be really interesting to see unfold.

Sara is obsessed with this shot. She’s obsessed with the set design of Samira’s apartment. She’s obsessed with this moody lighting. She’s basically just obsessed.

Last week we had a slow pan around Jalal to reveal Tasneem. This week we have a similar slow pan around Carrie to reveal Jenna. This definitely means that Sara’s theory that Jenna will “single white female” Carrie is right on track.

Also, Gail hereby declares Carrie’s delicate silver jewelry her “FULL circle earrings,” because everything is coming full circle this episode, including accessories.

That said, we can’t deny the power of this shot. First, we have to note what’s going on in the background (which is actually in focus). President Beau has just arrived off Air Force One and immediately stops for a photo op with the Afghan president. From the beginning, the show is clear this is an optics-based trip.

But we really love this image of Carrie and Jenna (out of focus, but in the foreground) side by side. Again, they mirror each other, but in opposite ways (“So they’re mirror opposites?” --Sara’s brain). Carrie’s light hair versus Jenna’s dark hair. Jenna’s light jacket versus Carrie’s dark one. It’s eerie.

On the podcast we talked at length about the scene between Beau and Carrie. It’s genuinely moving. The staging of it is unique as well. The camera shoots them both at the same height. They stand close together. Ironically, the power dynamic seems almost equal. He’s one of the few people who’s ever acknowledged the sacrifices she’s made in service of her country.

Their twin smiles here are all the more tragic following the sequence of events that closes the episode. They all sincerely want peace. So many characters smile real, genuine smiles this week. That’s not a normal Homeland occurrence!

And they all legitimately believe in what they’re doing. They believe they’re doing the right thing. Maybe they are. But partly out of necessity, and partly out of more selfish desires (Hayes later says it’s all about getting a second term), they get caught up in the theater of it all. They make poor decisions. They take the wrong risks.

Every so often in this series we have to abandon screenshots in favor of gifs in order to truly capture ~the moment~ and this is one of those times! The way Claire plays Carrie’s reaction here is so specific, so nuanced and strange and wonderful. These “lived in” moments are something we’ll really miss when the show is over.

IJLTP.

We’ve all been there, Carrie.

This is another interesting shot choice. We’re not sure what its purpose is, other than to add interest to a fairly run-of-the-mill scene. But still, the set design! *heart eyes*

Sara’s note for this shot was “Saul is so extra.” We talked about genuine and sincere smiles above and Saul’s here does qualify… sort of. This is halfway between genuine and self-aggrandizing. AKA “where Saul lives 100% of the time.” He looks like a director about to screen his short film at Sundance. The red curtains parting slowly behind him are Too Much.

Tasneem and G’ulom are the kids in the back of the classroom who are so fucking done with this shit but can’t leave because they’ll get detention. We will continue to stan.

It’s a classic Homeland device to show a significant moment from a variety of perspectives, especially if those perspectives involve screens. The multitude of angles on Beau’s speech here reminded us a lot of Keane’s resignation speech in the Oval Office in “Paean to the People.” Coincidentally, that was her last hurrah as president too.

(P.S. Another Saul over-the-shoulder shot!)

Two selfies in one episode!

We loved the payoff to Max’s subplot. For once this season the weird LA filter actually looks nice! These are beautiful shots and the reflection in Max’s glasses is especially striking.

The skull and crossbones on the barracks is an ominious detail. As is the rock labeled “Boredom Rock.” Death and boredom really have been the two extremes of Max’s stint at the combat outpost.

We’re still divided on the merits of the “Carrie has to save Samira” storyline, but the camerawork here, with Carrie’s armed hands appearing out of nowhere, was pretty cool.

This RPG shot was one of the cooler special effects the show has done in a while. The entire sequence of Chalk One looking for Chalk Two was tense and thrilling and extremely well-executed.

Bringing us back to the ops room, the “LOSS OF SIGNAL” projected now for both helicopters is pretty chilling.

This is now Sara’s favorite shot of the entire series and we’d be remiss if we didn’t mention that it’s another over-the-shoulder Saul shot. This time he observes one of the crowning achievements of his long career literally blowing up in his face.

Visually, this shot anchors the viewer back to the Carrie/Saul relationship, the central one of the show. The black blankness--and the failure it represents--engulfs the frame.

We love the choice to end the episode on Carrie alone. It refocuses the event back to her. The horror in her eyes, welling up with tears, is palpable. How does Carrie feel? Alex Gansa explained that the writers wanted to create a new 9/11 with this maybe-assassination of the president. And it’s a fitting bookend for the show in many ways. In Homeland’s pilot, Carrie says she “missed something that day,” misdirecting blame to herself for not preventing 9/11. Now, in the final season, the show seems poised to tell a story in which Carrie is blamed for the “new 9/11.”

Strap in, folks. It’s gonna be a rough ride.

#homeland #homelandedit #in the director's chair #chalk one up #seith mann #*#by: sara #by: gail

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angelofberlin2000 · 5 years

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In his 14 minutes of screentime in Always Be My Maybe, Netflix’s latest rom-com phenomenon, 54-year-old Keanu Reeves — now 30 years into his stardom — skewers and subverts the personas we’ve come to attach to him.

Reeves, playing an outsized version of himself, cuts an imposing figure in his introduction. Time slows to a crawl. All eyes gravitate toward the velvet-jacketed figure with striking beauty and prickly charisma. After his entrance — a show for everyone in the farcical restaurant Maximal — he slides toward Ali Wong’s celebrity chef Sasha, offering spiritual platitudes in the face of her unfettered lust. “I missed your thumbs,” she breathily exhales. “I missed your soul” is his reply.

It’s a maniacally delightful performance that both reminds audiences of Reeves’s place in Asian-American Hollywood history and allows him to flex improvisational skills as he cycles through the various masks we have grafted onto him. There’s the impossibly otherworldly Keanu, who says with utmost sincerity, “The only stars that matter are the ones that you see when you dream.” There’s action-star Keanu, who smashes a vase against his own head in a game of Icebreaker and easily puts the jealous protagonist, Marcus (Randall Park), in a headlock — fully committed, physically graceful, and beautifully dangerous. The Keanu of internet memes and viral threads is here, too, in the very fact that he’s playing himself.

Reeves is having a dynamite year with the success of Always Be My Maybe, the outrageously violent John Wick Chapter 3: Parabellum, and Toy Story 4, in which he plays Canada’s greatest stunt driver, Duke Caboom. (Another sly nod perhaps? While born in Beirut, Reeves — who is of Chinese-Hawaiian and British ancestry — was raised in Toronto.) The actor’s more recent evolution into a meme may flatten his complexities, but it does signal why he has endured all this time, despite the persistent claim that he’s a bad actor, or just a limited one. As I’ve contended in the past, this is a gross misreading of a great actor. In her tremendous 2007 masterwork The Star Machine, film professor and historian Jeanine Basinger praises Reeves amongst his generational contemporaries: “Reeves is a neo-star fighting the concept of stardom itself, working steadily against persona to the point where no one has a clear idea of who Reeves is onscreen anymore. This has hurt him, but it has also allowed him to maintain versatility that means more to him than fame. […] His career would have been limited, and thus short lived. Instead, he has used his freedom to move on and slowly force audiences to accept him as a real actor.”

Just take a look at the arc of his career — as a teenager going through an existential crisis in the blackhearted wonder River’s Edge (1986); the affably dimwitted Theodore “Ted” Logan from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989) and its sequel; the bodaciously supple and yearning FBI agent and surfer Johnny Utah in Point Break (1991); a bruisingly courteous SWAT officer in Speed (1994); the beatific savior Neo in The Matrix (1999); the violent redneck in The Gift (2000); an occult detective radiating self-loathing and suicidal yearnings in Constantine (2005); and of course, the titular tenderhearted and violently dangerous assassin of the John Wick franchise. In looking at all of his performances, I am reminded of what the great Roger Ebert wrote in his review of the Bill & Ted sequel back in the early ‘90s: “I have seen Keanu Reeves in vastly different roles (the FBI man in the current Point Break, for example), and am a little astonished by the range of these performances.”

Throughout his career, Reeves has eschewed obvious transformation in favor of something trickier and more subtle. What has allowed him to remain a star, 30 years later, is a blend of virility, vulnerability, and an aura of mystery, hearkening to a bygone era of stardom that contradicts the current moment, which requires stars to seem endlessly accessible; his sheer joy for the medium that makes him a cinematic sensualist; his racial dimensions as a star; and his gimlet-eyed understanding of the female gaze. These qualities are unique in the current market of stardom in Hollywood, allowing him to straddle various cinematic contexts with ease — mainstream romantic comedies, somber indie flicks, gloriously decadent action flicks.

They come through in one of his earliest films, My Own Private Idaho, a meditative character study about two young hustlers — Mike Waters (River Phoenix), a shy narcoleptic in search of a sense of home, and the strikingly beautiful Scott Favor (Reeves), a trust-fund kid slumming it until his inheritance kicks in at 21. Reeves and his late co-star imbue their characters with a particular mix of virility, vulnerability, and mystery. I’d argue that all the greatest leading men in the annals of Hollywood stardom have existed at this intersection to varying degrees — something I feel has been lacking from modern male stars, partially because they are being formed in franchises that lack interest in the visceral aspects of humanity. (It helps that Reeves has declined offers to join Marvel, even though they’ve been trying to woo him to their stable for years.) Humphrey Bogart’s cool is consistently undercut by his own anger and self-loathing. William Holden held something dark behind his megawatt smile and gleaming blond locks. Paul Newman always felt a touch remote, like he was hiding bruised aspects of himself from the audience. Marlon Brando, of course, epitomizes these qualities. Reeves is brimming with similar contradictions. He reflects this tradition by being at once beatifically still and emotionally expressive, defined by loneliness and a yearning to be saved from it.

In My Own Private Idaho, Reeves is the object of desire not only for Mike but the camera itself. Deep into the film, Mike timidly reveals his love to Scott while they camp out in the desert, a fire crackling before them. Phoenix plays Mike as wild with energy he has no real outlet for, leading to an awkward physicality. Reeves grants his character a languid brio. He takes up space, laying close to the fire, his head dipped back to study Mike as he timidly expresses his feelings. He’s outstretched, willowy, and aware of Mike’s gaze; he examines the weight of it. The scene reveals one of Reeves’s greatest skills as an actor: being an active listener. As he studies Mike, he invites and toys with his feelings. “I only have sex with a guy for money,” he notes offhandedly as if it were a random truth, not a response to a declaration of love. But just as the prickliness of his character comes into view (foreshadowing later betrayals), Reeves displays a burnishing sincerity. Arms outstretched, he says, “Let’s go to sleep,” and proceeds to cradle Mike.

The full-bodied listening Reeves exhibits in My Own Private Idaho is a hallmark of his work opposite women as well. Reeves is a great example of what Roswell New Mexico writer Alanna Bennett deemed The Look: “The number one thing a man in a romcom needs, TV or movie, is the ability to look at their love interest REALLY WELL. The man barely even needs to speak if he just knows how LOOK at a person.” Reeves has given that look in multiple contexts — his face is bright with awe when he looks at Carrie-Anne Moss’s Trinity in the Matrix films; it has a touch of admiration when he gazes at Sandra Bullock in Speed; and it is filled with unmitigated desire for Diane Keaton’s Erica Barry in Something’s Gotta Give.

Nancy Meyer’s 2003 ode to beachside property and an older woman’s sensual awakening stars Keaton as a successful playwright who finds herself falling for two very different men — Harry Sanborn (Jack Nicholson), who briefly dated her daughter (how this didn’t disqualify him immediately continues to baffle me) and has to go through a damn heart attack before he can see what’s attractive in a woman around his own age; and Julian Mercer (Reeves), a sweet doctor with a penchant for black turtlenecks who is immediately smitten when they meet.

In the film, Reeves is attuned to the female gaze in its most literal incarnation — an understanding of how women see the world, what they want from it, and how they make sense of desire. During a dinner scene with Julian, Erica’s face and neck are flush. She’s skittish and nervous in the face of his undeniable — but never disrespectful — sexual and romantic interest. Reeves’s face shows the depth and breadth of The Look, as he glides from teasing lust to a spark of genuine intellectual attraction. At one point, when their conversations turns to women his own age, he says, “I’ve never met one I’ve reacted to” — stumbling for a moment, as if shocked by the depth of his own feeling — “… quite like this. When something happens to you that hasn’t happened before, don’t you have to at least find out what it is?” He’s a man overcome and humbled by his own desire. Is there anything sexier? Then he leans in, his face going soft, gently kissing the groove where her neck meets her shoulder. “I knew you’d smell good,” he whispers. Only Reeves could pull off a line like that.

Many actors of Reeves’s caliber are too invested in being in the spotlight of a scene to play a romantic lead like this. After the fall of the studio system in the 1960s, Hollywood no longer looked at women as a viable market, and while romantic comedies continued to get made, going forward, there was a notable shift in whose desire was centered — and how little male actors seemed interested in exploring romance and desire. Reeves’s willingness brought another layer of intimacy to his relationship with his audience, offering a more flexible, vulnerable portrait of masculinity that sets him apart from other name stars.

That intimacy is key to Reeves’s longevity. It’s what makes him such a great cinematic sensualist. In 2009, Matt Zoller Seitz argued that directors Michael Mann, Terrence Malick, David Lynch, Wong Kar-wai, and Hou Hsiao-hsien were the “the decade’s best sensualists filmmakers.” He wrote, “They share a defining trait: a lyrical gift for showing life in the moment, for capturing experience as it happens and as we remember it. The sensualists are bored with dramatic housekeeping. They’re interested in sensations and emotions, occurrences and memories of occurrences.” I’d argue that being a cinematic sensualist is a distinction that can apply to acting as well. For actors, it is about bringing texture and complication to a film, existing wholly in the moment, and a keen interest in the human body.

When we watch films, the body keeps score as much as the mind does. Reeves demonstrates an understanding of this. This is apparent in the delicate neck kiss in Something’s Gotta Give; the careful way his hand skitters across broken glass before deciding on which shard to slit his wrists with in Constantine; the calm he engenders with merely the sound of his voice in Thumbsucker. But it’s most impactful in his career as an action star. In many ways, the John Wick franchise is the perfect marriage of director and star. The third film is a tactile feast. Consider a scene early in John Wick 3, in which Reeves methodically takes apart and reassembles a gun for a single shot. This scene is, of course, a testament to the character’s skill as an assassin. But it also acts as a reminder of how out of step John is with the world around him, betraying a desire for the quieter moments in life — despite the brutal milieu he finds himself in — and a strange empathy for the world around him, whether it be object or animal. This allows a humanity to glitter throughout his performances that often feels absent from many action franchises that sacrifice character on the altar of plot.

There’s another part of Reeves’s star image I suspect has played into our abiding fascination with him. Until Always Be My Maybe, the most under-discussed part of Reeves’s persona was his race. Late in his slim but potent book-length essay Mixed-Race Superman: Keanu, Obama, and Multicultural Experience, Will Harris astutely writes about a particular aspect of the 2005 film A Scanner Darkly that, metatextually, speaks to Reeves’s whole career:

“To be mixed-race is to exist in a state of paradox. Race is an illusion that depends on purity and singleness. […] In A Scanner Darkly, set in a paranoid surveillance state in the near-future, Keanu plays a government agent called Bob Arctor, who because he works undercover, has to wear a ‘scramble suit’ in the office. The suit projecting 1.5 million constantly shifting representations of different people — male and female, black, white, Latinx �� keeps his identity cloaked. Even the people he works with have no idea who he is.”

Like his persona, Reeves’s face itself is considered unplaceable. Growing up, he never read as white to me, but he has read that way to Hollywood, which allowed his career to be mutable in ways that very few people of color ever experience. But for much of the moviegoing audience, seeing his face has always been a point of connection. It’s the undercurrent of why his turn in Always Be My Maybe felt like such a significant moment in his career. It was as though something had been revealed about him for the first time, even though it had been present all along. That it was such a joyful, brazenly comedic role added yet another twist on his image. There was a sense that, even after 30 years in the spotlight, Reeves can still surprise us.

#keanu reeves #why we can't stop watching keanu reeves #angelica jade bastien #vulture

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 years

Text

Taking Back Neverland--Chapter 2 of 10

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: G or a soft T

Summary: AU. After actress Emma Swan’s lead role in a popular TV show is at an end, she is offered the leading role in the Regina Mills film, Taking Back Neverland, a fresh retelling of the Peter Pan story. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Only problem? She’ll be starring opposite Killian Jones, who she positively can’t stand. (Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection.)

Previous chapter: (1)

Notes: So this is an old story, originally written about 3 years ago as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but @kmomof4 made the amazing above pic-set for it as a birthday gift, (Thanks Krystal! It’s perfect!), and I decided it was time for a reissue. Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 2

“You really should check out this script, mate,” Robin said, “it’s bloody perfect for you.”

Killian took a swig of his rum, grinning to himself. “Let me guess…it’s a Regina Mills production?”

Robin grinned back, taking a healthy swig of his beer before continuing. “It may be my fiancée’s current project but that makes it no less perfect for you. I know you don’t have any pressing projects at the moment. What would it hurt to just check it out?”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Killian said, “what exactly is so perfect about this particular script?”

“It’s got action, adventure, a bit of whimsy, and romance,” Robin answered. “You’d be taking the role of Captain Hook.”

“A villain?”

“Well, perhaps more of a reformed scoundrel,” Robin allowed. “He is the male romantic lead, after all.”

Killian was silent for several moments, warring with himself. The sounds of the bar, The Rabbit Hole, washed over him. Finally, he reached up, scratched at the spot behind his ear and spoke again, refusing to look at his mate.

“You know full well I haven’t taken an action role since…it happened,” he said, taking a fortifying swig of rum. He held up his slightly-atrophied left hand and stared at it in disgust. “Not much place in action movies for a bloke who only has one working hand.”

Robin clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve been over this. You could act circles around half the leading men in Hollywood right now even with their two hands.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Killian said under his breath.

He flexed his left hand, the motion weak and taking painfully long, and his mind went back to the accident. The moment his life changed forever. Not only had he lost his love, his Milah in that automobile crash, but his hand had been crushed. After extensive surgeries, the doctors had managed to save the hand (it had been touch and go for a while, the doctors all preparing him for the possibility that amputation may be necessary), but they told him he’d never get more than minimal functionality from it again.

“Well I am,” Robin said bracingly. “And besides. Your disability will be no factor in anything that’s required of you in this particular film. If you’ll recall, Captain Hook came by the name after a crocodile ate his left hand.”

Well, that did provide some interesting possibilities. He couldn’t deny he missed starring in action-heavy roles. They had been his staple before the accident. He’d made quite a name for himself. Since it had happened…well, he’d spent most of his acting time playing the protagonist in rom-coms. He’d been blessed with good looks, and he’d acquired more than his fair share of female fans thanks to those roles, but he hungered for another role of real substance.

“Very well,” Killian said, pushing aside his tumbler of rum and preparing to settle his tab, “I’ll give it a read.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Read it he had, and he’d promptly fallen in love. This was the role of a lifetime. Quite a fresh and imaginative take on the tale of Peter Pan, with Hook the romantic hero and Pan the bloody demon. It hit everything that made a story great—action, adventure, romance, witty dialogue, and the happiest of happy ending (particularly for Captain Hook and the protagonist Anna Swan).

Robin was right; this was a role he simply couldn’t turn down. Truth be told, it was as though the part had been written for him. He saw himself in the resilient fighter Captain Hook was, the melancholy hero who had endured far too much loss in his life.

The theme of a rather lonely little boy reconnecting with his birth mother likewise touched something deep inside. There was something healing in reading about that little boy’s healing—and the way he healed his mother—that soothed (at least in part) the wound Killian carried from his own father’s abandonment so many years ago. True, Anna Swan had given up her infant to give him his best chance while his father had abandoned him and Liam out of nothing but sheer selfishness, but an orphan’s an orphan.

The very next morning, he’d called Regina Mills directly (there were certainly perks to being best mates with the fiancé of one of Hollywood’s biggest directors) and expressed interest in the role. She’d immediately called him in for an audition—a process she’d assured him was nothing but a formality. Killian had made quite a name for himself over the years, and Regina had assured him the part was his for the taking.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

And so it was that two weeks later he found himself striding into the studio for a chemistry test with the female lead, Emma Swan.

He knew very little about his on-screen love interest. He’d caught a few episodes of her television show, but a man can’t very well get a read on a person based solely on her performance as an actress. He could tell that she was bloody gorgeous and had more than her share of talent, but as to the rest? Who was to know?

He fervently hoped they hit it off. As the two of them were scene partners in nearly every scene they were involved with, they would be spending long, grueling hours together over the next few months. Far better to spend that time with someone he genuinely liked than someone who got on his last nerve.

His agent, who insisted he call her Tinker Bell for some unaccountable reason, had playfully suggested maybe the two of them would not only get along, but get along. She’d nudged him, winking playfully, asking if he knew what she meant.

Aye, he knew exactly what she meant, but it wasn’t going to happen. No matter what this Emma Swan may be like, his heart had been broken so definitively it would never be mended again. For the first few years after Milah’s death, he’d buried the pain in rum and passionate nights with as many anonymous women as he could find.

But eventually he realized how utterly empty his life had become. He’d loved Milah with a burning passion, and their life had been good. Losing himself in meaningless encounters with women did nothing to mask the pain, only made him realize how pointless his life had become. Truth be told, he was no longer interested in meaningless sex. If anything, he wished for a real, true, meaningful relationship.

But that ship had sailed when his love had died. No use wishing for something he would never again allow to be his.

The studio door opened, cutting short Killian’s melancholy musings, and then she walked through, and every thought in his head suddenly fled. He knew Emma Swan was beautiful; he’d seen that clear enough when he’d viewed her TV show, but nothing could have prepared him for the punch to the gut seeing her live and in person gave him.

She wore her long, luscious blonde hair in an artfully messy ponytail high on hear head. Her green eyes sparkled. And there was just a certain, indefinable something about being in the same room with her that made him tingle with awareness.

Love at first sight, Tink would have supplied in a sing-song voice. He definitively shoved that thought aside. Where he and Emma Swan were concerned, the only “falling in love” that would happen would be of the on-screen kind.

He took a deep breath and let it out, trying desperately to get ahold of himself. He was going to keep this professional if it killed him. When he finally felt like he could talk to the goddess without making an utter fool of himself, he walked over to her, keeping his expression pleasantly friendly.

“Hello love; my name’s Killian Jones.”

He offered his hand, and she looked at him suspiciously for a moment before taking it and shaking it tentatively. “I’m Emma Swan.”

He smiled at her like an idiot. This whole “remaining professional” business was going to be a fair bit more difficult than he’d expected.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma glanced away, desperately needing to put some distance between them. A woman could drown in those blue eyes of his.

No wonder he’s had nearly every woman in a 100-mile radius falling all over themselves over him, she thought to herself. And that was enough to bring back reality. She wasn’t, absolutely wasn’t going to be just another conquest.

So, she straightened, and looked down at the script again while they waited for the casting director (a rather bad-tempered man named Leroy) to signal that they were ready for the chemistry test.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the scene Leroy had pulled out for them to read. She’d been afraid he’d pick the scene—the big, passionate kiss that changed everything for both Anna and Hook (although it took Anna a considerably longer time than Hook to admit it). Stage kiss or not, no way was she ready to lock lips with Killian Jones. She was going to have to psych herself up for that.

Luckily, that wasn’t the scene picked, but one a couple of acts later. This one was all dialogue. Romantic and emotional dialogue, yes, but strictly dialogue none the less. Not even a stray brush of hands in the script for this one.

She’d be fine; just fine.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Leroy said from his seat just beyond the stage. “Haven’t had breakfast yet, and if Granny’s runs out of bacon before I get there, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“I’m quaking in my boots,” Killian said under his breath, only loud enough for Emma to hear.

She smiled in spite of herself. “You should be,” she whispered back. “He looks like he means business.”

“Hey, break it up!” Leroy growled. “Save the flirting for the stage!”

Emma felt her face flame. Leroy thought she was flirting with Killian? Ugh! Making this film was going to be the longest couple of months of her life.

“Right,” Leroy said again with a nod. “So in case you’re not that familiar with the context yet, your scene comes a couple hours after the Echo Caves confession. Hook and Baelfire are both sniffing after Anna and she just wants to get to Henry. Bae just took the cutlass and went off looking for Dark Hollow. And that’s where you two love birds pick it up.”

Emma closed her eyes, pictured the scene to come, imagined the emotions running through Anna at the moment—fear for her son’s safety, a strange mixture of relief and panic at Bae’s return, desire—and maybe the starting of something more—for Hook. She still felt a bit overwhelmed about how much her life had changed over the past few months.

So, sky-high walls. She could do sky-high walls.

Emma opened her eyes and became Anna.

Anna shot Hook a suspicious look, putting her hand out to stop him from stepping past her and following Bae.

“What was that about.”

Hook looked aside, clearly uncomfortable. “I assumed he’d heard my secret. I also assumed you’d told him of our shared moment.”

Of course he’d go there , Anna thought to herself. She rolled her eyes. “Why would you assume that?”

He stepped forward, his deep, deep blue eyes boring into hers and not giving up. Anna felt her heart pound at his nearness. “Because I was hoping it meant something.”

Anna wasn’t going there. She wasn’t going anywhere near there. Best to change the subject. “What meant something was that you told us that Bae was still alive. Thank you. I realize you could have kept Pan’s information to yourself.”

“Why would I have done that?” He sounded as though he genuinely didn’t know the answer.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Pan offered you a deal. Why else would he tell you?”

“It was a test,” Hook said, his voice softening—even as it shone with sincerity. “He wanted to see if I’d leave an old friend to die, even if the old friend happens to be vying for the same woman I am.”

“And you chose your friend?” Emma let a hint of breathlessness enter her voice.

“Does that surprise you?”

Uh, yeah, it did. “You are a pirate.”

“Yeah, that I am.” Hook looked down, and Anna’s heart twisted at the hint of self-deprecation she saw in the gesture. This guy really was good.

And then he turned on the intensity, and Emma found it difficult to think at all. “But I also believe in good form. So when I win you heart, Anna, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery; it will be because you want me.”

He stepped even closer; so close that she could feel his breath against her face. His eyes held hers, shining with sincerity. She felt like a moth in the presence of the flame. She wanted nothing more than to sway into him.

Well why not? Anna’s supposed to be falling in love, isn’t she?

She let her face show how much Hook’s words affected her. She saw his eyes darken in response, and it took way, way more effort than it should to pull back and let Anna try to put some emotional distance between them once again.

“This is not a contest, Hook.”

He gave her no quarter, no lessening of his particular earnestness. “Isn’t it? You’re going to have to choose, Anna; you realize that, don’t you, because neither one of us is going to give up.”

That was way, way too much for her. “The only thing I have to choose is the best way to get my son back.”

He smiled proudly. “And you will.”

Emma knew enough about Anna to know she was not used to anyone putting her first; she wasn’t used to anyone having faith in her. She let a touch of wonder enter her voice. “You think so?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail,” he let his smile turn playful, flirtatious. “And when you do succeed, well, that’s when the fun begins.”

For several moments after the scene wrapped, Emma and Killian continued staring at each other. That was…that was…intense.

She didn’t realize she was effectively staring longingly into Killian Jones’ eyes until Leroy chuckled. “Oh yeah. I don’t think chemistry is going to be any problem between the two of you.”

Emma blinked, and then felt the heat creep up into her cheeks. How was she ever going to survive making this damn movie?

She did what she did best. She stormed away.

“Yeah, well,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away, “what can I say? We’re really, really good actors.”

And she told herself it was the truth. She’d just managed to really get into character; that was all that had happened out there on that stage. It was Anna’s emotions she was feeling, not her own. Not anywhere close to her own.

#cs ff #cs au ff #my fanfiction #taking back neverland #reruns

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overthinkingkdrama · 5 years

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Exit Rant: Lawless Attorney (aka Lawless Lawyer)

Story: As a child Bong Sang Pil witnessed the brutal murder of his mother, an event which scarred and shaped him into the adult he would eventually become. Raised by his gangster uncle yet idolizing his late, righteous attorney mother, Sang Pil's relationship with the law is...unorthodox to say the least. He cut his teeth as a slightly unethical, fast talking defense attorney for gangsters, but always had his eye on returning to his hometown and getting revenge for his mother. Sang Pil has a mysterious connection and fascination with fierce attorney Ha Jae Yi, who is currently on suspension for punching a judge. He winds up coercing her into joining his "lawless" firm and the two of them work together to bring down the powerful individuals who run the city.

First Female Lead: I cannot say enough good things about Seo Ye Ji. She is so beautiful and talented. This is a very visual drama, if you know what I'm saying, and Jae Yi looks absolutely flawless in a well tailored pantsuit. If Jae Yi is a little less radiant than Save Me's Im Sang Mi, then the blame doesn't rest on the actress, but rather the writing and direction. I do feel like Jae Yi falls into that category of "strong" female characters, who begin to wilt a little in the second half of the drama. By which I don't mean "she doesn't punch people anymore" but rather she begins to lose agency in the plot later on. Far more likely to be left in the dark about important information or to be reactionary rather proactive. This drama isn't the most egregious offender in this regard, but I was disappointed nonetheless.

First Male Lead: If there is one really compelling reason to watch Lawless Attorney it is the sheer quantity of fun Lee Joon Gi had in portraying Sang Pil. He's clearly just having a ball playing this character, and it make him a joy to watch. That being said, Sang Pil does fall into the pitfall of being rather less gray and ruthless than I would have liked. And chalk it up to a matter of taste all you want, I get tired of dramas (see Come and Hug Me) that spend a lot of time talking up their heroes as complex, gray characters with hidden dark sides and then never putting their money where their mouth is and forcing the character into a situation where they have to do the complex, gray, ambiguous thing. Aside from the also beautiful and talented LJG mugging for the camera, there isn't a lot of new ground being broken here. We've seen this type of character before, and I dare suggest we've seen him better written.

Villains: Despite the powerhouse visual pairing on offer here, the villains kind of wrested this drama away from the leads and ran away with it. If there is one compelling reason to sit down and watch this drama it's the equally compelling performances of Choi Min Soo as old school kkangpae turned politician, Ahn Oh Joo, and Lee Hye Young as the credibly terrifying two-faced judge, Cha Moon Suk. However, even these two admittedly excellent performances get a bit lost in the sauce. The sauce in this case being a messy and baffling plot.

Feels: If you had told me at the start of the year that I would be giving higher marks to the goofy Yoon Shi Yoon drama about judge/criminal identical twins than I am to this, I would not have believed you. And it's a crying shame, really, because this was definitely one of my most anticipated dramas of the year and one of the most promising premise/PD/cast combos as well. But man, this show just does not deliver on what it promises. And I'm guilty of that fangirl sin of watching something for the leads long after I should have cut my losses. I had to force myself to finish this drama. Every episode after about 8 was a chore. And there's a late plot twist involving the main antagonist, Cha Moon Suk, that actually breaks the plot if you think about it for even 10 seconds.

Would I recommend Lawless Attorney? No, not at all. Not even for Lee Joon Gi. Not even for Seo Ye Ji. It's not the worst thing I've ever forced myself to sit through *cough* Big *cough, cough* it's not even that bad tbh, but it's not worth my rec and it's not worth you precious time. 6.5/10

#lawless attorney #lawless lawyer #lee joon gi #seo ye ji #choi min soo #cha moon suk #exit rant #exit rave #kdramas #kdrama reviews #and I'm back baby!

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pastrami-on-rye-witha-sourpickle · 6 years

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Long Post about Local Newsies Production

This past Saturday, I by sheer luck caught wind of and by impulse saw the 2pm matinee performance of Newsies at a local Community College.

Long post Incoming

Many Performers of Color, specially actresses of color.

Jojo, Buttons, and Mush were played by actresses and there were more actresses in the Newsies ensemble.

Jack’s voice was coarser and deeper than I expected. Same for Race and Katherine, but that’s probably on me watching the Live Recording many times.

Jack also had a more present Italian-American accent. And the rest of the Newsies, save for Albert, had very neutral accents.

Jack was dressed very similarly to the Broadway show and the touring production but all the other newsies looked they they were from the ‘92 movie, specially Specs.

Katherine was taller than most of the newsies.

No Elmer or Henry, all of their lines were given to Finch, Specs, and Romeo

Albert sounded a lot like Joey Wheeler from Yugioh the Abridged Series by Little Kuriboh. And to those who haven’t seen that, yes Joey has a Brooklyn accent in the first place and The Abridged series only emphasizes it but really, Albert sounded like Joey.

Nunzio and Stage manager were very sassy.

When Romeo flirted with Katherine during Carrying the Banner, he yanked her out of Darcy’s arms and almost planted a kiss on her cheek but Katherine managed to break free. Darcy didn’t do anything; I bet he knew Katherine could resolve the situation herself.

The metal sets were used a lot for minimal parkour and acrobatics. Every newsie was swinging and doing pull-ups them. Romeo and Jack did pull-ups to impress Katherine but she and Darcy were long gone.

Jack was more sarcastic and smarmy than usual.

The Delancey brothers had clothes that coordinated with each other. They were also more aggressive toward the female newsies.

During the “orphan with a stutter” part, it was Crutchie who was the orphan and during the “and Dead” line, the other newsies tossed him into the air like if they were cheerleaders.

There were 4 Bowery beauties performing Don’t come a knocking.

Romeo has heart eyes whenever Katherine appeared on stage.

There were 4 scabs, one of who were a brother and sister pair. And the sister looked younger than Les. and she took the lead and convinced her brother to join the strike.

During “Seize the Day”, it was the female newsies who were doing more acrobatic tricks and they were front and center.

Both Jack, Davey and Les dancer in “Seize the Day”, as did the little girl Newsie.

They had had a paper dance similar to the Live recording. Jack and Davey were dance partners during this part.

During the fight after “Seize the Day”, two of the goons were female.

It was the Delancey Brothers who beat Crutchie at the end. Snyder has to run on-stage to stop them.

Jacobi was an grumpy business owner. The “Fish in the Desert” line was shouted from across the stage

When Katherine walked in with the headline, she was chipper and greeted the newsies but they responded with audible groans.

During “Letter from the Refuge”, Crutchie kept doing that thing where you laugh and cry through the physical injuries. He was also very grumpy, calling out the guard posted to his room.

Specs actually got the letter from Crutchie and delivered it to Jack during the scene transition.

Les acted like the cool big man on campus after he met Sally and Davey was very surprised that Les got a date.

Seitz was the one who was holding Katherine prisoner in the office.

Hannah’s line during the Pulitzer scene when he meets Jack! My goodness. She was pounding at the door to Pulitzer’s office. All of the business men were startled. Wheezing and catching her breath between words! It was hilarious

Jack audibly whispered Shit when Snyder was in the office.

The Delanceys were very aggressive in handling Jack to the cellar.

They tossed him into the floor and that’s where Morris said the That’s firm line.

Oscar has a pair of brass knuckles and mimed punching/boxing a target . And they kicked Jack before they headed out. The printing press was so small that Jack just slept on the floor.

2 Brooklyn Girl newsies. Both had warpaint and were doing chest bumps and acting like “bros”. this is where I realized that Hannah’s actress doubled as one of the Girl Newsies. Also there wasn’t any difference in the costuming for the Brooklyn newsies. They didn’t have red or dark colors to distinguish them from the Manhattan newsies

At the end of “Brooklyn’s Here”, Spot and his Crew did a Power Ranger/Anime Hero pose.

Because of the mics, you could hear many of the newsies’ comments during Jack’s part of the rally. Les was the angriest and made very fair points to counter Jack.

Jack didn’t seemed surprised that he was handed money. It’s like he expected it. Although I did hear him say “fuuuu...” before turning around and realizing that Davey, Katherine and Le saw that exchange. All the other newsies already stormed off.

Jack was almost stoic and panicky just during the conversation with Katherine before “Something to Believe” in. The kiss definitely softened him up a bit.

Davey and Race led Bill and Darcy into the cellar. They also didn’t shake Jack’s hand.

Once and For all was amazing as always.

Crutchie was wheeled in on a pape-wagon.

During the finale, while all the other newsies were dancing/tumbling, Jack and Katherine were slow dancing.

During the curtain call, there were many tumbling and cheer tricks.

Line changes i noticed :

Finch? when are we going to see you inside the church.

Now there’s a headline even Jojo could sell.

Sandstorms.

I enjoyed this production of Newsies very much and I’m glad I got to treat myself with this little impulse buy.

#newsies #newsies live #disney's newsies #newsies on broadway #newsies RCC #newsies landis performing arts center #disney’s newsies the broadway musical #newsies the musical #jack kelly #katherine plumber #musical theatre #college theater

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remainseatedatalltimes · 4 years

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And the decade ends with a...

So concludes another year, and with it, another decade as well. Now, I wish I could sit here and reflect on what a game-changing, exhilarating and revolutionary year 2019 was in the world of cinema. But I can’t. In fact, in my 8 years of writing this one time annual blog, there has never been a year that was as insipid as this past year was. So much so, that unlike in previous years where I have always started this blog highlighting some of the greats of the year that was, this year I’ve decided to start with the bottom of the barrel. But don’t fret, there are a few glasses of the good stuff left. Not many, but a few.

To set the scene, my least favourite film of 2019 is a movie (and no, it’s not the one you’re thinking of), that will likely go on to be nominated for several Academy Awards in just a few short weeks’ time. And it should be nominated. There is plenty to praise about this film. But incredible performances, stylish directing and a story centered around one of the most fascinating events in modern history does not always a good film make. Not when it’s told in such an obnoxious, pretentious and self-indulgent way. So, to kick things off, I present to you, my least favourite film of 2019 – Once Upon A Time In Hollywood.

I should say straight off the bat that I am only a moderate fan of Quentin Tarantino’s work. I love his film knowledge and his passion for making unique, and also highly nostalgic films. But I’m also a firm believer that storytelling is at the heart of great cinema, and I often feel Tarantino sacrifices storytelling for brilliant, but often bloated camerawork and cinematography.

I had high hopes for Once Upon A Time In Hollywood however. This was Tarantino working with an incredible cast, telling an original story set within one of Hollywood’s most infamous eras – and when the wonderfully retro and charming trailer dropped, I couldn’t have been more excited. This should have been the perfect canvas for Tarantino to shine.

But instead, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood is a frustratingly tedious, hedonistic film that almost feels like it’s mocking its audience with its in-jokes and smarmy blurring of lines between real events and fiction. In just shy of 3 hours, Tarantino essentially conveys 3 things: actors are self-doubting creatures that need constant re-assurance (no surprise); Hollywood is a game of relationships where not rocking the boat is paramount (again, no surprise – most industries are the same); and that shocking audiences is apparently very easy when you take a non-fiction story and completely change the ending (1 plus 1 equals 7). I know what you’re thinking. How can that possibly make for a near 3 hour film? Well, I refer you back to Paragraph 2 of the Remain Seated At All Times Tumblr blog post titled “And the decade ends with a....”, where I stated that this film is “obnoxious, pretentious and self-indulgent”. Just like that entire last sentence is superfluous…well…you get the point.

So to prove that moving on once you’ve made a point IS achievable, let me then proceed to the other atrocity of 2019: Roadkill. Sorry. I mean, Cats.

Now before anybody jumps up and down and complains that a movie that is – in fact – so much worse than Once Upon A Time In Hollywood isn’t my worst film of 2019, I offer you this one short piece of commentary. Cats is the kind of epic, unequivocal, indescribable disaster that actually transcends awful into a place of almost fascination and reverence. You know what I mean. Like watching a YouTube video of someone mixing paint. You know it’s ridiculous to sit there and watch it – but you can’t look away. You’re transfixed. And I will take that over boring arrogance any day.

Cats is NOT boring. It’s far from it. Much like the musical that inspired it – which so happens to also be one of the worst musicals ever created – Cats is a bold, daring attempt to deliver something no one ever wanted to see. Humans behaving like cats singing boring ballads. Add to it an insipid score that needs serious remastering, awful special effects, and an enhanced story-line that makes zero sense (yes, I know, they’re dancing humans dressed as cats – why am I surprised by a ridiculous story-line?), and you have 90 minutes of sheer bewilderment. The only saving grace: Hopefully the movie has sufficiently taken the last of nine lives from this atrocious musical so that we never have to endure another performance – either in film, OR on stage.

So now that we’ve taken out the kitty litter, let’s look at some of the brighter sparks of 2019. Because, whilst there were actually NO films last year that I reviewed higher than 4-stars, there were still a few gems that warrant some attention. These include last year’s Best Picture winner, Green Book; the dark and twisted take on one of DC’s greatest villains, Joker; the hilarious and earnest original whodunit, Knives Out; and the epic end to the greatest movie franchise in history, Avenger’s Endgame.

But taking the spot of my 3rd best film of the year was the latest film in the franchise that constantly delivers the impossible – a better film with each and every sequel. In its simplest form, Toy Story 4 is a beautiful romantic comedy featuring two stand-out lead characters. But whilst the lovely romance of Woody and Bo Peep take centre stage, it’s the gobsmackingly clever new characters including the show boater with no self-confidence – Duke Caboom– and my absolute favourite new character of 2019 (and spirit utensil) – Forky – that ultimately steal the show. Pixar never ceases to amaze, and Toy Story 4 is no exception. The idea of creating a kids movie positioned around a romantic comedy, where a core character is made of trash, thinks of himself as nothing more, and needs to learn self-worth from scratch, is something truly extraordinary. So thank you Pixar for giving me Forky. A character that taught me so much, even at my age!

Speaking of education, slipping into 2nd place is Olivia Wildes glorious directorial debut – Booksmart. This joyous, hilarious and utterly original coming of age story is spearheaded by stellar performances by its two leads. But it’s the way the film manages to use its often absurd humour to elevate its very sincere reflection of growing up in today’s day and age that really set this film apart. Booksmart continues the trend of unique, smart coming of age stories where young love is not the focus. Instead, it simply heroes its two smart and strong female leads and showcases that there’s no one more important than your best friend.

And so we come to my favourite film of the year – although, favourite is probably not the best word to use given how uncomfortable I found this film to watch. But it’s precisely that discomfort that elevates this harrowing and heartbreaking film to my number one spot. That film: Hotel Mumbai.

I understand that putting a dramatized version of a horrifying real-life event at the top of my list may seem odd – and for many reviewers, this movie felt exploitative. But I couldn’t disagree more. For me, Hotel Mumbai deftly balances the fears and bravery of its protagonists with a dismaying reflection of the motivations (or often lack there of) of the terrorists. Add to that some social commentary on the political failures that made the tragedy far worse, and you have an uncomfortable to watch, but ultimately poignant reflection of just one of recent history’s most horrifying incidents, and my number 1 film of 2019.

Now, to avoid ending this recap of 2019 on such a dire note, I should point out that there are a large number of additional films I feel should be included in this list including Roma and The Irishman. However – given I don’t review movies I see outside of cinemas (how can I honestly review a film I watch on a plane the same way I do on a giant immersive screen), I’ve intentionally left these off the list. Likewise, there’s a number of films I missed this year – including the well-reviewed Parasite, and the latest from the genius that is Taikia Waititi – Jojo Rabbit – that I feel would likely have been quite high up in my rankings had I seen them in cinemas earlier in the year. Although, given Once Upon A Time In Hollywood was my least favourite film – and yet it just walked away with a Best Picture award at the Golden Globes – then perhaps not. Which is probably why I shouldn’t give up my day job. Call me old fashioned, but I like my movies to have a plot. And a point.

But for now, that’s a wrap on 2019. Lets home this new decade brings with it more reasons to return to a cinema near you. See you next year!

#movies #movie review #movie list #best movies #best films #Film Review #film #best of 2019 #year in review #theyearthatwas #hotel mumbai #cats #once upon a time in hollywood #toy story 4 #booksmart #cinema

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skythief · 7 years

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Analyzing Sheith, with a dash of discourse.

unoriginaltoast

replied to your post

“Cordially inviting any and all anti’s to come at me bro Whether it be...”

Can I just add, that many antis throw around the word "pedophilia" and first of all, that's a disgusting accusation to make of someone imagining FICTIONAL characters in a relationship. And second, it does not apply. Like the literal definition does not apply. Would a 25 year old with a 17 year old be cool IRL? Probably not but it's not pedophilia and it's also FUCKING FICTION JFC. God I wish I had the time to worry about what fictional characters people shipped.

Sorry for that brick I just have been wanting to say that for so long, hope you have a spectacular, wonderful, idiot free day <3

You may definitely add that. I certainly forgot to.

It really depends heavily on context for that 17-25 thing. It depends on the relationship and maturity levels of the two people in question. I know there are 25 year olds that are still running around this site screaming about “problematic ships” like its the fucking plague. And then there are people in my life who grew up in drug houses, who struggle because their families entire line of poor credit, bad choices, substance abuse and felonies makes it nearly impossible for them to get jobs and basic debit/credit cards, who dug around in dumpsters for food during their childhood-- and you can bet they grew up incredibly fast, and incredibly hard.

Biology plays a part in it to a degree too-Female brains tend to fully develop ages 16-25? (dont cite me on this, im just going off of memory) and for male brains I think they finish developing around like, 18/22-30??? I’d have to look it up again, but you get my point.

Theres a lot of factors that go into play- The maturity levels of the individuals themselves, and the actually Nature of the relationship itself, I think.

Lets take Sheith, for example.

We have seen maturity and selflessness exhibited in both individuals; Both of them have had to go through very hard experiences; Keith being an orphan with abandonment issues, yet still carries some incredibly strong morals and a fierce love for people and a desire to protect others.; Shiro has been enslaved, amputated and experimented upon, and forced to perform in bloody, gruesome, arena’s. He’s been through Hell, and still he has retained a sense of calm, patience, and compassion.

So we know from this that they’re both plenty mature enough-- But what about the nature of their relationship?

Honestly I think this one of the most healthy ships out there for the sheer amount of love and compassion and respect between the two, even without picking apart just how well they compliment each other.

Again, starting with Keith; This is a highly individualized person that does not like authority. He’s not going to want to feel like he has to explain himself to anyone or meet anyones arbitrary standards; Does not like, and possibly feels threatened by rules and restrictions as that threatens his ability to do his own thing. He makes his own rules for himself and his own personal values to which he will adhere strictly. He’s intelligent, but it’s shown and seen through his actions-- Not explained through word of mouth, and most likely never will be. Trust and abandonment issues, as well as his orphaning, may lead him to difficulties communicating with others, being vulnerable, and expressing emotions or showing weakness, making him a very secretive, private person, that most likely finds both comfort and fear in Isolation. Comfort, because no one can hurt you, and you can sort everything out yourself and have complete control when you’re alone; Fear, because it’s very easy to keep isolating yourself and never stop, even though you want, like, and need people in your life, but may be hesitant to go to them for fear of getting hurt or abandoned, especially if you reveal your softer, more unprotected sides. Keith, as a character, may even be scared of his feelings.

One of these belongs to every paladin okay, thats all I’m sayin’.

In conclusion, Keith is a very private, lonely person with a history of trust issues stemming from abandonment and a dislike for authority, making him not the easiest person to get along with. He needs someone who will have the patience and respect that will allow Keith to open himself up to them on his own highly secretive terms, someone who is open minded, patient, and understanding, in order to understand someone as rare and unconventional as Keith (He’s not exactly going to come with an owners manual or introductory pamphlet y’know?). He needs to feel safe, comfortable, and not judged by a person in order to place so much trust, value, safety and security with them. If someone tries inauthentic, underhanded, or forceful means of manipulating someone like Keith into anything, you know Keith won’t be having it.

Shiro is kind of the epitome of all of these traits, and we don’t just see him using them to understand Keith, but we see him using them to understand other members of his team as well (like Pidge or Allura). Once Shiro has a good understanding of someone, he waits until an appropriate, non-threatening time arises in order to build his team members up, give them advice, solace, or whatever he thinks they may need that he can give them. He uses a very open, friendly, safe, respectful and non-threatening communication style in order to build up people around him; This is an incredibly rare and beautiful kind of person, imo, at least in Shiro’s case, because we can see how very dedicated he is to doing this, and that he makes it one of his biggest priorities.

This makes him pretty great for Keith, but there are plenty of reasons why Keith is great for Shiro too.

From episode one, from Keiths very introductory sequence, we see him caring, for and sacrificing for Shiro-- Going out of his way to make sure Shiro is safe at all times, or backing him up; Whether it be in or out of Voltron, Keith is literally Shiro’s right hand man. Keiths love for Shiro is very similar for Shiros’ love for Keith; It is a respectful, kind, and appreciative, thankful kind of love. It is built on and never runs out of trust, and only seeks to lift the other up, and make sure the other is okay, without breaching any boundaries.

Shiro, from his iron devotion and love for others, strikes me as the type of person that forgets to take care of himself, in lieu of others and their importance, valuing it over his own. Keith, being a very confident, straight forward, and protective person, is perfect for Shiro in that he can and will make sure Shiro does get the self-care he needs, but without threatening or stomping upon Shiros virtues, or his mission. Shiro, for all his dad-jokes and stereotypes, honestly might need the child harness more than Keith does for his sheer scary-levels of willingness to sacrifice himself, like he means nothing- Or at the very least, nothing in comparison to others. Shiro, just like Keith, doesn’t know when to stop and take a break if others don’t make him/tell him too. And even then, Shiro might not understand or believe it, simply because war and soldier-trauma is like this.

Shiro needs someone who is confident, straight forward, and strong enough to take care of Shiro as Shiro takes care of others. He needs someone who will be considerate and kind to him when no one thinks to be, or knows to be. He needs someone who will keep a close eye on him and watch and listen for when he’s breaking, when he needs help, whether he knows it or not-- He needs someone who will be aware of just how much Shiro himself may not know it too. And he needs someone who will do this genuinely, authentically, respectfully, and patiently. Issues like these are incredibly painful for both parties to go through, and they may never heal. A spouse who deals with this may have to come to accept this as never-changing, and to do that... Takes so much genuine love and self-sacrifice? It’s both heart-wrenching and beautiful, as it is a gruesome reality. It’s not sexy, cute, or fun-- It’ cold and it’s harsh and to persevere in your attentive care of someone in spite of such hard issues, especially when coupled with things like PTSD, is about as Real as you can get.

The reason Keith fits this bill perfectly? Is because we already see him doing this for Shiro in canon.

We see it in anytime Keith flings himself into action in order to save shiro, whether it’s well-thought out or not. We see it in his respect, adherence, and boundaries. We see it in how he trusts Shiro to keep throwing himself into battle and come back to him, amidst a respectful but attentive observance of his person, his space, his wishes and his safety. In Keith we see he’s developed his own very deep and respectful understanding of Shiro and how he works, just as Shiro has developed an understanding of Keith-- they both know each others strengths and weaknesses, and give each other trust and patience.

Like, I really can’t think of a more healthy relationship yo. Fuck ages man, these two are good for each other, these two honestly keep each other sane and safe, and uplift the other, they have a rock solid understanding of the other, and their wants, needs, strengths and weaknesses, and they communicate in succinct, blunt, non-threatening ways build on trust. Even if they disagree or say harsh things to each other (Like Shiro reprimanding Keith for reprimanding Pidge, “That’s not how a team works.”, or giving him criticism. Or Keith pleading with Shiro in his BOM-nightmares.), they do not stay mad or hold grudges, which tells me that they never assume bad intent of the other either, even though it would be very easy to.

My god like theres so much healthy shit in this ship it’s actually hard to cover everything, they both exhibit so much.

Overall I really think like the last thing I’m worried about with these two is fucking AGE y’know? Clearly theyre mature enough to take care of each other; Does anyone really think either of these people would abuse the other? Because I certainly don’t. It wouldn’t just be wrong, it’d be completely out of character. Keith and Shiro simply care, value, and love each other too much for that.

Feel free to add to this, if you’d like.

#unoriginaltoast #sheith #voltron #anti-shaladin #pro shaladin #voltron discourse #shipping #character study #character analysis #relationship analysis #sorry i turned this into an analysis post #i rambled #but i do not regret #cant stop wont stop

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fantastica-daily · 5 years

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Marneen Lynne Fields Interview – The Singing Stunt Woman

What drew you to stunt work in the first place?

My brother, Bobby Fields who was one year older than me, met a stuntman named Paul Stader who was Carey Grant's stunt double. Paul owned a stunt training school in Santa Monica that most of the famous stunt men in the industry trained at. The second Bobby, who was a 6'3" football player stepped into the school he saw students doing high falls from the twenty-foot rafter, backward falls off the ladders, and being flipped onto their backs doing fight scenes. Bobby said, "My sister is perfect for this," and he sent me down to the stunt school to audition for Paul Stader.

I was a 5'3" Class One advanced all-around college gymnast, the number one gymnast at Utah State University and ranked 3rd in the entire state of Utah. I was one of three women in the United States who received a full-ride athletic scholarship in gymnastics to USU in 1976, they didn't award many athletic scholarships to women in gymnastics back then. Paul recognized the champion gymnast and exceptional athlete in me. He took me under his wing making sure I received the best training and he became 100% instrumental in getting me my first twenty-five, very dangerous, stunt jobs and stunt-acting jobs on primetime TV shows and in feature films. Paul Stader discovered me and had the power to put me on the map as one of the top stunt women in the world in the mid-1970s, Wikipedia listing me as one of the most famous stunt women of the 1970s and 1980s. From 1976 to 1991 the world saw my versatility and talent step into the shoes of 100 of the world's most famous actresses of the day and perform death defying feats for them and for myself when I landed a stunt acting, and that was exciting.

What did you love about stunt work - and what did you not like?

To be completely honest with your readers there wasn't much I loved about stunt work no matter how much recognition and applause I received on a set each time I performed. As the human cannonball gymnast and high diver I was, stunts were incredibly stressful and heart-wrenching for me. It upset me terribly to perform these difficult and dangerous things as I was unable to separate the reality from fantasy in my mind, these experiences became very real for me. After all, I was born with the extreme sensitivity that all great musical artists and composers vie for, so I was not cut out for the stunt arena. That was Bobby's ace card, and he threw it to me, and it changed my true calling in life, but as you read on, you'll see God found a way to make sure I landed where I was supposed to be in life as there are no accidents. The first thing I learned when I started doing stunts was all the mats from gymnastics were taken away and I'd now be falling onto my back and stomach onto the concrete, wooden tables, hard dirt grounds, linoleum floors, brick walls, boxes, thin layers of sand, and into trees. For fifteen years, my body was slammed hard onto these types of surfaces as I was expected to fall from high distances traveling at high speeds while landing within confined dimensions hitting my mark so as not to go out of frame of the camera. I was always told to not look at the camera, not get the clothing I was wearing that matched the actresses dirty (even if I was running through a dirty mine field of explosions), and not to break any objects I had to hold while performing the stunt. Luckily for me, I was a one-take wonder back in those days because they didn't look well upon a stunt person taking more than one take to perform these highly dexterous and dangerous feats. There I'd stand, usually in high heels, wearing a crazy pinned to tightly wig that matched the actresses hair when not donning a bad haircut or dye job, and dressed in clothes that were usually too tight for me because I had a little boy's football girdle, knees pads, and elbow pads underneath. I felt like a clown, even though I was an amazing champion.

Now that I got my dislikes out of the way, here's what I loved about stunt work. I loved acting. I like to say that I was Angelina Jolie before she was, in smaller roles of course, but never-the-less performing all my own stunts when cast in a stunt acting role. I had been performing in large productions on stage for three years minoring in Theater Arts and Dance at USU before Hollywood discovered me. I loved to apply my actor's technique to all my performances, while also pretending I was the character of the actresses I was doubling during my stunt performances. I would watch their every move mimicking their walk and gestures as thoroughly as I could, something I was also taught to do at the stunt school. I loved the scream or gasp I was able to perform during the stunts and fight scenes to sell them to the max. I loved playing all the characters through the actresses, and when I would sit at the make-up mirror or in my dressing room in my twenties, I had dreams of becoming the next Dustin Hoffman as I would pretend I was the actress in that role and not the stunt girl. My favorite part about doing stunts were the crowds that would gather around to watch me perform these amazing things, sometimes 100 or more people standing around staring up at me to watch me fall or dive and then applauding me like crazy afterward, that was something to relish because my talent had thrilled them to appreciate my work to that extent. My gymnastics training gave gracefulness to my stunts, something you didn't usually see since I was the only female gymnast (to my knowledge) from the national level making a living doing stunts in those days. I was truly poetry in motion in a lot of my stunt performances. It's important to note that it was my great extensive training that saved my life and gave me the ability to perform what I did without injury those years. My biggest moment of personal recognition came when I was awarded a Fall Girl license plate by famous stunt coordinator, J.P. Bill Catching and the Stuntman's Association and coined "Hollywood's Original Fall Girl," a title that sticks with me today. I truly love and appreciate that honor. I also cherish the respect I've earned in the industry for being a stuntwoman.

Do you think the advent of CG has harmed the stunt-work profession?

When I was competing in gymnastics there were no spring floors (they were just coming on the scene), my legs did it all. I taught myself backward flip flops on the hard wood floor in the Jr. high school gymnasium. I used a twisting belt on a trampoline once at gymnastics camp to perfect my back flip with a full twist on floor exercise. As a pioneering stuntwoman, I got to use an airbag for a three-story high fall off the side of a house in Malibu one time for the MOW, Death Ray 2000. Another time I performed a twenty-five feet head first high fall off a swinging catwalk at the top of the boiler room of the Queen Mary for Goliath Awaits into only a bunch of blankets the stunt coordinator threw on the floor because they couldn't get a small mattress through the hatch door for me to land on. One night I ran and stood on the ledge of the First Interstate Bank Building in downtown Los Angeles in a sheer negligee and fluffy slippers without a cable, then jumped feet first off the building into only boxes twenty-five or thirty feet below for the suicide scene in the "Depth of Beauty" episode of Quincy. Lynda Carter of Wonder Woman beat me up in the "Mind Stealers" episode of her series. There was no jerk off cable or mini trampoline for me, once again, it was my power tumbler legs that made the scene look like she had superhuman strength throwing me across the room. In take after take, I flipped over her sofas landing on my back on the hardwood floor as she pretended to throw me as hard as she could. In a lot of ways CG (computer graphics) and some of the equipment I've mentioned has added a layer of excitement and protection to stunt work. So, personally, I don't think that CG has harmed the stunt profession, but I do think that it has taken away some of the realism, while at the same time making it possible to showcase more outrageous, elaborate, and incredibly unbelievable stunts allowing the audience to enter a unique and unlimited realm of adventure like we've all seen in the Marvel and DC movies.

What are some of your favorite non-stunt acting roles?

From 1976 to 1991 every SAG actress job I was cast in for the 100 feature films and prime time TV shows I appeared in, regardless of if it was a large speaking role or not, as a co-star, guest star, character actress, cameo actress, or stunt actress, also involved me performing stunts on some level. During those years, I also appeared in fifteen small theater productions throughout the Los Angeles area in lead and large co-star roles, and those were the only straight acting jobs I landed, as were all theatrical productions I appeared in at USU from 1973 to 1976. I landed a wonderful role on a TV series at Universal Studios titled, Otherworld the "Princess Metra" episode where I played a Microwoman who's children were taken from her but my highly emotional dialogue scene with tears was cut. Same with the big-budget Airport '79 the Concord also out of Universal Studios, my dialogue scene was cut. It made no difference that I loved acting more than I loved doing stunts, first and foremost, I landed these roles because I could also do the stunt. By the mid-1980s I had become the first stuntwoman to come from the pure stunt arena to make the break into becoming a respected SAG actress, and I landed the coveted Page 3 of Star Magazine under the title, "Marneen Fields: Shapely Stunt Gal is Now an Actress."

Fifteen of my best performances took place in casting director offices with the executive producers, directors, and scriptwriters present, and believe me, getting that far is an amazing accomplishment in and of itself. Casting directors look at over 1,000 headshots for each role, maybe eight to fifteen actors get called in to read, then only two are taken to the producers. I had career breaking moments where I got to be one of two taken to the producers and the other actress beat me out every time (laughs). I was up for the reoccurring role of the hooker Mika on the TV series Santa Barbara, and the role of the bag lady in the Lou Diamond Phillips' feature Transit, along with nearly a dozen others. Although I was a fine highly trained character actress, I got beat out on these occasions because the other actresses were more the real McCoy's. They were not a character-actresses trying to portray the character like I was, they looked more the part than I did. I would have picked them over me each time also. I've cried many tears, and the boulevard of broken dreams is a terrible reality in my life. It just wasn't in the cards for me to land those career breaking roles. Some actors are lucky, some are not. Having made nearly a million dollars since 1976 on my SAG card I can't really say I've been unlucky.

I should mention for the 150 things I've landed since 1976, I have not landed another 200 I've auditioned for, both on stage in theatrical productions, and in films, TV shows, web series, commercials, etc. Would you like to know the main reason why? The large agencies have everything under package deals and even though actors are called in to audition for the smaller roles they really don't have a chance over actors who usually get picked just because they are signed by the major agencies. The big agencies control Hollywood and who becomes mega. I've been successful in the motion picture business because I had gymnastic, diving, swimming, and fight scene talents other female actors in the screen actor's guild didn't have during those years. I could land and spin on a dime at the call of action in my prime so I was in demand and never had to hustle work, my unbelievable physical talent and reputation preceded me. Everything snowballed, and my phone rang off the hook each week for work for fifteen years. Then one day, my phone stopped ringing as quickly as it had started…

When you got injured, is that what drew you to writing and singing - or were those interests already there?

Ever since I was a small child all I ever wanted to do was sing. I remember vividly the two days in elementary school when they passed around the Row, Row, Row Your Boat song to sing in a round, and when they passed out the musical instruments. I got to school late the day they passed out the musical instruments and the only instrument that was left was the gigantic string bass so that became my instrument. My dad got me a little red wagon and I rolled the giant bass to school and back home to practice each week. Kids I went to elementary school with still remember me rolling the bass around the neighborhood. As a young teenage sweeping the garage one day I heard, I Love You More Today Than Yesterday by the Spiral Staircase. It was that day I knew I wanted to sing and dance for the rest of my life, as I broke out in song dancing around the garage with the broom after singing I Love You More… at the top of my lungs. To me, it was the greatest and most perfect love song in the world. I was a scholar student all through school and a child prodigy in math doing algebra with high school kids at nine years old, but I never enjoyed writing. After my near fatal car accident by an uninsured motorist and over a decade of resulting life-threatening abdominal operations, I had dreams of becoming a writer, but each time I'd sit down to write, a song would come on the radio and I'd have to get up and mimic the singer performing the song. Those were the years Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey came on the scene. I'd never heard anyone as great as those two (except Barbra Streisand) and I had to learn every song they released. I'm an alto-soprano with nearly the same tonal register as Whitney Houston. I wish today more than anything that I just had a weekly singing gig performing Ella Fitzgerald blues type songs, other favorite songs of mine, and some of my own songs in a nightclub, it's the only thing I really love doing and feel my singing voice is my greatest talent. One thing was for sure, after my personal life imitated my career life of surviving onscreen disasters, I would be forced to lose everything I had worked and trained diligently for. Instead of phony movie fight scenes with Freddy Kreuger and his long fingernails, I now performed the ultimate fight for my life for over a decade.

Who are some of the most famous people you've worked with? Anyone stand out, or do you have a fun anecdote you can share?

I especially loved when director Michael O'Herlihy told me I was prettier than Priscilla Presley when I doubled her on the "Manhunter" episode of The Fall Guy. I just shook my head, no way, no one was ever prettier than Priscilla, especially me, but it was sure nice to hear. I performed an extremely dangerous feet-first jump being pushed out of a taxiing jet with a roll across the runway at night for the "3-Day Affair with a 30-Day Escrow" episode of The Rockford Files. It was crazy. I landed and performed the high-speed roll with no injury.

Props brought in a small 1 ft. high block for the actress I was doubling to jump into the scene from to look like she had made the jump and not me. She jumped off the block and buckled over in screaming pain. She had sprained her ankle badly and had to be taken away on a gurney. I felt so bad for her. I was thrilled to be cast and have the challenge of performing a karate fight in high heels with Stacy Keach himself on the "Dead Man's Run" episode of The New Mike Hammer. While we were rehearsing the fight Stacy put his open palm up facing me as a guide for me to kick towards. Oops, I nicked his hand with the tip of my heel. Wow! He reeled at me with the most intense and angry eyes, and rightfully so, Stacy can't have the stunt girl actually kicking him with her high heels. In my defense, I must add, anyone ever performed a karate fight in a low-lit room in high heels? It's not the most steady surface to stand on. Scenes like this one were how my gymnastic balance beam skills came in handy in my stunt work because 95% of the time I had to perform these unbelievable things in high heels or slippery footwear. For a fun anecdote, I doubled Brett Somers getting scooped up onto the back of a camel in the dark while holding a shotgun in "The Magnificent Warriors" episode of Battlestar Galactica. Silly feminine me, I had beautiful long artificial fingernails put on that same afternoon. You guessed it: those fingernails got ripped right off my fingers as I grabbed to hold on with one arm for my dear life while riding lickety-split behind the hump of a camel in a chase scene. My favorite actresses to double were: Michelle Philips, Jane Seymour, and Shirley Jones, they were great. [Check out Marneen’s IMDb credits here. ]

What's your career focus now and what would you like our readers to know about?

I love singing and composing pop-blues-soft rock brokenhearted love ballads, and songs about love, inspiration, and God. I'll sing anytime, anywhere, it's my passion and what I find most challenging and rewarding as an artist. My true story, Cartwheels & Halos: The True Marneen Lynne Fields Story is a main focus and I'm pitching proposals to agents and publishers now. The book is incredibly inspiring and empowering as I share how I found my true calling in the wake of my childhood dreams of music during terrible tragedy, and how finding God saved my life. I've also written my dear mother, Ruby Marie Farris-Fields true horror story about her survival of nine years of homelessness while battling schizophrenia and multiple cancers before being found through Missing Persons and brought home to safety. The film has a potentially Academy Award caliber lead role and it's WGA registered. I've been very close to selling the film, and want a big star in the title role. Earlier this year I released a book on the craft of acting on Amazon and Smashwords that's getting 5-Star reviews titled, The Illusive Craft of Acting: An Actors Preparation Process. I've been a student of the craft of acting for forty-six years trained by several celebrity acting coaches and my college professors since 1973. So all of that is plenty to focus on for now along with any SAG acting roles or speaking engagements I get offered.

Given your wide-ranging career and your perspective on the entertainment business, what advice would you give to young women getting started now?

Keep your inspiration and never lose belief in your talents no matter what. Get the best education you can afford and keep educating yourself. Respect the work and learn the various creative crafts for the careers in the arts you want to pursue. It's a life's work. Watch lots of movies and TV shows and listen to lots of music to see what's selling. Learn your special character niche and where you'd like to market yourself. Practice, rehearse, rehearse, audition, audition, perform, perform, always give 100%. Don't give up on your dreams. All the world is a stage, play the game, follow the rules, and hope to win. [Here's the link to purchase Marneen’s book from Smashwords.]

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#Marneen Fields #Stuntwomen #Acting

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peanutdracolich · 7 years

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Peanut Dracolich watches (Hammer) Horror: Dracula Has Risen From the Grave

The fourth Hammer Horror Dracula film, the third with the magnificent Christopher Lee as Dracula, and the 2nd in which he speaks. The film was at its heart a Hammer Horror Dracula story, possessing the trappings of the Romanian wilderness, the small town plagued by Dracula, and so forth. In fact the film in many ways echoed the original Dracula story. There’s Dracula, the morally loose first victim, the morally upstanding second victim dragged in by his spell, her lover who must vanquish the vampire to keep his girl from being seduced away by Dracula’s dark powers.

What sets the film apart is the sexual charge. Vampires are full of sexual metaphors, but this film makes it overt (though not explicit). It all lies just beneath the surface where only a true innocent would miss it. Maybe it’s the era of film (I’ve not watched many 60s 70s vampire films) and the sexual liberation that American cinema has backslid from, but it really brings out those sexual metaphors.

This sexual charge is not really bad, it’s not gratuitous boobs for the sake of boobs, and it is not overt enough to just be erotica. Still it actually surprisingly avoids the female vampire, instead preferring displaying the addictive and yet abusive and sexually predatory nature of vampirism and makes me want to look for metaphors about unsavory relationships and think about the basic metaphor implicit in the young suitor saving his beloved from moral degeneration of being a ‘loose’ woman. I’d say that might be more an alchemical reaction that the film alone cannot be blamed for, but its choice of an atheist hero sets the stage for it even better.

And of course you have Christopher Lee offering another excellent performance as Dracula, and bringing an unrivaled charisma for the role (I find Bella Lugosi’s Dracula lacking by comparison, and even as a youth the film made me want to read the book because it had to be better). The other actors while not having Lee’s sheer Presence give enjoyable performances and the film while not being scary (it’s a vampire film it’s not supposed to be scary unless you’re scared of a foreign count coming and taking your woman because you’re a wimp and then abusing her) has its fearsome moments. Over all the film was quite enjoyable, and definitely superior to the others in the series (save perhaps the original, though to give a true assessment I’d have to watch them close to each other).

Good/Bad/Ugly and play by play below.

The Good:

Christopher Lee: I have never seen an actor more fit for the role of Dracula than Christopher Lee. I can honestly believe that he could stare you in the eye and hypnotize you, and has the dark charisma to compel a man of god to his bidding. Christopher Lee was going to make the movie on his own and he does.

The Sexual Charge: I found it quite effective for creating an impact and getting me thinking about vampires as sexual metaphors.

The Atheist Hero... and Renfield Priest: The film just had a good choice of roles. While they are basically analogous to roles in the original book (this is most true for Zena and Maria as Dracula’s victims and the loose woman with many suitors and the faithful woman torn from her love). Still while the actresses are charming, able to make small actions expressive without need for directly telling us feeling, I’m not really talking about the acting. From a story view I liked the atheist vampire slayer and the lapsed priest forced to serve the Dark Count.

The Bad:

Cliche: The story is, admittedly, rife with cliche and easily dismissed as just another Dracula story. Sexual charge alone doesn’t really make it horribly unique, but the film was well done and of its period and type an excellent one. Still it’s full of the cliche of its genre and does not edge outside in any particular aspect.

The Ugly:

Dracula’s Death: While the scene is actually beautiful and enjoyable, he comes off looking sort of suddenly so much less at the end which is sort of disappointing.

The Play by Play:

We begin with a lava lamp. It is supposed to be a creepy backdrop for the opening credits, but it's generic horror music (as expected from Hammer Horror) and a lava lamp.

We find a church and the rope for the church bell is covered in elderberry juice! Oh no. Berry juice. Our whistling finder of said juice goes to see who has been pressing berries in the bell and begins to scream, not telling the priest what he has found for he is far too shocked. I joke around but while we know there's something up there (and this is the 60s they can't be too grotesque in showing a body, we don't know what for a good time and when we do see it's a woman, upside down, blood flowing from her throat where a vampire's teeth had killed her.

We get some exposition from the new comer, a priest of the church visiting the valley that was the domain of Dracula till his death one year ago.

He finds the church with no priest saying mass, the priest drinking in the tavern instead, and the church boy a mute.

The man come to check on the town is pissed at the town for not attending church, and disbelieves that there is still evil in the castle that can reach into the House of God. Or at least he does before the villagers, when dealing with just the priest he is far more accepting (though still seems disbelieving that it's anything more than superstition) and he intends to prove there is no evil still there.

The mood is suitably creepy. The film is not going for shock and terror, but a sort of creep and dread (as is the nature of older horror films). The music is well not ineffective, but not anything great and a little too obvious. It puts me in mind of a group traveling in a Ravenloft adventure of D&D... which isn't itself a bad thing... And the local priest just collapsed on the journey. Somehow despite leaving at dawn they arrive near dark and the superior priest goes the final way alone for his companion refuses to continue.

There is dread here. Something will happen to this priest as he prays before the dark castle of the archvampire. A storm begins, the lightning as fake as the mountains, and the local priest tumbles down from where he watches a far ways off; hitting the ice which encased Dracula in the last film, and cracking it unconscious from a head wound. Blood trickles down to Dracula, and the superior priest returns to look for the local one, disgusted that he has been drinking and seemingly assuming he wandered off drunk.

We know better. And we now know that while a mirror will not reflect a vampire a pool of water will.

Lee does nothing more than stand and glower but he remains an imposing figure, the intensity of his look almost something supernatural. This is Lee's unique power.

The superior from the Catholic church returns to the town believing he has done his duty, and asks after the priest, and prepares to leave. The townsfolk claim the priest returned and left, and we see the priest is now Dracula's creature, and Dracula cannot enter his castle with that golden cross sealing it. He must have his revenge.

The film shows us the priest and his... well she seems to be his wife, but eventually it assures us she is not and in fact implies she's more likely his brother's widow... and it is his niece's birthday and she is having a young man over. One training to be a shirtless doctor, got to get some beefcake in.

Oh and we also see Dracula and his new minion digging up the corpse of the woman from the opening. She's rather rotted and it's sort of fan disservice. Still the scene is good, chilling, and for the time a bit revolting.

Still we see the local tavern. It is far more boisterous than that in Dracula's village. The waitress is jealous that our doctor to be (now in a suit) is going out with someone else. Apparently she likes all the guy flirting with her and has 'more boyfriends than she can count' and takes that with pride. We also see our heroine, the lovely Maria. She's got a very nice looking face, lovely blonde hair, a fetching heroine.

We learn something horrible about our protagonist, Paul, something that truly shocks and amazes Maria's mother and uncle, he is an Atheist. The priest has limits to how far he values honesty, and blasphemy crosses them. I wonder if Paul will still be an atheist by the end of the film.

I also wonder how long until our saucy barmaid becomes a bride of Dracula.

Paul gets drunk, Zena (the saucy barmaid) takes him to bed, kisses him, and starts to undress him when Maria comes... even after she decides to cup a feel of his crotch. She is rather disappointed that Maria drives her away. I mean he'd sort of invited while merely nearing black out drunk, but he was past remembering that and at the 'why are you in my room' stage of black out drunk.

Still our waitress leaves the tavern and begins the walk home alone in the dark, a walk that leads her pass Dracula's carriage. When it begins to follow her she reasonably starts to run, when it speeds up she runs into the woods (also reasonably). The woods are wide spaced and it doesn't help but it's reasonable. And she does manage to lose it, diving through a row of bushes. This simply leads her to walking up to Dracula where she is paralyzed with shock and his gaze. She does not resist his embrace.

She returns to the tavern before morning, dressed in her shift and a light cloak, and hiding her bite. She is cranky though more afraid that her bit will be seen. She hides it with a scarf before day proper. Dracula's priestly creature tries to rent a room, and the tavern keeper tries to say they have none... but Zena (having recognized him from the night before) speaks up despite (creepy) priests being bad for business. And Paul tells Dracula's pet priest that the Monsignor has a niece. Zena and the priest is interesting to watch. She is torn, she fears him, knows that he was part of her attack the night before. He makes her neck itch. Yet she cannot bring herself to reveal it, and in fact worked to ensure he would be there. It's an effective way to show how she is drawn to him, or more him through his master, even as she fears him and feels revulsion and an unclean self-disgust at the entire thing.

A leg would have gone up were a cat not on them, an intense showing of Dracula. And I am reminded that more perhaps than even Lugosi's Dracula, vampires from the 80s till Twilight tried to invoke Lee's tall, dark, and intensely charismatic count.

Zena is jealous of Maria once again when Dracula reveals that he wants her. 'What do you want her for, you've got me'. It's a parasitic, twisted relationship, but the sexuality of the vampire-victim dynamic is highly visible in this film. I mean it's been part of Vampires as long as they've shown up in the English language, but vampirism as a destructive, abusive relationship is rather displayed here without it being too 'treats you like an idiot and explains it' about it.

Zena grabs Maria and hands her over to Dracula. Paul finds out that Maria came looking for him and everyone assumes she's with him... not staring into Christopher Lee's hypnotic (though in this film overly bloodshot) eyes. Only Paul's arrival scares off Dracula enough that she escapes... for a time.

"You have failed me" So much menace in his voice. Christopher Lee reminds me of nothing so much as Darth Vader (on a good day of Vader's) here. And then the understated "You must be punished" just sends chills. Zena pleads for mercy, asking why he needs Maria when he has her, he has her! It's a good scene, and one which is intense.

Zena is turned completely, but the priest is tasked with killing Dracula's new creation by shoving her into the fire that heats the bakery's stove. It's an effective scene. The film is an effective film. It's the best of the Hammer Horror films other than probably Horror of Dracula that I've seen.

Maria is ashamed to go home in a state where her mother might see what has happened to her and how distraught she is at it. She hides her assault from her family for the shame of it all.

No one seems to notice that the priest is acting drugged. I mean given the period and his position as a priest, and the lack of our knowledge of what's actually happening it's understandable.

Still we get more of Maria's family assuming she was just sleeping around with her boyfriend that they disapprove of, and not that she was the victim of sexual assault. And hints that she may have actually been bitten, just not on the neck itself. Dracula arrives and you see Maria's fearousal, and despite initial fear after looking into his (no longer bloodshot) eyes she yields to him, a face of rapture as he does not quite kiss her, though she years for it, and then... he bites. It's the vampire's bite as sex in its pretty purest form. Highly charged with eroticism, elements of seduction mixing with assault, it's intense and functional.

Maria's uncle, the Monsignor, finds the bite on her throat and he knows what it is; he failed at Dracula's castle and in so doing has somehow drawn Dracula's wrath upon him.

As is the cliché in the Dracula tale they close Maria's window for her, but do not watch her and she of course opens it to invite Dracula in, baring her throat to him and a bit of her chest, waiting in eager rapture... only to be saved from Dracula when her uncle bursts into the room with a crucifix leading to her mute and disappointed seeming relaxation. Also Lee's eyes are super bloodshot again. The chase is good.

It plays with the normal symbols of the vampire story quite entertainingly in that Paul is an atheist. I mean usually the vampire is... he is the foreigner, the man who has no moral standing in the social order, who is corrupting the young women of the land with his dark ways and sexual nature. The traditional story as crafted by Stoker uses the loose woman with many suitors (Lucy, Zena) and then the chaste and holy one (Wilhelmina, Maria). And in the latter though Dracula gets a foothold upon her soul, and leaves her soiled, in the end she breaks off the affair and becomes a good, proper, chaste, and virtuous woman more devoted to her husband for the ordeal. She is more devout for it, more reliant upon being righteous and walking with God and faithful to her husband. Here we see a movement away from that religious aspect of virtue, a little death of God as the moral arbiter. The Priest is Renfield, and the Atheist is a servant of truth and virtue without God.

Oh and I skipped a (good quality) bit, but Paul is now standing in for God to force the priest back onto the path of righteousness. Paul stakes Dracula in an anti-climax, but is told that he must pray. Dracula pulls the stake from his chest for without Christian faith it cannot kill him (so that's time to back some of the prior. Fire though is a weapon that can still harm him... and Maria is coming for Dracula, coming to be his bride. Dracula casually, disdainfully even, defeats Paul, and declares his revenge complete as he leads Maria away.

Paul takes a horse and rides to Dracula's village and we get... more good scenes.

The music builds well as Dracula makes Maria unseal his castle, throwing her like an abusive boyfriend and ordering her to remove the blasted cross.

Paul arrives, and his call to her combined with the recent abuse snaps her from the spell momentarily and he wrestles with Dracula, causing the vampire and him to tumble over the railing, Dracula being impaled upon the same cross he could not remove. Finally the Renfield Priest uses pray and the vampire is defeated. The scene is both anti-climatic and effective and Maria is freed.

#peanutdracolich watches horror #Hammer Horror #Dracula #Christopher Lee #dracula has risen from the grave #Good movie

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glenngaylord · 5 years

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MY MOMENTS OUT OF TIME IN FILM 2018

Instead of a Top 10 List, every year I like to honor a long-discontinued but influential annual column from Film Comment magazine. I couldn’t wait for my father to come home from work with the “Moments Out Of Time” issue. The writers would cite their favorite scenes, images, or lines of dialogue, even from films they may not have liked, because let’s face it, even bad films may have a great moment or two. This was a great year in film, although I admit some of my favorite moments were films or series made for television. Whether it’s Alex Borstein wielding her trusty plunger around the Catskills in THE MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL or Amy Adams waking up from a drunken stupor in the unforgettable SHARP OBJECTS, these shows had more indelible scenes than all of the Marvel and DC superhero movies combined.

Still, I found myself lucky enough to see the staggeringly beautiful ROMA twice in a theater, because seeing it on Netflix doesn’t do it justice. If that’s your only option, however, see it and see it with its glorious empathy oozing out of every frame. EIGHTH GRADE took me by surprise with its unassuming, off-the-cuff filmmaking style. Beneath that I found an aching, contemporary story of a young girl dying to connect with somebody, anybody…her cracked phone an apt metaphor for a world in which our societal sickness lies buried in an addiction to our screens. PADDINGTON 2, even more so than its wonderful predecessor, gave us the immigrant experience from an accident-prone, marmalade-loving cuddly bear who just wants to unite everyone. BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY, despite its Powerpoint presentation of a story, oozed with so much emotion, the joy of creating, the beauty of people seeing you, and the sheer nostalgia of it all, I found myself crying throughout. A STAR IS BORN, while imperfect, had moments of such gorgeousness, especially the undeniable chemistry of its leads, it’s my prediction to win the Best Picture Oscar. VICE, another Oscar front runner, had fantastic performances and was nonstop fun, but, for me, didn’t quite lick the enigma of Dick Cheney and demonstrated some juvenile instincts of its writer/director.

I saw a ton of films, but even I can’t see them all. I missed SHOPLIFTERS, BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE, BEAUTIFUL BOY, and BURNING, among many others…but will catch up with them soon. So having said that, here, in no particular order, are my Moments Out Of Time In Film for 2018:

Gabe invites Kayla over for a “first friend hangout” dinner of chicken nuggets and beautifully lived-in, awkward, nerdy charm, telling this lovely, insecure young girl, “You are awesome” - melting all of our hearts with that sweet, simple declaration. It’s one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever seen and a moment our Kayla richly deserved.- EIGHTH GRADE

A young, pregnant Mexican housekeeper tracks down the father of her child, finding him at some type of military training camp. When she delivers the news to him, he screams at her to stay away from him and runs off to join his buddies. We never see her reaction, instead experiencing the moment from a somewhat removed distance. A lesser filmmaker would have cut to her startled, hurt face, but Alfonso Cuarón knew that we’d feel her isolation and devastation more strongly if we didn’t focus on her. Only a master filmmaker would make such an indelible decision, along with a thousand other great ones. - ROMA

A Peruvian bear takes his Aunt on a fantastical, eye-exploding, stunning tour of London via a pop-up book come to life. One of the most astounding animated sequences of all time. - PADDINGTON 2

A band looks out at the masses of people clapping along in sync to one of their songs, and in that moment, the connection feels palpable. Everyone there, everyone who watched knew this was the moment when legends became immortal. - BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

Nicole Kidman completely transforms herself yet again as a hardened cop with a life full of traumas etched onto her tortured face. Just watching her lurch towards a crime scene, ambling like Jack Skellington convinced me that to watch Kidman at her peak is to witness greatness. - DESTROYER

A woman in labor and with a horrifying nail injury to her foot, crawls into a bathtub to give birth to a child. Unable to make a sound lest she capture the attention of a murderous alien slithering through her house, she agonizingly holds it all in until a competing noise allows her to let out a pained, visceral scream. - A QUIET PLACE

A young cater-waiter gets invited onstage to sing her song with a headlining rock star. Surprised by her power, surprised by the surge and size of the crowd, her guileless reaction and blazing talent cut through, quickly proving the movie’s title. - A STAR IS BORN

Regina Hall sits on a rooftop with two of her female employees from a HOOTERS-like establishment. They’re all in a transition period in their lives, unsure what the future brings. They’ve all gone through an intense day and let it all out with extended screams, an unforgettable, undeniable female rage. This small, simple, subtle film is also one of the year’s best. - SUPPORT THE GIRLS

More groundbreaking than I had ever thought, Fred Rogers soaks his feet in a little tub and invites his black, gay co-star to do the same, breaking taboos on a children’s show way ahead of its time. - WON’T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR?

Charlize Theron shows us the real pain of motherhood, never once feeling like a glammed-up version of the harsh realities, and yet saves its most shocking sucker punch for its final moments, delivering a reveal as unexpected as the one I didn’t see coming in SHARP OBJECTS. - TULLY

Queen Anne (Olivia Colman), referring to Emma Stone’s Abigail, tells Lady Sarah( Rachel Weisz), “I like it when she puts her tongue inside me”…which is followed by Stone giving Weisz the year’s best side-eye. - THE FAVOURITE

In a film filled with shocking moments - the odd clucking sounds, the decapitated bird head, the unexpected death of a major character, the eerie, incongruous reflection of a teen’s face in a school window, the most jolting moment comes when Toni Collette stands over her offspring’s bed and says, “I never wanted to be your mother”. Stunned, she seemingly scoops those words back down her throat in an attempt to make them go away. For this moment alone, and she gives a tour de force performance here, Collette enters the pantheon of actors who made themselves immortal. - HEREDITARY

Modern day cowboys sit around a perfectly shot nighttime campfire as our hero questions his place as a man in this world. Masculinity has rarely been shot through with such tenderness as in every moment of this quiet stunner. - THE RIDER

“Gucci!” - EIGHTH GRADE

A young daughter ever so patiently and lovingly tells her PTSD-afflicted father that their views on how to live their lives may not converge, reminding us that histrionics don’t necessarily make for great conflict. You can find it even when people act like adults and show decency towards each other. - LEAVE NO TRACE

My heart broke when a young Lebanese boy tried every way possible to keep his sister from being sold off as a child bride. The kinetic filmmaking of this sequence mined every second for peak emotions. - CAPERNAUM

A blisteringly romantic tale of star-crossed lovers in Post War Poland wins the swoon award every time Joanna Kulig (a dead ringer for Jennifer Lawrence) sings the refrain, “Oy yoy yoy” - COLD WAR

Jack Black, playing a hard-partying character whose accident leads to the lifelong paralysis of his new friend (Joaquin Phoenix), meets up with him many years later. In a short but painful scene, we see the wreckage of a life and the profound sorrow written across Black’s face. I never thought I’d type the words, “Jack Black’s acting made me sob”, but there you have it. If Beatrice Straight can win an Oscar for a single scene, then Jack Black can too. Of course, I’m not even getting into how great Jonah Hill was in this film, but I’d be here all day. - DON’T WORRY, HE WON’T GET FAR ON FOOT

The matriarch of a family takes their housekeeper to a baby store to buy a crib when the chaos of the Corpus Christi Massacre erupts in the streets below, turning a simple shot into something epic, grand and inconceivable. - ROMA

Let’s face it. It had some of the best and bitchiest one liners of the year: “I pity your wife if you think six minutes is forever” , “Roger, there's only room in this band for one hysterical queen”, "Tell him thanks for the birthday cake. And tell him you're an epic shag”, and the beautiful, un-ironic exchange, “FREDDIE: Let’s go and punch a hole in the roof of Wembley Stadium. BRIAN: Actually, Wembley Stadium doesn’t have a roof. FREDDIE: Then we’ll punch a hole in the sky,” - BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

Kristen Stewart recounts how Joan Jett gave her some advice on how to capture her essence when she played her in THE RUNAWAYS. Jett told her to “pussy that wood” in reference to how to attack her guitar. Advice only a take-no-prisoners, blazingly alive woman could give to another in this energizing look at a true legend. - BAD REPUTATION

All of the tired superhero tropes we’ve become used to in live action appear fresh and thrilling when animated. Who knew I’d thrill to a whole slew of Peter Parkers swinging through New York on their webs? Who knew Lily Tomlin would appear in this and absolutely kill as Aunt May? Who knew Kathryn Hahn would even appear in a Marvel movie and skillfully weaponize a nerdy persona? - SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE

Sure, we all loved that moment when Lady Gaga sang “Shallow”, but let’s not forget another star was born when Henry Cavill got up off that tiled bathroom floor, doffed his suit jacket and reloaded his fists to jump back into one of the best fight sequences in film history. - MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: FALLOUT

Connecting the dots of the past with our present day mess of a country, Spike Lee ends his film on an unsubtle yet vital montage of pure rage. - BLACKKKLANSMAN

In a wonderful reversal to the original, the murderous Michael Myers looks out a backyard window to see Laurie Strode (a fierce Jamie Lee Curtis) standing amongst the hanging sheets. Who’s the monster now?!! - HALLOWEEN

A montage detailing the many prison escapes of our protagonist, an aging, lifelong bank robber (Robert Redford still displaying his undeniable charisma at 82), provides a wonderfully conflicted view of a man who must commit crimes in order to feel alive. - THE OLD MAN AND THE GUN

A bitter, outrageously dead-inside mother jogs on a treadmill, moving cynically forward in life despite having a missing child she barely noticed anyhow and a crumbling Russian society around her. - LOVELESS

“Did you just look at me? Did you? Look at me. LOOK AT ME! HOW DARE YOU! CLOSE YOUR EYES!” - THE FAVOURITE

Despite endlessly terrible scenes of tourists dancing and eating gelato, Clint Eastwood finds a magic power in having the real life heroes on that train play themselves as they thwart a terrorist attack. Although a failed experiment of a film, those 10 minutes felt real and raw and undeniable because of its stunt casting and astute directorial choices. - THE 15:17 TO PARIS

Smack dab in the middle of the movie, it ends. Roll credits. Oh wait. Things didn’t go so swimmingly? Let’s continue. A hugely entertaining fake-out gives self-reflexive cinema a good name. - VICE

After a traumatic incident at a beach (a stunningly shot, hugely suspenseful scene with incredible sound design), a housekeeper looks out the window of a car with a sense of peace as the reflections from the window gorgeously whisk past her lovely face. - ROMA

In the male dominated world of gun-toting action films, it was refreshing to see a group of women, led by a soulful performance by Natalie Portman, lock and load and enter the Shimmer. - ANNIHILATION

A Russian Engineer named Andreyev (Paddy Considine) panics when ordered by Stalin to record a symphony which already occurred. He quickly assembles a ragtag group of people to recreate the concert, telling this terrified assembly living under a murderous regime, “Don’t worry, nobody is going to get killed. I promise you. This is just a musical emergency.” Not a great film, but Armando Iannucci and company know their way around a scabrous line or two. - THE DEATH OF STALIN

Most people will cite the great single take outside a limo as its driven from a poor side of town to a wealthy side. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fantastic piece of cinema, but my mind gravitated towards another moment. A grieving widow lets her dog run loose in another widow’s apartment. The puppy stops at a closet door and reacts to what’s behind it. We know what it is, and she knows what it is even before we’re given visual confirmation. A fantastic storytelling moment. - WIDOWS

Evan Peters, sitting in a car at a gas station, is joined by the actual person he’s portraying, melding narrative with documentary in such an original way. - AMERICAN ANIMALS

Although chock full of special effects in a genre I tend to find forgettable, Michael B. Jordan commanded attention in a simple, quiet scene inside a museum, finding danger and intelligence in every line. He was the REAL special effect of this film. - BLACK PANTHER

Scotty Bowers may be a creepy hoarder, but when you’re 95 and have no f*cks left to give, you’re gonna spill some tea about Hollywood Stars and we will soak it all up in this one-of-a-kind documentary - SCOTTY AND THE SECRET HISTORY OF HOLLYWOOD

The slowest moving conveyor belt of all time provides one of the most well-timed, hilarious payoffs of the year. We need an award for Best Supporting Prop! - GAME NIGHT

Leslie Mann tries to quietly sneak out of her daughter’s Prom night hotel room but electrocutes herself behind the TV console in a delicious bit of physical comedy. - BLOCKERS

A mother desperate to track down her troubled young son gives drugs to an addict in return for more information, showing just how far she’s willing to go. - BEN IS BACK

A closeted up-and-coming movie star confesses to his “golly gee” midwestern wife that he’s not happy and can’t pretend anymore. We get a naked glimpse behind both of their veneers. It’s a stunning, hugely empathetic moment for characters we’ve respectively and heretofore dismissed as a sociopath and a rube. - THE HAPPYS

Alex Borstein’s lesbian character Susie Myerson from THE MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL has met her feature film match with Melissa McCarthy’s equally nihilistic performance as Lee Israel. To see her jousting with Richard E. Grant in any random moment in this wonderful film is to experience acting heaven. I loved how their final moments together could have easily turned to mush, but by staying true to their salty characters, they ended things in a deliciously dark manner. - CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME?

A comedy duo enacts a favorite routine onstage at the risk of one of their’s health. It’s scary, but the love and respect they have for each other shines through. - STAN & OLLIE

I’m sorry to say it gave me the “Made For TV” vibes, but it still found power when Nicole Kidman’s character busts her son out of an Ex-Gay Center, calling out its owner for his utter lack of qualifications. There’s nothing quite like a stifled, repressed woman finding her voice. - BOY ERASED

“I’m just like you” - says a privileged suburban teen as he bounds out of his McMansion and into a fancy SUV. While I generally enjoyed the film, this tone deaf opening line had me futilely looking around for my big house and fancy car. Sometimes a moment out of time is a wrongheaded one. - LOVE, SIMON

In a documentary full of insane twists and turns, the big moment for me came when we were treated to a clip from DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN. Madonna breezes past our smiling, tight jean-sporting identical triplets, the new “It Boys of New York”, the flush of newly-found fame written all over their faces long before their tragic fall. - THREE IDENTICAL STRANGERS

Say what you will about the endless 80s references, I want to live inside the swirling sequence which serves as an homage to THE SHINING. - READY PLAYER ONE

A Japanese woman dons a strange blonde wig and practices English and high fives with another ESL student, over-exaggerating her rounded open mouth as she speaks. - OH LUCY!

Constance Yu playing mah jongg slyly shows her deep wells of strength and strategic genius, nicely setting up a character who will surprise and charm us in equal measures. - CRAZY RICH ASIANS

Yes, it’s a pretty terrible movie, but there’s no denying the thrill of a certain pop legend’s long-awaited entrance by helicopter. It caused my friend Dennis to say out loud, “F*ck yeah, it’s Cher!” - MAMMA MIA!: HERE WE GO AGAIN

In an otherwise forgettable film, Jodie Foster’s memorable gait as the “Hotel” Nurse made me happily forget Kevin Spacey’s from THE USUAL SUSPECTS, and for that, I thank her! - HOTEL ARTEMIS

A young boy named Stevie tries to impress a bunch of older skateboarders with a stunt which sends him through a hole in a roof and crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. - MID90S

Renee: I thought you might want a sneak peek of what’s to come.  Ethan: I don’t know if you know what sneak peek means. You’re completely naked. - I FEEL PRETTY

Despite the gimmick of the movie seen entirely through laptop and smartphone footage, there’s electricity in the moment John Cho’s father character discovers his missing daughter has had a secret life. - SEARCHING

A dancer tries out a solo for a very strange company, unaware that each leap, spin or kick sends a trapped woman a floor below her into bone-crunching contortions. It’s a scene you can almost feel. There’s something rotten in East Berlin! - SUSPIRIA

Sure, Emma Stone worked out a great side-eye in THE FAVOURITE, but has there ever been an actor who seems born to them more than Emily Blunt? Still, my biggest emotional connection to this film came when Ben Wishaw sang “A Conversation”. A beautiful, sweet lament. - MARY POPPINS RETURNS

The site of Michelle Pfeiffer dressed as an elderly woman, cane in hand, hobbling through the streets of New York in a desperate attempt to cash her late mother’s government checks, the score a cacophony of horns and percussion, gave me DRESSED TO KILL shivers. - WHERE IS KYRA?

Think of it as SHARP OBJECT’s UK Cousin, as we watch Moll (a searing Jessie Buckley) tap into female rage in all its messy, bloody glory in this feature length primal scream. - BEAST

Packed with punch and urgency, the opening sequence made you believe you were actually experiencing a WWII aerial combat. Oh, and then it became a fun zombie gore-fest. - OVERLORD

A group of kids escape a gay conversion camp and pile into the back of a pickup truck. Did they make the right decision? Where do they go from here? A wordless homage to the final scene in THE GRADUATE packed a punch. - THE MISEDUCATION OF CAMERON POST

Blake Lively wearing clothes. That is all. - A SIMPLE FAVOR

A meeting with the family of a man who got their daughter pregnant goes terribly wrong, resulting in a slew of insults and threats. It’s a fully alive, oddly comical yet tragic sequence in a film which otherwise left me cold. - IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

Typically known for her impeccable image (before the reality show circus, of course), this pop icon lets down her guard and hilariously tears into Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul. Had she been allowed to be more herself, her life might not have been as tragic. - WHITNEY

Glenn Close delivers the year’s best slow boil as the wife of a Nobel Prize winner who has secretly been his unheralded ghost writer all these years. Until things grow shouty and overwritten in the third act, Close holds a master class in barely suppressed rage. - THE WIFE

Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe, intense tennis rivals, meet up at the airport after their fateful match, the looks between them offering up a touching blend of competitiveness and respect and which will lead to their unexpected, lifelong friendship. - BORG VS. McENROE

In a moment of much-needed image rehabilitation, Anne Hathaway, as the GOOP-like actress perfectly named Daphne Kluger, wins her way back into our hearts just by the way she reacts to a priceless necklace being wrapped around her neck. Every shiver and glance in the mirror makes you love her in all her campy glory. - OCEAN’S 8

A woman gets pushed off a cliff and finds herself impaled on a tree branch, yet not only does it not stop her, she’s just getting started in this literal bloodbath of a feminist fantasy. - REVENGE

A man meets tragedy and finds himself in a wheelchair only to gain powers he never had before after undergoing an experimental procedure. In a fight scene involving an antagonist and a kitchen knife, Logan Marshall-Green surprises himself with each display of brute force coming out of him, making for one of the most brutal yet winningly entertaining melees I’ve seen on screen all year…and don’t forget that kitchen knife. It’s just the right button on this bit of ultraviolet slapstick. - UPGRADE

A young husband meets with a conflicted priest, and in a searing monologue, tells the man of the cloth that the world is such a hellscape, he’d rather his pregnant wife abort their baby than bring it up in such a terrible environment. It’s the first jolt of many in this nihilistic yet strangely hopeful film. - FIRST REFORMED

Presidential candidate Gary Hart (Hugh Jackman) confronts some press members who have staked out his home with the hope of catching him with a woman other than his wife. He indignantly rails against them, claiming he had a right to privacy. Oh, how times have changed. - THE FRONT RUNNER

Katja (Diane Kruger), a woman at the end of her rope, who has lost her family and confidence in the justice system, takes matters into her own hands in the literally explosive, inevitable, and crushing final scene. - IN THE FADE

Who knew that Hal Ashby had such a sincerely lovely relationship with his mentor, Norman Jewison? It’s nice to know that sometimes successful people in the film business actually help out their younger charges. - HAL

I’m not sure I ever really wanted to know what it really felt like to sit in a fiery tin can on the way to the moon and back, but now I do. It’s very well done, but I think I may need to puke. - FIRST MAN

A young man with AIDS (Cory Michael Smith) sits with his mother (Virginia Madsen) in a car, unable to truly be honest with her. The pain of it all comes across so clearly on their faces. - 1985

An oversized candy cane weaponized to fight zombies at Christmas time in Scotland. Oh, and it’s also a musical. Just go! - ANNA AND THE APOCALYPSE

I saw it twice to make sure I truly hated it, and yep, I still did…but the opening sequence in the school, the terrorist attack on the beach, and Natalie Portman banging on the table to protest a diner manager’s request for a picture will stick with me. Hopefully I will forget the other 100 minutes of this painfully unfocused, unfocused, pretentious mess. - VOX LUX

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