#his last two-reel (short film)

[chaplinfortheages]

[outro-jo]

when skz says “no”

pairing: skz member x reader

type: scenario

warnings: none

request: yes

notes: requests are open but pls read info before requesting! also this is a formal apology to the seungmin stans. it’s so short but it was the last one i wrote and my brain was fried 😭

masterlist | info

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bang chan- this vacation was much needed and highly anticipated. chris definitely needed a break but you were anxious for entirely different reasons. the ring hidden in your pocket was the whole reason why. well, that and your plans were almost foiled at every turn. at tsa they had you show them the ring and chris almost saw. you thought you lost it in your luggage when you finally arrived. the fancy dinner you plan was almost rained out as well. all of that and chris himself almost ruined the proposal as well… with his own. he turned to look at the sunset and when he turned back, you were on one knee. before you could even ask, chris gasped and went, “No!” as your face was dropping, chris reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a ring of his own. “i’m was going to ask you.” he said with a giggle. you got up to your seat, scooting it close to him. reaching up behind his neck, you scratched at the hair line and brought his forehead to yours. “i guess we’re just perfect for each other.”

lee know- when thinking about minho and your lives together, you knew it was a forever thing from early on in your relationship. the two of you talked fondly about marriage and possibly raising a family if your life allowed for it. with you two being together for years now, you were staring to think it was time for you two to move to the next step. the beauty of your relationship is that you and minho were equals. there was never any question about it or hard work it make it so. it was just something that happened naturally and just who minho was. when it came to the proposal you knew it had to be something low key and intimate. a big fancy proposal with flowers and at a special location just wasn’t either of your style. you decided that a movie night with the cats was the perfect time and place to do it. all night you felt the jitters, minho even commented on it a few times when you thought you were alone to catch your breath. the perfect moment had finally arrived and in the middle of the film you got down on one knee and asked the question. minho gave no sort of expression on his face. he just looked down at you in his usual deadpanned manner and pat the couch cushion next to him. “no, come sit back down. this is the best part.” you hesitantly obeyed, closing the ring box and returning it to your pocket. there was no way you were enjoying the rest of the movie the way your mind swirled. “he really doesn’t wanna marry me?” “should i have done something else to make it more special?” “does he want to break up.” though you were sitting still and quiet, minho could feel the way your mind raced and rolled his eyes. not at you of course, but you were always the impulsive and impatient one in he relationship. he reeled you in the way you needed. if you had waited just a little longer… but seeing how that wasn’t going to happen once the credits rolled, minho got up with an exasperated sigh. he knew he had to do this now or it was gonna eat you up. you sat in silence while he went to the back bedroom and returned with a black object in his hand. minho looked adorably annoyed as he got on one knee, his eyelids lazily drooped over his eyes. “fine, marry me.” he opened the box in his had to reveal the most stunning engagement ring. you gasped, watching it sparkle in the dim lighting. “minho, are you sure?!” “yes, i’m sure but you ruined the surprise i had for next week, pabo.” you laughed and tried to hide the embarrassment on your cheeks behind your hands. “you’re my pabo and i wouldn’t have our life be any other way than you moving too fast because you’re excited then i have to come behind you and do it right.” he told you, his face relaxing into what one could only describe as fondness for you. you nodded as the tears started to flow and he pulled you into his arms, sitting you on his knee for hugs and kisses. after a few seconds minho pulled away and said, “ok, gimme my ring.”

changbin- your boyfriend was old fashioned, traditional. he liked things a certain way whereas you were totally unconventional. admittedly, he loved that about you. it pushed him out of his comfort zone and challenged his way of thinking. you brought out the best in him. though some things were just sacred to him. changbin always expected to be the one to propose to you when the time came, but it never did and you were getting tired of waiting. you took matters in your own hands. the plan was in motion, taking him out to dinner, then a quiet boat ride on the han river. just as binnie was distracted by the fireworks going off over head you, got down on one knee. “binnie, will you—“ “no!” he got down on one knee in front of you. “marry me!” “you don’t even have a ring!” you protested. “yes, i do! i’ve had it since i met you! it’s in my closet!” he shot back. “then why haven’t you asked me to marry you?” “because…” he paused for a moment. “i was too afraid you’d say no.” he spoke in a soft voice, almost embarrassed for thinking the way he did. “but you’re the one that said ‘no’ to me.” you teased him gently. “well… that doesn’t count. you ambushed me.” “it’s called a surprise!”

hyunjin- paris was one of hyunjin’s favorite cities. you never really understand the “city of love” thing until you went there with your love. all the lights and beautiful blossoms on the trees, the incredible food and shopping, it all was so much better experiencing it with the love of your life. you were so swept up in the feeling, you couldn’t help but want to make the most of your time here. before you knew it, you were walking out of a jewelry shop with a ring for your boyfriend but no plan whatsoever. you had resigned to let paris work her magic and the moment will come when it was supposed to. it was a beautiful afternoon with you and hyunjin walking hand in hand, his camera around his neck to take shots as you went. walking along the river, the sun was just setting and hyunjin had to stop you because you looked so beautiful. “wait, baby, the light is perfect right now!” he held the film camera up to his eye, squinting to look through the view finder. he took two shots of different poses and before he could realize what was going on, you got down on your knee. the flash went off but hyunjin froze, his hands slowly lowering to reveal his jaw agape as he stared at you. “will you marry me, hyunjinnie?” you opened the box to reveal the ring. “no…” it was so faint, you weren’t sure you heard it right. “what?” you asked. hyunjin suddenly snapped back into reality, the weight of what he said hitting him. “no! no, i mean, no!” as if the word wasn’t already echoing in your head, hyunjin kept repeating it as he fumbled. “i can take a hint, babe.” you scoffed bitterly and went to stand. “wait, no! i— uggghh” he was growing more frustrated with himself. letting the camera fall, held by the strap around his neck, he dug into his pocket. “i mean, ‘no’ as in, ‘there’s no way i found someone so incredibly perfect for me’.” hyunjin held the ring out to you, beaming. your face lit up before you jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing all over his face repeating “yes” over and over.

han- competitive. that’s one word everyone would use to describe your relationship with jisung. not in a bad way. it was very playful and usually lighthearted. the two of you joked about who would end up proposing first and mock fighting it was gonna be you while he insisted it would be him. this also resulted in a proposal from him that you just rolled your eyes at because you knew he was just doing it for the bit. when you finally decided enough was enough and you had to marry him, you put a lot of thought into how you would propose to him. the perfect day was planned and it was jisung to a t. by the time you were about to drop to a knee, jisung was completely oblivious but panicked the minute he turned and saw you. “NO! NO!” he fussed, dropping to his knee. “i was gonna ask you first.” “too bad.” you gave him a shit eating grin. “i won. now you have to marry me.” jisung couldn’t help but laugh at you. “fine, ok, but i also won and you’re my prize.”

felix- dating felix was nothing short of magical. even the harder times when you two were apart or struggling to communicate, you always felt this overwhelming love for him. it gave you hope in those times that it would always work out. your and felix’s relationship was unique in that neither of you fell into specific gender roles. felix always prefers to keep gender stereotype out of quite literally everything. it felt completely right with him. which is why it felt totally natural buying an engagement ring, especially so early on in your relationship. the saying, “you just know” couldn’t have been more true and you finally understood when you met felix. the ring lived in your sock drawer, lying in wait for the right time, which you knew was probably some time in the future. the universe had other plans. the ring stayed perfectly hidden for a year or so until felix had decided to take the relationship to the next step: moving in together. he very sweetly offered to help you pack and quite honestly, the ring had been in there so long that you often forgot about it. it wasn’t until felix was in the drawer and you walked in and heard, “oh, no…” that you froze. you panicked, “felix, baby, i can explain!” you didn’t have to, felix was already on his knee in front of you, holding your own ring towards you. he was teary eyed and grinning ear to ear. “i dunno why i didn’t think about this sooner. i guess you’re always one step ahead of me. you’ve always been smarter than me.” he chuckled. “but i want this. i want you. i promise i’ll get you a ring, too. just please… marry me.” silence hung in the air as he finished his proposal. you hesitated, “lix… is it too soon?” felix quickly stood, shaking his head as he took you in his arms. “of course not! i want forever to start as soon as possible with you. i love you so much!” he emphasized the last sentence. “then i guess it’s a yes.”

seungmin- seungmin was very particular about literally everything and it was your job as his partner to mess that up a bit, bring him out of his comfort zone. he had a love/hate relationship with your ‘job’. seungmin needed the house cold, you turned up the heat. seungmin folded his clothes a certain way, you found a better way to fold them. seungmin wanted an apartment out of the city, you found a block away from the dorms. every single idea or thought was challenged by you. so when you proposed to him and he said no, it didn’t faze you one bit. you still loved him just as much as you did before. it was only two weeks later when seungmin proposed to you over dinner, in his own way. sometimes you gotta let him win some.

i.n- in his defense, you shouldn’t have asked while he was in a game with felix. he just looked so beautiful. freshly showered, no makeup, his skin glowing after his skincare routine. jeongin was so stunning that in that moment, you couldn’t help but ask. “will you marry me?” the words just fell from your lips effortlessly. your boyfriend tucked a headphone behind his ear, half glancing down at you as he said, “what? oh, no thanks, baby,” before returning to his game.  you weren’t really serious but to hear ‘no’ still stung. having taken all your bruised ego can handle, you went back to your shared bedroom to nurse your wounds. it’s not like you and jeongin have been together for a few weeks or even months. it’s been years by now, but you both are still young and he has stay and stray kids to worry about. i guess it wasn’t good timing anyways. but you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever wanted to get married. the worry plagued your mind for weeks after and you felt yourself growing more distant. it wasn’t intentional but the small incident couldn’t help but have you insecure in yourself and your relationship. jeongin on the other hand didn’t really notice as his mind was a little preoccupied. he had a comeback and tour in the works and there was something he decided that he needed to do before he left. on the night before he left, he took you out to dinner at you favorite fancy restaurant. this was the restaurant where you spent birthdays and anniversaries. the restaurant where your parents met for the first time. this was a special place but you hardly paid attention. for the first time, jeongin could see the space between the two of you in the glossy look in your eyes. they stared at the utensil you fidgeted with in your hands. the fear of not asking you far outweighed you possibility of you saying no so he finally had to ask. rather than getting down on one knee (which you both had prior agreed was a weird tradition), he slid the little black box to you across the table. you rolled your eyes playfully and took it. “you didn’t have to get me anything.” you teased him. all the air in your lungs dissipated when you saw the ring glittering back at you. “jeong— wha—?” your words failed you. your boyfriend couldn’t hold back the biggest smile, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “i couldn’t go on tour without knowing i’d come back and you’d still be mine. i know i’ve done it before but i just need you so badly. i wanna spend forever with you. will you spend it with me?” needless to say, the two of you now had a funny proposal story to tell your family now.

taglist: @ujejdjd

[jiminrings]

478 phase 3 sneak peek

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,”  Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

.

.

.

to get ahead of questions: yes, 478 phase three will also be posted on tumblr!! the only difference would be the posting dates :)

i... will be keeping my mouth shut for the time-being!! spoiler alert: This Sneak Peek is Not all there is to phase three i am so so so sorry there Will be more!!!!!! for patrons who've already read all the sneak peeks and sent me spoiler asks, i'll be answering soon dw!!

wanna read chapter one now + exclusive content + early access?? subscribe to my patreon :D

[jomeimei421]

hi do you have any more fic recs?? ive read everything you already recommended in the last post and i am Terrible at finding fics myself-

why yes indeed i do <(:]) spoilers for all of ORV under the cut! Here is a link to my other fic rec post for those who haven't seen it yet.

Mei's ORV Fic Recs 2: Electric Boogaloo

Looking for Yoo Joonghyuk by Je_te_veux

GEN, written for YJH's birthday. A canon compliant exploration of YJH's search to find the answers to who he is and what he should live for. Takes place during the epilogue. Again, JTV is a Chinese author so you will need to read their fics with material translation, but their writing is remarkable! I'm especially fond of the way they wrote YJH and Anna Croft, and also, I have a soft spot for things where YJH (who has had to carry the enormous burden of the Story for so long) finally gets to do some reading and writing of his own.

Love & Affection Do (Not) a Cat Make by featherx

Sangsoo, with a side of Joongdok. The misadventures of HSY (cat) and YJH (cat???). I have a special spot in my heart for this fic because cat HSY is written so hysterically well it has permanently affected my own characterization of HSY. Funny, charming, cute, but as with all things orv, has a very sweet and sad undertone.

Great Escapes by wyrvel

JDJ. YJH attempts to confess. KDJ does not make things easy for him. The calling card of a great jdj confession fic is a tasteful amount of KDJ brand tomfoolery, just enough to make you want to grab him and shake him like maracas. This fic accomplishes that with flying colors. It's written from YJH's pov, but you can just feel the gears turning and steam puffing out of KDJ's head. Op understands babygirl YJH. As a warning, this is the first part of a three fic series, the other two are NSFW.

Only I know how this show will end! by ineedacatchyname

YHK. Our favorite toxic polycule, now on live tv! A truly tremendous Love Island AU fic. My absolute favorite thing about this fic is that every time a character is introduced, there's a cutaway to their Love Island Love Interest Self Introduction Sexy Beach Montage Reel written in the style of a TV film script and every last one of them had me crying real tears. YSA is also excellent in this fic.

World's End Rhapsody by wakerife

JDJ, with a side of Sangsoo. This was one of the first orv fics I read, before I started bookmarking them; there's a really sweet scene of YJH reading that I couldn't get out of my head so I went on a hunt to find this fic again by searching through every single ORV fic tagged with "post-canon." A collection of KDJ recovery snippets, punctuated by some heartfelt jdj.

At Sea by ksalientian

YHK. The dead return from the sea, including KDJ. He doesn't come back exactly how they remember. Eerie, melancholy, and permeated with slow, enormous loss. There are some horror like elements in this fic, but it's more psychological than something that might make you squeamish. Yoohan are going through it. Fantastic fic!

I don't want to fall asleep just yet by featherx

GEN. Pre-canon. There's a ghost that lives inside of HSY's house. A short character study on the loneliness of a writer.

A New Story Written by pyrrhura

YHK. KDJ worries in the middle of the night about being responsible for a new story, and about being a father. Or, three idiots and baby. I love fics where yhk get their blissfully mundane happy ending, but op doesn't confuse that with forgetting the traumas and hardships of the past. Love the banter in this fic, and the way they just lean on one another without even thinking. As a warning, there are discussions of unplanned pregnancy in this.

Ain't Nobody Solving That Declining Birth Rate by dulcetair

YHK. KDJ is fresh out of a coma (broke) and YJH is a former terrorist (also broke.) The post-scenario government issues a cash incentive for people to get married. Or, the gang commits marriage fraud! Features YJH wearing a apron that says grillmaster on it. I was already a firm believer in YHK getting married for """tax benefits""" because it makes things easier for KDJ who is too embarrassed to admit anything otherwise, but the idea of HSY using Avatars to game the system and buy a three story house just for funsies is also incredibly in character.

What the Living Do by younglegends

GEN. Snapshots of mourning, loving, and longing from various KCom members' points of view. The chronological events of this fic are backwards, which makes for an interesting read. Younglegends hasn't written a lot of ORV stuff yet, but the two fics that they have so far are both downright phenomenal, and some of the best work I've seen in this community. They are also the author of the fic that I refused to spoil in the previous orv fic rec. Also, their YSA characterization is perfect.

That's all for now! Enjoy!

[ellssbellss]

(BONUS!) Lavender Roses ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

first, for you: thank you so much for 200 followers and for 2k reads on wattpad. i wanted to give back a little to you guys for reading my work and actually enjoying it :) i'll probably do something like this for all the milestones! love you, i hope you're having a great day :)

-> this is canon to lavender roses!

-> summary: That left one more person.

Swiftly but cautiously, the entire club turned towards the center of the front row, where a raven-haired, glasses-wearing, very handsome pain in your side sat on one side of a double recliner, legs crossed and arms folded as if he wasn’t the cause of all this. 

-> word count: 2.4k (just a drabble/oneshot)

see masterlist!: masterlist

taglist:  @abbysblogsstuff @sunukissed @kisskissshutmydoor @idonia-dovahkiin @greensnakegoblep @vervainnnn @desert-fern @delievia @obeythemasters @luca-nightshade

Weekend Movie Night :)

Your tongue curled against the roof of your mouth as you reeled in your patience, feeling a rush of air whip down your sternum and around your ribcage as you willed the rising annoyance back into the place it belonged. 

Evening out your shoulders, you once again lift your hands at either side, grasping two plastic covers as you gestured sharply to the two movies in your grasp.

They did this every weekend. 

Every weekend, you stood in front of the tv of your home theater, your house being the ideal place for movie night considering the constant absence of your parents, and every weekend the host club stared at you like two heads had just grown out of your waste, shouting at you to just give up and get a new set of friends already. 

Or was that just in your head?

“Okay, this is your last chance,” You warned, fighting the urge to throw down the discs and locking yourself in your bedroom. “Or we are definitely going to watch whatever Honey-senpai brought with him. What was it again, Honey?”

Looking over to the boy-lolita, he looked so small perched on the lap of his taller cousin, a soft  yellow hoodie and basketball shorts a stark contrast to the black t-shirt and joggers the stoic wore. His blonde hair perked up, and the light in his eyes got impossibly brighter when you spoke to him, and for a minute, you weren’t totally terrified of his answer. 

But Honey said it with a smile, one too bright for his choice of film.

A shudder passed through the host club, save for Kyoya, who wrote in his journal, uninhibited  by the world around him. Even the twins looked gray at the mention of the children’s film.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t watch that again.” A deep, feminine voice sounded as Haruhi complained, and your gaze glanced to the double recliner that she and Tamaki shared, a comfortable blanket draped over their legs. Haruhi had put space between them, but the prince was inching ever closer, and the way Haruhi was side-eyeing him, he was on the border of her punching range. 

“We watched that last week, Honey-senpai…” Hikaru said, throwing a hand over his eyes as he reclined on one of the double recliners in the second row of the theater.

“...it wasn’t good then, and it wasn’t good the other four times.” Kaoru added, sounding equally exasperated as he shifted the pillow he was using onto Hikaru’s shoulder, trying to get into a more comfortable position. 

“Well, then how about we all vote on a movie, and then we won’t have to watch it.” You said, shifting your weight onto the other foot as you extended your arm, holding one of the movie options out in front of you before doing the same thing with the right. 

“Ponyo? Or A Quiet Place?”

It was like comparing apples and oranges. Or rather beautiful goddesses with deaf, bloodthirsty monsters. 

“I’m telling you, A Quiet Place is one of the best movies I have ever seen.” Rising from his seat, Hikaru grabs the attention of the host club as they turn back to look at him, even as Kaoru falls flat on the recliner after leaning on his brother so heavily.  

“It has everything.” The Hitachiian twin starts counting on his fingers aggressively. “Romance, horror, representation. At the very beginning, you will be on the edge of your seat.”

“It is too much!” A dramatic shout emits from the front row, and Tamaki raises his hands in the air before running them through his perfect hair, his casual lavender cardigan slipping down his forearm. “This is the one afternoon where we can be together in a calm, peaceful environment. I will not be rested by a woman giving birth in a bathtub.”

Exasperatingly, his fingers find his forehead as he reminds the group in disappointment. “Not to mention, the Japanese dub is terrible.”

“Plus Ponyo is cute! Her big eyes and the little fishies.” Another giggle escaped the martial arts master as he looked up at Mori, milk chocolate mixing in with deep cocoa. “Don’tchya think, Takashi?”

“Yeah.” A firm nod pulled the stoic’s neck. “I like the story.”

Another sigh rushed through your nose as you nodded. “Okay, now we are getting somewhere. Three votes for Ponyo, and one for A Quiet Place. Kaoru?”

“Hm?” The ginger-haired twin lifts his head from the pillow, squinting his eyes at your silhouette that was illuminated from the large movie screen behind you. 

“Ponyo or A Quiet Place?” 

Drowsiness filled his voice, which you were used to. Used to being the early riser of the twins, he was also used to a stricter bedtime of 10pm, one that your group constantly surpassed during these watch parties. 

But he made a lazy gesture towards his much more awake brother before letting his hand drop on the couch below him. “Whatever Hikaru said.” 

And then the sneaky twin turned in the chair, facing the back leather cushions, cutting himself out of the conversation. 

“Okay then, Kaoru adds another vote for Quiet Place. Not like he’s going to watch it anyways.” You muttered the last part under your breath before turning sharply towards your favorite club member.

“Haruhi?”

“Like I said before, I vote for A Quiet Place. I like the cinematography and the acting. We can watch it with subtitles, so the dub thing is an easy fix,” She said flippantly, shoving her shoulder into Tamaki’s as he tried to wrap his arms around her with tears in his eyes, begging her to choose something else.

That left one more person.

Swiftly but cautiously, the entire club turned towards the center of the front row, where a raven-haired, glasses-wearing, very handsome pain in your side sat on one side of a double recliner, legs crossed and arms folded as if he wasn’t the cause of all this. 

“Kyoya?” There’s a slight plea in your voice. “Which one do you want to see?” 

You desperately hold the two movies out in front of him, shoving the choices into his line of sight. 

But his gray eyes held your stare, an arch in his eyebrow framing them like gothic architecture. 

“I’ve said it once before, and I have no intention of changing my mind.” Pale fingers reach to adjust the frame of his glasses as he pauses.

“I, in all honesty, could not care less.”

Groans sound from the entire movie theater, and you are almost brought to your knees as you throw your head back into a whine. “Kyoya!”

“And I still don’t understand why I am to be the tie breaker? Why can’t you decide on our movie?” His calculating gaze lands on you, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

You lose.

“Because, Kyoya, I am the host! The host doesn’t choose the movie, that’s just rude.”

“Technically, we are all hosts, so your logic is flawed.”

“Oh my god.” You wanted to smack your head with one of these discs.

Instead, you rested your head onto the plastic covers, shielding your frustrated face from your friends. 

How do you get him to choose a goddamn movie?

“Why are you even here if you won’t choose a movie, Senpai?” Hikaru asks, uncrossing his legs so that Kaoru can lay down in his lap. “Might as well just go home at this point.”

Kyoya’s simple button down barely shifts as he gives Hikaru a side glance. “I was invited.” A smile rests on his face, and you think he might almost like delaying the movie like he was. “It would be a shame to turn it down.”

“You are one of the most decisive people I know.” You say from behind the movies. “Why are you doing this to us?”

“I make decisions for things I care about. For example, I decided to come to this homemade screening because it was good for the club’s morale.” Another knowing smirk twists into his lips. “But this…this is not something that affects me.” 

Squinting your eyes, Kyoya watched as the cute, teasing desperation that had wrinkled your face hardened into a sinister amusement. He arched a brow as you creeped closer to his seat.

“Doesn’t affect you? Did you not hear what I said earlier?” You ask, an evil glint in your eye.

The ravenet faced you dead on though, almost sounding bored as he challenged you. “When you failed to admit that you were a hypocrite, as you are making everyone choose a movie except yourself?”

Your eyebrow twitched. “No, before that.”

Kyoya hummed, a finger coming to rest on his chin. “No, I think I might’ve had other things on my mind more important than this.”

“Ah, so you don’t know the stakes.” Tamaki said, a taunt in his buttery voice. You were closer now, as was the rest of the host club, leaning in like spiders on a web, and Kyoya was the fly caught in the string.

“What stakes?” The megane asks, the space in between his brows slightly folding together.

Now it was your turn to be arrogant, the drawl of your voice inflicting something higher than thou. “If you don’t pick one, Kyo, we’re just gonna watch what Honey-senpai wants to watch.”

Even if it was just the slightest bit, as you inched closer to the director, you saw his eyelids widen at your threat.

“That’s not possible, we just watched it last week.” Was that a waver in his voice? 

“Oh yes, Kyo,” You said, reaching your destination. Resting one hand on the arm of the chair closest to his body while the other settled on the back of the cushion, you caged Kyoya between you and the chair, blocking any means of escape. “We’re gonna watch My Little Pony.”

If he had a reaction to your closeness, which – considering the small blush that Mori and Haruhi noticed on his cheeks – he did, it was small and unimportant to the impending threat hanging over his head. Flashbacks flew through his mind of the nauseating music, the jokes meant for five year olds, and the infuriating notion that Twilight was an intellectual scholar. 

He would be a genius too if he had a magic horn coming out of his forehead bending to his will. 

At first, he didn’t believe you. Gray eyes searched (e/c) ones with an investigative glance, but he found nothing but determination and smugness swirling in the captivating orbs. 

Internally, he had already admitted defeat. Not only does he want to avoid that goddamned movie as much as possible, but he had come here to spend time with his friends; spend time with you. And all this back and forth had been fun for a while, but it was far past the time for you to stop worrying, sit down, and relax beside him. 

Plus, he would never admit how you had just blocked him into a corner. 

Rolling his eyes to break away from your intense stare, Kyoya deepend his posture into the leather recliner, breathing a sigh of refined resignation before giving you his vote. 

“A Quiet Place.” His deep voice rumbled through the suspense in the movie theater, and he reveled in the change of your expression.

Your eyes brightened from their darker state into something excited, but whether it was from the fact that you had won or the fact that he had picked the movie that you secretly wanted, he couldn’t tell. 

That gorgeous smile of yours burst from the seams of your lips before you released him from his perfumed prison, standing up and triumphantly holding the winning movie in the air.

“A Quiet Place it is!”

A cheer from Hikaru resounded over a tired sigh from Kaoru behind the megane, even if it was covered by the whine and cries of the most immature host: his best friend beside him. 

“Mon ami! You can’t make me watch something so violent!” Tamaki laments, and you almost lose yourself in the purple puppy dog eyes that glistened in the dimming lights.

“Tamaki, if you watch this, I’ll let you borrow one of my super comfortable hoodies, okay?”

Immediately, the prince was in awe, and his smile was almost as bright as his hair.

“Really?”

A sweet giggle tumbled out of your throat. “Really.”

Then that was it. After popping in the disc, you took your seat next to your director, just as he sat beside his manager. The movie screen glowed with the opening credits as the lights went out completely, the colors of the screen flashing across your face. 

You reached over the arm of the chair before pulling out a fluffy blanket. Throwing most of it around your legs, you glanced at Kyoya’s crossed ones, which were currently uncovered.  

“Do you want to share the blanket?” You whispered, and Kyoya’s gaze shot from the screen to you, then down to the blanket, then to you again.

After realizing how that might have sounded, you quickly tried to help him understand where you're coming from, stumbling over your quiet words as the first scene played. “Or I can get you another one! There are a couple folded over there, I just know it can get chilly in here, so-”

The blanket was gingerly tugged from your grasp as Kyoya flicked it out, causing the fabric to spread and drape over the both of you. In order to be fully under the warmth of the throw, you had to scoot in closer to the center, causing the sides of your bodies to touch ever so slightly. 

You shifted away immediately, conscious you might be making him uncomfortable. “Is this okay? Too much?”

There it was again, that shift in his face as his eyes widened that you wouldn’t be able to see without only being inches from his form. But instead of the cautious motions that had come afterward, his face softened into an ever-so-faint grin, and he rested more into the couch, intentionally pushing your shoulders together. 

“This is fine.” He whispered back, and it was good that he was okay with it, considering you curled into him with each moment of suspense and every jump scare. 

again, thank you so much. you're lovely to write for :)

[soundsaboutrighttumblr]

After finale ramble.

The Eighth Sense and its visual storytelling, the artfulness and the sheer effect with which they make the stories visible, highlighted, in colors, in light and dark, in acting, in movement. Like, of course they use sound, too, they appeal to all the senses that film medium can, visual, auditory, even associations of scent and smell and touch just by the heightening of the audio-visual experience, through filters, distortions, manipulations, framing, score, lyrics, leading the eye and the expierence. Artful and so well-made that it stands out in its emotional impact.

The editing, the extreme close ups, the alteration between movement and stillness, hand camera, aerial drone views, reverse, above water under water upside down mirror views too close too make up what you’re looking at for a moment...  it all makes you almost dizzy at times, as even your vestibular sense is appealed to by these very physical visual techniques and effects, too, right next to all the themes and metaphors about balance throughout the text.

I do love the theories about the series title I’ve seen around, about the seventh sense being proprioceptive (movement and how you place, orient yourself) and the eighth one being interoceptive (internal, your physical needs, maybe in extension emotional needs, as it is a story about listening to those and healing/growing/moving).

I dare say this series comments on and appeals to all of them, through the technical use of medium, its metaphors and its art and messages about the human experience, and life being the use of all those senses, exitsting through and inside them, life being all of those experiences and the changes inbetween, the stillness, the stagnation, the getting moving again, the waves, the being tossed by waves, the watching of a tamed ocean inside a fish tank, the just dipping your toes in water. The salt-water tears you cry.

I came here to say. Just having watched the last two eps, and there’s just so much there, so many things, layers, so many artful things, but boy did I feel a visceral reaction when Jaewon started moving again, walking with that skip in his step to school, down the stairs. 

Because what does depression do to you, it makes you stuck and stagnant, holding yourself still, frozen, preserving energy, paralyzing you. It reads all over your body, its immobility and rigidness. The acting on this is impeccable and had a visceral effect on me.

And then? When that animation comes back to you, to Jaewon, in that skip in his step, the animation of his face, elasticity and livelyness, the sheer movement of it all, that means feeling alive? How yes, there’s work and growth and healing that brought him there but sometimes it just happens, suddenly, just so? To make that point visible through these short scenes of walking, and the relief I felt, the energy?

Even the flow of meandering through the city feels like progress made visible, but when he walks again, with purpose, the acting out of that walk towards Jihyun, arms swinging, hands engaged, whole body motion walking with purpose?

That scene hit hard, will stay with me, because everything about those last two eps made that story visible, the getting back into movement, movement as what makes this life, the rush of it after stillness, that leaves you reeling. They took me along on that journey with those last eps, reminded me.

The evocativeness of this series and how it’s made, of taking you along on that ride, put you through it, all senses engaged, remind you of life... a very cathartic one, this one. No I’m not crying. I am actually so elated.

I do love those shows the best, that put you through the story’s experience as a viewer, by the means of the medium and publishing, too. Shows that guide and engage your emotional journey in a way that adds deeper layers of meaning to the messages, and is a very potent message in itself, I feel. Especially if you end on a positive hopeful note, much needed in these times.

Catharsis, yes. Connection through art, too.

Wow and thank you.

[ab4eva]

‘Twin Flame Bruise’ (part 1)

Summary: Austin sees reader, his ex, when he’s least expecting it and is shocked to see how much she’s changed.

Warnings: angst, language, mention of drug and alcohol use. I think that’s it?

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing any fics but I listened to All Too Well (Ten Minute Version) on a road trip and couldn’t help myself.

Part 2: Here & Part 3: Here

—

It was a chilly November night when Austin Butler stumbled into a dimly lit honky tonk on open mic night in Nashville, Tennessee. He had decided to drive down for the weekend from Cincinnati, where he was filming his new movie.

The first thing he noticed was the incredible voice coming from the stage. He wouldn’t know a Taylor Swift song if it hit him in the head but he knew a great melody and lyrics when he heard them.

'Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

Wind in my hair, I was there

I remember it all too well

The second thing he noticed was the woman on stage. So familiar, yet so foreign. Shock kept him rooted to the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. Was it? It couldn’t be. But he would know that face anywhere. She wasn’t the woman he remembered - hair dark and short, where it used to be long and golden. Thinner now, thinner than he’d ever seen her. Dressed all in black, instead of the soft, neutral colors she had always favored.

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

The bitterness in her voice shook him to the core. Tears glinted in her eyes, he could see them, even from his spot in the back. At some point his heart started beating again, his breath came back. He slowly began to walk closer to the stage, slipping past the bodies crushed together near the stage.

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

He had to get out of there. He couldn’t breathe in the small, hot bar. He felt light-headed, he needed air. He scrambled for the door, the cool air embracing him as he burst onto the sidewalk. He took deeps breaths as he leaned against the side of the building. He got a couple of odd looks from passers by but ignored them and focused on breathing - in through his nose, out through his mouth.

How was she here? The last time he had seen her was in LA, months ago. A night so filled with regret and pain he could barely think about it, even now.

Just then the bar door opened and a crush of people came spilling out. He straightened up, focusing his ice blue eyes on the door. Sure enough, in a minute or two she came walking out, laughing and talking loudly to her friends.

“Y/N,” he said tentatively. She froze, and slowly turned her head.

She stared at him, long and hard, her mouth set in a grim line. Nothing showed behind her eyes - not recognition, not warmth. Nothing.

She sauntered over to him.

“Austin.” she said. A statement. And then silence.

“How are you?” he said uncertainly.

“I’m fucking great, baby. How’s Mr. Movie Star?” she retorted sarcastically.

Austin sucked in a breath. She never cursed.

“Are you ok, Y/N?” he asked, confusion clouding his face.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“God, this is so boring. Listen, have a nice life, Austin, and do me a favor? Fuck off.”

Austin reeled back as if he’d been slapped. He took a step back and steadied himself.

She had already turned and was walking away, catching up to her friends.

“Y/N!” he yelled. “What the hell?”

She stopped in her tracks, and whipped around.

“What, Austin? What do you want from me? Forgiveness? Fine, I forgive you. Absolution? You’re absolved.” She was breathing heavily, anger radiating from every part of her, coming off her in waves.

“What happened to you?” he asked quietly, unable to believe that the woman who stood in front of him was the same woman he thought he might spend his life with.

She barked out a harsh laugh, bitter and raw, her lip curling into a sneer.

“Oh, that’s rich. What happened to me? Goddammit Austin! YOU happened to me. You broke me. YOU DID THIS.” She shook her head, nothing but hatred in her eyes, her voice. “I hope you’re fucking happy.”

She turned on her heel and walked away without another glance.

——-

Austin was shaking. He felt as if he was floating above his body, the wind knocked out of him, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He knew the breakup was bad, the worst one he’d ever experienced, but he wasn’t expecting this. This angry, bitter, hateful, unrecognizable woman.

Someone brushed past him and he was brought back to the present. He snapped his head up and looked in the direction she had gone. He could just barely see her, walking with a tall lumberjack of a man, into a bar down the street.

His feet compelled him forward, without noticing he followed them. He glanced into the window of the dimly lit bar and could just make out her form. She was at the bar, knocking back shot after shot. The tall man was trying to talk to her, telling her to slow down it seemed. She didn’t listen, angrily gesturing at him.

Suddenly, she brushed past her friend and disappeared down a hallway. Austin’s heart sped up. What if she left out the back door? He stood on the sidewalk anxiously, shifting from foot to foot as he peered through the window.

Five long minutes went by while he waited, barely breathing. Maybe he should check the street out back? Just then she reappeared, stumbling through the crowd. Time slowed down, as if in slow motion, as she began to fall. Her friend caught her just before she hit the floor. In an instant, Austin was through the door and at her side, gently holding her up.

“Hey, hey….Y/N,” he said, gently patting her cheek, smoothing the hair back from her forehead.

She stirred a little and smiled, as if seeing him for the first time all night.

“Austin, I missed you,” she said drunkenly.

His heart skipped a beat.

“Hey man,” the lumberjack said. “She’s really messed up. She’s had a lot to drink and our friend told me she did some coke in the bathroom. She never touches the stuff but apparently she insisted on it tonight.”

Austin blinked back tears. What had he done?

[seasonsbloom]

Congrats on 500 followers! What about “make me” with Fanboy bcs I love him soo much and hardly anyone writes for him

♡ pairing ; fanboy x female!reader

♡ wc ; 700, i got a little carried away

♡ warnings ; explicit language; mentions of intoxication

♡ note ; fanboy isn't actually even that small but he looks really small in the film? anyway this doesn't make any sense, idk I'm sorry you guys :-(

Sam Cooke got it right. You really don't know much about history, you really don't know much about biology. You also don't know much about science books or any of the French you took. In fact, you don’t know much about anything. 

But what you do know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what you know like the color of your eyes, like the scent of your childhood home, what you know irrevocably and eternally and what you know at the very core of you, is this: Mickey Garcia is your best friend. He’s always been your friend, as far back as you can remember.

This comes as a bit of a shock, then.

You’re like… six and a half Tequila shots in, and the half one only happened because you spilled it all across the front of your shirt. The night feels like it’s sizzling out at the edges, like the fringes are trickling into the sand and evaporating, but for now you’re still buzzing, you’re still reeling, you’re still high on whatever the fuck is going on here.

In the low lights of the bar, with some slow, syrupy, sultry song crooning from the speakers, with Mickey’s beer sweating condensation against the palm of your hand, with Mickey’s gaze right on you and his lips a little parted and his eyes all glossy and dark and simmering with something, something, something… 

Lines go blurry.

“Fuck off,” Mickey says, but he’s laughing with the words, pushing even closer, reaching for the bottle you pull away at the last minute. Dangle over your heads like the sword of Damocles.

“You’re too small,” you tell him, grinning. It’s what Payback - Payback with the freakishly long arms and legs, Payback who can bend like Gumby, Payback who looks like one of those inflatable things they put out in front of used car dealerships as soon as a stiff breeze blows - started after these two first met, what you’ve kept going like a game you can’t stop playing.

“Actually,” Mickey’s saying, and he’s so close you don’t really need to hear his words, can almost taste them off his lips. His eyes are real sparkly. “The shorter the pilot, the higher his G-tolerance.”

You snort with laughter like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard, but then your eyes trail to his mouth, and something inside of you tightens, shifts, stutters. Your head is fogging up. 

“I bet Mav told you that,” you say, but your voice is too wobbly for the words to really have any impact. “Short king agenda and all that.”

Mickey makes a sound like a giggle, and you’re about to start twirling your hair or something if this asshole keeps going like this. He leans even closer, and you try to move back (why the fuck am I moving back? some part of you asks. Wrong direction, bitch, reverse, shit reverse, what the fuck?), but something solid behind you lets you know you’re already standing with your back to the wall. With Mickey caging you in, his hands inches from your hips, his fingertips tracing across the fabric of your shirt.

“Shut up,” Mickey’s saying, now so close (so fucking close, oh god, where’s the eject handle?) you can feel his breath ghosting over your mouth, smell the lime and the cilantro from the Tacos you shared earlier. 

It’s a madness, it’s a fever, it’s a yearning you’ve been carrying so long it has become a part of you come to life, come to light, and you’re exhaling, you’re leaning in, you’re saying, “Make me.”

And Mickey (Mickey your best friend, Mickey the love of your life, Mickey the guy who says how high when you say jump), does as he always does: He does as you say.

And then the lines aren’t just blurred anymore. You’re pouring water all over them and watch as they fade into nothing, watercolors dripping off the page in steady, sticky streams.

So yeah, maybe you don’t know shit about life, but you do know this: Mickey Garcia is your best friend.

Only, apparently (and now this part you didn’t know), he might also be something more.

[destinyc1020]

don winslow (the author of, city on fire) has been liking and retweeting many things about austin doing heat 2, assuming that he knows and is close enough to austin to some extent??? don is also close friends with the co writer of heat 2 meg gardiner and she just retweeted an article about it... on top of that the people he's training with taran tactical and tetiana gaidar are responding to and liking comments under their post mentioning if he's in heat 2. they are also posting clips of val kilmer, and liking fandom posts comparing the two??? and with the "world of reel" jumping on the rumors (though i wouldn't trust the LOL) it seems like someone knows at least something... austin on two occasions recently when asked about it directly said his lips were sealed, that's not the response of someone who isn't a part of it... he said in a recent print interview he has a few things on the go that aren't announced yet, this could be one of them and his team may just be soft launching it??

unrelated, assuming the video was recent to the past few days i love that josh, dave, anya, and cara delevingne went there to support him through training that's just a very sweet thing for them to do (they also had their own fun LMAO). i assumed austin was close to cara, dave, and obviously josh but despite anya's short appearance in the film it seems like the two of them became great friends.

Well okay Anon! You're spilling some tea in here. 😏 I'm impressed. Given all of the info you've supplied, yea.... it DOES seem more and more likely that Austin is being looked at for the role in "Heat 2". He's obviously not going to confirm anything too soon until it's 100% though.

unrelated, assuming the video was recent to the past few days i love that josh, dave, anya, and cara delevingne went there to support him through training that's just a very sweet thing for them to do (they also had their own fun LMAO). i assumed austin was close to cara, dave, and obviously josh but despite anya's short appearance in the film it seems like the two of them became great friends.

Hmmm.... I don't think it was the same day Anon. 🤔 The shooting video that Austin did was taken last year. You can tell cuz he's slimmer, and his hair is blonder.

I know Cara and Anya went to the same shooting place (probably for Anya's prep for Furiosa), but it wasn't the same day Austin went. I know Cara and Anya are close (she attended Anya's wedding), so they may have gone together. I don't think Dave and Josh were there either. Josh commented underneath the company's Austin video and Josh seemed shocked lol. 😅

One thing that I do know though is that this shooting range place is definitely a place where a lot of actors go to train for upcoming roles. I've seen video footage of Keanu and Halle there together (probably prepping for John Wick), Anya and Cara (of course), and now Austin. So I def think he's prepping for SOMETHING.

[back-and-totheleft]

Spotlight On: Persona Non Grata (2003)

"I think right now the problem is rather emotional, rather than territorial. Rather psychological than logical. Two angry people that cannot hear each other any more. The Middle East is full of tongues and short of ears." 

-Shimon Peres, Prime Minister of Israel, Persona Non Grata (2003)

In 2003, Oliver Stone directed an HBO documentary on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict during the Second Intifada. The film follows Stone's interviews with Israeli prime ministers past and present Benjamin Netanyahu, Shimon Peres and Ehud Barak. Also interviewed are Hasan Yosef of Hamas, the (masked and anonymous) leader of the al-Aqsa Martyrs' Brigade and random citizens of both sides. There's also a Michael Moore-esque subplot about the quest to secure an interview with Palestinian president Yasser Arafat, which results in only a brief superficial meeting.

Stone's film crew arrived in Jerusalem on March 23, 2003 but spent a significant chunk of time filming in Ramallah, West Bank until Israel launched surprise attacks against the city. We watch onscreen as the shocked crew views live news coverage and a political liaison reports to Stone that Israel does not care about the safety of the crew or famous American director and will not grant safe passage. Cameras document the production unit finally fleeing through the Qalandia checkpoint, thanks to a last-minute intervention and escort from the Canadian embassy. (The U.S. "didn't do shit" for them, Stone summed up later.)

Typical of the severe cinéma vérité style of Stone's early documentaries, Persona Non Grata plunges viewers into the conflict immediately with little history or context. At this time, Stone did not make his nonfiction for beginners. There is little text onscreen, mainly just identifying the interviewees by name. Subjects are allowed to speak at length without interruption and the conversations are rarely edited into soundbites. The constellation of crew and cameras which surround Stone and his subjects are always visible. The film doesn't take obvious sides, though at points it's clear that Stone - a former soldier of the empire who fought against a guerrilla insurgency - is more comfortable with the guerilla Palestinian fighters than the pious Israeli politicians in suits.

Oliver Stone's own Jewishness is never mentioned in the documentary, though it's interesting and somewhat fraught. According to his memoir Chasing the Light, Oliver's paternal family was full of learned rabbis (originally from Poland) who disliked leaving their enclave in New York's Upper West Side. Oliver's grandfather, Joshua Silverstein, was the wealthy owner of New York's Star Skirt Company until he sold it and invested the proceeds in the stock market shortly before the October 1929 crash. The family fortune was destroyed. Still reeling from that disaster, Oliver's father, Abraham Silverstein, was then so deeply scarred by the rampant antisemitism of the 1930's that he changed his name to the more "American" Louis Stone. According to Oliver, his father was repulsed whenever he encountered the Orthodox Jewish community in New York, believing they made themselves open targets, and he frequently told his son to hide his Jewishness identity because "the pogroms will come back" and "they" were waiting to take little Jewish children like him. 

In that environment, young Oliver was never given an education in Judaisum and, in the early 1990s, he became the devout Buddhist he remains today. That was also the decade when Stone met and became business partners with Arnon Milchan, the former Israeli spy turned film producer. Milchan brought Stone on his first trip to Israel and Stone would visit the country a few more times, most recently last summer to receive a lifetime achievement award from the Jerusalem Film Festival. Milchan's ardent Zionism did not rub off on Stone, who's gotten in hot water over the years for openly criticizing Israel's foreign policy, specifically AIPAC. 

So what is Persona Non Grata? I think it's a weary reflection of its director's ongoing struggle with conflict and violence. As a two time Purple Heart recipient and Army combat veteran, Oliver Stone has devoted most of his career to grappling with himself as both a victim and perpetrator of violence. Nearly being killed - and becoming a killer - in the service of what he later discovered was a racist, colonial war in Vietnam remains his primal wound. (It's also likely why he's so nonplussed about being in a war zone surrounded by tanks and snipers.)

The film's title (Latin for "unwelcome person") is a deliberate choice. Is it referencing Stone himself and his attempts to interview Arafat, or to Arafat, or to the Palestinians, or to the Israeli leadership? Maybe all of them. Of course there's no real ending to the documentary, because how could there be. Old soldier Oliver Stone wanted to observe this never-ending conflict and so he came, he saw, and he sighed in resignation. 

Watch Persona Non Grata (2003) here.

[sachinkumar1997]

RRR at Oscars 2023: Why India's Naatu Naatu song wowed the jury

A track from Telugu blockbuster RRR, short for Rise Thunder Revolt, Naatu was the main Indian film melody to be selected for an Oscar.

Its artists likewise performed at the Foundation Grants, which are being broadcasted in India on Monday morning.

The tune turned into a worldwide sensation - moving perpetual Instagram reels and dance patterns via web-based entertainment - after the film's delivery in US last year, where its fast rhythm and synchronized movement were a moment hit with the crowds.

Created by MM Keeravani with verses wrote by Chandrabose, Naatu previously left a mark on the world once in January when it won the Brilliant Globe for best unique tune, overcoming competitors like Rihanna, Taylor Quick and Woman Crazy. That very month, the melody additionally won the Pundits Decision grant for the best tune.

"It's not a result of the music or the dance - the whole story of RRR can be summed up inside these 10 minutes of Naatu," the movie's chief, SS Rajamouli, told Vanity Fair.

A verifiable dream, highlighting hotshots Slam Charan and Jr NTR in lead jobs, RRR recounts the imaginary story of two progressives who battle contrary to English rule in India.

Rajamouli says he imagined Naatu as a "battle scene" in which two political dissidents push an English official to the brink of collapse - through dance.

"The melody is a story inside the bigger story of the film," the producer said.

Back in 2020, when RRR was still under creation, all Rajamouli told Keeravani was that he wanted a tune that would feature the moving ability of his legends.

Keeravani then, at that point, went to his number one lyricist Chandrabose and said: "Compose anything you like. In any case, this story happens during the 1920s, so use words proper to the time."

With no song or tune to work with, Chandrabose previously concocted the snare line of "Naatu" and that signifies "Dance, Dance" in Telugu.

He let BBC Telugu know that he composed an uptempo tune with a quick beat, which he realized Keeravani leaned toward. The beat is generally utilized in society tunes of the two Telugu-talking provinces of India - Andhra Pradesh and Telangana.

Attracting motivation from his experience growing up Telangana, Chandrabose incorporated a few folksy references - like eating bean stew with jowar roti (red sorghum bread) - in the tune.

Most of the melody was finished in two days, Chandrabose said. Yet, it required 19 months for the leftover piece to meet up.

Rajamouli and Keeravani credit a lot of Naatu's prosperity to the melody's choreographer, Prem Rakshit, who made around 95 dance ventures for the track.

"Every one of them [the actors] have their own style," Rajamouli said in a prior interview. "So he needed to find something that fit the two of them."

Rakshit said he made 30 forms of the mark step in which NTR Jr and Smash Charan hit the dance floor with their arms around one another. The wonderful arrangement must be additionally made do after Charan asked the chief "in the event that they could follow through with something" with the ensemble.

The melody comes full circle in a long distance race dance-off as every one of the artists kick up a tempest, gradually imploding individually in depletion until just the legends stay standing.

Slam Charan and NTR Jr then go to take on one another and a dance rivalry between the two legends follows. Rajamouli said he attempted to set out the film's subjects of fellowship, contention and fortitude through the grouping.

Also, the rest is history.

Since the film's delivery last year, fans have been attempting to duplicate the unpredictable foot turns and infectious dance moves. At film screenings in Los Angeles, crowds were much of the time seen racing to the stage to move when the tune played.

Despite the fact that the track was shot before the Mariinskyi Castle, a beautiful ocean blue design in Ukraine, Rajamouli said his point was to reproduce the environment of an Indian town. In past meetings, the chief has admitted that individuals referred to him as "insane" for shooting in a country very nearly war.

The group shot the tune north of 15 days, working 12 hours every day with 150 artists and a team of 200 individuals.

Rakshit said that each time he approved a take, Rajamouli would request "one more" shot.

"He went outline by casing to ensure we were in a state of harmony," Charan said in a meeting.

[moral-terpitude]

The Dead Rabbit - Part VII

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he woke up later than the sun. The comfort and warmth of the bed had only been accentuated by her presence, and it was the first time in as long as he could remember that his mind was quiet as he slept.

He took a deep breath, and her hair smelled warm and perfumed. She shifted in his arms, but didn’t awaken fully. The sun barely shone through the curtains. This moment, he decided, was a wonderful one that he could live in for the rest of his life.

Moving as minimally as possible he drew back from her just enough to look past the black text, "light, light, if only to die in" inked against her spine, to observe the birth mark on her left shoulder. Most people probably wouldn’t pay attention to it, but for Tommy it ignited a deeply hidden event he sought to suppress, nothing short of chaos.

His stomach turned as the image of blood pooling on the marble floor flashed in front of his eyes. Flicking like a broken film reel the repressed memory took over his vision. The smells infiltrated his senses, cigarette smoke and perfume in the air. The stale copper smell of the red liquid that tainted her clothes, skin, and short blonde curls filled his nose. The taste and sensation of her lips on his.

“Someone call a fucking ambulance!” He bellowed as he knelt in the pool of blood that was quickly consuming his wife. He had pulled himself from beneath her body, hovering over her as her breaths became more shallow. He didn’t think in a moment like this he should have to speak twice, but help wasn’t coming quick enough for his liking.

His brother swung the crystal bowl into the assassins head with a dull thud.

“Grace!” He pleaded as the world around him faded out, “Grace, no, please. Please, stay, please. Please don’t leave me.”

Thud.

Her arm still rested against his. His lips still felt the kiss she had given him moments before. Her cheeks still flush. He pressed his hands against her chest, trying in any way to compress the wound. His head wasn’t on straight. He had been to war and survived digging tunnels to plant explosives but he couldn’t stop his wife from bleeding?

Thud.

“Please, love,” his begging fell on deaf ears as he stroked her cheek, pressing his forehead to hers. Her eyes no longer looked at him as he hovered over her. He felt soaked to the bone in her blood. His words were choked and twisted with sickening sounds that escaped him, “please, please, please, don’t leave me and Charlie.” He whispered as he folded himself against her to kiss her forehead once more.

Thud.

Tommy let out a sigh, pushing the vision as deep down as he could manage. Charlotte had rolled on her stomach, eyes closed and facing him. The only major differences in the two women were their liveliness and the shape of their brow. The cut of their hair. Maybe the shape of the ear. Things that were minute enough to let him believe that the woman that lay before him was her spitting image. Just as beautiful if not more.

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving the bed as silently as he could, dressing in the previous nights clothes. He left the three buttons of the black shirt undone and left the door cracked behind him to avoid waking her.

He traversed the stairs down to the kitchen and put the small Moka pot on the stove. The sun was bright and the silence and promise of a new day was welcomed. He went back up the stairs and out one of the front doors to have a cigarette. The air was cold but the balance that the sun offered was comfortable.

Charlotte stirred but didn’t awake fully. She had found herself having strange dreams off and on all night. One minute she was in an old pub. The next she was at a horse race. She held a small blonde boy and fed horses, putting gold fish in the water troughs. None of it was bad but it all felt so real. Tangible. Like she could reach out and touch any of her surroundings and find them to be concrete rather than the floating particles of a dream. She longed to drift back off to sleep to see it all again.

She flitted in and out of sleep before a new scene started in front of her. She could see Tommy this time. He wasn’t near her but they were at some kind of event. It felt important, she could tell. All the men were in tuexedos and the women wore nice dresses. It seemed that none of the people had faces. If they did she couldn’t place them as anyone she knew. She felt something heavy on her chest and glanced down to see a large sapphire around her neck as the people moved and flowed around her. Chatter and meaningless words.

“Does your wife know that the sapphire she is wearing has been cursed by a Gypsy?” The woman’s Russian accent cut through the fog and the chaos of people as she spoke to Tommy. Time was slow. Tommy was a room away from her as he listened to the Russian woman’s words, but Charlotte could hear all of it clear as day.

“What did you say?” Tommy asked the woman as the people began to dissipate around them, as if evaporating into thin air. Charlotte could see every detail of him, down to a scratch that had turned into a scar on his face, but no matter how she tried to walk or move or push to get to him, she found her feet glued firmly to the floor.

“Nothing on Earth would make me wear it.” The Russian girl laughed, her red lips contorting into a smile.

Charlotte sat straight up in bed as the gunshot echoed through her ears. Her chest hurt. In the same spot that her birthmark was. It felt like someone had used her blood to quench a piece of white hot metal fresh out of a forge. She was drenched in sweat.

She shook with adrenaline as she retrieved her robe and made her way to the shower, hoping to scrub the weirdness of the dream from herself before getting on with the day. She pulled her hair back to not get it wet and stepped into the scalding hot water.

Tommy was surprised to find a fully dressed Charlotte when he returned upstairs with coffee. She wore a dark lavender blouse and grey printed pants with a cable knit sweater.

She let out a contented sigh as he handed her the mug. Neither of them spoke. Not from awkwardness but much the opposite, comforted by a sense of ease. Charlotte perched herself on the settee in the corner of the room as she took a long sip from the mug, eyes closed.

“Have they arrived with the feed for the horses yet?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Which means that the road must be clear. Where would you like to go today?”

She shrugged as he looked through the wardrobe for a change of clothes. “I’m not particular. Just famished.”

He felt rather content with knowing that he was the reason why. “Well if you can survive to Beacon I know I good spot for breakfast. There may not be much open in town but I suppose we’ll find out.”

Charlotte nodded as he changed into an outfit similar to the day before, the navy sweater replaced with a grey one, and the denim a slightly darker wash.

She donned her coat and short heeled boots as they left the house, surprised that the silver Bentley Bentayga was already running in the driveway. She chastised herself in her head, remembering that things like automatic start exist and hoping the coffee she had downed would kick in soon.

The interior of the car was drastic, cream and black accents adorned it throughout and Charlotte was thrilled that the seat was heated. The morning was frigid and she found comfort in sun blazing in the sky.

The car rode as if there was not a single blemish in the road. Charlotte stared out the window as she still tried to process her dreams from the morning.

As Tommy turned his head to turn the corner, she looked to see if she could see a scar on his cheek, but there was nothing. She supposed it could be the angle or the light, but in her dream it had been so distinct that she imagined it couldn’t be something she was making up.

“Are you alright? You haven’t said a word the whole way here.” Tommy’s voice broke her train of thought, which at this point had begun to derail regardless, as she noted the car was parked.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I’m just still waking up I suppose.” She smiled but he could tell it was somewhat forced.

She sipped quietly at her cup of coffee as she waited patiently for her French toast and bacon.

Seeing her own reflection in the restaurant window brought her dream back up to the top of her thoughts as she looked at the fish in the water trough with the little boy in her lap. She could see their faces in her minds eye easily now. Charlotte knew it was her own face but who was the child?

She rubbed her eye as she sat the mug down. “Does putting gold fish in a water trough mean anything to you?”

Tommy shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t do this now. Couldn’t explain the whole story right here in public. He knew the exact occurrence she was speaking of, a fond memory of a normal day. “Used to be done to keep the horses from getting sick, but now, some people still do it. There’s nothing that’s proved it works.” He took a sip of his water, “Why?”

Charlotte shook her head, “Had a dream about it last night but never had heard of it before.”

She didn’t want to go into detail and have him think she was crazy, oh you and I had a child in my dream last night and that’s what we were doing while we fed the horses.

“We don’t have to,” he spoke as the waitress brought their food and told her a quiet thank you, “but, there’s a glass blowing workshop down the road at the art gallery. It’s to make a Christmas ornament. Like I said we don’t—“

“Let’s do it.” Charlotte agreed with a smile, this one he could tell was genuine.

He knew in that moment that making her happy, even in the simplest way, would be the key to keeping himself happy and sane.

[byneddiedingo]

Gloria Swanson and Lionel Barrymore in Sadie Thompson (Raoul Walsh, 1928)

Cast: Gloria Swanson, Lionel Barrymore, Blanche Friderici, Charles Lane, Florence Midgley, James A. Marcus, Sofia Ortega, Will Stanton, Raoul Walsh. Screenplay: Raoul Walsh; titles: C. Gardner Sullivan; based on a story by W. Somerset Maugham and a play by John Colton and Clemence Randolph. Cinematography: George Barnes, Robert Kurrie, Oliver T. Marsh. Art direction: William Cameron Menzies. Film editing: C. Gardner Sullivan.

It's sad that most people know Gloria Swanson only as the gorgon Norma Desmond in Sunset Blvd. (Billy Wilder, 1957). Or that Swanson's deft parody of silent movie acting in that film constitutes many people's impression of what it was like. The survival of Sadie Thompson, even though it's missing its last reel, which the restorers piece out with old stills and title cards, shows what a formidable force Swanson could be on screen, generating enough heat that it's surprising she didn't ignite the nitrate film stock. The story is the familiar one of the San Francisco prostitute who comes to Pago Pago, where she clashes with a bluenose reformer who threatens to return her to San Francisco and the hands of the police. The reformer is Alfred Davidson (Lionel Barrymore in full ham), who was a clergyman in Somerset Maugham's short story, "Miss Thompson," and the play, Rain, that was based on it, but becomes a layman here to please the Hays Office. Fortunately, Sadie has the support of a sturdy young Marine sergeant, Timothy O'Hara, played by director Raoul Walsh, who before turning director full-time had been an actor in the early days of silents; he played John Wilkes Booth in The Birth of a Nation (D.W. Griffith, 1915). This brief return to acting was a one-shot: Walsh was planning to direct himself again in In Old Arizona (Irving Cummings, 1928), but lost his right eye in a freak auto accident while on location preparing to shoot the film; Warner Baxter took over the role and won an Oscar for it. Swanson was nominated for an Oscar for Sadie Thompson, as was cinematographer George Barnes, whose nomination included his work on two other films: The Devil Dancer (Fred Niblo, 1927) and The Magic Flame (Henry King, 1927). In fact, Barnes did only a week's worth of filming on Sadie Thompson before Samuel Goldwyn insisted he fulfill a contractual obligation to him; he was replaced by Robert Kurrle and Oliver T. Marsh.

[merrybrides]

8 Cute Ways to Announce Your Engagement on Instagram

1. Post a (Personal) Photo of Your Ring

This is an iconic route to take, especially if you regularly share your favorite things on Instagram. Take a selfie with your future spouse, and put your ring front and center. Want to personalize your approach? Consider putting your hand up in the sky or next to a significant building or tree, walk hand-in-hand with your partner, or even put two hands on your passports (if you got engaged on vacation).

2. Share the Moment in Stories

If your fiancé went the extra mile and asked a friend or professional to capture the "Will you marry me?" moment, share it! Give your followers an inside look at your special someone on bended knee—or that first kiss as spouses-to-be. This is great material to put on Instagram Stories if you'd prefer to dedicate an in-feed image to your new favorite accessory. Consider posting a few slides that showcase the emotion of the moment (especially if you went from neutral to shocked when you saw that knee drop!).

3. Make a Reel

Shout out the news to your followers with a quick video clip or get creative with an Instagram Reel—you'll have up to 90 seconds to fill your miniature movie with images and videos from the moments before, during, and after the proposal. This is currently a common trend: Brides-to-be are capturing the day leading up to the big moment to tell a more detailed story. (Loved ones handle filming the proposal and any meaningful moments after.) Of course, this method only works if you get a sense that something epic is coming.

Want to keep this special day private, but still want to go the video route? Shoot a short clip of you two saying, "We're engaged!" Not only will it shine on social, but it'll be fun to look back on years from now.

4. Hide It in a Hashtag

Are you hoping to be more subtle? Make your followers work to find out the big news. You can share a couple shot, but anything that makes you smile and exudes love works, too. Use the hashtag #WereEngaged or #SheSaidYes. It's also popular to use a couple's full name in the hashtag with "love story" at the end. This way, the hashtag can be used up until your wedding day.

5. Involve Your Pup

Your pet is part of your family, so let him share the news. Tie the ring around his neck or put a cute sign next to him that says, "My parents are getting married" or "Future ring bearer." There are other playful ways to include your canine, too: "It's a good idea to make a collar tag with the engagement date or take a picture of the ring hand, groom, and pup paw.

6. Show Off Your Future Last Name

If you're planning to change your name, let that be your announcement. Snap a selfie holding a sign that says "The Future Mrs. James" (or whatever your respective married name will be). Another option? Take a great selfie and use the hashtag #TheFutureMrsJames.

7. Spotlight Your Partner

You said yes to the person you love most in the world—why not make him or her the focal point of your announcement? Whether its a sweet photo of your future husband or wife down on one knee, the very first image you took of her, or a dapper shot of him in a tux at someone else's wedding, post your favorite image of your favorite person and caption it with the big news.

8. Make a Wedding-Specific Account

Another new trend on Instagram? Make a separate account specifically for your wedding journey. Some couples are making Instagram accounts where they post pictures from the proposal, engagement party, and for their wedding preparations. It's a great way to keep everything in one place. These are typically joint accounts shared between the couple, so both partners can post exciting news and updates on it.

[good-realtor-bad-realtor-dynamic]

I finally caught up with Succession over the course of this week. In fact, I literally finished S3E9 a few hours ago and I'm still completely thunderstruck.

I actually started season one a few weeks ago but struggled getting past the first few episodes. I reckon it took the writers a few episodes to settle on the tone of the show, to hone in on the correct balance between comedy and drama, and to identify the strengths of their cast so they could write them into the characters.

Once I made it to S1E6 though, I was hooked, and by season two, I was laughing, sobbing, seething and getting my heart broken, all in equal measure, because somehow showrunner Jesse Armstrong had managed to elevate the stories, the dialogue and the characters, and somehow Jeremy Strong had found new and interesting ways to complicate his portrayal of Ken, the only financebro sonofabillionaire loser on tv to have ever broken me, before his brother Rome joined the club, by reaching heretofore undiscovered depths in Pathetic Failure acting...

I was so ready for season three to fall short of the standards set by its predecessor, but it didn't. It may have been slow going in the middle for a bit there, but by the end, all I can think is what a ride. I don't know how it matched them, perhaps even exceeded them, but it did. At the beginning of this season, "Relevant Donuts" planted the idea that what we really want is to see the siblings together on the same side, taking down their father. So when the season finale finally pays that off, and we start to feel hopeful even a little proud of our trio for overcoming their father's machinations, only to have the rug pulled out from under us all in that Godfather betrayal — I'm still reeling. It was not shocking that Tom would do that, given everything he'd been put through, but I'm still shocked. And that is some brilliant writing.

I fully understand now why Charlie and Glenn were so in awe of Matthew Macfadyen's acting range and his seemless transitions from the most ridiculous comedy to most affecting drama (in a conversation from one of those early video episodes of the Sunny podcast). I've only known him from his fantastic performance as Mr Darcy in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film, and Tom Wambsgans couldn't be further away from that role.

I have so many thoughts about how charming yet sneaky and two-faced Greg the Egg was all along, how that social climbing nature was developed, and how fascinating his dynamic with Tom is, especially as a parallel to the Tom/Shiv marriage. I despise everything that people like Shiv and Roman stand for and yet I can't help feeling so sorry for them as they stand before their father, looking for his love and approval, only to be ruthlessly dismissed, used and humiliated. I don't remember the last time I hated a character more than I do Logan Roy for his manipulative behaviour and the cruel ways he makes his children compete for his affection while claiming to act from a place of paternal benevolence. I can't say enough about Kendall, Siobhan, Roman, Tom, Greg, Logan, Gerri, Frank, Marcia, Hugo and just the whole bloody cast of characters and actors on this show.

As always, the "Jesse Armstrong and Armando Iannucci Uncomfortable Satirical Comedy Universe" of shows and films about fucked-up people, usually in positions of power, does not miss. I'm going to try not to be very annoying about this on my Sunny blog, but hey, it's my blog, so I might actually, at least in the near future since season four is nearly upon us. But I'm also a lazy bastard who hates hitting Post on their drafts. So who knows.

Anyway, I'm likely going to be the obnoxious friend who quotes this show like I do with Sunny and The Sopranos with my mates all the time now. It's already begun irl and I don't think I'll be able to stop anytime soon.

Excuse me while I go down a rabbit-hole of videos featuring the writers and cast of this show now. Maybe Jesse Armstrong will somewhere explain his brain to me.

[knightfeared]

@chosenbythecrystal​​​​​  |   NOCTIS LUCIS CAELUM    ━━（ Cont. From 🗂🪞）

                                  NOTHING SHORT OF A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.

Nothing felt real  -  instead like some kind of botched horror movie attempt. Or maybe he'd finally lost it after years of grief, all the shit he'd seen working in the city as he had.

But no. The aches he felt were very much real, the pain that flared when he pushed himself just a bit too hard  -  not something he could pass off. The panicked beat of his heart, the taste of iron on his tongue for having to run for his fucking life  -  they were clear indicators this wasn't a bad dream he could just magically wake up from. Images of Connelly flicker through his mind like a grainy film reel  -  the sight of his face torn up  &  covered in blood as he hunched eating another man's skull...

What the fuck was going on. What the fuck happened after Beacon?

Managing to gather his bearings rather quickly, a perk of being as seasoned as he'd been with years of trauma  &  experience under his belt, Sebastian decided the best priority was finding a way out of this hell hole, back to some form of civilization to get a better read on what the hell was going on. Hopefully, he'd find the others on the way. They couldn't have gone far from the crash site  -  he just hopes they're alright.

Joseph, he knows will be fine. The man was a fine detective  -  having acted as his partner for nearly 9 years by now, he could handle whatever was tossed his way. Kidman was capable, she'd be fine so long as she made sure to stay sharp. But... the newbie. Caelum.

Sebastian grits his teeth, hoping the kid was fine in the aftermath. Too young to be in this line of work, but his determination was pretty clear despite his few months of work so far. He had a gun though  &  he knew how to use it  -  so long as the detective believed that, he knows the other should be fine if there wasn't a lot of hostiles to dispatch.

.... Speak of the devil. Hearing a commotion not far from where he'd been, his instincts scream at him to investigate, but his gut feeling says to stay out of it. Being unable to ignore it once he hears the sound of gunfire  -  his brain snaps into action, body moving towards the sounds with a heartbeat of thunder aided in a quick shot of adrenaline. Coming to a skidding halt once he manages to get in close enough, he's surprised to see Noct standing just a few paces away  -  firing frantically at a few of the aggressive locals as they approached. At the tell-tale, foreboding sound of an empty chamber, kid continues pulling the trigger, frozen in place with wide eyes.

Lurching forwards, a steady mantra in his mind plays, one cursing  'shit shit shit shit'  as he gets in close, mouth opening as he calls out to the junior detective still frustratingly rooted in place.

                                                  ❝   — ARE YOU INSANE?! RUN! ❞

Seems to do the trick, effective in killing two birds with one stone as the majority of the horde turns to focus on him, kid snapping out of his haze  &  thankfully fucking obeying before he ended up as another corpse in the fray. That in mind, Sebastian moves, running like his own life depended on it, leading the worst of the horde away in the opposite direction, meandering through maze-like houses  &  weaving through windows, quick to shatter glass as he did his best to keep their attention.

It's hell, but he manages. The last of them falling to the ground with a sickening, wet   thud  as he heaves out heavy lungful’s of breath, chest rising  &  falling at the exertion as he stumbles. His hold is tight around the handle of the axe clutched between blood  &  sweat coated fingers, but he doesn't dare drop it, even despite the tremble lacing his actions.

Last of them.

Fuck...

Sweat beading along his brow, he moves to swipe it away with the back of his free hand, still sucking in deepened breaths of air as he turns  &  tries to get a read on just where he is, on where he saw the other detective run to last, but he's still coming down from his haze, a low curse muttered to empty air.

.