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allithebookgiraffe · 4 months
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dailyflicks · 4 months
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Knives Out 2019 | dir. Rian Johnson
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filmgifs · 2 years
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Some of the cameos in GLASS ONION (2022)
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splatland · 1 year
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BOOK REVIEW: BECOMING THE BOOGEYMAN by Richard Chizmar
Let me start by saying that I have been a fan of Richard Chizmar since I read his collection of shorts, A Long December, a few years ago. So, when I got the chance to get my hands on an advanced reader copy of Becoming the Boogeyman, I jumped at it. I hadn’t read the previous book in the series, Chasing the Boogeyman, so, at first, I had to play catch-up. But author Chizmar generously gave enough…
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owenthomasfiction · 2 years
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What happens when you combine a book launch promotion with the holiday season? A 2-for-1 paperback sale you will not want to miss. 
Get “Message in a Bullet” for FREE when you purchase “The Russian Doll”. This is a great way to get up to speed on the first two books in this mystery series as I square myself to the task of writing book #3. 
This deal is only available for the next two weeks and only here: https://bit.ly/3uXFqFj
Order today! 
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Another Ending - 1 | Bucky Barnes
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Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.
Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance.
Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , -
Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻
Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️
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The weight of the assassin's body presses down on you, pinning you to the ground as his sword hovers dangerously close to your throat. Every muscle in your arms strains as you hold your gun up, barely keeping the blade away from your neck.
The cold metal of the sword gleams under the dim light, a stark reminder of how close you are to death. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, are unreadable, but you can feel the murderous intent radiating from him.
Sweat drips down your forehead, mixing with the dirt and blood on your face as you grit your teeth. With every ounce of strength, you manage to growl, "You're dead to me."
For a split second, you see it—hesitation. The assassin’s grip falters, his focus wavering. That’s all you need. With a desperate shove, you push him off, the sword sliding away from your neck as you scramble to your feet. Your heart pounds in your chest as adrenaline takes over, and you start running, not daring to look back.
The echoes of your past, the regrets, and the pain are left behind as you sprint away. You know that you’ve bought yourself only a few precious seconds, but at this moment, it’s enough. You leave the assassin behind, along with everything that once bound you.
🥀🥀🥀🥀
The lodge is warm and inviting, nestled comfortably by the edge of a tranquil lake. Large windows allow sunlight to pour in, casting a golden glow across the rustic wooden floors. The living room is cozy, with a soft, earth-toned sofa positioned near a stone fireplace. You push the sofa slightly, adjusting its angle to better face the window, where the view of the lake creates a peaceful backdrop.
As you finish, the sound of the doorbell rings through the house. You straighten up, smoothing a hand over your clothes before heading to the door. When you open it, a smile crosses your face.
Standing there is Lori Grant, your niece. She’s dressed in a green shirt and black pants, her short hair with bangs framing her face beneath thick glasses. A pink backpack is slung over one shoulder, and she’s dragging a suitcase that looks far too big for her small frame.
“Hello, Aunty,” Lori greets you, her voice bright with excitement.
“Where’s your mom?” you ask, glancing past her.
“She just left,” Lori replies, stepping inside and immediately struggling with the weight of her suitcase. She lets out a frustrated “Ugh” as it catches on the doorstep.
You can’t help but chuckle softly. “Let me help you with that.” Gripping the handle, you lift the suitcase easily, though you wonder why a 13-year-old needs so much luggage.
As you bring the suitcase inside, you ask, “Are you hungry? I bought some tofu for you.” Your older sister’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of the strict health-conscious diet she keeps Lori on. She’s made a name for herself online with her healthy recipes, and now she’s on a book tour promoting her new cookbook.
Lori looks up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and hope. “Aunty, I’m so excited to be here. I can finally get away from the food my mom makes.”
You laugh, a warm, understanding sound. “Oh, thank goodness. How about fried chicken or lasagna?”
Lori’s face lights up, her hands clasping together as if in prayer. “Why not both?” Her eyes shimmer with anticipation, almost teary at the thought of indulging in something she’s missed.
“Yes!” you reply with a grin, already planning the feast.
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The two of you cook together, filling the kitchen with the mouthwatering aroma of fried chicken and lasagna. The sizzle of the food and the warmth of the stove creates a cozy atmosphere, and before long, you’re both sitting at the table, enjoying the meal.
Lori, barely looking up from her book, eats with a hearty appetite, tearing into the fried chicken and savoring the lasagna.
You glance at her, amused by how engrossed she is in her book. It’s refreshing to see someone her age so absorbed in reading rather than staring at a screen. She’s been glued to that book ever since she arrived.
“Is it a good book?” you ask, taking a sip of your water.
“Yes. The best,” she replies without lifting her eyes from the pages.
You smile and ask, “What’s the book about?”
At that, Lori snaps the novel shut and looks at you with excitement blazing in her eyes, as if she’s been waiting for this moment. “Oh, Aunty, this is the best book! It’s full of adrenaline, mystery, and romance.”
You raise your eyebrows and nod slowly, recognizing the same spark in her that your older sister often has. “Let me guess, a royal romance?”
Lori shakes her head enthusiastically. “No. It’s set in modern day. It’s an enemies-to-lovers story where both are spies from different sides. They have to decide between love and their duty.”
You nod again, your expression thoughtful. “That’s impossible in the real world.”
Lori huffs, rolling her eyes playfully. “That’s why it’s fantasy, Aunty. Geez, you sound just like my mom.” She returns to her book, burying herself in the story again.
You chuckle softly, setting your glass down as you gather your plate and stand up. “Well, usually betrayal happens in those stories.”
Lori looks up, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “That’s right! There’s a part where the male character betrays the female character.”
Your hand slips, the plate clattering into the sink, but thankfully it doesn’t break.
“Aunty, are you okay?” Lori asks, concern in her voice.
“I’m fine. My hand just slipped,” you say, brushing it off with a smile.
Lori gets up, carrying her plate to the sink. “I’m already done. I’ll help you with the dishes.”
“Thank you,” you reply, appreciating her help.
As you both wash the dishes, you ask her about life at school. Lori tells you all about her friends, her classes, and the things that make her happy.
“Do you have a crush at school?” you ask, a teasing note in your voice.
Lori hesitates, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Well… there is one boy. His hair and smile remind me of the male character from the spy book.”
You nearly drop the spatula but manage to catch it just in time. What’s gotten into you today?
“What about you, Aunty?” Lori asks, her tone curious.
“Me?” you respond, a bit caught off guard.
“While living in this lodge, have you ever met a farmer with a six-pack, a cute café owner, or a cool police officer?” Lori asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
You gasp, her question catching you by surprise. “Your mom mentioned you’ve become quite the chatterbox.”
“Aunty, your life is a dream. You have it all—except a boyfriend,” Lori says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t fully understand what you do for a living, but she knows from her mom and grandparents that you’ve traveled the world and are now enjoying the fruits of your hard work.
You place your hands on your hips, eyeing her with a mock sternness. “How long have you been staying with Grandma?”
“Three weeks,” Lori answers, wiping a plate dry with a clean cloth.
“That explains it,” you say with a chuckle, ruffling her hair playfully. Your mother has a habit of prying into your love life, and you’ve overheard her sighing over the phone, saying, ‘I’m afraid she’ll die single.’
“But seriously, Aunty, why are you still single?” Lori asks, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity.
You look at her, a sigh escaping your lips. “When you’re older, you’ll understand that life is complicated. There’s no guarantee of a happy ending.”
“Seems like you don’t believe in romance anymore,” she says, her voice soft but probing.
“Lori…” you begin, but her words strike a chord in you. Kids have a way of getting straight to your feelings. You head to the living room, trying to shake off the conversation and turn on the TV. With a sigh, you throw yourself onto the couch.
Lori follows you, still determined to rekindle your belief in romance. But then, something catches her eye. “Aunty, what’s on the second floor?”
“Just a storage room. Full of dust and spiders,” you reply, waving a hand dismissively.
“Can I go up there?” she asks, her enthusiasm barely contained.
“Go ahead,” you say, smiling at her eagerness.
As soon as the words leave your mouth, you hear her running feet thudding up the stairs. You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. What happened to the little girl who was afraid of spiders? Maybe the influence of that action-packed novel, the fantasy world, pulled her in.
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Lori’s eyes lit up with excitement as she explored the second floor, her steps quickening with each new discovery. It felt like a treasure hunt to her, the dusty corners and forgotten items fueling her curiosity.
She opened old boxes, sifted through forgotten knick-knacks, and rummaged through piles of clutter. Her heart raced with the thrill of the search, every creak of the floorboards adding to the sense of adventure.
Then, tucked away near the Christmas decorations, she spotted a plain, unassuming box. It didn’t look like much, but something about it caught her attention. With a soft gasp of anticipation, she opened it and found an old, bulky laptop inside. The device was covered in dust, its once sleek surface now dull and scratched.
“Wow,” Lori whispered, her eyes widening in awe. She lifted the laptop carefully and opened it, running her fingers over the keys. “Clicky, clicky. Love this keyboard,” she said, delighting in the tactile response of the keys beneath her fingers.
Unable to contain her excitement, Lori ran downstairs to find you, clutching the laptop in her arms like a prized possession. “Aunty, look what I found! This is so old, and I love the sound it makes!”
You glanced up and your eyes widened in surprise. “Where did you get that?” you asked, a mix of surprise and concern in your voice.
“Near the Christmas decorations. Can I turn it on?” she asked, her eyes shining with eagerness.
You shook your head, a hint of hesitation creeping into your tone. “It’s been a long time since I turned it on,” you admitted, memories flickering at the edge of your mind. You had pretended the laptop didn’t exist for so long that it had slipped from your thoughts entirely.
“I’ll throw it away,” you said, reaching out to take the laptop from her.
But Lori quickly pulled it back, guarding the laptop protectively. “Even if it’s broken, I could use this for throwback videos,” she argued, her determination evident.
You sighed, seeing the pleading look in her eyes. “Fine. You can have it,” you relented.
“Thank you!” Lori beamed, her smile so bright that any irritation you felt melted away. She hugged the laptop close and dashed off to the guest room, eager to play with her new toy.
Inside her room, Lori’s excitement was palpable. She carefully plugged the charger into the old laptop and pressed the power button, holding her breath in anticipation. But the screen remained dark, the laptop unresponsive.
Her enthusiasm waned slightly, but she didn’t give up. Determined, she searched online for ways to fix old laptops, flipping the device upside down to look for a serial number or brand name. But the markings were too faded to read.
Her hope began to crumble as she realized the laptop might never work again. With a sigh, she set it aside and opened her suitcase, revealing stacks of novels inside. This was the real reason she had wanted to stay with you—to immerse herself in her books without anyone bothering her.
As the night wore on, the clock crept closer to 10 p.m. You yawned, feeling the weight of the day settle in, and turned off the TV. Before heading to bed, you decided to check on Lori. When you peeked into her room, you found her already fast asleep, curled up with a new book clutched in her hands.
You smiled softly, understanding now what was in her suitcase. With a gentle chuckle, you carefully adjusted her sleeping posture and tucked her in, whispering, “Good night.”
As you left, you saw the old black laptop still plugged in, silently charging in the corner. It had been nearly seven years since you last thought about it. You shook your head, a mix of relief and resignation washing over you. It was better if that thing stayed dead, buried in the past where it belonged.
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The next morning, Lori woke up feeling cozy under the blankets. She glanced around, realizing she must have fallen asleep while reading her book again. The comforting silence in the room was a welcome change from the usual yelling of her mother.
This is why staying with you was such a great idea. She turned her attention to the old laptop, remembering she had left it charging all night.
With renewed hope, she quickly jumped out of bed and moved to the laptop. She pressed the power button, but the screen remained stubbornly black. Disappointment settled over her like a heavy fog.
Then, she heard it—the faint hum of the laptop’s fan. Her eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her lips. She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Yes!”
Just then, you called from the kitchen, your voice carrying cheerfully through the house. “Lori! You’ve woken up? I’ve made breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry yet,” Lori replied, her focus still on the laptop, waiting for the screen to light up.
“It’s bacon and eggs,” you added, a hint of a smile in your voice.
The mention of bacon and eggs immediately captured Lori’s attention. It had been ages since she’d had a breakfast like that. “I’m coming!” she called out, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
Without another thought, Lori dashed out of her room, leaving the old laptop to continue its quiet struggle to turn on. Her excitement for breakfast had completely overshadowed her frustration with the laptop, and she hurried to the kitchen, eager for the delicious meal you had prepared.
After breakfast, Lori returned to her room, and her excitement about the old laptop reignited. As she entered, she was stunned to see that the laptop had finally powered up completely.
Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the outdated app icons, which looked dull and unappealing. Despite their lack of charm, something else caught her eye: the email application.
Curiosity piqued, Lori navigated to the email app and discovered a list of old emails. She wondered if the laptop could connect to Wi-Fi. To her delight, it could. She connected it and noticed a new notification. Her heart raced as she clicked on it, only to find a single new email dated five years ago.
“This is like something out of a novel,” Lori whispered to herself, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the email.
Her gasp was audible when she realized it wasn’t spam or a work email—it was a love letter. She read the email with growing excitement:
Subject: An Apology and a Request
Hi,
I hope this message finds you well. I’ve been carrying a heavy heart and wanted to reach out, even though it’s been a while. I left the organization and have started a new life, but I’ve realized that it won’t feel complete without you.
I’m deeply sorry for everything that happened and for the pain I caused you. I know that I have no right to ask for anything, but if there’s any chance for us to meet and talk, I’d really like that. I’m not expecting anything, but I hope we can find some closure.
Yours,
B.B
Lori’s eyes sparkled with excitement. This was even better than the romance novels she had read. She couldn’t believe her aunt had an ex who had been missing her all this time and had finally reached out after five years.
Feeling a burst of inspiration, Lori unplugged the laptop and raced downstairs to find you. “Aunt! Look! Look! Someone sent you an apology letter!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.
You were busy preparing to head out to your bee farm, dressed in your suit. The sight of the old laptop suddenly turning on and Lori’s enthusiasm about the email caught you off guard. You knew exactly who had sent it, and it brought a wave of mixed emotions.
With a sigh, you closed the laptop, noticing Lori’s disappointed look. You knelt to her level, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Lori, sometimes it’s best to leave the past where it is.”
“But…” she started, her voice trailing off.
You stood up, adjusting your head protection for the farm. “Just enjoy your time here,” you said gently, then headed out of the house.
Lori sighed, her heart heavy with the sadness in your voice. She could sense the pain behind your words and felt that maybe this person was someone special to you. A sudden idea struck her, and she rushed back to her room, placed the old laptop on the table, and began typing a reply.
With her knowledge of romance novels, she crafted a short but heartfelt response:
Subject: Re: An Apology and a Request
Hi B.B,
Thank you for your message. It was a surprise to read your letter after all these years. I appreciate your honesty and the courage it took to reach out. I’m still processing everything, but I’m grateful for your apology.
Maybe one day we can talk, but for now, I hope you find the closure you’re seeking.
Take care,
Y/N
Satisfied with her words, Lori clicked “Send,” feeling accomplished. She hoped her reply would bring peace to her aunt and the sender.
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A few days passed, and Lori grew increasingly nervous. She kept checking the email, but no new notifications appeared, only that eerie computer-generated voice. You noticed her restlessness; she fidgeted with her fingers and paced around the room.
“What’s wrong? Feeling bored?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood. “We could go out for a while, get some fresh air.”
“Eww… no,” Lori replied, wrinkling her nose at the thought of the hot sun and heavy gear. She enjoyed the freedom of staying with you, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about adventures.
“I’d rather stay here, curled up with my book—” Lori was cut off by the familiar, unsettling notification sound.
You flinched at the sound too, a chill creeping down your spine. Lori quickly ran to the laptop, her heart racing with excitement as she saw the red dot notification. She opened the email and skimmed the reply: "I received your message. We need to meet. I’ll find you soon."
“Aunty, look! This person wants to see you. Isn’t it romantic?” Lori said, her excitement palpable.
Romantic my ass, you thought, feeling a cold shiver as you read the email. You abruptly shut the laptop and started packing Lori’s things. Your sudden, frantic movements startled her.
“Change your clothes. Wear something practical and put on running shoes,” you instructed, your voice taut with urgency.
Lori’s eyes widened with concern. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Forget the books. We have fifteen minutes, Lori. Now!” You dashed to your room, grabbing essentials with swift, practiced motions.
Lori, bewildered but obedient, quickly followed your orders. Fifteen minutes later, both of you were ready and in the car. You sped away, your face set in grim determination.
In the passenger seat, Lori clutched the seatbelt tightly, her voice trembling. “Aunt…”
“Lori, did you not hear me? Some things are better left in the past,” you said, your tone cold and firm.
She nodded slowly, her anxiety mounting. “But why?”
Before she could ask more, a deafening explosion rocked the car. “BOOM!” The blast made Lori flinch as she turned to see your house engulfed in flames. Her face pressed against the car window, eyes wide with shock.
“Oh my God. Is that your house?” Lori’s voice was barely a whisper.
You kept your gaze fixed on the road, your face pale and determined. “This is the reality of espionage. The hardest part is when someone tries to kill you.”
Lori gasped, realization dawning on her. “You’re a real spy!”
You didn’t answer, but the silence was deafening—a resounding confirmation.
“And the person who sent the email is another spy!” she exclaimed.
“Yeah. But unlike the novels, we’re not looking to fall in love. We’re trying to kill each other.” Your words sent a shiver down her spine, the gravity of the situation settling in with chilling clarity.
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At the gas station, you and Lori were picking up essential supplies. Your disguise—a dark hat, sunglasses, and a coat pulled tight—wasn't exactly subtle. But Lori's eyes sparkled with excitement.
“This is so cool!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with admiration.
“It’s not,” you muttered, your voice strained as you tried to mask your growing unease. The thrill of the moment had been replaced by a harsh reality. “I’m taking you to your mom.”
Lori’s enthusiasm faltered as she noticed the tension in your body. “But Aunt… why are you running away if this person wants to see you?”
You sighed heavily. “Because—”
Your words trailed off as a shiver ran down your spine. You felt eyes on you and slowly turned to face the source of your unease. There he was, striding towards you with a purpose.
The man stood tall and lean, his dark hair tousled and his leather jacket catching the dim light of the gas station. His face was striking—handsome in a rugged, intense way. His presence radiated strength and determination.
“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Bucky didn’t break stride or acknowledge you. His pace quickened, and your instincts kicked in. You reached for your gun, but before you could draw it, a loud BANG! shattered the tense silence.
“Kyaaa!!!” The sound of the gunshot set off a wave of screams from everyone inside the store, including Lori. The chaos erupted around you, but you and Bucky remained focused.
You threw yourself in front of Lori, protecting her with your body. Bucky did the same, his gaze locked on the threats.
“You—” you started, trying to catch your breath.
“We don’t have much time,” Bucky cut you off, his voice a low growl. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up, and snatched his own gun. Without another word, he started firing, taking out the shooters one by one.
You joined him in the fray, your movements sharp and efficient. Bullets flew and bodies hit the floor. Bucky’s sharp eyes and quick reflexes contrasted with your precise, practiced shots.
“Your aim’s getting rusty,” Bucky grunted as he took down another opponent.
“Shut up,” you retorted, focusing on the task at hand.
In no time, the immediate threat was neutralized. You both made a break for your car, adrenaline surging. Bucky took the driver’s seat, his expression grim and focused.
“Wait…” you began, but Bucky cut you off.
“Just put on your seatbelt first,” he said tersely, glancing at you with an intensity that brooked no argument.
You complied, snapping the seatbelt into place as Bucky threw the car into gear. The ride was tense, an awkward silence hanging between you and Bucky. Lori, however, was brimming with curiosity.
She tugged at Bucky’s leather jacket, causing him to glance at her. The way she looked at him, her eyes wide with awe, reminded you of how she had always romanticized the world.
“Are you the one who sent that email to my aunt?” Lori asked, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and expectation.
Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t respond, turning his attention back to the road.
Lori turned to you, her eyes glowing with revelation. “I get it. Both of you were spies! But you couldn’t be together because of your jobs! A forbidden love! This is so romantic!”
"!!!!!"
Your jaw dropped, and Bucky’s expression shifted to one of utter disbelief. The two of you exchanged a stunned look, unsure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed by Lori’s innocent but surprisingly accurate guess.
The air in the car seemed to crackle with the weight of her words, as the reality of your intertwined past and present hung in the balance.
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Author Note: Hey friends,
If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻
Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!
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thevelvetgoldmine · 1 year
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REAR WINDOW (1954) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
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classicfilmblr · 4 months
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You act healthy, act it so well that everyone believes you—everyone except me, because I know how rotten you are. PERSONA (1966) dir. Ingmar Bergman
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qosic · 1 year
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I put all my 愛 for the game into this one, to everyone who has beared my shouting about this modern classic for the last 4 years, I thank you!!!
Commissioned by Greg Chun (eng voice of Kaname Date) He will be doing a signing session at a later date where you can get this as a print, go follow him for more info on that!
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cinematicsource · 9 months
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EILEEN 2023 — dir. William Oldroyd
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no-where-new-hero · 1 month
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I am actually going to talk about what I call images, or symbols. It seems to me that in our present great drive—fiction-wise—toward the spare, clean, direct kind of story, we are somehow leaving behind the most useful tools of the writer, the small devices that separate fiction from reporting, the work of the imagination from the everyday account. Of these the far most important, and the most neglected, is the use of symbols; I am using the word loosely, because it has altogether different meanings elsewhere, and yet I hardly know what other word to use ... There must be at least one basic image, or set of images, for each character in a story, a fundamental symbol the writer keeps always in mind; as these images grow the character grows, and the accumulation of material and information about the image slowly makes up the character in the story. Various things belong to a character—a manner of speaking, a manner of moving, a particular emphasis, a group of small physical things—and each of these must take on, like a perfume, the essence of the character they belong to. Just as a tune or a scent can evoke for most of us an entire scene, so the basic image of the character must evoke that entire character and his place in the story. As a result of this, of course, the characters themselves grow apart in the writer’s mind, become entirely separate people, and by the end of a book or a story the writer can no more mistake one for another than he can mistake a can of beans for a pearl necklace.
--Shirley Jackson, "Garlic in Fiction"
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dailyflicks · 1 month
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VERTIGO — dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1958
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tobydammit68 · 2 months
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Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992) Dir. David Lynch
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filmgifs · 9 months
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Eileen (2023) dir. William Oldroyd
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calming-chaos · 1 year
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torpublishinggroup · 7 days
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This advertisement is for The Lies We Conjure, the new contemporary supernatural thriller from Sarah Henning.
WHAT’S IT ABOUT
Thirteen witches. Two ordinary sisters. One locked-room murder. This whodunit is giving Knives Out meets The Inheritance Games with magic. 
An eccentric old woman approaches sisters Ruby and Wren with an offer too good to pass up: attend a fancy dinner party posing as her granddaughters for two grand each. Sounds like a great arrangement—what could possibly go wrong? Literally EVERYTHING! 
Shortly after arriving at the mysterious Hegemony Manor, the hostess is dead and a killer lies among the dinner guests. Did we mention the guests are all powerful witches? Ruby and Wren must solve the murder if they hope to make it out of the manor alive.
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