#yes filmmakers will go into your home

[dexaroth]

it's kind of a fun move to make my very very personal blog also the one I post my drawings on

ive purposefully done it to not create that kind of environment where it's just an account posting art, a one-dimensional abstract thing that's so detached that if I were to post something like 'teehee I tried to off myself so I'm opening comms to pay the bills' it'd be met with utmost surprise bc it'd break the illusion yknow?

but sometimes I do want some drawings to not have context. to be as impersonal as a vintage figure whose sculptor has never been fully known or a golden locket with the picture of someone who you don't know anything about

I want both, to be honest. it's always been a struggle of the need of external validation but also to not want to taint everything with myself

I want to draw a pet portrait for someone and not have it be judged with all the ramblings and half-jokes about how everything sucks every now and then.

I want to draw a guy being mechanically separated for no reason and not have it show up besides someone's pet portrait and having to explain to the average person I don't even know why I like gore so much besides rendering it is fun

it's all like a cycle of making it clear who is behind the art for context but also sometimes wanting everything to speak for itself and wanting a sort of pure reaction to it

and it culminates into that overly familiar feeling.. of wanting to be consistent. to have a feel, a look that you can maybe hope someone will identify as yours.. and the question is always the same - for what? why? why does it matter?

if anything the first thing I'd ever say to someone who remotely showed interest in art and wanted to know my side of it is that nothing matters and everything is subjective and that there will always be people who see too much meaning where there isn't and people who miss the point entirely. and that diversity is just as good as quality and not a binary switch that you have to pick for the rest of your life. and that often by trying to achieve perfection you just end up dumping what gave your art a personal touch because it wasn't absolutely on par with the version of you that you so desperately want people to identify you with or the vibe you want to give off or whatever else

it's kind of a problem that also has different connotations depending on the way wherever you post works, too

on devart and I think insta too favorites and likes are the easiest way to show a kind of support that happens to streamline everything into images on a page instead of actually taking in most detail, the title or description or lack thereof, maybe even a message or line or music lyric intended to aid in the perception.. that ends up getting completely ignored because it takes extra effort to do. and it gets exponentially worse the more people you follow

then, well.. tumblr. because of the way the posts are organized and at least show captions it has a bit of a leg up, but then the sideblog stuff comes up. posts 95% of the time only give traction to the account that posted it, so a sideblog where you reblog your art is pretty much just a gallery for the convenience of whoever follows them. if you post on that sideblog however, then that facilitates no one visiting your main and just looking at the drawings, leading to the art-artist detachment as it is also plenty of extra steps and effort

then, independently, the path you choose is hard to undo. choose to be unknown and be bound to the façade you have to keep and not break your persona, or put all bits of yourself out to the public and there will forever be an image/ background version of you that will contextualize everything you do

try to turn around and choose to hide and it will put people off and affect how some will look at your new stuff now that you're less of a social butterfly because of the instinct of curiosity and wanting to know what happened , choose to show yourself and now you're too real and people don't want to associate with you because of the things you express or how it hits different knowing x and y or just not caring about you enough to be bothered to keep up with your life with sporadic drawings inbetween

it's all ironically about your own self-image and knowing others who know you

oh and it just hit me the financial side of things too. but that's too much for me rn and it's sort of a bonus to my point anyways

idk man. I feel like I'm having a stroke while an influencer tries to explain branding to me

[jeon-ify]

thoughts - choi san ft. mingi (part 2)

a/n: idk girl… i kinda want mingi to fuck her with tied up san and make him watch 😩

warnings: mean!dom mingi, sub!tied up san, swearing, pussy slapping, fingering, squirting, mingi fucks reader in front of san, spit play, face slapping, degradation, titty slapping, etc. if i missed anything lmk !

enjoy! not proofread :)

—————————————————————————————

the 2 weeks went by extremely fast, considering how you’ve spent it with san the entire time— in and out of his dorm. you felt guilty, but he was filling that void for you.

the drive to the airport felt like a dread. you wanted mingi to come back, honestly. but you didn’t want to go back to the vanilla sex that you’d been having with your boyfriend from this point on. you pull into the lane with doubt, maybe he’s upped his sex game, maybe he doesn’t want sex anymore. you think about ways to bring up the topic, but it just doesn’t flow.

you swerve into the lane to wait for mingi. after 20 minutes, you get out of the car and wait in the airport lobby for him. he arrives shortly, running to hug you and seeming so tired after working so hard. he wanted to surprise you with his project, but the last thing that was on your mind throughout those two weeks were what he was doing in japan.

“my baby, i missed you so much! how was japan?” you exclaim. he hugs you tightly, kissing you all over your face. your heart ached before him, not knowing how to handle the guilt.

how could you?

“it was so great, but i missed you so much, y/n.” he relaxes his head on your shoulder through the hug, your body warmth making him sleepy.

you carry his backpack and take his duffles to the car as he follows you out. he sits beside you, turning up the radio and listening to your playlist. “what’d you do while i was gone? we barely spoke.”

his head turns to face you as he questions you. it feels like you’re being convicted of a felony, your heart falls to your ass as you try to come up with a lie. he watches your breathing change and your face flush with red.

“honestly i was super bored. i…” you pause, taking in a deep breath and chuckling before continuing your bullshit, “don’t know how i managed. how was your filmmaking? was it exciting?”

he stays quiet, his face straight, plastered with suspicion.

“it was exciting, thanks. what’d you do the day i left? yeosang said you stopped by. what was that about?” you literally cannot come up with anything else, so you decide to ‘tell the truth’.

“i was bored so i hung out with wooyoung and jongho for a little bit but then i went home, why?” you reach a red light as mingi grabs your thigh, squeezing tightly. he squeezes almost too tight that it begins to hurt.

“mm, but they weren’t at the house, y/n. what were you doing there?” he looks out the window, trying to think of what he’ll do when you confess and make it easier so he’s not worried about if you’re cheating or not— he’d just know. he hopes he’s wrong, though.

“n-no. mingi, you’re hurting me.” he squeezes your inner thigh as the car swerves just a little bit out of the lane. you feel like he’s gonna rip a chunk of your thigh off of you, tears welling up in your eyes.

“yeah? it didn’t hurt me when i heard you on the phone fucking san? do you think i’m stupid, y/n? i told you not to go near san, didn’t i?” you fall silent as your ears begin to ring.

he knew.

but san didn’t say anything?

but he heard your voice.

“fucking answer me,” he brings his hand up to your throat to cut off your airways as a threat to make you speak.

“y-yes,” you gasp. you literally feel like your body gave up on you as your limbs all fall numb into mingi’s touch.

“why are you fucking my friends? the one friend i told you to fucking stay away from. he’s married, hm? you’re home-wrecking, darling. are you a whore? are you san’s whore?”

“n-no, mingi, please,” you moan. he lets you go as you pull into the driveway of your home, seeing a familiar car parked in the front.

leaving all his luggage in the trunk, he slams the door closed as he goes to open your door. he pulls you out by your wrist, slamming the door shut behind you and dragging you into the house. you stop in your tracks when you see a familiar pair of shoes on the doormat.

“keep walking.” he demands. your legs shake in fear and somehow, arousal. mingi has never been this rough with you, and somehow it sends a shock down to your core.

you slowly walk over to your shared bedroom, opening the door and seeing what you thought you’d never see— san on your bed.

you stop and stare at the man on mingi’s side of the bed. he’s sat up straight with his hands tied behind his back, his feet tied together, and a black piece of duct tape on his mouth. a layer of sweat envelopes his toned torso, his black hair slowly moves with every breath he takes. the silver chain he wears is now covered in beads of sweat as the veins in his neck become more prominent. you would be lying if you said that you didn’t want to bounce on his dick at that given moment.

you feel mingi’s chest press against your back as his hand moves to wrap itself around your throat. he feels your heartbeat through your neck, gulping in fear.

“what’s wrong, baby? cat got your tongue?” his deep voice grumbles in your ear. his teeth graze against your ear, sending chills down your body.

“m-mingi, what’s going on?” you shake and try to break away from mingi’s grasp, not breaking eye contact with the man tied up on your boyfriend’s side of the bed.

“you thought i wouldn’t know if you were whoring around with my friends? i’m many things, but i’m not stupid.” he lets go of you, shoving you further into the room and closer to san.

you hear san whimper, his head thrown back in irritation from how he can’t fuck you into oblivion in front of your boyfriend.

san loved so many things about you— but what he loved the most was how turned on he gets whenever you get helpless. you’re like a brainless whore he wants to fuck over and over— just for him to use.

it’s almost like a continuous battle between the two— and hopefully, your boyfriend would win. you’re rooting for him.

san groans something that you make out to say “take this off,” but he’s enjoying every minute of it. he feels like he’s gonna cum in his pants from the way mingi is undressing you.

mingi takes your sweats off first, then proceeds to taking off your tanktop. you gasp and try to cover your chest as he takes your bra off with only one hand. when he sees your hands fly up to cover yourself, he pins your wrist between his large hands.

“let’s not act all modest now, y/n.”

he proceeds to sliding your soaked panties off, a string of arousal connected to your pussy makes mingi groan, and san’s eyes roll.

mingi pulls you by your hair and bends you over the dresser in front of san. he stands beside your bare body, staring at san through the reflection of the mirror. both of their breaths pick up at the sight, mingi glaring at san and watching him stare at his naked girlfriend.

“i’m gonna ask you once, y/n. is he better?” mingi challenges you in answering the question you fear your life to answer. of course san was better at sex, but you’d never admit to your boyfriend.

“fuck! no, please—“ you feel your legs weaken as mingi plunges two fingers into your sopping cunt, not giving you the chance to answer his question. he lands a sharp slap onto your cunt, making your body shiver.

“no?” his fingers move quickly, feeling the way you’re about to cum all over his fingers. he feels you sucking him in and clenching around his long fingers, so he pulls out before you could release.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry, mingi.” your breath hitches as you cry out in desperation for a release— and a hint of guilt. you literally feel like karma is biting you in the ass, no matter how pleasured you are.

with your juices all over his middle fingers, mingi’s tall and lean figure walks over to san and rips the tape off of his face. san winces in pain, a smirk plastered all over his face. a soft red tint blankets his skin as he takes in a deep breath and licks his puffy lips.

“open— there you go. taste my girlfriend’s cum all over my fingers.” mingi groans— impossibly but somehow possibly— growing harder at the action of his friend sucking your precum off his fingers.

“she tastes phenomenal, mingi. you’ve missed out.” san breathes out deeply after mingi releases his fingers with a pop. you watch the entire scene happen before you, your thighs clenching with need. you’re taken aback when mingi grips the back of san’s head, forcing him to stand up straight.

“y/n, come here.” you follow his command weakly. you immediately fall to your knees before the two men, legs shaking as mingi moves the strand of hair that delicately falls on your forehead. he makes you seem so innocent, but he knows, and so do you and san know, that that is far from what you are.

san watches as you drool before your boyfriend. “open your mouth, pretty girl,” san speaks up as he lands a wad of spit onto your tongue. you swallow with pride, watching mingi glare at the encounter before him.

“you just open your mouth to anyone, mm?” mingi is upset, but san is so fucking turned on, he literally feels like he’s gonna explode.

you (un)intentionally unzip mingi’s pants, looking san in the eyes. you pull the band of his boxers down, revealing his aching cock, just for you to claim into your throat. you lick a long stripe up the length, not breaking eye contact with san as you so whore-ishly suck on your boyfriend’s cock.

“thinking of me, butterfly? remember me when you fuck him, ‘kay?” the man says as you take mingi’s entire length into your mouth, the aching tip touching the back of your throat making your eyes water.

as his hand starts forming a makeshift ponytail and pushing your head down, san wishing he can break free from the restrains on his hands. he so badly wants to pull out his painful cock and start stroking himself before the both of you.

“mingi, you’re so big. how’s she gonna take you?” san questions, his breath hitching and deepening.

“she’s been stretched out enough. i’m sure you’re loose now from all the dick you’ve been taking while i was gone, yeah?” he pulls you off of his length to throw you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

you gasp at the action, san’s head turning to face you as he whines.

“please, untie me. wanna cum so bad.”

mingi ignores his friend’s cries, moving down to spit on your abused cunt. he slides his tank top off, throwing it somewhere in the room as he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. a sign of care slightly shows in mingi’s eyes, but the way he plunges his cock so hard into you immediately blocks out the kind gesture he gave you. your legs jolt at the powerful and radical thrusts that mingi gives you, crying out for mercy.

“fuck, mingi sl-slow down! it hurts,” you’re not sure if you want him to stop, but it hurts so good.

he lands a painfully sharp slap onto your right tit, making you wince out in pain and pleasure.

“yeah? but you can fuck san for days and not say anything? who’s hurt, darling? which one of us is really hurt?” you feel so fucking guilty. your eyes well up in tears as you try to apologize, because mingi’s given you nothing but love, respect, support, and most of all, he understood you the way no one else could.

how could you do something so terrible to him?

“i’m sorry! i’m so fucking sorry-“ you’re reaching your orgasm, cumming on the base of mingi’s cock. he feels you clenching around him as his thrusts come to a slow. his hand rubs on the red area on your chest, leaving a kiss on the irritated spot.

“yeah? how sorry? use your words,” his deep voice is so beautiful, it almost makes you cum again from the way he’s talking in your ear.

“f-for fucking your friends, i— fuck, please—“ you cry out.

while san watches, a spot on his pants becomes a darker shade, indicating that he literally came in his pants. he’s been moaning and whining and whimpering, all while mingi fucks you senseless.

“listen to me, hyung. if you ever get near my girl again, i’ll fucking kill you, you hear me?” mingi doesn’t face san, nor does he blink. he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he pounds into you deeply, hitting your cervix over and over, making you squirt around him and staining his sheets. his hand caresses your cheek as his warm minty breath fans into your face. his eyes roll to the back of his head, listening to your cries.

san doesn’t answer. instead, he groans and tries to wriggle his hands out of the restraints. he watches his friend fuck you hard, wishing it were him. he’s fucked you all 14 days, he just can’t get enough.

neither can mingi— as he licks up the tears that flow onto your cheeks.

“why are you crying, hm? do you feel sorry for being a slut behind my back?” mingi’s faux concern masks his lust, making you clench around him for the fourth time tonight.

“you’re clenching me so tight, oh my goddd, ‘m not going anywhere,” he pulls out before you can cum around him, standing up to untie san.

“fuck, thank you, mingi.” san hurries to take his pants off and stand before you, stroking his painfully hard cock. mingi watches as san gets off on his own girlfriend, not understanding how he hasn’t killed him yet for looking at you.

“you can fuck her, and don’t hold back. she likes it hard.” mingi speaks up, making your heart drop to your ass as you’re about to cheat on your boyfriend again, in front of him.

“m-mings—“ you’re silenced by san’s hand around your mouth as he immediately plunges his long and familiar cock into your wet, stretched out pussy. he pounds into you almost in an animalistic manner, making your vision cloud and your stomach clench from the painful orgasm.

“don’t call out for him, i’m the one fucking you, look at me.” he groans out as he grabs your chin, forcing you to watch him fuck you again.

mingi sits where san was, jerking off his long and hard length from how hot it was that you were so helpless and ‘innocent’ from fucking someone else.

“slap her.”

san lands a sharp slap on the left side of your face, grabbing your jaw and moving you back into place just to slap you again.

he repeats the action one more time as you slap him back. his thrusts stop. feeling disrespected and taken aback, san thrusts into you harder as your body jolts and shakes. you squirt again, all over san as mingi whimpers and groans from beside you.

“shit! i’m cumming, fucking cumming, mingi. where—“ you whine out again, mingi standing up and reaching his orgasm as well.

“me too, fuck— cum on her tits, all over her.”

“cum all over me, please—“ you whine out with a dry throat while both men release their load all over your chest, even on your chin.

“so much cum, just for my bitch, yeah?” mingi groans breathily as you nod for him in response.

san walks away to clean up and put his clothes on in the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone.

“go near that fucker again, i’ll kill the both of you in a heartbeat. am i clear?” he says with a doe eyed smile as if he was a puppy, planting a kiss on your plump lips.

“y-yes.”

————

i—

my god.

[jellogram]

Okay I am ready. An actual longform review about I Saw the TV Glow, spoiler-free because I want people that haven't seen it to know what to expect.

I suggest reading this before you watch.

I think the shortest way to sum it up is that this is not a happy, uplifting, trans narrative, nor is it a Danish Girl-esque tragedy designed to tug at the heartstrings of cis people. This is a cautionary tale, designed for queer people (and particularly genderqueer people) about what can happen if you try to ignore who you are. Because most of Tumblr is queer, I am going to assume most of you guys will be entering with that perspective.

And it's worth noting that the director is nonbinary and has openly discussed this film as a trans narrative.

It's strange. It's uncomfortable. At times it feels like it's moving slow, but you need that time to sit in the emotions. This is not a fun movie to go see with your friends on a night out. This is more like doing powerful hallucinogens in a basement. Either nothing will happen and you won't click with it at all, or you will leave feeling like you just woke up from an incredibly vivid nightmare, wondering why no one around you seems as freaked out as you are.

This is why I recommend either waiting until you can watch it at home alone in the dark, or going to the theatre at a strange time of day when it won't be crowded. My theatre had lots of people laughing around me while I cried. When you are going through a really intense, painful, and emotional reaction to a film, and the people around you are laughing at the movie, it sucks.

So if you don't like the movie and don't get it at all, please be kind and do not laugh or say anything insulting in front of the other guests. If you go through the tags for this movie and many of the reviews, you can see how personally this film affects many people, and you are being very hurtful and dismissive by laughing in front of them while they're upset. This was not only my experience, but one I've seen echoed among many other viewers. So keep it to yourself until you are out of the theatre, please.

Yes, some lines are a little weird. There's things that feel a bit silly and cartoonish, and you just need to ride with it. The absurdity is not an accident on the part of the filmmakers and I think my fellow theatre-goers thought it was.

And as for the technical and artistic aspects, I only have good things to say. Phoebe Bridgers' cameo easily could have been cheesy but it was that song that first made me cry. Pay attention to the use of color. Pay attention to the music. The actors are excellent and it's very cool how many queer people were involved in the project. This is what happens when queer people get to tell our own stories.

tl;dr You will either walk out of that theatre confused and annoyed, or feeling like you just got home from a war. If you are in the first category, please be respectful to those in the second. This is not an easy watch but it's an incredible and highly unique film and it makes me excited about the future of horror and queer filmmaking.

[frodo-with-glasses]

25 Questions with Phil Dragash: YES, SERIOUSLY!

So y'all know how I was reviewing Phil Dragash's audiobook of LotR last year, but kinda fell off somewhere in the middle of Rohan?? Well, guess what! A couple weeks ago, I received a tumblr message from the man himself, saying he'd read through all my reviews, had really enjoyed the little blast from the past, and was open to answering questions if I had any!

So of course, I had LOTS of questions.

The first one being: "Are you actually the real Phil Dragash??"

But I'm delighted to say that after exchanging emails with the work email listed on his website, I can confidently say that it is the real dude, and I've had a blast chatting with him! So for those of you who urged I listen to this audiobook—especially @laurelindorenan for her glowing recommendation—and for everyone else who likes the audiobook and/or enjoyed my reviews: I am delighted to present, ladies and gentlehobbits, this peek behind the curtain!

But of course I'm putting it all below the cut, because this man rambles like I do 🤣

Obligatory disclaimer: All opinions presented by Mr. Dragash are his own, I am not necessarily condoning any of them; please do not come after me for his opinions regarding pineapple on pizza.

25 QUESTIONS, LET'S GO!

1. Tell me how you got into Lord of the Rings!

I was ten years old when my dad took me to the library, and found a VHS copy of Ralph Bakshi’s 1978 animated Lord of the Rings film. I was already a fan of the “Chronicles of Narnia” and my dad just handed the tape to me and said “Look, C.S. Lewis’s friend made this”. I watched it, and had no idea what was going on. It was so hard to understand.

Fast forward to the year 2002 when “Fellowship” was out on DVD, and we had a movie night at my older cousin’s place, and watched the film for the first time. My 13 year old self was enraptured by it. Dad bought the DVD first thing the next day, and I’ve been a fan ever since! I, my brother, and our dad watched “Return of the King” in theaters four times, which was saying something, considering we only ever saw a movie once in cinemas. Between “The Return of the King” opening in December ‘03, I picked up the books and read (as well as I could) through them. A lot of friends kept joking “tell us how the damn story ends!”, good times.

2. When and how did you decide to make this audiobook? What’s the story behind the entire project? 

I was a very ambitious lad, and my first and biggest interest was filmmaking. I used to direct short films with my friends ever since my 11th birthday, and was the youngest in class at the filmschool I attended a few years later. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that I had massive ambitions to direct “the Hobbit”, which is silly in retrospect considering I was 16 years old at the time. I even sent my portfolio and DVDs of my films to Peter Jackson’s manager (who actually got back to me with a wonderful response, despite not being able to accept my ‘completely reasonable’ offer) When I was heartbroken and torn to pieces knowing I wouldn’t be directing the movie, a few more years went by, and I decided to reread some chapters of the “Lord of the Rings” books. I remember really well that this was late at night, laying in bed, and going through “King of the Golden Hall” and seeing how close to the movies it was, but also far more expanded. I thought “my extensive home-made short movies experience with sound design and sound mixing could work here, and I could just read a few chapters and try to make the soundscape as realistic as possible. Why not try it?” 

So, the next day I tried. The first two chapters I tried were “King of the Golden Hall” and “A Journey in the Dark” (which partly answers your other question about that chapter). I was so absolutely surprised by how well it was going, that I decided to upload them onto YouTube in March 2010 I think. I got a fairly good response, and I was planning on doing a few more random chapters. I never intended to do the whole thing. But this one comment on YouTube I’ll always remember, it said: “I think you should go from start to finish, because you’ll probably get used to the characters and sounds and people can also follow along in the story gradually”.

Taking that suggestion to heart, in August 2010 I went from Chapter 1 onward. 

3. Were you inspired by any other audiobook versions of LotR (such as the BBC radio drama)?

I was not, I actually haven’t listened to the BBC Radio drama until far ahead into the project I was doing. I did some research on what other audio productions anyone did with LOTR, from The Mind’s Eye edition, to the ‘60s Hobbit Radio Play; so I felt pretty confident. I just fell in love with the way the films brought Middle-Earth to life and seeing their incredible dedication for authenticity (from the props department, to the music), you really couldn’t do any better than that visually or audibly - at least in my opinion. I just wanted to hear Tolkien’s text but with the realisation of the films. 

However, if you listen to Chapter 1 of TTT, and hear how Legolas laments their absence from not being there to help Boromir at Amon Hen, you can clearly hear the inflection from the BBC Radio play’s version. I just lifted that because I thought it was a fantastic way to deliver the line.

4. Did you have any rituals for “getting into character” before recording?

If I were to show you the raw unedited recording sessions, you’d probably be surprised at how underdeveloped it is! I had no real rituals or warmups, I just went for it. Usually went in cold, and tried reading the entire chapter and doing all the voices at once. Then I’d be exhausted, and afterwards start cutting all the mistakes, and separating each character into different tracks – and then re-recording 50%-70% of it, as I was laying in the sounds. 

I think any character just needs a few words for me to say in their voice, and that helps for the rest of their dialogue. For Aragorn it was usually: “You cannot wield it! None of us can.” for Pippin it was: “Sometimes”, just random things that make things ‘click’ in my head. If I got lost or didn’t feel like the performances were working, I’d simply just watch scenes from the films to hear the real actors again!

5. Who was your favorite character to voice? Who was your least favorite? And why?

People who know me, know I love doing the villains. Sauron, the orcs, the Nazgûl, etc. I just love the idea of personifying things that scare you. Something completely the opposite of who you are. Always a fun time! Any character I can nail extremely accurately always makes me happy, but I’m always very critical of my own work, so it’s a rare thing.

My least favorite characters to voice are: Imrahil, Denethor, Arwen, Celeborn, Galadriel, Erestor, Lindir, Haldir, Goldberry, Gildor… I think the pattern is pretty obvious if you realize that I am incapable of providing a satisfactory voice that feels unique enough. They just sound to me like “I wish I had a broader range. They weren’t done justice.” I have feelings for most of the characters in this situation, but I’m a mere mortal. I can’t do all of them as well as I wish I could. I wish Aragorn was more like Viggo Mortensen’s voice (I tried with the nasally yells you mentioned!), I wish Gandalf had a richer tone, I wish Saruman sounded more majestic, and I wish Frodo was - in retrospect- more older sounding, too. There’s so much I wish I could do better, but to hell with it, I tried.

Fun fact: my least-favorite to voice are also Orcs because they destroy my throat after a while. Which is ironic, because of my first statement.

6. I noticed that you gave the men of Rohan and Gondor slightly different dialects! Are you pulling from any real-world accents to make that happen?

I did try to listen to Anglo-Saxon, and ancient norse but I just tried to make Rohan and Gondor slightly distinct in any way I could. I never really tried to make things too obvious, but admittedly, I think I just used my intuition (smoothing the R’s for the Rohirrim, making the Gondorians more ‘proper’, etc.). I do want to emphasize that this was a one-person project and keeping things together or consistent is definitely an extraneous exercise when you’re just trying to get something finished by yourself! 

7. Some characters (like Beregond and Quickbeam, to name a couple of my favorites) aren’t in the movies, so they don’t have an actor for you to imitate. How did you decide what they would sound like?

Well, in the case of Beregond, I realized he was just “your ordinary guy”, and seeing Minas Tirith through his eyes (and Pippin’s)  is such an amazing and interesting opportunity. It made the city feel so real, and I wanted to take advantage of that. I think I started with a ‘generic’ voice, but when I re-recorded him knowing more and more of the context and what he was saying to Pippin, and as a result who he is, made me adjust what I felt were more his personality. But still that ‘ordinary guy’ idea was the bedrock, and it’s been years since I heard that chapter, but I hope it holds up! (I just remembered Bergil is in that too, another voice I wish I could have done better) 

Another fun fact: when Pippin scares the kids in Minas Tirith, the audio was from something I videotaped when I was 10 years old with my friends, it had the perfect “kids-going-aaah!” sound.

If I had it my way, I’d have a cast of dozens in this Audiobook, so a lot of times I never felt like my voice was enough to truly capture the “We’re in Middle-Earth, we just have microphones to record it” idea. So I have to make compromises since I was the only one doing the voices. That being said, Quickbeam was a fun surprise because he felt like, as you said “young treebeard”, and these things just worked out through experimentation! I think Quickbeam turned out pretty nice. I like Quickbeam.

8. HOW—I ask with great enthusiasm—DID YOU DO TREEBEARD’S VOICE? How did you get that resonance and woody sound? Did you send your voice through a wooden box and re-record it on the other side like they did in the movies?

It’s really great that you know all the behind the scenes stories from the films! Especially what Ethan Van der Ryn, David Farmer, and the late Michael Hopkins have done with their incredible creativity. I had no such resources to produce Treebeard’s sound. What I did was a digital facsimile: a special ‘room’ reverb, with some other equalizing effects to boost the bass and (maybe, I can’t remember) another higher pitched track of the same voice faintly in there. 

You won’t believe this, but I was not going to do The Two Towers audiobook unless I could do a good Treebeard voice. In 2011 after finishing “Fellowship”, I was on the fence about continuing, and only committed once I knew I could do Treebeard right. Treebeard was the key to all this. This should come to no surprise to the ones who played the game, but I used a lot of sound effects from ‘Battle for Middle-Earth’ which contained a lot of clean sounds for ents, trolls, the balrog, the ringwraiths, and other monsters from the films. I used the ent’s footsteps from the games, and recorded my own foley for some of the trees snapping and leaves rustling as well. The “fart” sounds were the low creaking of tree branches, and - as they stated in the making-of for the films - very pitched down cow moos. 

9. Tell me about the foley work! Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been that nerd who watched the Behind The Scenes featurettes for fun, so I’m very interested to hear how you made the sound effects for footsteps and whistling arrows and jangling horse harnesses and such. 

I’m glad you are! I’ve collected sound libraries (ripped from video games, and finding and buying sound packs) for a literal decade, because I always needed sounds for the short films I made when I was younger. I just kept learning about how to mix sounds together, and it’s very creative and very enjoyable! That being said, the foley work itself is mostly recorded by me. If I can’t find a sound in the library I have, I will record it. Clothing rustles, and touch are all recorded while I listen to the audiobook playback and ‘perform’ each character. It’s a really arduous process, but I think it adds so much life into the sound. 

I went out into the woods (or backyard) with my mic to record footsteps, sometimes I would listen to the audiobook with headphones while performing the footsteps. When I would have traveled somewhere with different terrain I would be sure to record more foley (rocks being moved, or pebbles being stepped on) knowing I’ll use it for certain chapters. I do not want to reveal a huge secret about the predominant foley for the character's clothes, but an old backpack I used were 90% of the characters’ ‘movements’. Some wingflaps of the fell beasts were just my jeans. It’s a really creative process trying to find things that ‘sound’ right for an environment or action. The magic is putting them all together and hearing the result. Also, yes Sam’s pan is my grandma’s frying pan, and I know it’s sometimes annoying, but - look - Sam has a lot of stuff to carry.

I start with the background sounds (wind, tree rustles, water if there is any, etc.) lots of layers of them just to make them sound unique and not the same. Then I move to selective and nearer environmental background sounds. Then, the ‘hero’ sounds, the effects that are integral to the story (if it’s sword clashes, or an explosion, or who knows what), and finally the foley (footsteps, clothing rustles, breaths, etc.) - I had a friend record her own horses breathing and moving for a lot of closeups of the horses in the audiobooks. I think even if you can’t really hear some of their low breaths, their presence is still ‘there’. I personally think I got a lot better by the end of LOTR than when I started! 

I wanted to add, the sounds for little Elanor in the very last scene of “The Return of the King” (the baby sounds), I was not happy with the stock baby sounds I had, and asked my older cousin (an audio person too!) to send me recordings he made of his then-1-year-old daughter in a studio. So, my first-cousin-once-removed is Elanor! She’s 22 now. I feel old.

10. Do you have a favorite sound effect from this project? Mine is the “pat-pat” against cloth that’s used to denote a hug.

Absolutely, do you remember the two “watchers” before the tower of Cirith Ungol? The vulture-like statues that block the hobbit’s path out? The alarm sound is a wholly original sound design I did, and I’m really happy with it. It’s just ugly sounding, and that’s the point. I always wished I had more Nazgul, and I think the worst moments I had with mixing were the battle scenes. There’s just too much to handle and make it sound good. But I really tried.

I’m very glad you heard the ‘pat-pat’s. I try my best to perform every character when recording foley, and want even some of the sounds to convey something in the telling of the story.

11. What's the thought process behind your use of the various musical motifs from Howard Shore's score? (Read: Why do you use the Shire theme so often, and why does it get me in the heart every single time?)

I want everyone to know that this is a really important and valuable question, and one I never really get to talk about: To me, Howard Shore’s music is one of the very best things to come out of the films. He truly made an opera out of the story, and all his leitmotifs and orchestrations are a stroke of genius. They work on their own, and when reading the books as well, and as a nerd for films and all that stuff, I wanted to put a lot of care into how I’m placing the score, and for what scene, emotionally and leitmotivically, if that’s a word.

The Audiobook I did is obviously a ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’ situation, so I can’t credit myself for the majority of the Audiobook I did, but I wanted to use all my filmmaking intuition to properly use the music to enhance the telling of the story. So, just like the filmmakers had to change and mix lines from the book, or make changes to make it work as a film, I felt like a lot of instances happened with the music for the audiobook. Obviously, I used the score when applicable to the intended scenes, but there are very often cases where they won’t work. I read as much as I could in the past about what the motifs were and where Shore used them in the movies, so I followed that trajectory for the most part. Gondor is Gondor, Rohan is Rohan, Mordor is Mordor, etc. 

Changes happen when I feel the emotions for a scene in the books do not match up to the ones in the films, and then there are brand new scenes and characters not in the movies at all, that I have to figure out! Take the pause from music between Gandalf falling into the chasm with the Balrog, and the fellowship successfully escaping. It’s perfect in the film, but I knew I couldn’t put the lamenting heartbreaking music in there yet, since the descriptions all drive the idea that escape is paramount. So I treated it as a ‘shock’ moment. No music until they’re completely out of the mountain, then the grief comes in. Things like that, a lot of fun creative thinking to get those emotions working!

I recall you mentioning the ‘Gimli / Legolas drinking game’ statement and how I used the hell out of it throughout the Audiobook, which is a good example. I pitched it up and down, for different moments, and it just has that hobbit mundane and jolly quality to it. So, in it goes to fill moments from the books. 

I also edited and modified existing motifs for completely different scenes and ideas. One of my favorites is when Treebeard talks about the Entwives. I needed this melancholy yearning sound that was really essential, and found it by reversing Eowyn’s theme, and pitching it down so the violin sounds like a cello/bass. To me it just felt extremely appropriate for the sound of a long-lost relationship while portraying a larger-than-life creature. 

Let’s also say Bombadil. I made up the idea that the last statement in the credits for “Return of the King”, was Bombadil’s theme. It’s actually just a reference to Der Ring des Nibelungen by Wagner, a very verbose beautiful crescendo, but I thought “I’ll pretend like it’s Bombadil, he’s last in the score even though he’s the first in Arda”. So I used that musical progression in his songs, that’s his leitmotif now (to me, anyway) He sings in that wavy up-and-down melody. Which is why you hear a lot of that in those chapters.

I also try to use recordings not from the original score: I looked far and wide for alternative recordings, predominantly the album by the Royal Prague Philharmonic, and the “LOTR Symphony”, just to make the Audiobooks feel different. I pitched down and moved and reassembled a lot of different cues for different scenes as well.

There are not a lot of instances of music from other movies, however, they do exist! I used music from “Battle for Middle-Earth”, the game “War in the North”, and for the last few chapters, “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” since it just came out at the time. I used a lot of music from Howard Shore’s “Seven” and “The Game” during Shelob (I think), and for the Barrow-Downs. I used a tiny bit of underscore from the brilliant Don Davis’s “The Matrix Reloaded”, it had a really eerie choir which made me feel like it would be perfect for the fatigue and dizzying unreality of Mordor when Sam and Frodo were on their last leg, trying to get to Mt. Doom. Lastly, I used a little bit of music from Howard Shore’s “Twilight: Eclipse” for some dialogue scenes during Return of the King! And music from the independent film “Mongol” by Tuomas Kantelinen for the Woses when Theoden has to get help from Ghan-Buri-Ghan. Also the ending of ROTK has a few cues from “The Lord of the Rings musical”, lovely stuff.

It may surprise you that there is a small amount of score I actually ‘wrote’ with help from my brother (he’s a musician). It’s in the coronation of Elessar. It’s not very good but I needed something. There is also a cello version of “to the edge of night”, which I kindly asked permission to use by YouTube celloist, but I sadly don't think that video is up anymore.

Lastly, I use the Shire music so much because - just like Howard Shore said - it becomes a ‘hymn’ or an ‘anthem’ for the hobbits as they leave their comforts behind and are in a wide and unfamiliar world. Every little bit that reminds them of home, or relates to each of them, usually deserves a little ‘shire’ statement here and there. I feel if it’s in the characters’ hearts and minds, it has to be expressed in the music!

12. Out of all the chapters I’ve listened to so far on the Internet Archive, “A Journey in the Dark” is the one most plagued with editing issues; Sam’s temper tantrum over leaving Bill the Pony is cut out entirely. Which is a shame, because I was really looking forward to hearing your take on that. (Is it strange to say that I wanted to hear you break down into blubbering tears? Probably. Let’s ignore that and move on.) Is there any chance that you have a cleaner edit of that chapter somewhere?

I think you’ll be very unsurprised to know that “A Journey in the Dark” is the first chapter I ever recorded. I think you’ll also need to know that I did FOTR when I was 21 years old, and my grasp on doing better sound mixing or even getting the characters right was still a work in progress. I learned so much going chapter-by-chapter and felt that each succeeding one improves from the former. As a demo-run, I did “King of the Golden Hall '' and “Journey in the Dark” in early 2010 (in fact, I did only the first half of “JITD” back then. Stopping right after they are barred inside the mines, as the Watcher destroys the gate. I did the second half once I caught up with the story going chapter-by-chapter.)

There are so many issues with it, and I haven’t listened to it since. If you have headphones you’ll also notice that none of the voices really pan from left to right, or feel like they’re ever anywhere else except the dead-center. I was lazy back then. 

When I read the chapters, at the time, I was sharing an ‘office room’ with my younger brother, and as a teenaged younger brother does - continues strumming his guitar no matter what the other brother is doing. It was really fun, and funny and I was extremely sloppy with editing things out, and taking it too seriously. So, for sure you can hear ‘someone’ in the background during the early parts of FOTR, and I was too lazy to re-record or edit out the noises that weren’t supposed to be there.

Forgive me if this part is a lot longer, but now that you mention it, I want to get on my soap-box and rant about how many things I agree with about the Audiobook’s shortcomings and how many things have changed since the wee days of 2010: 

I didn’t really get a grasp on the characters, and I had no idea I was going to do the entire book. I did not take enough care with sound mixing (it’s a highly technical and rigorous practice, I’ve discovered. Even now, ten plus years later - it’s too technical for me to fully understand yet), and I did not thoroughly re-listen to the chapter when I was done with an edit or a sound-effects pass. Therefore there’s always been mistakes still in there, and just unpleasantly careless placement of sounds and music. I have often thought about re-recording it to get it up to scratch, but it’s been over a decade and I haven’t properly preserved all the sound stems without having to re-sound-mix the whole chapter again, and there is that little thing called ‘burnout’ which is hard to ignore. So, I apologize to everyone who has to suffer through that huge drop in quality with “A Journey in the Dark”. It quite literally was my first attempt, and it definitely shows. 

The good news is that a fan asked me the same thing about the missing piece in that chapter (the one you mentioned! With Sam and Bill!), and I’ve heard the same comments about it throughout the years. Why is it missing? I don’t know why! I recorded it, but in my loose run-and-gun past when I was a wee lad, I was careless, and just had the mp3 with that part missing. A rendering error, perhaps! Stupid 21 year old Phil just hodgepoging everything.

A Few months ago, I did get another email about that missing piece. I thought “okay, once and for all, I’m going to find that missing part.” - and I searched my old harddrives for some kind of archival copy with that part in it. Amazingly, it was a lot harder to find than I thought. Every rendered version of JITD either stopped right before that scene, or had it omitted. I actually found one half of it as a ‘demo’ piece I rendered years ago for a ‘sound trailer’, and then I finally found the original YouTube video I made - which had it intact! Now the hardest part was stitching it together with the rest. Took longer than I thought, but I finally amended this horrible incompetence. And yes, I will share the link to you! And be prepared to be disappointed at the 2010-era quality!

I don’t know if anyone knows this, but with the mp3s circling around, I have taken the liberty of re-recording and re-working some chapters from their original versions. I try my best to preserve the originals, but I also wish people to listen to the re-records. I have actually re-recorded and re-mastered “A Long-Expected Party” three times. 2011, 2013, and 2014. I re-recorded “King of the Golden Hall” in 2013, and “Shadow of the Past” in 2014. I usually try labelling the dates on the mp3 files themselves. The one I’m most proud of re-recording bits of, is “The Pyre of Denethor” as the first time I had Denethor say his last words he was mildly raising his voice, but I listened to it again one day and went “this man should be at the edge of sanity.” - so he absolutely yells now, and it’s such a night-and-day comparison.

Another addendum: I completely understand the complaints about ‘the sound/music drowning out the dialogue’. It’s been the #1 complaint over the decade. I completely understand. I never had professional sound mixing gear, nor did I have proper mixing headphones or speakers or a proper studio (most of the audiobook was recorded at my grandmother’s house!). The balance of the audio making it sound immersive, (like you are there!) and having clear dialogue to hear is - like I said - an extremely technical and complex process that I’ve never had the ability or tech to master. Let alone for a book that’s 48 hours long, and has so much sound and music to it. Nothing would bring me more joy than to work with an experienced sound mixer, and find all my audio stems, and for us to work together to clear up any and all issues. But as this project was a simple fan-made work, and I haven’t distributed it myself for a decade, who knows?

This is also why I never went on to do “The Hobbit”. Burnout is real, and I’ve never recovered from LOTR. The burnout… “it’s never really healed, Sam.”

13. What was your favorite scene to record and mix?

Mount Doom. Can’t get better than trying to make the climax as horrible and eucatastrophic as that. It all led up to this, and it was such a rush to work on. I remember how I was at the edge of my seat watching ROTK in cinemas for the first time, and how amazingly they pulled it off, and I wanted to definitely imitate that, but using Tolkien’s own writing. Just so cool.

I have two favorite chapters: The first one is “The Scouring of the Shire”. I remember well, when I was working on it, I realized this has never been ‘dramatized’ before. At least not in full. I felt so special being the first one (probably) to do it. I could imagine the entire chapter in my head like a film, and I could bring it to life with very little outside influence. Such a poignant and shocking chapter. 

I don’t think I would have done it as well without the experience I gained doing the rest of the Audiobook. Showing the strength of the four hobbits, portraying the dignity and resolve of their kind, giving that pathetic yet dangerous authenticity to Sharkey, and the ruffians, illustrating the battle of bywater with sound… this was done in 2013, so we all were able to listen to new music by Howard Shore (for The Hobbit), and I would be able to transpose motifs from that, into “Scouring”, and honestly I wouldn’t know how it would have worked out if the Hobbit films didn’t come out just at the right time. I think the score fits so well with the events of “Scouring”, there is a ‘mordor’ theme but it feels ‘unfinished’, like the remnant of an old defeated foe; there’s that wily progression for Radagast in the films, that I used for the hobbit’s rebellion and the conflict, and there’s a new ‘hobbit/shire’ motif that worked so perfectly for a ‘wounded, but recovering’ Shire. I feel so silly talking about decisions I made for this, but I always wanted to share some thoughts I had! 

Fun fact: I had a wonderful person ask if she would be able to play Rosie Cotton back in 2013, and I asked her to perform her lines. She was great, but I realized a very strange thing: when I put her in the audio mix, it would actually break the immersion, because you can hear a voice that wasn’t mine, and as a result - I couldn’t help but keep thinking - my voice for Rosie’s mother sounded like a Monty Python skit in comparison! And thus her lines had to be unused. It kind of just opened the fourth wall, breaking the illusion. Which is a shame, because I always dream of having a fully-cast LOTR Audiobook, maybe someday officially.

The other favorite is “The Tower of Cirith Ungol” just because I listened to it one day in 2014, and heard no errors. I was so proud. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to change substantially. No one dislikes all the errors more than I do!

14. What’s your best memory from this entire project?

My late dad drove me and my brother out into a clearing at midnight in the forest. The sky was so clear and starry. And we were here simply to just yell at the top of our lungs to record material for “Helm’s Deep”. All the clear yells: “Elendil!!!” “Gúthwinë! Gúthwinë For the Mark!”etc. Etc. - I lost my voice, it was a fun time. He held the microphone for me as I splashed around a stream (for Gollum), once again at midnight since there were fewer background sounds.

I also tell this story a lot: A friend of mine who was listening to the chapters as I finished them - she hated the sound of knuckles cracking. And hated spiders. So, obviously, Shelob would have to have knuckle-cracking sounds for her limbs. So I recorded my own knuckles cracking and tried using it as much as I could for Shelob’s legs moving about. My friend was soooo ecstatic to know this fact.

15. If you could do it all again today, what would you change?

I would consider doing a ground-up re-recording of everything. With a budget, with a cast, with a lot more understanding of the story and intentions behind them. With VR sound options. With extra original music. That’s the dream. 

If we’re back to reality, I guess I’d just re-record a bunch of chapters since they could always be better, and tighten all the technical errors. But that would require a lot of assembling of the raw archived files, and re-building of sounds, and re-recording of lines. Also, as I stated before, I do not want to distribute my unofficial fan work just because I know that it’s a copyright nightmare. And burnout… “it’s never really healed, Sam.”

I like taking other people’s opinions to heart, such as the issues with Frodo’s youth or inflections and intonations for certain scenes that I didn’t quite fully grasp the first time. I would love to adjust things and make it closer to the book now.

- - - - -

And now! The Silly Questions Lightning Round!

(With thoughts from Lady Glasses in parentheses and italics!)

1. In Fellowship, long stretches of dialogue would often have someone randomly cough in the background. Tell me about the Cough. Why is the Cough there?

No one hates the coughs more than me. That’s either my brother minding his own business in the other end of our ‘office room’. I think you now know I was 21, I didn’t care, so these things are just left in because I was careless. However, sometimes there are intentional coughs to make it feel more realistic. It’s been years since I listened to it, so unless I somehow do a massive commentary stream someday (thinking about it), your guess will be as good as mine! The coughs heavily subsided once I did Two Towers, since I was by myself.

2. During the dinner scene with Farmer Cotton, someone burps. Who was that?

Mine. I have no regrets with that one. Or Pippin. I guess it could be Pippin.

(Darn! And here I thought it was Farmer Cotton, LOL)

3. How did you manage to make Bill Ferny’s voice so perfectly obnoxious?

I imagined Bill as an obnoxious guy. The image in my head gives me a good idea of what he’d sound like, and I’m so glad he’s so obnoxious that you had to mention it.

(He sounds perfectly punchable. Thanks, I hate it.)

4. Did you crack yourself up at any point in the recording?

Oh yes, in fact I have a whole outtake reel just for you!

(Warning to anyone who clicks the link: the April Fool's audio had me ON THE FLOOR)

5. Voice acting aside, who is your favorite character in LotR and why?

If you asked me in 2002 it would be the Balrog, if you asked me now it would be difficult because so many of them mean so much to me, and each of their aspects have something to aspire to. Gandalf, Aragorn, Sam, Frodo, Galadriel, the list goes on and on.

(That's beautiful, and so true. The story really grows with us, doesn't it?)

6. What’s your favorite color?

Blue. Always has been.

(Blue is a good color! 💙)

7. Political question: Pineapples on pizza, yes or no?

Yes, I still don’t get what the fuss is about

(Oooh, controversial)

8. Is a hotdog a sandwich?

No, it’s a hotdog!

(Counterpoint: A hotdog is a taco.)

9. What’s your opinion on geese?

They’re racist

(Racist against the entire human race, apparently)

10. How much would I have to pay you to say “I love boats!” in Merry’s voice? (It’s an inside joke with my friends.)

Nothing, it’s on the house!

(HOLY CRAP I LOVE YOU)

- - - - -

Thank you so much for taking the time to chat with us! What are you working on nowadays?

I’ve actually had a few people ask me if I’ll ever do more audiobooks like this, and I seem to have tapped something. Yes, in fact! I’m working with a few creative collaborators on a small company to do the exact same sonic experience with other books! Since we’re very small, we are starting with stories in the Public Domain, and have successfully kickstarted (and finished) “The Jungle Book” by Rudyard Kipling. Which will be out (hopefully, officially) by early September! I’m really excited and hope this will lead to more projects, and - hopefully- back to Tolkien someday, in an official manner. Please follow my Instagram or Facebook for more info about it. (I also have a Twitter and Tumblr and more, but they’re all completely unrelated to LOTR and are just me drawing doodles and being a nerd, very unlike the Audiobooks I did, which is a bit confusing, I admit.)

- - - - -

And that concludes our interview! As I told Phil, it was so much fun to discuss a fellow fan's passion project like this. The more I read about it, the more I realized just how similar it was to my own experiences as a fan creator. We all start out as just a noob with a few unpolished skills, making something because we love it, and we learn and grow and hone our talents along the way. It's legitimately inspiring.

Needless to say, I am stoked to finish listening to the rest of this audiobook! Is it a bit weird knowing the creator of the thing might drop in and read my reviews?? Yes. Yes it is. But I'm gonna do it anyway. No holds barred! If I hear another cough, you're gonna know about it, Phil!

Also I may or may not do something with that audio of Merry because I'M STILL DYING OF LAUGHTER HELP

Anyway! If you made it to the end of this, you deserve a cookie! Everybody say thank you to Mr. Dragash, and go check out the other stuff he's doing nowadays! Namárië!

[telekineticseance]

INCAPABLE

kinktober day eleven: humiliation

pairing: matt stone x gn!reader

summary: your first hollywood experience wasn't as cheerful as you imagined it would be

genre: smut

word count: 1826

cw: public humiliation, degrading, name calling, meandom!matt, minor hair pulling, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex

author's note: i'm a day late but i made it. i'll post day 12 later today as well.

Hollywood wasn’t what you thought it was going to be before you migrated out West to pursue a career. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, you just knew you wanted to pursue some sort of career in film or maybe even a tv show. So you were taken aback when you were offered a job position in working for some new movie from new filmmakers in the area.

The only negative thought you had was the fact that one of the guys who was in charge was a complete asshole to you and as much as you felt stupid around him because of the mess ups he called you out on because of the way he looked, it always left you slightly turned on.

“You know when I asked for you to help with setting up the scene I meant for you to do it the right way.” Matt’s voice rang behind you, causing you to jump slightly before turning around, looking at him.

You looked down at your shoes, unable to form words as you looked at him, “I’m sorry I was just doing what Trey told us to do.”

The scoff coming from him made you want to curl up and die but this is what it took to make it in Hollywood right. Deal with the assholes?

“I’m sorry it won’t happen again.” Was all you could say, glancing up at him. He leaned down to get lower to your height, holding eye contact with you as he did.

“Good because it won’t be the end of the movie if we lose a crew member.” Matt’s voice was stern and sent chills down your spine as you gave him another nod, before watching him turn to leave.

You didn’t even notice that you were holding your breath until he rounded the corner and you let out a deep breath, your heart racing.

The rest of the day went smoother, you trying to avoid Matt the best you could, continuing to listen to Trey as he instructed everyone whether it was how to act or if it was how to move a set piece and where to go with it.

“Y/N what did I tell you?”

That voice caused you to jump every time it rang across the room. You slowly turned, breaking away from your conversation, looking at him, unable to speak. “I uh..”

“Hm? What was it I said about actually doing your job and not fucking off?”

“I wasn’t fucking off I was-“

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I told you one thing and you did another. Now she has a scene to do and you’re distracting her.” He motioned to the actress who you were talking with.

You couldn’t help but feel that same familiar feeling as you clenched your thighs together subtly while looking down, fiddling with your hands, “Yes sir. I’m sorry.”

As you glanced up, you noticed him staring you down before rolling his eyes and walking off. You were quick to walk to the bathroom, taking a few breaths as you splash water in your face. You hated the fact that you got turned on when he looked down at you, when he would practically publicly humiliate you in front of the actors and crew.

You heard Trey yell for “Action!” before you took another few breaths, walking out of the bathroom and feeling your body collide with a taller figure. You paused and looked up to see Matt looking down at you with an almost blank expression on his face.

“Can we talk in private?” Matt’s voice chirped up as he looked down at you. You slowly looked up at him before nodding and starting to walk off to a separate room with him.

You shut the door behind the two of you as you walked into the room, your palms growing more sweaty by the moment as your heart raced. Preparing yourself for what Matt was going to get onto you about now, or worse fire you. And if you got fired from your first job, you might as well have moved back home because the thought that it would prevent you from being able to get another job in Hollywood sat in the back of your mind.

“Trey sent me in here with you to apologize for my behavior the last couple of days.” He crossed his arms over his chest, not holding eye contact with you.

“O-Oh. Um..”

“Let me finish,” You quickly closed your mouth to let him continue. “I’m not going to because personally I think you can be incapable of following directions.  But he said since it’s your first movie I should cut you some slack because not everyone has experience in this stuff.”

You looked down, the subtle comment about you causing you to get the feeling again as you nodded. You felt your eyes scan you before he moved closer, “Are you going to defend yourself? Or just take it?”

You shrugged, you didn’t really want to argue back with the fear of your job being constantly dangled over your head but sometimes you thought if you argued back Matt would decide to leave you alone.

Matt’s fingers gripped your chin as he forced you to look up at him, your eyes widening slightly, “So are you? Tell me about how you can follow directions? About how you want to stay here?”

“Well..I guess I mean….” The lump in your throat made you stumble over your words as you thought your heart was going to explode. Your eyes looked at Matt, he had his costume on but minus the wig. The mustache he grew himself, opting out for a fake one but you thought it complimented his face nicely. His shirt was tight against his skin, you could practically see the shape of every curve, every muscle from underneath it.

Matt took another step close, you felt the lump in his jeans press against you, causing your breathing to halt. Was he?

“You know you’d be so much hotter if you didn’t tend to be incompetent.”

His hips moved subtly, the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent as he let out a small groan, “I see the way you look when I talk to you. When you have to go hide in the bathroom to consume yourself.”

His hand continued holding onto your chin, forcing you to look at him as he talked to you, “You get turned on when I talk down to you don’t you?”

His voice was low as you just nodded, ashamed that he knew but the feeling of his bulge moving against you made you come to terms with maybe he was more into it as well.

“Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to fuck you over this desk until you’re a blabbering mess?”

His hands had moved to go from his fingers holding your chin to his hand covering most of the lower half of your face as your face was slightly smushed from his grasp.

“I-I don’t want you to stop.” You choked out, looking up at him.

He gave you a smirk before pulling back from you, “Get on your knees.”

You quickly obeyed, climbing onto your knees in front of him before you looked up. His hands started to unbutton his jeans before he pulled them down, his cock springing free from the tightness of the jeans but with a lack of underwear underneath.

Ashamed to admit it, you couldn’t help but feel your mouth practically start to water at the sight. The precum leaking from the bright pink tip, taking your thumb to wipe it off before starting to pump his cock in your hand.

He fluttered his eyes shut as he let out a small groan before you placed your tongue along the side, licking along a vein, before wrapping your lips around the tip. You started bobbing your head along his length, swirling your tongue. Matt’s hand moved to the back of your head, gripping your hair as he trusted in.

You gagged against his length, feeling his thrusts into your mouth as you listened to the sounds of his groans. Your nose occasionally touched the small patch of hair that rested above his cock as you’d take as much of him into your mouth as you could.

The occasional gagging causing Matt’s grip on your hair to tighten as he continued fucking your mouth. The sounds of curse words spilled from his mouth as he looked down at you.

It didn’t take too long before you felt a warm liquid spill from the tip, running down the back of your throat, the occasional drop leaking from the sides of your mouth. You pulled away when his grip disappeared from the back of your head, a string of saliva and cum coming from your lips before you reached up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Matt’s hand lifted you from the ground before he motioned to the desk. You walked over before he turned you around, bending you over the top of the desk.

You felt Matt pull at your pants before pulling at your underwear, letting it fall to your ankles. His tip teased at your entrance, causing you to gasp. He slowly slid in causing you to gasp out as you closed your eyes tightly.

He took a moment, letting you adjust to the size before his thrusts started. The pace was slower before he quickly began to go faster.

You let out a moan, not sure what to grab into so your hands migrated to the edge of the desk, holding on to it tight enough that your knuckles started turning white.

Matt’s grip on your hips tightened as the desk underneath you would shake from the pacing of Matt’s thrusts.

The sounds of skin slapping along with your’s and Matt’s moans continued to echo off the walls and you hoped nobody outside could hear what was going on inside the room.

“O-Oh fuck I-.” You cried out, tears brimming your eyes. You could barely form words as the lump in your throat just turned into more audible moans.

Matt started to hit your sweet spot as he leaned down to your ear, “I wanna see you come.” He groaned out as he thrusted.

That’s all you needed before you came, hard. The grip on the desk only got tighter as you could barely breathe from how quick your heart was beating.

Matt was soon to come after, the feeling of him filling you up sent a chill down your spine as you let out a small whine from the feeling.

He pulled out, looking down at you as you shakily sat up straight, pulling your clothes back on. You were caught off guard by Matt’s hand lightly caressing your cheek, “Hm maybe you can listen.”

[wutheringheightsfilm]

wuthering heights posting #122938: on the abuse being taken seriously

so in an earlier post i said that most of (aka nearly all) the wuthering heights adaptations fail because not a single filmmaker* nor screenwriter takes the abuse that heathcliff and catherine face (at the hands of both their father and hindley, because yes, hitting your children with the rod, neglecting them, and saying you can't possibly love them and, for example, saying to your daughter's face that she's the worst of your children [mr earnshaw's doing] and forcing your adoptive brother into servitude (and there are many articles about this especially in relation to heathcliff's race---i really recommend Maja-Lisa von Sneidern's article Wuthering Heights and the Liverpool Slave Trade for more on this, specifically their posit that "In the novel the Heights, corrupted by the introduction of the racially other [Heathcliff], is the place where the figures of a system of bondage work out their relationships." (Sneidern, 174)) , flogging him, and withholding food from your younger sister as punishment [hindley's doing] are both repeated instances abuse, in different degrees of intensity, but nonetheless have the same impact: it drives heathcliff and catherine's codependency. but this isn't what i solely want to talk about: what i want to actually talk about is heathcliff and catherine's (ultimately) world-shattering decision to visit thrushcross grange. *note: when i say film/filmmakers/screenwriters this includes both cinema film as in movies that both got a mainstream release in theatres and made-for-tv movies and tv miniseries. i'm too lazy to type out "film and tv" every time.

So, in the book, since this is being told from Nelly's (the housekeeper's) point of view, we don't actually know why exactly in the moment Heathcliff and Catherine choose to go to Thrushcross Grange (the manor home of the substantially wealthier Linton family), but it's said later:

""Where is Miss Catherine?" [Nelly] cried hurriedly. "No accident, I hope?" "At Thrushcross Grange," [Heathcliff] answered; "and I would have been there too, but that had not the manners to ask me to stay."... "...What in the world led you to wandering to Thrushcross Grange?" .... [Heathcliff] continued: "Cathy and I escaped from the wash-house to have a ramble at liberty, and getting a glimpse of the Grange lights, we thought we would just go and see whether the Lintons passed their Sunday evenings shivering in corners, while their father and mother sat eating and drinking, and singing and laughing, and burning their eyes out before the fire. Do you think they do? Or reading sermons, and being catechized by their manservant, and set to learn a column of Scripture names, if they don't answer properly?"" (WH, 50-51) (of the complete and unabridged longmeadow press 1983 edition)

Usually, this paragraph is framed in film in one of two ways:

either we actually see this exchange between nelly and heathcliff

heathcliff's reason for why they go to thrushcross grange is shown in either heathcliff or catherine (usually catherine) stating whilst they're out on the moors that she would like to go visit thrushcross grange

In both instances, in most of the film adaptations I have seen, their visit to Thrushcross Grange is played off as a joke---or at least, Heathcliff's reasoning as to why they went is played off as a joke.

Partially, this may be because Nelly doesn't take the abuse that Heathcliff and Catherine face seriously, either: in the very next sentence, she says, ""Probably not," I responded. "They are good children, no doubt, and don't deserve the treatment you receive, for your bad conduct."" (WH, 51) Nelly, an unreliable narrator in case you couldn't tell, vocally does not like Heathcliff nor Catherine, even from when they're children. Because she as a character believes that Heathcliff and Catherine deserve the abuse they face, I feel like many have assumed that Emily Bronte as an author was either implying that the abuse was 1) not that serious or not that big of a deal or was 2) definitely deserved because clearly, even as children and young teens, Heathcliff and Catherine were just that evil. Thus, a lot of filmmakers either consciously or subconsciously utilize that thinking as well. And of course, the other part of it is that the filmmakers themselves have decided that the abuse is either no big deal or is something they don't want to spend a lot of time analyzing.

However, I think that this moment, the decision for Heathcliff and Catherine to visit Thrushcross Grange... I think it's honestly really huge, and honestly really underrated as far as potential scenes to have between them. If this situation was treated with the gravitas it deserves, as in: two very abused and traumatized children see the manor house of the very rich family in the distance, and say to each other, "I wonder how they live. Do they have to suffer like we do?"

And to make matters even deeper (and worse for them), the result of this is that Catherine gets her leg mangled by a dog, and her and Heathcliff's relationship is irrevocably changed by her experiences at the Grange. For five weeks, Catherine is free from her abusive brother, the stress of essentially fending for herself because of his neglect of her, and she gets access to all of the upper class amenities and things she's never had access to before in her life, with people doting on her who genuinely care about her recovery and health. It's no wonder she comes back changed: now she's acutely aware of the life she could lead--if she abandons Wuthering Heights (by marrying into the Lintons) and leaves Heathcliff to fend for himself. Even so, though...she still doesn't want to leave Heathcliff in the dust. Even when presented with the prospect of escaping her abusive household, she only thinks of ways she can use the Lintons' money to help Heathcliff escape with her. AND OF COURSE, we have to talk about how Catherine (white woman) gets the opportunity to escape essentially handed to her and Heathcliff (brown man) has to carve out his own path and do all of the hard work himself and make his own fortune....

IDK!!! I'm RAMBLING!!! but there's a LOT HERE!!!

[natlacentral]

Netflix’s Diversity Program Turned This Director Into a Top Showrunner in Just 4 Years

Jabbar Raisani had hit a wall. He had done second unit directing on “Game of Thrones,” he was a seasoned visual effects artist and two-time Emmy winner for “Thrones,” and he even directed his first indie feature. But he couldn’t get that next job and make the jump to what he really wanted to be: an episodic TV director. 

“I was really looking for any avenues that I could to help to expand my network and to increase my opportunities and chances of actually booking an episode,” Raisani told IndieWire. “I was getting lots of meetings, but not a lot of opportunities.”

So as a South Asian filmmaker from San Antonio, Raisani turned to some of the many diversity incubator programs set up across Hollywood to set himself apart from the many white dude directors flooding the space. He had participated with programs led by NBC, Sony, what was then Viacom, and the Directors Guild of America. But he “still was running into the same barrier.”

“I had a really good reel, I had a lot of heavy visual effects experience, but I didn’t have an episode under my belt,” he said. “If you can’t check that box as you’re going down the list of things you’ve done, it makes your opportunities of getting a full episode of directing much, much more difficult.” 

It wasn’t until he signed up for Netflix‘s inaugural Series Director Development Program that something changed. He got his first directing gig on “Lost in Space,” and he did VFX work on the latest season of “Stranger Things.” Now just four years removed from being selected in that program’s first cohort, he’s not just a working director but was last month named the co-showrunner on one of Netflix’s flagship new series, “The Last Airbender.”

There’s no shortage of DEI initiatives around town, the ones studios love to brag about in flashy press releases to show they’re making a difference in the industry, even if the numbers still say otherwise. But Raisani’s journey is a rare success story, and he has reached a higher level in the industry in a shorter time than even some of the other directors in his same cohort. 

“He always looked at ways to bring out the best from the other people he was working with,” said former DGA president Paris Barclay, who was Raisani’s instructor for the Netflix diversity program. “You saw he was open, and one of the things we really tried to teach in the Netflix class is directing isn’t just about calling the shots and having a megaphone and being the director. It’s about engaging other creative people to help you tell the story. He was a master of that already in a very calm, very unassuming way. You just want to work with him.”

But even if Raisani had all the attributes, he had heard from a top producer why he still wasn’t reaching that next level.

“She said, look, here’s the way this goes: You have a great meeting with me and I love you in the room and I believe in you,” Raisani explained. “But if I send your resume up to the person that’s up above me, and they see you’ve never directed an episode of television, you will be taken out of consideration. What you’re running into is you’re getting to here and having a great meeting. But up there, it’s just about checking a box.” 

Raisani left that meeting knowing he had to change — and it wasn’t the only meeting he took like it. He realized his path wouldn’t be a straight line, and he had to remain flexible. He knew being in the Netflix program alone wouldn’t get him a job, but the real value of the program was it got him to a point where he couldn’t be ignored any longer. 

“It started taking the the reasons to say no away,” Raisani said. “It’s less about getting a yes and it’s more about taking away people’s opportunity to say no. And once you can get enough of the no’s out of the way, then you end up with a yes. But that meeting where you hit a home run, everybody loves you, and you come away with an episode, I never had that experience.”

Raisani’s other incubator experiences were valuable in their own way, but the Netflix program hit different. Barclay assigned exercises that went beyond providing a forum for a few guest speakers. Raisani said he had to write “extensive shot breakdowns,” taking an existing script Barclay had already shot and lay out an entire plan for how he would shoot it. Raisani said it amounted to doing a full day of prep on top of having a full time job. The other incubators didn’t come close to Barclay’s 10-week crash course in terms of homework. 

Barclay also used the other students in the cohort as sounding boards for the students, asking them to critique each others’ work. And he lectured about things not generally taught in film school such as the hierarchy of TV directing or even the spiritual side of the craft. Barclay also brought in speakers like Ava DuVernay, Charlie Hunnam, and Barry Jenkins to talk about their craft, and in Hunnam’s case, the nuances of working with actors for young directors who had never really done it before. 

Raisani isn’t the only one from his graduating class to find some success in Hollywood, some not even at Netflix. Juanesta “Winnie” Holmes has directed episodes of “Family Reunion” and “The Upshaws,” and Gonzalo Amat has directed “Fire Country,” “Chicago Med,” and Law & Order: Organized Crime” for network TV. Barclay says it’s in Netflix’s interest to develop people who can move between different genres and styles, even if they wind up directing elsewhere. 

But Raisani is something of a unicorn. His brother, Rashad Raisani, is an EP on “9-1-1: Lone Star,” and on “The Last Airbender” he’s part of a fully AAPI directing team. Barclay early on in the program told Netflix Raisani was “one of the ones I would hire,” touting his accessible leadership style and ability to express ideas you want to embrace. 

“I can’t exactly bottle that skill, but if I could, I would make a lot of money,” Barclay said of Raisani.

Raisani and Barclay both believe however that if he’s not going to be a one-off anomaly of the DEI push, studios need to do more with their programs. Raisani’s idea is to guarantee an episode of television within two years of completing an incubator and let them check that box, something Barclay says other programs are slowly adopting. If the studio isn’t 100 percent confident in that person to let them film an episode of TV, they shouldn’t be in the program to begin with. 

“You’re going to see people that make that transition versus people that end up stuck in this void of, ‘I’ve done a lot of programs but I never got an opportunity to direct an episode,'” Raisani said. “I certainly got got stuck in that void.”

“It needs to go beyond that,” Barclay added, saying it can’t just be something a studio is obligated to do. “I think it needs to also accept people that you’re willing to stand behind and have a commitment for. If that show gets canceled, you still have the commitment and Netflix will keep looking out for you and keep finding opportunities for you.”

[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

six. need your love so bad.

content (for this chapter): family feels (again), marriage talks, cursing, lots of fluff, comfort, slight anxiousness, the boys being menaces, unedited

word count: 4.8k

a/n: i was trying to make this chapter longer because next one will be the last and i'm already missing them, but also it's been almost a month since you've last heard for me. exams aren't over yet, so it'll still take me a while to get the next one going and finished, so thank you for your patience (before and even more now). ily

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“When I was young, my mama used to tell me I would find love many times throughout my life, and it wouldn’t always look the way I expected it to. Unsurprisingly, she was right–I found love in her, the way she’d care for me even when I was here and she was back home, miles between us that at times felt unbearable; I found it in all of you, who’ve had to bear with me through college–I’m sorry, I love you, thank you for sticking around; and I found it in this family: Alba, who is too busy trying to get to the cake to hear a single word I’m saying–hi, sweetie, we’ll get you a piece right away; Frankie, of course–I’m not sure I knew what love really meant until you came around. You, and the rest of them. Because, you see, what I didn’t know when I first got with Frankie was that he came with addenda, and they are one of the best things that ever happened to me. Santiago, Will, Benny, you–I love you, and I hope you know I will always be there for you, whenever you need me. Growing up I never wondered what it’d be like to have brothers, to be honest, but I now know I just had to wait around to find out. It’s not half as bad, even the maddening moments. No–no, seriously, my hair’s gone almost white these past years dealing with you. But I’d do it all over again. Thank you–thank you for taking me in, for trusting me with your Frankie, and just for being you.”

The towel on Frankie’s shoulders was warm, and as he padded back towards the bedroom he felt the droplets of water fall from his hair, some escaping the towel and dripping down his neck. A muffled squeal came from the bed, where Camila rested sprawled on her back, Frankie’s phone in her hands as the screen light cast shadows across her face. She was smiling, tilting her head ever so slightly at his coming into the room though her eyes did not wander away from the images playing on the screen.

“Are you seriously watching it again?” he chuckled, climbing on the edge of the bed and carefully straddled her before lowering his frame over hers, threading his head through the needle formed by her arms.

“Yes,” she widened the space between her arms for him to fit in before he leaned fully over her, a quiet oof leaving her at his full weight now on her. He tucked his head in the curve of her neck, nosing gently at her jaw to let her give him more space, a quick kiss to her collarbone before settling down. “You know, I think Alba might become a great filmmaker–she really got your best side.”

“What?” he laughed, pulling his head up just about. “I have a best side?”

“Sure you do,” moving the phone into her left hand, she then proceeded to poke his left side with a quick grin, her eyes darting to the side towards him. The squealing noise came again from his right side, followed by a laughter and a are you fucking kidding me? “Look.”

With one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other propped up to hold the phone up for both of them, he rested her cheek against hers, making her snort before pressing play again.

Camila didn’t remember the last time she’d been to the beach.

She used to go all the time back home–though home was now Frankie. Had been for a while.

Frankie, a few steps ahead, being dragged by Alba by his hand right towards the shore, his cap sitting slightly askew on his head as he did his best not to drop his shoes. Unable to help herself, Camila laughed at the sight, arms wrapped around herself as the chill of the sunset set in–she didn’t mind it that much.

Frankie lowered himself at Alba’s side, his hands wrapping around her waist as he leaned in and told her something that got lost in the sound of the waves. The kid was looking at him, eyes wide and mouth set in something akin to determination–as much as a 5-year-old could show, really. She nodded at whatever it was her father said, then freed herself from his hold and ran back towards her, kicking up sand as she went.

“Come, mama,” she said, grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling her along.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she chuckled, following as quickly as the sand allowed, looking back towards Frankie just once. He’d taken his cap off, shaking his curls a little as he twisted it in his hands, an amused look crossing his face. When she turned back towards Alba, she was heading straight for a large towel set on the sand, the corners held down by rocks. “Sweetie, hold on, that’s not for us,” she warned gently, picking up Alba’s pace.

“It is, actually,” Frankie called, slowly reaching their side. The kid was looking up, her hand still wrapped around Camila’s dress. “Thought it’d be nice to sit and watch it together,” he added, almost bashful, nodding towards the setting sun, sky already tinged of oranges and pinks. Camila grinned, extending her hand towards his.

“Sometimes I think you’re still trying to woo me,” she leaned into his shoulder as he got closer, pressing a kiss to it from above his sleeve. He bowed his head in return, brushing his lips to her temple.

“I absolutely am,” he returned with a firm nod, making her snort.

They dropped their shoes by the towel before sitting down–almost falling, really, Camila the first to drop down and tugging him with her. He made a noise of protest as he landed at her side. Alba moved to Camila's other side, burying her hands and feet in the sand, uninterested in the scene before them.

“Well, it’s working,” she hummed, one last glance towards the child before looking up ahead, tilting her head so that it was resting again on Frankie’s shoulder, inhaling deeply and letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

Frankie shuffled at her side, one hand dropping between them as he shifted a little, and then again, as if trying to find a comfortable position. She threaded her arm with his, tugging it gently to her chest and kissing his shoulder again, hooking her chin over it afterwards.

He sighed, hand coming up to brush down her forearm, thumb drawing circles across her skin. He cleared his throat once, twice, and when Camila opened her eyes he straightened his back almost abruptly, his gaze moving from her quickly to look up ahead.

Frankie was restless–though his angst had dimmed throughout the years, there were times he couldn’t sit still for too long without growing agitated. Camila would hold him then, just a few minutes, until they came up with something to do that would keep him occupied, whether it was going out for a walk or a drive or staying at home to make a more complex meal, each step a rule that ground him.

“We don’t have to stay here, honey,” she hummed, her chin still over his shoulder as she detangled their arms and brought both hands over his back, rubbing up and down in slow soothing motions. “Should we keep walking?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, gaze flickering from her to the red-tinged sea and back again. “Shit–I thought it’d be easier.”

“What’s wrong, Frankie?” her hands moved up to his shoulders, a delicate massage up the tensed curve of his neck that had him hum softly, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment.

“Nothing,” he shook his head again, twisting slightly to face her. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing has been wrong for a while, and I have you to thank for that.”

“Honey–” she called softly, taking off her sunglasses, and he leaned in to kiss her–a quick brush of lips to quieten her.

“I love you,” he murmured, and turned furthermore, “so fucking much. I do. In a way I didn’t think would be possible–would be allowed to someone like me,” she shifted onto her knees, bringing herself closer to his front, the only barrier his crossed legs between them. Her hands fell to his knees, head tilting slightly as her gaze softened. “Every morning I wake up and see you and think that in all that shit I must’ve done something right for you to still be here, and–”

“Frankie,” she almost reprimanded, a small frown knitting her brow.

“Just let me–” he sighed, tipping his head back for a moment before exhaling, turning back to meet her eyes. “I know I want to wake up every day and think that for the rest of my life. I want to wake up to you and go to sleep with you and do everything else in the middle with you, Mila. For the rest of my life, I want–I want–”

From his pocket, Frankie struggled to pick out a small box–Camila’s eyes widened at the sight of the green velvet, a squealing noise leaving her abruptly as he brought it between the two of them. Before he could say anything else, she’d tipped herself forward, arms wrapped around his shoulders that brought them both down towards the sand. Frankie laughed, tightening his grip around the unopened box as he brought his other arm around her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she called, voice muffled by his shirt. “You had me worried!” again he chuckled, brushing her side gently. “Yes–” 

“I haven’t even asked you anything yet,” he said softly, but let his lips brush her cheek before she pulled her head back. Camila looked down at him, hair falling down as if to curtain them from the world, eyes wide and face flushed.

“Sorry,” she muttered, then pulled back–as much as Frankie’s arms allowed. “Wait, you were–were you asking–”

“Yes,” he laughed again, moving the box between them and opening its lid. Camila’s gaze flickered down to the ring in it, the opal encased in a white gold thin band popping from the dark case. “I know it doesn’t change much, and it doesn’t have to be right away, we’ve got all the time in the world, I just–” he placed the box on his chest, so as to bring his hand up and tuck her hair behind her ear, touch lingering over her cheek. “I want you to be my wife. I want to grow old with you. I want to do all that’s left to do in life with you, and call myself your husband, and be obnoxious and corny about it.”

“Is this why you wanted to come here?” her smile was wide, making her eyes squint and lines form around her mouth. He brushed his thumb along her cheek, nodding slowly and wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger.

“I wanted–I don’t know, thought I’d make it worth the wait,” he tilted his head to the side, nodding past her shoulder. “Even hired the best cameraman around to record it,” he grinned–Camila sat up and turned her head, watching as Alba struggled to keep Frankie’s phone with both her hands from her corner of the towel.

“You knew?” Camila gasped in mock surprise, and Alba’s toothy grin was accompanied by a fierce nod. Frankie sat up after her, making her shift back so that she was sitting between his legs, knees hooked over his thighs.

“Had to ask for her blessing,” he said, pushing her hair behind her shoulder and placing a gentle kiss to her collarbones. The box was back in his hand, still open, the dusk light reflecting across the ring, painting it with pinks and reds. “I know we joked about it before–how we’ve been practically married since the first time we met,” she chuckled, turning back towards him. “We can just make it official–don’t even have to change your name, and the ceremony can be just us, or no ceremony at all, just–”

“Have I ever told you you’re cute when you’re nervous?” she cut him off, amusement in her voice as she placed both hands on his chest. Frankie huffed, looking down for a moment–she hooked one finger under his chin right away, making him look up again.

There was a flush across her cheeks, and her eyes shimmered somewhere between glee and unshed tears, her smile impossibly wide as she pinched his chin, her thumb brushing his bottom lip in the process.

“What do you say?” he asked softly, lifting the ring just slightly, so that it was in the general range of her vision even though she didn’t look away from him.

“What d’you think?” she retorted, taking his face in her hands and pulling him closer. “Yes, Frankie,” she whispered almost against his lips, and his heavy exhale as if of relief made her laugh again, tilting her head to kiss him–just once before pulling back.

She kept one hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as she brought the other one between them–they weren’t sure who was shaking more, with soft laughter and head bents together as he struggled to pick the ring up and, ever so carefully, slide it on her finger. That was when the tears escaped Camila, before she leaned in again with another squeal, I love yous mumbled between kisses and her arms tight around his shoulders.

From somewhere behind them, sudden hollering and cheering rose broke them apart, both their heads twisting this and that direction to find the source of it, until–

“Tío Santi!” Alba exclaimed, dropping the phone and getting herself up, running–albeit with some difficulty–towards the three men advancing in their direction.

“From your expression I can only assume this was not part of the plan,” Camila chuckled, getting up herself. Frankie scoffed lightly, taking the hands she was offering him–his touch lingered on her ring finger, thumb brushing across the stone.

“It wasn’t,” he confirmed before turning around, just in time to be tackled by an overzealous Benny, both men stumbling back and making her laugh.

With Santi occupied with Alba, though his gaze darted towards them, Will approached Camila and immediately pulled her to his chest. There was an odd look on his face she didn’t have the time to decipher, soft eyes and bright smile mixed with something else.

“Frankie was being weird, so we followed you,” he murmured with a kiss to the top of her head as her own arms wrapped around him, tight. “Benny was the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. He thought we were just crashing a family date.”

“Can you blame me?” Benny protested, while Frankie struggled to escape his hold–he had him locked underneath his arm, the other hand to the top of his head, much like in a fight. “This one has been calling her the wife for years. But proposing? No,” he elongated the o, a huff when Frankie tapped against his forearm. “Gotta ask the wife. Let me tell the wife. No, we’re not married, I’m not asking yet,” he mocked before letting him go, Frankie scoffing and straightening his back as he attempted to fix his ruffled hair, scowling in Benny’s direction.

“Thanks, Ben,” he muttered, glancing in Camila’s direction where she’d tucked herself under Will’s arm. She was beaming, clearly amused.

“It’s true,” the younger Miller shrugged, and then opened his arms towards Camila. “Come here, you,” Will was barely out of the way before he had lifted her off the ground, almost throwing her over his shoulder with a yelp coming from her, shortly followed by laughter as they moved closer to the shore.

“Well, it was about time,” Will grinned, their hands clasping before he pulled Frankie close for a half-hug, half-pat on the back. “I’m surprised it took you this long.”

“Me too, actually,” Frankie chuckled, a little bashful. “I thought about it through the years–multiple times, actually–”

“Oh, I know you did,” Will laughed, looking over his shoulder to where Camila and Benny were. “We all knew. Benny bet you had the ring ready since the moment she moved in but didn’t know how to ask,” Frankie snorted, shaking his head.

“Well, he wasn’t too far off–but don’t tell him,” mock-seriousness on his face, Will nodded. “What about you?”

“I knew it’d happen when you thought the moment was right,” he shrugged, turning ever so slightly. Benny was in the water with Camila still on his shoulder. “Do you think she needs a hand?” he asked at her half-shriek when Benny pretended to drop her in.

“I think he does,” Frankie returned with a chuckle. 

“Right,” Will scoffed, shaking his head slightly. He then lifted his hand again, clasping Frankie’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as he met his gaze. “Congratulations, Frankie.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, and with one last nod Will moved towards the shore–whether to help Benny or Mila, he didn’t know. Santi was the last to approach, Alba sitting on his shoulders with her arms crossed over the top of his head.

“If you get married while I’m away, I’ll be pissed,” he warned, as they both turned towards the sea, Alba wriggling slightly as if wanting to reach for Frankie and then reconsidering it.

“You’re leaving again?” he returned with a light frown.

“Ah, you know me,” Santi shrugged, making Alba giggle–he then repeated the motion, looking up at her as she shrieked with laughter. “Never staying too long,” he added, while she flopped to one side and then forward. “Wanna get down, chiquitita?”

“No,” she retorted, her voice slightly muffled by her upside down position.

“Alright,” he chuckled, one hand resting for support on the top of her head.

“You might give it a try, you know?” Frankie said, eyeing his daughter and then back to Santi. “Settling down at last. You have people waiting for you.”

“Wasn’t one proposal enough for today?” Santi scoffed, glancing side-ways towards him–Frankie tilted his head slightly, already catching the nervous edge in his voice.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said, a little softer, and Santi’s expression wavered for a moment. “Mila and I will always have a place for you with us–”

“Don’t go all homely on me now, Fish,” he quipped, and promptly closed his mouth at Frankie’s reprimanding gaze. He’d spent too much time with Camila.

“But we’re not the ones waiting for you,” he continued, and reached over to take Alba from his arms. “You gotta stop thinking you’re unworthy of this–of her,” Santi’s eyes closed for a moment as he inhaled sharply, hands dropping at his sides. “Just–consider it, for once. Instead of running away again, think about staying.”

“Christ, you’ve gotten soft,” Frankie scoffed, while he started shaking his head, gaze shifting from Alba to Camila, and back–Santi’s stomach twisted, shaking his head again before he sighed. “This ain’t for me. A home, a wife, it’s just–nah,” he cleared his throat, crossing and uncrossing his arms before reaching for Frankie, one hand on his shoulder as he forced a smile–genuine, yet tainted by images of a life he did not get to have. “But I’m glad it’s for you, Frankie. I’m happy for you.”

“Think about it,” Frankie just said, though he offered him a small smile.

“Think about what?” slightly breathless Camila got to Santi’s side, then hopped over his back, making him groan and step forward to refind his balance.

“Did you and your daughter just decide to destroy my knees for good?” he complained, even while he hooked his arms under her knees and fixed her position. With a laugh, Camila placed her chin above his head.

“Think about what?” she asked again.

“My best man’s speech–gotta figure out how to embarrass the both of you,” he retorted.

“Who said you’re gonna be the best man?” Frankie scoffed, and Santi’s brows arched slowly, turning to look at him.

“Oh, I’m gonna.”

Dinner with the Millers had become a staple at their household–firstly, Benny hankered to be with Alba and see Camila (who he ended up hogging all night); secondly, Will liked the routine. And he liked catching the glimpses into their homely lives, too, though he would not say it out loud. The way they’d sit on the couch always in the same spots, the coordination in setting the table, putting away the dishes, the looks they’d exchange with one another when somebody said something specific that clearly had a meaning for them and nobody else.

It was a life that suited Frankie, he thought. A life he deserved.

A life he hoped they’d eventually all get, though he believed there was not another Camila in the world for that to happen. 

“What’s on the menu, Mrs. Morales?” he chuckled, getting into the kitchen to get to the fridge, the cake he’d bought–never one to show up empty-handed–carefully balanced in his hands. Camila made a tutting noise from in front of the oven, turning around with the towel in her hand and closed the oven door with her hip.

“I thought we’d agreed that wasn’t going to be a thing,” she scolded, and Will laughed, moving closer. “And anyway it’ll be Garcia-Morales.” “Right, right,” he peeked from over her shoulder to look at the oven, then back at her. “Bet Santi’ll be thrilled to have plentiful of jokes to make around that,” he added with a grin.

“Oh, he’s started already,” she scoffed, shaking her head and leaning back against the counter. “Frankie proposed to get married before he comes back just so we don’t have to hear it in the speeches, too,” Will settled at her side, arms crossed and grin still on. “Which reminds me–I’d like to ask you something.”

“I will not be your maid of honor,” she snorted, rolling her eyes as she turned towards him.

“Of course not, that’s Benny,” Will smiled again, turning his head, too. “And Santi is Frankie’s best man–which leaves us with you.”

“I’m fine not picking sides,” he shrugged slightly. “Gonna sit right in the middle of the aisle–you’re gonna have to walk past me to get there.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to sabotage me, then,” she scrunched up her nose, but then shook her head. “But I wasn’t talking about that, exactly, more–” she tilted her head on one side, then the other, as if pondering her words. “Well, sort of–I was wondering if you’d marry us.”

Will startled a moment, lips parting as he looked at her–her head still slightly tilted, her posture mimicking his, with the way they both leaned back and had their arms crossed. She had to look up to keep his gaze, and when she tapped over her elbow the light above them rippled across the stone of her ring, pulling his attention down.

“I appreciate the offer, Cami, but I’m more of a monogamous guy,” she rolled her eyes again.

“Very funny, William,” she scoffed, brows knitting a little. “I meant–”

“I know what you meant,” he chuckled, and she grimaced in his direction.

“Well, too bad, now you’re getting the speech,” she huffed, and trying to keep his grin at bay, Will mimicked a zipper closing across his lips, then reached over to wrap his hand around her wrist, detangling her arms. “You’ve always been there for Frankie, and I love you for that. And I know you weren’t sure about me in the beginning, which–I get it. I understood even then. And I’m glad you’ve still given me a chance despite that.”

“This is sounding a lot like a confession,” he murmured in clear amusement, and she glared at him. “Sorry–I’m sorry,” he chuckled, shaking her arm lightly.

“We’re not doing anything flashy, it’s just–just gonna be us, in our backyard, like many times before. Maybe I’ll wear white and Alba is gonna make me a flower crown because she says that’s what princesses wear in fairytales, maybe there’ll be a proper cake, some decorations, I don’t know. What I know is that it’ll be beautiful, because it’s gonna stay between us–our family, you guys, which is kind of the same thing,” he smiled at that, unable to help himself, a tingling feeling starting at the base of his nose, up between his eyes. “And I’d very much like it if it’d remain between us–which is why I’d very much like it if you’d be the one to officiate our wedding.”

“Shouldn’t you be saving the speeches for the day?” he mused, turning his gaze away with a quick sniffle. At the corner of his eyes, he saw her smile. “I did think Frankie had lost his mind at first. I definitely thought your timings were… odd, to say the least. Still do, actually–who marries after five years of already living together?” when he turned back to look at her, her shoulders were shaking lightly with laughter, big smile on her face that made his expression soften furthermore. “But I stopped having second thoughts about you long ago, Cami. You���”

“Shouldn’t you be saving that for the wedding?” she echoed, almost mockingly.

“You might be right,” he chuckled, and gave a gentle squeeze to her forearm. “I would like that. Thank you.”

“The tears in your eyes were a clear indicator of that, William,” her smile widened furthermore, if possible, amused.

“It’s the heat from the oven. Why are we standing right here?” he protested instead, making her laugh before she leapt forward, bringing her arms about his shoulders and pulling him towards her. Will melted into the hug right away, his eyes closed, his arms wrapping around her with a sigh–there was a comfort in Camila’s touches, they’d found. “Do we have a date?”

“As soon as Santi brings his ass back here,” she was rubbing his shoulders, something he’d seen her do when out with Frankie, too–slow movements right under the nape of his neck that made him relax. “He’s asked us to stay here a couple of months from now, so maybe then.”

“Spring wedding, then,” he announced, pulling back ever so slightly.

Smiling, Camila looked back up at him and nodded.

“Spring wedding,” she moved her hands from his shoulders and held his face in her hands a moment longer–there was so much left unsaid, not for lack of trying but for lack of words that could express it all. Frankie had gotten lucky, sure–but Camila was there for each and one of them, and vice-versa. The best way to say it was a simple, “I love you.”

Will wasn’t sure he could reply to that without crumbling, and he settled for a nod–knowing she’d understand, knowing she’d hold him again and kiss his cheek and complain about his stubble as she did each time. And he’d hold her a little tighter and pretend like everything was normal and tranquil when Frankie came in, red-faced.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he exhaled, and they slowly detangled each other from the hug, though Camila’s arm remained wound around Will’s waist. “I don’t know where Alba gets all that energy from. Maybe Benny’ll tire her out?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible,” Camila sighed, somewhere between amused and defeated. “Is she still asking you to chase her?”

“Yes,” he sighed, and only then did he manage to focus on them both–Will’s face, specifically. His eyes a little wide and his skin slightly flushed. “So, what’d you say?” he asked, tentatively.

Camila gave a light pinch to Will’s side before moving away from him, reaching for Frankie instead and brushing his hair back from his forehead–there was a smile on her face as she leaned in, chin tilted upwards and neck craned.

“Says he’s monogamous,” she mock-pouted, and the initial perplexity on Frankie’s face melted away with a quick laugh and a glance in Will’s direction. Camila gave him a quick kiss before pulling back. “I’ll let you two talk about it–see if Benny needs a hand. Make sure the dinner doesn’t burn,” she added the last sentence already at the kitchen entrance.

“It’s not odd, right?” Will asked with a little frown, once it was just them two. “Me officiating your wedding.”

“I don’t see why it would,” Frankie shrugged lightly, burying his hands in his pockets. “It’s not, is it?”

“No, no, I just–didn’t expect Cami to think of it,” he murmured, and Frankie’s head tilted.

“I did, actually,” Will’s brows arched carefully. “I mean, I–you’ve always had my back, thought I’d ask you to one more time. Also, I thought you might be the only one who wouldn’t start crying,” the last sentence was added with amusement clear in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, right–what am I supposed to do?” Will scoffed. “You’re getting married.”

“I am,” Frankie gave a lopsided grin at the words, making the other man shake his head. “Look, whatever you decide, I’ll understand–I just thought we could ask.”

“I already decided,” Will hummed, and it was Frankie’s turn to perk up a little. “You thought I was gonna say no to your wife? Come on.”

“That’s exactly why I sent her first,” the man grinned, making Will scoff lightly. “Can’t say no to the wife, right?”

next

[contemporarybardess]

Exodus || Elora Solo

Parties: @contemporarybardess

Timing: Current

Location: Elora's Home

Triggers: Gun Use tw

Summary: Elora's quiet evening to herself is interrupted.

In spite of experiencing more than her own fair share of trauma and loss, Elora Spiros always figured she had a pretty good head on her shoulders in spite of it all. Why, then, did she have this recent sense of paranoia? Every time she stepped out of her house for any minor thing, she always felt an extra pair of eyes watching her. It had been this way for the past two weeks. In spite of this, she had never found anybody near her home. Ginger, her 200 pound hellhound she had managed to domesticate into a pet, would stare into the distance and growl, but never broke into pursuit of whatever it sensed. 

Tonight was her first night of relative calm, and she decided to enjoy it by staying in and making herself a nice cup of tea. She put some music on and poured herself a cup before huddling in front of her laptop and putting on a movie. She settled on a cheesy romantic comedy, a pretty bad one at that, in order to help further lighten the mood a little. Just as she settled in, Ginger nudged her leg with her nose, indicating she wanted to be let out. 

With a soft sigh, Elora paused the movie and sauntered over to the back door. “Be quick, Gingy, I just have to see how it ends” Elora said sarcastically before watching the beast run outside. She always wondered if she should ever try her hand at filmmaking, after all, it’s not like she could do a much worse job than some of the stuff she saw getting pumped out.

Suddenly, a deep booming bark echoed through her house, reverberating inside her chest. “I swear Gingy if it’s another rabbit…” Elora trailed off, walking outside to where she heard her dog barking. She could see her nose pointed towards a darkened area of the woods behind her house, her deep growl still sending vibrations through her body. Suddenly, that feeling of dread had returned. The pit in her stomach grew to a size larger than it had ever been before, and Elora suddenly found her hands shaking. For what felt like an eternity, the silence was only underscored by Ginger’s low growling. 

Then, the silence was suddenly broken when a shot rang out. Then another. And then another. Elora felt an intense burning sensation in her right shoulder and knew she had been hit. She didn’t have time to worry about the wound now, she needed to get herself and Ginger back in the house. If she could barricade them and buy time for the police to show up, they could finally know some peace while the crazy person gets locked up. 

She had almost made to the doorway of her home, when suddenly her heart sank. Standing in the doorway was a tall man dressed in leathers, carrying various knives and firearms. Another shot rang out from the distance, landing about 5 inches to the left of Elora’s left foot. 

“Hold your fire ye damn idiot, can’t ya see I’m standing right here?!” The man in the doorway yelled into the distance. Clearly, the two men were in cahoots. An organized attack from people this well armed and coordinated could only mean one thing. These weren’t just random murderers, they were hunters. And she was meant to be the prey, of course. 

“Whaddowe have here? I was expecting the sole survivor of the Red Waters Massacre to put up more of a fight than this.” 

How did they know about that? The massacre, while still fresh in Elora’s mind, had happened years ago. While she was certain the massacre was popular in hunters’ circles, she wouldn’t think that any would go so far as to track her down all this way unless they felt they had unfinished business with her in particular. But the only person that would fit that description would be…no.

She refocused her mind. This could not be happening. Not now, not after everything she had fought for to earn herself a normal life in this town. She tried to sneak in a punch to the gut on the man standing at her door while his guard was down, but he quickly blocked that attack and grabbed hard onto her arm. He then swung her around until she stumbled and fell onto her kitchen floor. 

While Elora was on the ground, Ginger leapt into action, pouncing on the man. With a few swift kicks, the man was able to subdue Ginger for the time being, but not before she got in several deep bites on the man. 

“Fuckin’ beast. It’s one thing to be a monster yourself, but at least you look human. And here you are playing mother to some abomination. I’d gut you like a fish right here and now, but he wants us to leave you alive.” 

He. She knew fully well who “he” was. If he really knew where she was, then everyone she was close with here was also in danger. It didn’t matter if they were fae, undead, or human. This band of hunters wouldn’t discriminate if it meant hurting her. Hurting her for daring to defy their will and surviving. 

“I s’pose it doesn’t mean I can’t take a couple fingers as souvenirs? After all, you don’t need those to live.” The hunter said, now moving his dirty bearded face close to Elora’s. His breath smelled of cheap bourbon. She heard the other man enter the house; followed immediately by the sound of him screaming and Ginger growling savagely. 

Her tall assailant got up to watch as his partner was being mauled by Ginger, now back and ready to fight. As he moved to aid his friend, Elora mustered up enough strength to sweep his leg, causing the man to trip. With a sickening crunching sound, Ginger snapped the gunmen’s neck and haphazardly tossed his body back outside. 

Still on the ground, the taller assailant reached for his own pistol and aimed it at Ginger. Elora quickly grabbed the man’s hand and wrestled with the gun for a while, before it became dislodged from both of their grasps and skidded across the floor. Elora noticed a familiar glow starting within Ginger’s stomach. She allowed the man to dive for the gun, giving her distance from the man. As the man finally secured his pistol and staggered back to his feet, a brilliant flash of light erupted from Ginger’s mouth, and the man was unceremoniously set ablaze. 

The man’s screams died down quickly as his body crumpled to the ground. Not wanting to waste any time, Elora quickly worked to extinguish the blaze so the entire estate didn’t burn down. Miraculously, she was able to contain the fire well and only ended up with some charred cabinetry and melted tiles. 

She didn’t know what to do with the bodies. She didn’t care at that point. Jake wouldn’t stop sending men after her until he could get whatever revenge he wanted on her. And he would hurt anybody he needed to in order to make Elora give in. There was only one way to truly stop this. 

Hunt down Jake before she gets hunted down herself. 

There were, of course, some caveats to this plan. Mainly that she had no idea where Jake actually was and that, if she did find him, she’d be hopelessly outgunned. In spite of this, it was the only way to keep herself and the people she loved safe. She would have to leave town. And she knew there was a good chance she’d never make it back. But if it meant that, at the end of it all, she would achieve a life of peace, it would be worth the temporary sacrifices. 

Elora grabbed a bag and packed whatever essentials she could find. She called Ginger to her side and walked out the front door with her.

She had some goodbyes she needed to make.

[desrac]

Do u get to travel and stuff for your work? And if is, what do u do for work? I really love seeing all the pictures u post w ur friends (I’m assuming) looking stylish and cute and carefree at home, on the go, in nyc, in not-nyc. It’s really lovely and I hope to be able to experience what I interpret as a lot of joy and connection!

im a photographer/filmmaker/maker/liver/yes i travel sometimes for work

i went to wolfgang tillmans show last week at david zwirner and every time i've seen his work there are always people talking about how simple and boring it alll is and im always thinking like yes!exactly! thats what life is simple and boring!and thats the beauty in it!we wake up every single day and go through like the same 6 motions but theres always that one moment in the day that reminds you of what connection looks like pay attention to that moment im sure you already experiencing some version of joy

[whileiamdying]

Remembering Maria Schneider, the Star of “Last Tango in Paris”

Photograph by Jack Mitchell / Getty

In a new book, translated by Molly Ringwald, Maria’s cousin recalls the fame and turbulence that followed the release of Bernardo Bertolucci’s controversial film.

By Vanessa Schneider

April 13, 2023

Did you know, Maria, that you were almost not cast in “Last Tango in Paris”? You weren’t Bernardo Bertolucci’s first choice. Legend has it that he originally wanted to do a story between two men before quickly abandoning the idea. He was a hot director at the time. His film “The Conformist,” from 1970, which starred Jean-Louis Trintignant and Dominique Sanda, had been a great critical success. With “Tango,” he wanted to show the dark side of the sexual revolution, exploring sex and psychological violence between two people in a Parisian apartment: a run-down forty-five-year-old man named Paul, whose wife has just committed suicide, and a young woman named Jeanne.

In the beginning, the Italian director went to Paris, hoping to re-cast Trintignant and Sanda as Paul and Jeanne. Bertolucci recalled that Trintignant turned it down, saying, “In your film, they’re having sex all the time. Sorry, but I just can’t go nude.” Sanda was pregnant and declined the offer as well. Next, Bertolucci tried to meet with the two biggest actors in France, Jean-Paul Belmondo and Alain Delon. Never the type to waste time, Belmondo refused to even see him. “I don’t do porn films,” he said. Delon’s response was more ambiguous but classic Delon—he said neither yes nor no. Bertolucci’s casting process broke down. And then someone suggested Marlon Brando. The mythic actor of American cinema was older and heavier than he had been in his prime. A string of commercial flops had placed him in the category of Hollywood “has-beens” and he needed cash after having purchased a Polynesian island, which had turned into a money pit. He didn’t know it yet, but his comeback was just on the horizon, percolating in the desire of two young filmmakers—Francis Ford Coppola, who thought of him for the title role in “The Godfather,” in 1971, and Bertolucci for “Tango.”

The first meeting between Brando and Bertolucci took place at the Hôtel Raphael in Paris. Bertolucci described the project to the American actor as the story of a man and a woman who renounce their social identities and only communicate carnally, through their bodies. Brando told him that he wanted to first watch “The Conformist,” so Bertolucci set up a screening for him the same day. Afterward, Brando invited the director to his home in Los Angeles, to discuss the film in detail before the shoot in Paris. The actor agreed to play the role of Paul in exchange for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and ten per cent of the film’s gross—a significant sum of money at the time.

The director first caught sight of you in a photograph with Dominique Sanda, who had become a friend of yours. His Parisian friends tried to talk him out of casting you. “Everyone said that she’s just a girl who spends all night dancing at Castel’s,” he recounted years later, referring to the Parisian night club. “No one saw in her what I saw, something wild behind the androgynous body with the enormous breasts.” At one point, before you started filming, he asked you to have breast surgery to “re-do” them. You refused. It was your sole act of rebellion. From then on, nothing would be asked, only demanded.

You hesitated to do the film at first, you later admitted, since you “didn’t totally understand the script,” though you did recognize that it was daring. Your agent swept away your reservations. “You can’t refuse a leading role opposite Marlon Brando!”

You’re nineteen years old, still a minor, about to embark on one of the most scandalous films of the nineteen-seventies. Your mother had to sign the contract on your behalf so that you could accept the role.

The first scenes you film are with Jean-Pierre Léaud, the favored actor of Truffaut and Godard, who plays your fiancé and an aspiring filmmaker. Bertolucci didn’t want to put you face to face with the icon right away, fearing you would be intimidated.

When you do meet Marlon Brando for the first time, it’s on the Pont de Passy, just as you’re about to shoot the film’s opening sequence, where your characters cross each other on the bridge. You find it funny that he’s wearing lifts in his shoes and think, Oh, he’s not as big as all that. There’s a childlike sweetness you perceive in him as he initiates small talk with you. He asks you what your zodiac sign is.

“Aries,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says. “Rising?”

“Libra.”

“We’ll get along just fine,” he says, “which is good, because I believe we have a few intimate scenes. . . .” He gives you a kiss on the cheek, as a father would give to his daughter.

Your first real scene with him takes place in the apartment. Any doubt about the nature of the film is immediately gone. For the sex scenes, or any scenes with nudity, Brando requests a closed set and Bertolucci complies, making the set off limits to anyone not directly involved with the film. Photographers and other onlookers wait on the sidewalk every day for the actors to appear. Some even rent apartments across the street, hoping to get a shot.

Gossip spreads throughout Paris that the Italian director is making something risqué and disturbing.

Brando imposes rules and conditions for everyone involved with the shoot. He does away with the usual hierarchies of film production. It’s out of the question for him that the crew should eat less well than the actors. During breaks, he offers drinks and sandwiches to everyone, paid for out of his own pocket. “He respected all people,” you later say. “No matter how big or small. . . . I’ll always remember him as generous, a man of integrity.”

Brando goes back to his hotel every day at 6 p.m. and refuses to work on the weekends. Bertolucci doesn’t object. For you, however, there is no such reprieve. You film take after take until midnight, and on Saturdays you film with Léaud. It’s more brutal than a marathon. By the end of the three-month shoot, you’re drained and exhausted and you’ve lost twenty-two pounds. The crew often finds you in tears. Some try to comfort you with a word or a look; others say nothing, pretending not to notice. She’s lucky, this little unknown, sharing the screen with the great Brando. . . . She doesn’t get to complain. Once you dare protest to the director: it’s too much filming, fourteen hours a day, every day. You later tell me that Bertolucci responded without even looking you in the eye. “You’re nothing. I discovered you. Go fuck yourself.”

The Italian director knows that he is making something volcanic—as captivating as it is incendiary. The crew members must have been sworn to secrecy. The pairing of you and Brando works well, and Bertolucci is jubilant. The girl is docile, he thinks, and the actor brings his wounds to the role with an intensity beyond the director’s wildest dreams. Brando gives him advice about camera placement and actors’ performances. Bertolucci is fascinated by the experience of this Hollywood giant. You observe their dynamic, intrigued, watching as Brando asserts his authority. At the last moment, you are brought in to shoot your scenes. Eventually, Bertolucci barely speaks to you, only to Brando.

The director is fixated on the cinematography. He wants the film to be orange, the color of the seventies—of hippies, of the California sun, of Indian spices. The first rushes are reassuring; they have the tint he’s looking for, but he’s not quite satisfied. In the apartment, with the shutters closed, it seems that he still feels there’s something missing—some climactic event that can push the film beyond what would be considered merely audacious.

One morning, Bertolucci takes Brando aside and suggests a scene that isn’t in the script. The men agree that nothing should be said to tip you off—that it’s better if you are taken totally by surprise. Did you sense a particular atmosphere on the set that day, see complicit looks among the director, actor, and crew? Or were you too tired by that point to question anything? Who thought of the butter? Was it Brando, Bertolucci, or both?

Rolling, action . . . . You and Brando are lying on the floor, dressed. Suddenly, Brando turns you over, roughly pulls down your jeans, and, grasping a mound of butter in his hand, he shoves it between your legs while thrusting his pelvis against your backside. You fight, you scream and cry. It’s impossible to escape; Brando’s body is pinning you to the floor. Bertolucci keeps the camera trained on your anger and terror. There’s only one take. It doesn’t last long, but for you it’s an eternity. Brando releases his grip and you scramble up, staring at the two of them with murderous rage. In your fury, you destroy the set. After, you go to your dressing room and remain prostrate for hours. The director couldn’t care less; he got what he wanted. He couldn’t have dreamed of better. “She raged against me, against Marlon, against all men,” Bertolucci would comment years later, remembering the scene.

You come out of the filming shattered, sensing this one scene has marked you forever, like a bad tattoo you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to cover up. It doesn’t matter that the sodomy was simulated—it makes you feel dirty and violated. You don’t understand that you could’ve prevented this scene from appearing in the film, since it wasn’t in the script that you had agreed to. You could’ve called a lawyer, filed suit against the producers, and made Bertolucci cut it, but you’re young, alone, and poorly counselled. You know nothing yet about the rules and regulations of the film world. The perfect victim.

Rumors swirl preceding the film’s release. It’s the return of the great Brando! A beautiful, provocative newcomer lights up the film! Bertolucci has really gone too far! At the French première, a few weeks before Christmas, people rush to find a seat. During the opening sequence, a malaise settles over the audience. Jean-Luc Godard storms out after ten minutes, furious and outraged, yelling, “Horrible!” You’re waiting outside the theatre and don’t hear him. You’re probably wearing jeans with boots and a coat that’s too thin to keep you warm. You pace and stomp your feet to prevent them going numb, smoking cigarette after cigarette, listening to the muffled noises coming from the screening room. At the end, the audience departs the theatre in embarrassed silence. They pass by without looking at you.

There’s only one person who approaches you: the actress Jean Seberg. She’s fourteen years your senior, as fair as you are dark. You’ve seen her in Otto Preminger’s “Saint Joan,” Godard’s “Breathless,” and the Romain Gary films. You don’t know it, but the two of you have Marlon Brando in common. It was her admiration of Brando that made her decide, at twelve years old, to become an actress.

Seberg, the American icon of French New Wave cinema, looks different. Her face has been ravaged by a series of sad love affairs and a chronic depression that she attempts to drown in alcohol. She divorced Romain Gary, and two years before the release of “Tango” her baby daughter, Nina, died. In September, 1979, after multiple previous suicide attempts, her naked body will be found wrapped in a blanket in the back of her white Renault, on a street in the Sixteenth Arrondissement.

It’s the first time you’ve met her, but she wraps her arms around you and holds you tight against her chest. She’s small and bony like a malnourished child, but the warmth of her body feels familiar. She buries her face in your brown curls and whispers in your ear, “Take care of yourself.”

“Last Tango in Paris” comes out in theatres on the fifteenth of December, 1972. It fails to pass the censors and receives the rating “forbidden for anyone under eighteen,” which only piques the public’s curiosity. Immediately, it becomes the preordained object of scandal. Catholics mobilize, and a complaint is filed in Italy, which the far left views as an affront to freedom of expression. “Tango” becomes the latest symbol in an ancient fight between the guardians of a certain moral order and the defenders of the artist’s right to create—the wet blankets versus the squeaky wheels. An Italian court condemns Bertolucci, Brando, and you to a two-month suspended prison sentence. Copies of the film are destroyed.

For Bertolucci, the controversy is a triumph. His film has succeeded in garnering the passionate response he desired. It’s discussed in bars and restaurants, debated by artists as well as by elected officials. It’s forbidden in the dictatorships of the Soviet Union and Franco’s Spain. Democracies, on the other hand, make a point of defending it. The film is released in New York in only one theatre, where tickets are sold out weeks in advance. It’s your first taste of success, but you stay on your guard. It’s hard for you to know what to think when you are as likely to be booed as you are to be showered with compliments. You’re twenty years old.

Meanwhile, just as your career is taking off, Brigitte Bardot, a friend with whom you’ve been staying, announces that she will retire. She’s had it with films. From now on, she wants to devote her life to animals, insisting they are far better than humans. You don’t bother to try to talk her out of it, since you know there’s no changing her mind. She goes on to say that she’s moving to Saint-Tropez, where she vacationed with her family as a child and where she filmed her great success “And God Created Woman.” When you leave her apartment on the Avenue Paul Doumer, you’re not sure where you’ll go next.

The release of “Tango” is an explosion whose shock waves consume you within a couple of weeks. Nothing has prepared you for what’s coming. The insults on the street, the aggression, and then, conversely, the adulation and the fawning. Doors suddenly swing open, offers come from the directors everyone is dying to work with. There is suddenly too much of everything in your life, too much desire, too much temptation, too much violence and criticism. With the wild grasping of someone drowning, you fall back onto a clichéd pun to explain the excesses of your behavior. “Il vaut mieux être belle et rebelle que moche et re-moche.” (“It’s better to be beautiful and rebellious than ugly and ugly again.”) It’s delivered with a sardonic smile, like you only half believe it.

Since the press has portrayed you as a wanton muse, you play the assigned role. You will be as electric and without boundaries as what’s expected of you. Your first public statements whet the appetites of the gossipmongers. A girl who has grown up too fast, who still has the bloom of youth, taking aim at everything. As a journalist now, I shudder when I read the interviews. You settle the score with your father, the actor Daniel Gélin, with all the rage and sadness of a neglected child. This father who took so long to acknowledge you, who now, as his film roles dwindle, cozies up to the smoldering fire of your success. You take him down with an assassin’s precision: “A bitter man jealous of his own son.” Your famous co-star fares no better. “The Brando myth? Whatever! . . . He’s obsessed with getting old and pays special attention to his makeup. Every morning, someone had to go get him; otherwise he wouldn’t come. He’s also lazy and slow. He never knew his lines; he just improvised. Between takes he went back to his dressing room, supposedly to ‘center himself’ . . . Marlon is temperamental, a big drinker.” I can easily picture the journalists laughing nervously, unsure how to respond.

The press can’t decide what to make of you—whether to love you or to hate you. Feminists wage war over the film. According to them, it goes too far under the guise of sexual freedom. Pointing out your youth—the apple cheeks and the look of confusion in your eyes about what’s being asked of you—they wonder whether what was captured on film was not art but abuse. They underline the nearly thirty-year age difference between you and Brando and note that in almost every scene you’re naked while he remains clothed. And then there’s the infamous sodomy scene. Some sense genuine protest and suffering in your cries.

In our home, we don’t speak about the film. The first time I hear anyone mention it is on the playground when I’m five or six years old: a group of kids laugh and yell, “Pass me the butter!” At first, I pay no attention to them, though what they say confuses me. They repeat it, day after day, and I don’t know why. Finally, I ask my mother about it.

“It’s because of the film,” she snaps, annoyed, then quickly tells me not to worry about it.

This scene becomes your cross to bear. For your entire life, you will have to endure unsavory jokes and cruel pranks. Once, in a restaurant, a waiter asks, with an obnoxious wink, whether you’d like some butter. On an airplane, a smirking flight attendant puts a pat of butter on your plate when you haven’t asked for any. In Rome, where you are filming René Clément’s “Wanted: Babysitter,” you’re insulted on the street. More than once you are physically attacked. Faced with seemingly endless questions about it, you hide your pain behind a forced laugh and respond with a quip: “I only cook with olive oil.”

As a child, I keep everything about you in a red plastic folder, the kind with the two rubber bands angled at the corners to keep it closed. Inside are photos of you that I’ve torn from magazines, along with interviews and press clippings from your films. I’m in elementary school, and I collect everything ever written about you with a perseverance that borders on obsession. I beg my mother to entrust me with the pictures of you at my age, along with your first drawings, and I decorate the folder with star-shaped stickers and rainbow glitter. On the front of the folder, I glue a black-and-white photo of you from a newspaper. In the picture, your cheeks are round, your smile radiant. I cover the picture with Scotch Tape to safeguard it from age, a childish attempt to protect you from life’s contamination.

On the rare occasions that I open my red folder in front of friends, I receive looks of bewilderment and suspicion. Who is this supposedly successful actress whom no one’s ever heard of? I’m suspected of lying, of inventing a famous relative to get attention.

Over the years, as the file grows, I notice with disappointment that each piece I collect has less to do with your films and more to do with the turbulence of your personal life. The features and reviews are replaced by tabloid stories with salacious headlines. As I get older, even these articles begin to disappear, and there’s rarely anything new to put in the red folder. Occasionally, you have a role in the kind of low-budget international film that’s sure never to be released in France, but you’re no longer considered for lead roles, and after a while you cease to interest even the journalists. Like so many others of your generation, you join the troop of discarded stars, rejected by a new era that has no place for rebels. You’re no longer the celebrity of my childhood, the one strangers recognize on the street with a frisson of excitement and envy, but you remain my special cousin for whom I harbor a tender and morbid fascination. A precious, broken family jewel, hidden away in a secret drawer.

I keep the red folder at our family’s house in the French countryside. The old farmhouse is a repository of memories. In a room that’s ostensibly my father’s office (although I never saw him work there), he keeps the archives from an extreme-left Maoist political organization to which he once belonged. There’s also a collection of drawings, some by you, thrown together in colorful disarray, alongside stacks of the very first issues of Libération, the left-wing newspaper founded in 1973 by Jean-Paul Sartre and Serge July, where I will later work as a journalist. The farmhouse suits you: wallpaper with big orange and chartreuse flowers, patched furniture, salvaged objects. There’s a sprawling, overgrown garden, which during my childhood was regularly transformed into a hippie haven, a place where men and women dressed in tunics gathered around a campfire and strummed guitars while smoking enormous joints. It seems the perfect place to keep the folder safe.

Throughout my adolescence, I keep track of the red folder—a testament to your former glory. I read and reread the fragments of your life. I don’t always recognize the girl in the stories that the press chooses to tell. They are half-truths, approximations, fantasies, and some blatant falsehoods. But, even so, there is usually some element of truth. A young girl ravaged by an explosive public début.

In a profile from Elle in 1972, the journalist Marie-Laure Bouly, perhaps in an attempt to reconcile the public’s fascination with Maria Schneider and the scandal of “Tango,” begins her article with a systematic evisceration of the movie: “A crude film that further pushes the limits of just how far is too far.”

She goes on to describe you as both a capricious child and a femme fatale, dressed in a dramatic fur coat bought at Kensington Market in London. You’re free-spirited—too free. The journalist doesn’t seem to have found much to sink her teeth into, so she sprinkles her feature with quotes of yours taken out of context, which she doesn’t bother to explain. Then the story comes to an end with the sudden departure of its subject. Bouly concludes: “Maria Schneider is always on the go—already well on her way.”

Every time I visit the house in the country, I perform my ritual of taking the red folder out of the drawer to examine its contents. As the years pass, the smell of dust grows stronger. The photos fade, and the paper begins to erode from the humidity. One day, I can’t find the folder at all. It seems to have vanished entirely. I’m heartbroken. I can’t shake the feeling that the folder—the pride and embarrassment it brought me, its comforting omnipresence, its gradual, eventual disappearance—somehow represents you. Once the folder is gone, I know that one day I will write about you. Not the story that you would write, which belongs only to you, but ours. ♦

(Translated, from the French [Tu t'appelais Maris Schneider], by Molly Ringwald.)

This is drawn from “My Cousin Maria Schneider.”

[bluegekk0]

I'm assuming based on your last post you are in college so I have 2 questions, one based on your personal life and one based on the AU. You don't have to answer the personal one.

What's your major and or minor? I would think it may be art related, but idk.

Based on a modern AU, if the Pale Household were to go to college, what would they study?

yes, i study at a university. and no, surprisingly is not art related, i'm completely self taught in that area. instead i study the english language. i think there's some debate as to how you would translate my major from polish into english, some say english philology, others english studies. but basically it's english linguistics, literature and culture, with a specific specialization in translation. already finished the bachelor degree in the same major, now i'm in my last year of master's

as for the modern au, hmm. i guess i'll start with those i've already thought about. also the difference between college and university is still a little confusing to me, i'm more used to the term university so if you see me use it, that's why

i know holly would be an art student, they already have an interest in drawing in the main au, so it seems like the most reasonable direction. during the modern au, they primarily focus on their degree, though i like to think they also do art commissions in their free time. i think they would lean more towards traditional art, they' would'd find the actual process of using canvases, paint brushes and other tools very relaxing, even if it's messy and time consuming

then there's grimm. i love the idea of him having a career in filmmaking. in the modern au he works in the film industry as a director (with divine and brumm as members of his film crew), so it's a reasonable assumption that he has a degree in that field. as for what kinds of films he'd make, i imagine he'd dabble in many genres but lean more towards drama or horror. that being said, i could also see him having some experience in theatre, perhaps he used to be an actor? i could absolutely see that, especially if i don't change their ages for the modern au and he remains as a vampire with hundreds of years behind him haha

fpk in the modern au works from home, i like to think that similarly to his main au self, he'd have a small business he operates from his house. since he has an interest in mechanical engineering in the au, my first idea was that he'd offer watch repairs, but depending on how "modern" the modern au is, that might not be the most lucrative business. though i do have a lot of nostalgia for early 2000s and i imagine that's the time frame in which the modern au takes place, so who knows. but another idea i had was that he'd instead go in an electronics repair direction. maybe something like computer repair? i love the mental image of him sitting in his office, hard at work, surrounded by a bunch of broken computers, laptops and game consoles, like a whole electronic maze on the floor. and to answer the question, he'd probably study something related to IT and/or electronic engineering. but i could also see him being mostly self-taught

now comes the part where i make things up on the spot since i haven't decided on anything for them yet

with hornet, all i know is that whatever she'd major in, she would be a member of her college/university's sports club (maybe she'd like football? or soccer depending where you're from). but she does have an interest in literature, so perhaps she would go for a degree related to that? i think the contrast between studying something seen as sophisticated and cultured, and then getting into fights with tiso at the sports club, is very fitting for her hahah

and then there's zote. i'm not really sure if he'd study anything, but perhaps he would opt for something related to music? i mentioned in a previous ask that i like the idea of him finding interest in playing a trumpet, so maybe he would want to expand his knowledge. though it's zote, i could also see him being so convinced of his skills that he'd claim that there's nothing for him to find there. maybe he doesn't study anything, maybe he's stuck in a fast food job or something. it could go either way

lastly, there's lewk. but he would be kindergarten age in the modern au. though he is interested in cooking and food in general, so perhaps in the future he'd aim for something like culinary arts? it's difficult to say, he's still very young so things may change

[kooktrash]

Hi, I have a Jungkook fic request but feel free to ignore if you don’t like it! I was thinking something kind of inspired by the Stanley Kubrick film The Shining except not scary and no one loses their mind lol. Like, Y/N and JK don’t like each other but end up stuck in the dead of winter watching over this hotel/resort until it reopens in spring which forces them to spend a lot of time together. Through the course of their stay they realize how much in common they have and as they let go of their bias of each other they discover it’s much easier to lean into the attraction for one another rather than fight it.

omggg I love the shining so yes I am definitely doing this.

inspo: the shining — book by stephen king

You swear you weren’t being dramatic, but this was about to be the worst winter of your life. There’s various reasons as to why but the main one was Jeon Jungkook himself. He was about to make this winter the most annoying, unbearable, vacation ever.

You already deal with him enough but now you’ll be isolated in some vacant hotel until spring? The pay was about to unbelievably good but if you knew Jungkook would be here you would turned down the offer immediately. He clearly felt the same because the entire cab ride through the snowy mountains before an ugly storm told you enough. The driver had probably felt the tension between you two because you hadn’t even fully shut the trunk when he was starting to drive off wishing you two the best of luck.

The manager of the resort must’ve felt the same because after an extremely quick, and unhelpful tour of the place and he was ready to leave. When you two were finally alone neither one of you said a single word. It was basically like being back home trying to ignore the existence in the other and here it was going to be harder to do so. All the two of you did was retreat to the rooms you’d be staying at for a couple months which, even if this hotel had hundreds of room to choose from, you got stuck next door from each other. The manager had offered to separate you two but with the complete isolation he recommended keeping close and you didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Did you find the firewood?” You asked coming down the grand staircase dressed in layers of warmth. Jungkook stayed in the lobby using a fire poker to fix the wood into place. He rolled his eyes, “Obviously.” You mirrored his eye roll as you went to one of the couches spread around the fireplace. The hotel was huge, elegant and out of your element. You could never afford a night, much less a week at this ski resort without saving for quite literally years to do so. The only reason you came out was because of your boss. He pulled you to the side a couple days before the shop closed for the season and asked you if you’d be interested in a very rare offer. His brother was the manager here and needed two groundskeepers for the interior and asked you if you’d be interested.

You were basically a freelance filmmaker and though you worked for a film studio, you had a very lenient schedule that you set yourself. Jungkook did too which is probably why the boss asked him as well. You were reassured that you’d still have your jobs and work spaces so you agreed. By the end of winter you’d have a few thousand dollars more than you would have still working in Seoul. It was too good to turn down and Jungkook knew it. Well, clearly it was too good to be true because so far this sucks. You’re freezing, alone and with no cellular service. Just great.

For an entire week you and Jungkook barely spoke unless necessary. You practically spent the days alone in your room forcing yourself to find things to do. When it was meal time you and Jungkook didn’t cook together and definitely didn’t eat together. It wasn’t until the eighth day here that you had a sit down to talk.

“As much as I hate saying this, I can’t stand this isolation,” Jungkook said first. You were both currently sitting in the dining room eating dinner that you prepared for yourselves, “It’s been an entire week of silence and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Me too,” you said truthfully. You haven’t spoken to any of your friends or family in over a week and it was starting to weigh on you. You warned them this would happen but you didn’t expect it to be this bad. Jungkook just gave a nod of his head, “After dinner I’m gonna head out to get the rest of the firewood out back.”

“Do you need me to go with?” You asked nervously and he looked clearly surprised. Still, he shook his head, “It’s freezing out there. I’ll be fine alone, we just need to get all we can before the blizzard really kicks in.

And a few days later it did just that. The entire hotel was freezing. You wore layers upon layers and you were still cold. Lately the two of you have mostly been in the lobby since it’s similar to a humongous living room and have done your own things by the fire. You still aren’t talking a lot but just being with someone else was comfort enough.

“Want to watch a movie?” You asked out of the blue one day. He turned to you with furrowed brows and you felt the need to explain, “I don’t have service but I brought some movies and my laptop has some downloaded too.” Jungkook didn’t even hesitate since he’s been dying of boredom and said, “I brought some board games and my camera.”

So it began. You brought your laptop out and your movies and let him choose. He chose a Marvel movie and joined you on the couch as you put the disk into the player and set the laptop down on the coffee table before you. You shivered slightly tucking your legs under you. Two pairs of pants, a long sleeve, sweater, and puffy vest and you were still freezing. Jungkook said he’d be right back and a little later he came down with two fluffy blankets. You thanked him and the movie played.

You hated to admit that Jungkook was better company than none. Another week has passed and every day your watch one movie, play one board game, and have your meals together. You were both still wary of each other but neither could lie and say you weren’t starting to appreciate the presence of the other.

The blizzard was in high effect and sometimes you couldn’t sleep. The wind was so loud, whistling and hitting the building to the point where you worried glass windows would shower. Jungkook tried keeping your fireplace going but with months before you, you didn’t want to waste more wood than necessary do the new rule started.

Jungkook began sleeping on the floor in your room so that two bedrooms wouldn’t need to be kept warm. It was weird at first but for some reason it brought you a sense of comfort. Jungkook held his video camera up and pointed it at you making you lift a hand to block your face, “What are you doing?”

“There’s nothing better to do. Figured I could try and entertain myself with a documentary about this place,” he said and you just nodded. He cleared his throat still aiming the camera at you, “It’s day 15 of being isolated in this empty hotel. My only company comes in the form of my biggest enemy. Y/n L/n. Say hi to the camera.”

“Jungkook,” you groaned still hiding yourself even as he stepped closer, mischievous smile on his face, “As you can see, she’s a bit camera shy but usually she’s talking shit about anything I do so don’t be fooled. She got a mean streak. Can you say hi?”

“Hello,” you mumbled, moving your hands away. Your nose was red and your voice raspy. You were shivering, “Happy?”

“Almost,” Jungkook said with a shrug as he turned the camera to himself, “You're about to see us play an intense game of Monopoly with just two players. Don’t be fooled though, this gets deadly. She tried killing me last night when she went into debt. Who will win? The beautiful, charming… Jeon Jungkook. Or the evil wench, Y/n L/n. You decide audi—“

A pillow hit his head and he just barely had time to react and move his camera. He glared at you and put his camera down as he sat with you in your small living room inside your bedroom. He still visits his bedroom since that’s where his things are but he’s been sleeping on your couch to stay warm. He set the camera down and you quickly snatched it, pushing record again and holding it to your face, “Alright it’s my turn. As you can see, the cold has not been a friend of Jungkook’s. If his eye bags and ghostly face says anything. He’s clearly going through it.”

Jungkook flipped you off but didn’t bother taking his camera back. Instead he laid on his side fixing the stacks of cards on the board and handing you the trash can playing item for the game, “Here. A trash can seems fitting for you.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything as you zoomed in on his face one more time catching the way he sniffled and cleared a cough out of his throat. Zooming back out you aimed it down at the board, “Who will today and will the game end up in the fireplace?”

“Throw it away and you owe me 30$ when we’re back.”

“Yeah whatever,” you said setting the camera down on the bed still aimed at the board making sure it recorded the two of you played.

Jungkook began sneezing, a never ending sneezing and coughing that made it hard for him to tell you which property he was going to buy. You worried a bit, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little cough,” he told you and you tried to get back to the game. By the time you called it quits it was night already and Jungkook seemed to be in worse condition but he was clearly trying to hide it from you. He was getting his makeshift bed ready on the couch when you came up behind him and pressed your hand to his forehead. He was clearly caught off guard by the action but didn’t move back when you checked his cheeks and neck for the heat. With a small frown you said, “Come sleep on the bed.”

“Excuse me what!?!”

“The couch is freezing and the bed is in front of the fireplace. You’re clearly getting sick and we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere with a landline that barely works.”

He couldn’t argue with you though he found that he didn’t really want to. So, instead, he followed you to the bed as you pulled the covers and got under them like this was a normal thing to do with someone you strongly dislike. It’s not like there was a huge reason why you didn’t get along, you just didn’t. You have very different styles for film and it would clash so you just stopped trying to work together. Then it just turned into pettiness and that’s where the two of you had been. Now with just each other to talk to things were clearly changing. He liked making you laugh. He thought you looked pretty through his camera lens. He found you taking up most of his thoughts and he wondered if you felt like that with him.

He kept at least two feet between you but your body beat and the fire was already warming his toes. You looked over to him, “A movie?”

“Music?” He asked and you nodded. You reached for your laptop which had been on the laptop and played some music that had been downloaded in your library. It was soft and quiet, some sort of gentle r&b/soul and you added rain sounds in the back to block off the whistling of the cold air that you hated. The only light came from the fireplace and he found himself studying you. It wasn’t even the face of a cold that was clearly taking over his body, it was just you. And he wanted to move closer but he also didn’t. And the two of you just stared ahead at the fire in complete silence other than the song playing. It was slightly awkward, being in bed with him but not because you despised him. It was awkward because you didn’t… despise him that is. And your feet and hands were cold and the blanket and fire wasn’t enough warmth so you were still shivering.

He noticed it too, so without thinking he lifted an arm to you, a clear invitation to tuck yourself into his side with blushing cheeks. You took a moment to think. You were the only two here. It felt like nobody else existed but the two of you and that’s what made you shimmy over and snuggle into his side. He ignored the beating of his heart choosing instead to wrap the arm around you and rest his head over yours letting his eyes shut. “Jungkook?” You said and he barely hummed a response.

You’re not sure if he noticed but his fingers had been caressing your arm and his face had been nuzzled into your hair, making sure to rub his cheek into it. When you didn’t immediately respond he pried an eye open to look down at you meeting your soft gaze. The sizzle of the fire cracking in front of you and without thinking he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “You warm now?”

You gave him a small nod biting your lip and before he could ask what, your lips were pressed against his, not caring if you got sick or not.

He released a sigh of relief against your lips and pulled you further into him to deepen the kiss. It was gentle at first, testing the waters but the intimacy felt amazing. His other hand came to cup your face, turning his body to its side so he can face you better. Something felt good now.

Maybe it was the fire or the fur blankets and thick comforters.

Maybe it was the isolation the two of you had from everyone else.

Or maybe it was just you, who drove him crazy and made him think about you nonstop back home. Someone he couldn’t stand but had become so lovely in his eyes that all he’s wanted to do is hold you.

So he kissed back harder than before with a promise that he’d be with you back home if you let him.

thanks for sending in the request luvvv. It’s only about 2k words so sorry it wasn’t such a slow but since it was a drabble I didn’t want to make it longer :)

[destinyc1020]

"I mean, that's an interesting debate as well? Are movie stars made/nurtured? Or are they thrust upon this role because people love them so much that this is just what they become? 🤔"

Boring answer bt I think its prob a mix of both. A actors team works hard af to make sure their client is seen and heard, esp when their promoting smthn, so i wuld think most teams wuld want their client to b a movie star (if the client does movies) cuz most movie stars make that $$$$ that benefits the client and their team.

Bt i think an audience has to b interested in order for them to b a true movie star. Glen is def getting pushed into being a movie star bt it helps that ppl are actually interested. Yes, hes a white, fit, blonde hair guy, so its nt hard in that physical aspect for him (same with sydney being very... top heavy and being a white blonde woman), bt ive seen a lot of ppl r starting to kinda forget his weird PR with Sydney (that worked) and really lik him in the Twisters press, and that will def help ppl go to the movies to see him and in turn him getting (hopefully positive) press and being seen as a movie star. I think hes a ok actor, romcoms r def his strength, bt i dnt think hes so terrible that he'll get negative press, which helps. His off screen personaloty seems cool, which is helpful too.

I also think these GOAT actors are genuine with supporting yung actors. I dnt see what Angela/Denzel wuld get with supporting Austin or Halle/ Viola Davis get with supporrting Z, i think they just like them,want to support new talent and they clicked in sum way. Hollywood is fake in a lot of ways bt i dnt think their so fake in supporting folks jist cuz they get smthn out of it

Yea, I think you're right Anon. 💯 I think it's a little bit of BOTH.

I think you can be pushed, but also, the general public has to also buy it. You can be "pushed" all you want, but if most people aren't really feeling you (whether it's your acting, or just your apparent "personality"), then people aren't gonna buy it... no matter HOW much your team tries to push you. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Then there are others that just seem to have star quality, whether they're actually super famous yet or not. To me, it's smthg that you just pick up on, and I can't quite explain it. It's like, the actor has smthg magnetic onscreen that you just resonate with. I sensed it when I first went to see HOCO. I said to myself within 15 mins of that movie: "Oh, this guy is gonna be HUGE!" Keep in mind, I had not even seen one interview with Tom in it yet. But after the film, I rushed home to check him out in interviews after the movie because I had to know more about this actor. 😅

I got the same feeling about Glen when I saw him in Top Gun Maverick, and I got the same feeling about Austin when I saw him in "Elvis". By the time the film got to the Vegas performance scenes, I was like, "oh this guy is gonna get an Oscar nod... he is KILLING it!". I had that same feeling about Viola Davis in "Doubt". I had no idea who she was at the time, but her 5 min performance in that film stayed with me. And sure enough, she got nominated for an OSCAR for just 5 minutes of screen time!! 😲

Sometimes, it's just a feeling that you get. Some people just SHINE onscreen and you can't take your eyes off of them. They just have a certain magnetism. I think that's what people are seeing sometimes when they think of someone possibly being a "star".

Lol, actor James Dean only made like 3 films his whole entire lifetime, but he's still regarded as a movie star, and one of Hollywood's classic "greats" from the golden era of filmmaking. So, sometimes, it's not even about how many films you've made. 🤷🏽‍♀️ People just get a vibe about you onscreen. A je ne sais quoi, if you will.

I also think these GOAT actors are genuine with supporting yung actors. I dnt see what Angela/Denzel wuld get with supporting Austin or Halle/ Viola Davis get with supporrting Z, i think they just like them,want to support new talent and they clicked in sum way. Hollywood is fake in a lot of ways bt i dnt think their so fake in supporting folks jist cuz they get smthn out of it

I agree! 🥰❤️

I think most are actually being genuine. 😊 I also think that a lot of them know how it was for them coming up, and when they see smthg special in someone, they want to protect them at all costs and nurture them in their careers so that they don't have to go through the things that they went through. They teach them the ropes, give advice, or even put in a good word for them (like Denzel did with Austin, for example).

So, I actually think that most of these older actors are coming from a genuine place. 🙂 And when Halle or Viola openly like a post or show support for Zendaya, I think it's because they know how tough this industry can be, especially for a black woc, and I think they just genuinely like her! People CAN genuinely Just like you in Hollywood you know rofl 🤣

There are still SOME decent people still left on this industry. 😅

[fundieshaderoom]

Carlin & Evan QnA

What is the childcare situation when you go to work

They have a sitter who also has a little girl

Sometimes the girls at home help but not as much anymore since they are getting busier as they get older.

They used to take them into work.

Another baby?

"I hope so"

Layla prays for a baby sister. It will be an issue if it is a boy.

Has your faith/convictions changed as you have gotten older?

The faith has not changed at all

"Standards" have changed a lot. They say this is normal as you become your own family.

How many more babies do you want?

When they first got married, they wanted 6. Evan was one of 6. After Layla, they wanted 5. After Zade, they wanted 4. Now they want 3 or 4. Evan thinks if health is good, they will have 4.

Will they homeschool Layla?

They don't know. They want to accomodate their learning styles and take it year by year.

Will they go to the farm on the 4th?

Yes. They don't know who else will go. Recently, someone goes every week or every other week to help Jane with Bill

How did Evan's family feel about the cameras?

Evan's family doesn't mind it much

Evan loves filmmaking so he liked the BTS of it all. It was a tad awkward when you first start dating and there's cameras, though.

Is Zade taking speech?

The pediatrician says to give him a little more time. Zade has started talking a lot more.

Evan took speech for an issue with his Rs.

If the pediatrician recommends it, they will do it.

Cash and Carry?

July 18

How is Papa Bill doing?

He is doing good. It is hard to watch and hard to reintroduce yourself.

How do they share finances?

They have a shared account.

Disagreements?

They have disagreed a lot this week. Carlin says this is the first time they have vibed this week.

Was Evan paid to be on the show?

Not when they were dating. He was just a guest. He did get perks like gas and food. Each child and child-in-law under Gil's corporation got paid.

Do you ever drink a glass of wine?

No and they never have. Carlin might have accidentally in Mexico.

[lichtecht]

PART 16

of the dfk audiobook translation

@cnka

Uli: „I messed it up.“ Matze: „Huh? Why you? That was all of us together…“

Uli: „…“ Uli: „…I want to get out of here. Of Kirchberg.“ Matze, jokingly: „Hey, I'm taking that personally!“ Uli: „…“ Uli: „I had hoped so much that I’d do something brave.“ Matze: „… Come, we’ll go inside.“

Narrator (audiobook): Herr Bökh watches his protégés from the window. They seem pretty depressed to him.

Narrator (audiobook): And then the handsome Theodor is standing there as well.

Theodor: „Well, well, well! Our filmmakers.“ Martina: „Ugh, and now him.“ Theodor: „And? Was there overtime shooting in the assembly hall?“

Jo: „Yeah. So much work.“ Theodor: „It’s half past seven, and you haven’t been in the assembly hall all afternoon. I’m really sorry, but I have to report that to Herr Bökh.“ Jo: „Come on… Theo…“ Theodor (imitating): „Come on. Theo.“ Theodor: „Unbelievable. Come on! Go on.“

Narrator (audiobook): But before Herr Bökh gets a visit from Theodor and our friends, his telephone rings.

Bökh: „Yes, please?“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm: „Ah, Herr Bökh. I’m pleased to have still reached you. In sight of the circumstances, those are not pleasant.“ Bökh: „What is the matter?“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm: „It is no longer justifiable that your kids hurt kids in town-"

Knocking.

Bökh: „Yes!“

Narrator (audiobook): It knocks on Bökh’s door. The handsome Theodor and the Internals step into the office.

Direktorin Kreuzkamm (through the phone): „My daughter told me everything-“ Theodor, to the kids: „Go on.“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm (through the phone): „- A battle has apparently taken place at the shore, and you can guess three times who started it!“

The door closes. The four Internals come in, visibly battered and dirty.

Narrator (audiobook): Herr Bökh puts the telephone on speaker so the others can listen.

Bökh: „Who?“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm, heatedly: „Your inmates! You need to do something about that.“ Bökh: „And in your opinion, what should I do? Should I close the boarding school, send the Internals home?“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm: „If that’s what it takes! It definitely can’t go on like this.“ Martina, quietly to Jo: „Is that Kreuzkamm?“ Jo, quietly: „Sounds like it…“ Bökh: „Frau Kreuzkamm, I will look into the matter. You can rely on me.“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm: „I would hope so! It’s your pedantics that create this aggression.“ Bökh: „Uhm… yeah, we’ll talk about that later, yes? Good.“

He quickly hangs up.

Bökh: (deep sigh)

Narrator (audiobook): Herr Bökh hangs up sighing and turns to his visitors.

Bökh: „Theo.“

Narrator (audiobook): Bökh rummages for loose change in his pocket and hands it to Theo.

Bökh: „Will you get us some snacks?“ Theodor: „Pardon?“ Bökh: „Yes, cookies, drinks, potato chips. Something like that.“

Narrator (audiobook): Rather perplex, Theo leaves the room. Shortly after, the kids are chilling in the boarding school director’s office, enjoying the treats and listening to his words.

(slurping and crunching)

Bökh: „So this is our mutual punishment. Mine because you don’t dare to come to me when you have trouble, and yours is that you have to listen to this old story now.“