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eruscreaminginthedistance · 2 months

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Ugh it's taken me like a week to post this because reformatting PF posts on my phone is a bitch so I'm gonna throw this out here so that i don't put it off any longer; my Dune Part 2 review.

Basically, I feel like I'm living through a Category 5 LOTR event in real time. I was worried going into the second film that I was overhyped and that I should temper my expectations; speculative fiction adaptations 9 times out of 10 are usually dead on arrival and Dune Part 1 already defied the odds for being as good as it was for an almost 1-to-1 recreation.

I feel like after this I could confidently trust Denis Villeneuve with my life. The man's not really making a product. He clearly LOVES sci fi. Respect for the source material oozes out of every scene of Dune, and his little tweaks and changes are done with care and with a sense of critically engaging with the story that shows real thought.

Praying to the gods that once Denis finishes the trilogy he brings out a boxset DVDs with at least three behind the scenes DVDs MINIMUM. I need to see every single aspect of production on this leviathan of a project and then ritualistically watch all three movies back to back as I would with LOTR.

Spoilers under the cut

In terms of what I liked:

I've only read the first two books in full - Children and God Emperor are next on my list to finish this year - so I can't speak as an uber knowledgeable Dune nerd who knows the books back to front, but I'm very confident when I say that Denis's changes to the source material didn't take away from the experience of the story at all.

- Chani's probably the biggest change of all in the sequel and oh my god does it revitalise her character. I was quite shocked scrolling through tags to see book readers complain about how much the movie changed her and her arc. What are they mad about? That they gave Chani something to do other than sucking Paul's dick? In the book, literally everyone is 100% behind Paul uncritically accepting every single thing he does and Chani is just one of a swarm of characters that do that. I say this with much love because I like her book counterpart but I struggle to understand the people who claim to be so invested in book Paul and Chani's dynamic as opposed to the film's when book Chani's whole character is "Wife", until Dune Messiah when she gets the "Nagging Wife" upgrade. Denis's version effectively makes her co-protagonist with Paul and it was so exciting to see that play out on screen. She became the moral litmus test and the last vestige of uncorrupted ideals in the movie; Paul's descent into fascism and betrayal of the Fremen would not have hit nearly as hard if everyone went along with it like in the book.. I really felt for Chani having to watch everyone she knows get swept up in this insane fervour. She's too dedicated to the concept of freedom to fall for the bullshit and that was such a relief ti witness. Film Chani is her own character, not just another limb of Paul's, so her story is going in a slightly different direction and I'm really excited to see that. Would not have been nearly as hyped if her whole arc was just going to be "be pregnant. die" again.

- Jessica being an absolute FREAK. She was probably my favourite character from the book and I was so pissed she wasn't in Dune Messiah. I needed to get inside her head and wiggle around in there while I was reading, and Denis fed me. In the book, I got the impression she was quite a passive participant in the prophecy, so getting to see her go full wicked witch in the film was a massive highlight. Speaking to Alia in the womb, her sinister use of The Voice (such a horrific departure from her only using it for self defence in Part 1), her FASHION. Denis needs to adapt her into Dune Messiah I refuse to watch a version of Messiah without Jessica in it.

- Stilgar came out of nowhere with the steel chair for me. The first book is filled back to back with noble fatherly leader figures so he got very lost in the shuffle and I didn't really pay attention to him that much beyond being one of Paul's many mentors. I read a tiny bit of Children before watching Part 2 and Stilgar seriously considering murdering Paul's children made me do a double take. Then seeing him in this movie blew me away. Guys I think I've slept on Stilgar all this time xD. Not gonna lie though, the film beefs up his character quite a lot from the books. I think it was a good decision to make him comedic relief, because it offsets that "religious fundamentalist" element that could put people off. It makes him much softer and more likeable. He's just a guy with big hopes and big dreams and a big heart who's a bit silly sometimes, and that makes him the ultimate prey for Paul and Jessica. It's absolutely sickening to see them exploit his sincere faith and beliefs and I'm getting upset now just thinking about all the horrific things he'll be lead to do. Denis did a fantastic job of making him a more sympathetic and softer character for people to compare with his post-timeskip Space Hitler's Right Hand Man role.

- Introducing Princess Irulan early hell yeah!! Huge improvement on the book imo; she was very much a dark horse character for this film and Florence Pugh nailed it. I loved her being the narrator much like in the book, and it was interesting to see her contribute to putting the pieces in place for the endgame, rather than just turn up at the end. More of her please, Denis!

- One of my complaints about the first film was that there wasn't enough Harkonnen action, specifically the Harkonnen-Atreides rivalry, which was talked about a bit but not really shown. Denis made all those Harkonnen scenes specifically for me. I adored the balls to the wall aesthetics and the incredibly villainous acting. This film isn't afraid of moustache twirls and villainous laughter and I LOVE that. It felt fresh. Villains who just love doing bad shit and aren't even trying to justify themselves they just LOVE being horrible creatures in their black stone murder palaces.

- What can I say about the look of the film. You've all seen it. If you haven't then go fix that. It's one of the most visually cohesive and stunning films I've seen in a long time. I don't know how a world can feel so real and yet unreal (/pos) at the same time.

- Hans Zimmer showed the fuck UP for this score. I've been listening to it nonstop all weekend. I kinda miss the Atreides bagpipes but the new horns drive me insane so it's a good tradeoff.

Things I'm on the fence about:

- I think it was a good call to remove the whole thing with Paul uh, inheriting Harah from Jamis. It gave more screentime to Chani and I think would have really put viewers off Paul when really you wanna keep people going in blind rooting for him until the third act. BUT I was surprised she wasn't in the film at all? I was convinced that the lady we see Chani talking with was supposed to be an adapted Harah, but I'm seeing everywhere online that that's not supposed to be her and Harah wasn't in the film? Why not? It just felt a bit weird that she's just some nameless Fremen.

- I'm not gonna lie I forgot Thufir existed on my first watch. I think me not missing him overall is a good sign. I didn't rewatch part 1 so I guess I assumed they'd killed him off in the Arrakeen attack, and didn't realise his part had been cut until I saw an article about it later. That was kind of disappointing. While I think the film is perfectly fine without him, I think the inclusion of his plot as kind-of prisoner kind-of strategist for the Harkonnens would have really solidified the Harkonnen-Atreides rivalry. Again because we almost never see an Atreides and Harkonnen onscreen together, so having him there to exemplify it in practice I think could have just polished things up for me personally. But also I want all films to be 5 hours long so what do I know.

- Jessica and Chani didn't interact nearly as much as I wanted them to tbh. I'm hoping that Dune Messiah beefs up their relationship.

- Timothee Chalamet

Things I didn't like:

- Not Paul btw, just Timothee

- Been saying this since the first movie but him and Zendaya were really only cast cos they're hot ticket items right now, not because they have the look and feel of the characters or the world; they just wanted to cast some hot supermodels in the roles

- Zendaya justifies her casting though by being the better actor though; I was sceptical but I came to buy her as Chani and she did a good job resonating with me

- Timothee's just a guy though, wasn't impressed

- Which is a huge problem because the emotional throughline of the movie is their romance and I just. Did not buy it. Timothee could not have paid me to believe that he was in love with Chani. They were like the definition of everybody's beautiful but nobody's horny. Just saying words with their blank hot faces. At least Zendaya put some effort in.

Anyway 10/10. This is going in my top 5 movies of all time and is one of the best book to screen adaptations I have ever seen.

#dune #dune part 2 #crossposting #pillowfort

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yurislotusgarden · 9 months

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One of those night's

ʚїɞ Soukoku fic!

ʚїɞ ship: Dazai Osamu x Chuuya nakahara

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so there may be mistakes!

ʚїɞ First work

ʚїɞ cross-posted on ao3 under @Yuri_LotusFlower

ʚїɞ word count: 691

ʚїɞ Tw's: None! Just married soukoku fluff to heal your soul!

A pair of chestnut eyes were looking at the small digital clock on the nightstand. The clock showed 4:57, an hour he would usually be asleep at, but not today, sleep just didn't want to come to him, no matter how long he laid in his bed. It was that night again. The ginger was so in his thoughts, that he did not notice the small movements of the body behind him until they spoke.

“You’re awake” spoke the voice from behind in a whisper, normally the voice would be speaking in a teasing voice, yet not tonight. The smaller male could feel the arms around his waist tighten just a little.

“Yeah, I guess I am Osamu” the ginger whispered back -no bite in his words like usually there would- turning around in the brunette’s -Dazai Osamu’s- arms to face him.

“May I ask why, my dear?” Dazai asked back, his voice soft so as to not ruin the calm atmosphere in their shared bedroom. He planted a gentle kiss on his lover’s hair.

Chuuya hesitated, yet answered back after a longer minute, “I know you already know, you bastard” after which he let out a heavier breath, already feeling a little bit better by just the small conversation between himself and his husband.

Dazai chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I do”. Soon after, the ginger-haired male felt a hand on his head, fingers running gently through his hair, carefully getting rid of any knots in Chuuya’s hair. Something the brunette knew calms the other down.

“Do you need water? or anything else to help you fall asleep?” Dazai asked quietly, eyes barely open, keeping himself from falling asleep yet again only by remembering that his beloved chibbiko may need something.

“Water would be nice” Chuuya answered quietly. Shortly after, the taller one sat up and stood up from their bed before going out of the bedroom. Dazai came back maybe two or three minutes later, with a cup of water in hand, before giving it to his short-tempered husband.

After Chuuya drank the water, he put the cup on the nightstand, planning to take the cup back to the kitchen after he gets up from bed in the morning. Noticing that his spouse went back to laying in their bed, he did the same.

Both males stayed in silence, the ginger on the brunette's chest, Dazai’s fingers running through Chuuya’s hair, Dazai’s other arm on his back, rubbing small random shapes - calming them both.

“Why are you even awake?” the male on top of the other asked quietly, only now realizing that his husband should be asleep as he didn't really do anything to wake him up. The male under him lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Is it really something to worry your small head about chibi?” Dazai spoke, the slight teasing clear in his voice, wanting to put at least a little smile on the other one’s face. “I bet your tacky hats are the reason why you care about such a small thing! Nothing bigger can probably fit in that small brain of yours” The other one in question looked up at him, a fake offended look on his face.

“Excuse you? My hats are not tacky! And they’re perfectly well done!” Chuuya spoke up, trying hard to not let a smile show up on his face.

“Hmm, are your clothes also oh so perfectly made? Let me see” Before the ginger could react, he's on his back, trying not to burst out laughing from the fingers moving on his sides.

“Hey!” Chuuya tried to stop Dazai’s tickle attack but was unsuccessful. Leading to quite long misery in the position he got himself into.

Sometimes no banter.

Sometimes teasing.

Sometimes no words.

Sometimes just silent affection.

Sometimes wanting to show as much affection as possible.

Sometimes little fights with no meaning and sometimes with one.

Chuuya may be a mafia executive, but he loves little, calm moments between them. And Dazai? Well, who’s to say he can’t appreciate the little moments with his short husband? He may be a suicidal maniac, but he's a suicidal maniac in love.

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jaguz123 · 29 days

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Thermodynamic Lawyer

aka: a chonny jash fanfic

yes ! hello ! idk if this is how it works really , but i've decided to cross post stuff onto here as a test i guess

... will release new parts, hopefully i can figure out how to navigate tumblr in the meantime

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They stood there. Almost seamlessly. They fit into the image so well, as if they were meant to be there. But they were pasted there like patchwork- glue and shreds of paper stuck to their edges ruining their view. Freud had underestimated the power that they held, grimy fingers reaching for any ounce of influence over his sovereignty, hissing and clawing at each other.

He watched the advisors in action with a gloomy look in his eye. They threw everything they could at each other. They screamed obscenities, they slammed each other's skull in the wall… And Soul laid there, staring. He could do nothing but glare at them and their profane forms. He couldn't tell if his head was in the clouds or if it was six feet underground- fiberglass fanned across his skin, cotton in his ears. He was resting, watching as they fought, far too tired to bring out his trident.

He could offer the usual assurances. Tell them that they were the same. He could stand like that, better than them, but they looked at him as if they knew something he didn't.

Always and forever, he thought. Better. Superior.

Yes, he watched the Avian screech and sob as the Automaton ripped into his flesh with an almost guilty look in his gaze. Unwilling to indulge in his anger, and yet he committed the integral act anyway. To commit the atrocity wasn’t what was bad- it was to give into the emotion that oversees it. Mind was filthy nonetheless. Heart was soaked in the core-rotting metaphor synonymous for the trivialities of suffering that- meaning something important maybe in some other world- he had forgotten the name of. It was likely an overused proverb. Decayed trite and worthless, frayed at the edges by its repeated utterances. Paper can only stand the test of time for so long.

Soul thought, The first law of thermodynamics states… That if 2 systems are in equilibrium with a third system,-

The Weeping Angel struck the machine in front of him with a harsh cry, wings flaring, screaming in agony, “Your fault! Your fault, you knew it, you know it! You- god, I missed! I wish I hadn’t of missed!”

-then they are thus in equilibrium with each other. It is common sense. He lightly coughed into his palm. He watched with dying interest. His body still felt exhausted. So did he. The only difference between him and his weighted body was the fact that one listened to what he wanted, the other completely disregarded it. Guess which was which.

“Alright,” He sighed, finally at least somewhat fulfilled with his rest, tired of their bickering- “uh… Now, if I must-” grappling for his line… What did he always say here again? “You two are one in the same… Why do you always fight?” He drew out the last sentence, begging the clock to stop ticking, wailing for the bird to stop its call. Asking so kindly for the ruler to stop his parade. Not a soul in that room would listen.

Again, they looked at him with that snobbish look of theirs. They looked tired of that bullshit of his- maybe they were just blind to their own- looking at him as if he were a child fresh from the womb. He would crawl his way back up their expectations again maybe, perhaps he’d drag his broken body up the bell curve and label himself the average- average life expectancy, of course, if he wanted to hang by the rope then they all would.

“Are you… Blind, or something? I’m fighting for your case.” He was a thermodynamic lawyer of sorts- oh, that sounded familiar. Where’d he hear that from? Whatever. It didn’t matter. The sentence wasn’t that grand anyway.

It appeared as though they had finally separated from their quarrel- they had found their bodies, but not their eyes. Pathos might finally come together with Logos to rise against the hypocrisy of Ethos, discreditable sources and quotes from lawyers of the past, the one who had held himself in contempt- and the third-eyed joke of a man.

(nothing against will wood btw this is just for the story)

“And… What do you think you hold against us? A noose?” Heart hissed at him, before turning around and stomping away. Mind stood rooted there like a dead tree managing to stand the weathering of lifeless bark, tolerating every force pushed against it even in its death.

“Do you propose we sit down and have a chat?” Soul asked. He ignored how the canvas in front of him was blank. He disregarded how the clock struck twelve, pushing the ticking out of his thoughts as if it had a lack of relevance. Really, it was the most important thing he could hear at the moment. He was aware of the glare shot at him. He wouldn’t turn his back on a fucking knife, so he kept gazing at the machine-like creature in front of him. Shame he couldn’t grow a face on the back of his head to keep an eye on the mirror behind him.

“No, no- I don’t suppose I do. Just a word would be fitting.” That look. That pathetic look. It was almost pitiful, the look you’d offer an overly optimistic child that still thought the world was sunshine and rainbows and friendship bracelets at school, ketchup stains on your shirt and your hands filled with scribbles of marker.

“Oh-” The talk would be long. Or at least agonizing. Coming from the man who had glared at himself through the glass, he knew what to expect from that attitude. To expect anything more was to expect the faceless author trying to fill some self-set quota to come up with her own clever lines, desperately scratching the surface of such demands to figure out how she even saw herself at that point.

At best, the reflection was blurred, the outcome hazy- he might slip out of this with only one or two bruises to his identity. He could try to get the superego under control, but the rider of the horse was only as strong as he willed himself to be. The mount could rear him off easily.

“You don't know yet. You truly have no idea. Of course, nothing new from the man that copes by making Tally Hall covers-" He paused for the presumed effect, “-you really are just this brand new breed of pathetic that I don't even know what to name you as.”

Soul started back with a grimace. Oh. Okay. Shit.

He blurred it all out. The anaesthesiologist had done his work well. He couldn't feel the knife digging itself into his chest, he couldn't feel it dragging chunks of his flesh out. He watched as it happened with a hollow stare- apathy was the main numbing agent. He wished he could just sink into repose like he had before. The reprise of the situation would happen again next time. Reprise? Repose? They were synonymous. Again and again, until something breaks. Something would put him to rest and he would wake up again like he had before.

“I am the lawyer fighting for your case, I am the jury arguing against you…” Soul whispered, drawing his breath near and close, almost afraid to share anything with the man in front of him. "Thermodynamics states that you are the same… The same as he… Threes, not thirds!”

The Automaton leaned down at this, glancing at his disheveled form with slight confusion. He asked, "Pardon?”

Soul didn't listen. He was too busy hearing the ringing of the Bell curve, skull pounding in rhythm with the metronome, painting himself as the sane minority. It's the same as insane, if you really think about it. The right to a stable mind is an unobtainable privilege, but it is wholly possible in the eyes of the beholder. If only Soul was his own protagonist, then he'd be able to behold the fruits of his labors quite well.

He leaned his head back with an almost tipsy look in his eyes, a laugh in his throat swirling with a gag.

“Oh you think you're so smart for that… Don't you!-” He found himself suddenly hissing and lurching forward, before reminding himself of his own foreword and recalling the fact that lawyers probably don't harm their clients. Even if they're unwilling. No, he was a good person. He was whole. The other two were just parasites that had happened to stumble about. Why did he still defend their right to exist? They refused to acknowledge that they were the same.

He refused to acknowledge that the three of them were insane.

He held that thought at his lips, before standing up and nearly attempting to spit it out with a heave.

Mind rushed towards him, joints grinding against each other artificially. He stared at him with the eyes of a snake, like some peasant trying to rid the king of his crown. Tridential regicide! God!

“No! No! This talk is over! Not another word from you!” Soul gasped, scrambling away. He collapsed just a few steps into the hall, dragging himself the rest of the way to his room.

The second law of thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed- that it can only change forms. You could suppress your urges in one field to invest in another- but you can never shove down your own zeal completely.

Soul slammed the door shut, falling down completely, laying on the floor with an almost awestruck expression on his face. The very root of his issues had clawed its way out of its own grave, told him what was wrong with what Soul always did, and crawled his way back down again. The visage was rotting, the corpse was alive- the carrion was walking, its eyes on the prize! The price was anonymous, probably costing nearly two thirds of a dollar, but pest control was sacred! He needed them gone!

And even though the war would never be over, the causation of depression nearly always fighting against him and the two passengers along with him- if he could get rid of those two neat sections of the load, maybe the boat would finally stop sinking.

Or maybe it would drag him down deeper. Maybe without his two counterparts, he would be weaker. Maybe none of them were meant to tear away from the abyss, born from the sacred flesh in which their forms were sculpted from.

Such a disgusting thought. They always swarmed around his head like flies or vultures, maybe he was the dead man walking here. Maybe that was why Heart's gaze was blind- Mind's was fresh- and his was merely atrophied from a lack of true vision.

His ego had told him to shun away the evidence of their faces and their uncanny resemblance. It had told him to neglect how they were lacking and completing, and he had listened. He hadn't even turned to look back- as it had stolen away the whites of his eyes too, and it had sealed the half of his decent side into some merciless black.

The closed system that he had barricaded and built around himself was loosening. It was leaking energy he would never get back. Entropy was freezing him in that very spot, the thing that kept him moving- going against the laws we have accustomed to build reality- had begun shattering in midair and fizzling out like dying oil lamps or active fireflies. He was unsure which was which, he was unsure if he would ever be sure.

Those laws must be nonsense. If they had any stable foundation in reality, why did they desert him in the most desperate throes of looming consciousness? He didn't want to admit that he might be wrong, even if that would make him right, because there's always the possibility that the assumption of self satisfaction was to be a lie. His hands laid outstretched towards the sky, reaching out and, with dying resolve, attempting to reach for that final dream that lay beyond even the most final frontier. Fragile at closer inspection, ready to shatter, and even more ready to drag itself together because of gravity. Again, and again- and again.

No matter how many times he said again, no matter how many times he yelled cut- no matter how many directions he yelled into the void, it would happen again. The world would cleanse itself of the memory- the good and the bad. The fact and the fiction. It would recall the lines drawn between Ethos, Pathos, and Logos. The rest was irrelevant. The evidence was trite. It all existed inside of their head, things being made up inside of their individual pseudo-consciousness. What was the difference between truth and false when one lacked the confidence to attempt to differentiate between the two? Nothing.

Soul was- he was- oh, who was he fooling here if not himself? He was nobody. Not even relatively close to the identity he was supposed to be. If anything, he was cripplingly tired, and that didn't help a damn thing. He lay there with the very black sunken eyes Heart owned, and he spoke with the same sharp tongue that Mind was too preoccupied with using to detect it in his voice. Just because they only found the flaws in him that they were concerned with didn't mean that the others didn't exist.

Heart and Mind were the same. He was different. He had to be different. Mediation was impossible then if he couldn't rip himself away from the other two. They could never be whole if they truly were the thirds they were supposed to be. They were three, and he needed to pacify them so they would finally fade away. Then he could be one. Not just one with Whole- but one as Whole.

Something in him doubted that.

He would recite the laws. He would split off and separate himself from the bad apples, he'd roll back to the tree- the tree towering so high over them. The tree that he would have to be.

Survival of the fittest, a lawyer in the making. His finality. His solution. The one he strived for- and he was so unbelievably close. He had to ignore that nagging voice holding him back.

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AN: mid as shit ... but anyway planning for there to be three chapters in total

barely beta read/looked over ... my neglected child , we're dying like soul's ego and likely fanon god complex