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nierreplicantver122474487239 · 2 years

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tumblr ate my post + all the notes I took while watching tar so I'm just gonna approximately redo them here

TL;DR 3/10 incredibly racist and cowardly hole but not for the reasons you might think. if people behave I might do a proper writeup (you know where to find it)

FULL DISCLOSURE: I was a pianist, but growing up I also knew a lot of flutes/clarinets and cellos (if you roll up to college interviews saying you're a violinist you might as well say your name is ling ling and your favorite food is roast dog)

a lot of dead air that I'm not used to in lectures, I don't know if this is intentional or if I've just never been in an academic space sacred enough to have silence as the rule even when the lecturer is actively cracking jokes

"can the music of austro-german church going white guys exalt us" was a purely rhetorical question where the answer is not only supposed to be "yes" but "yes, it's the only thing that can exalt us" but yeah anyone can come to enjoy it. you just have to let them crawl all over it like a squirrel, even if it's not the most dignified thing in the world. to get "nose to nose" with the canon's greatness there needs to be an opening that will let you sprint up there and get in its face. I'm by nature a pretty confrontational person so I didn't have any qualms about doing this when the time came but it would be weird to expect everyone to behave the same way

the wicked opponent they threw at tar was an ambiguously brown guy with a zoomer broccoli that's introducing himself as a "BIPOC" "pangender" (not a pangender person, just a trans/pangender). this isn't anyone. those labels are so vague that they cannot convey any image or narrative beyond that of delusion but this character is such a non-person that it's impossible to figure out what his real identity is supposed to be. this is supposed to be the moment that shows tar's steel and they don't have the balls to give her a real sparring partner. he throws her a lowball with a misogynistic insult in a movie where sexism is the only serious -ism. they didn't have the balls to cast more than one black person as a rioting student. questions about the canon need to be dismissed as limp-wristed white rage.

he only exists so we can hate the brown tranny zoomers for bringing sex and race into music but we know more about his major and work at Juilliard than his race or sex

the only nonwhite people who speak in this nearly 3-hour movie are this student, the rioters, and various service staff in thailand - we already knew that white people mostly see us as either tools or enemies, but this is a little on the nose!

acceptance of cisgender femininity and sexuality as serious topics for high society by both tar and the narrative while race and public transgender presence are the mere products of mass media that cannot be permitted. the people insisting this isn't an anti-MeToo movie have not been paying attention, there's an entire scene where she and the previous conductor are complaining about how people are being accused of sexual misconduct and how you should keep all your coat hangers facing the same way to avoid them (I have had a similar conversation with a professor once about doors, longtime mutuals will remember this)

I have been in a similar situation before where a student stormed out of class (white teacher saying n word while reading text) except here the real optics were completely different (unambiguously black gay dude with acrylics and colorful braids) and one of his white friends also ran out to go look for him. there was no investigation but it did colossally fuck up midterms and finals which is probably how I got away with wild amounts of cheating on my final paper that semester

the heel thing during auditions was phased out ages ago (in every audition I've been to I was told to wear flats), given how self conscious the movie is about how tar looks it's impossible to tell if this was an intentional discrepancy or not

this story has the same massive asian-shaped hole that all media about silicon valley has (you cannot talk about race and politics in either classical music or academia in the west without east asians) and having existed on the other side of the veil just makes the whole story and everything it's trying to say feel ridiculous and ephemeral. everyone on camera is screaming crying throwing up meanwhile the students at juilliard and the odd asian violinist in berlin neither know nor care about anything beyond the fact that their performance day was interrupted. the line of argument that tar goes for when the kid goes to the piano bench is very clearly a continuation of MLK's line about judging skin vs. character but what does that mean when it has nothing to do with half of the kids in the room? what happens when you can safely assume that your rating sheet will always reflect your techincal skill but you'll never have that emotional je ne sais quois that they're looking for in their players/lovers? it's like those videos of cats and dogs chewing on the bars of a cage and scratching on the sides when the door is wide open

related, why are they choosing denazification as the period of trial that we're supposed to be empathizing with? this is definitely a germanistik problem that I have but all the people I know who were around during the denazification and rebuilding of auslandsgermanistik have no regrets about it, even if they don't remember it fondly. did the music people just not care

I'm mostly mad on behalf of all the choir and band kids I grew up with because while i'm not shy about my dislike for people in my corner of the bay every year there's a few people going to juilliard and they always come in with a huge amount of weight on their shoulders. we should not be accessories to this shit, especially when nobody even wins or loses.

you WISH this was thomas mann. when thomas mann was having a crisis he went on an insane vacation and rode that wave of success until WW2 and then blew up his whole family of fucked up gay kids and died. he did this for the love of the game. he did not start watching libs of tiktok

death in venice is camp. there was no self consciousness about how insane the whole situation is, this is aschenbach's munich and we're all just living in it. he comes in glory and dies in glory with nobody but himself and god to witness the battle in his soul for art. listen to my adagietto boy

monster hunter world is significant within the monster hunter series because the setting and player backstory are wildly different from all the other games (former criminal/ne'er do well in a penal colony on a different continent vs. the hero of the cozy japanese village you grew up in). I don't know if this was intentional or not because again, the movie is extremely worried about how tar looks and the cosplay shot is obviously there to make the event look ridiculous. it's entirely possible they only cared about the first line of that beginning cutscene

it's impossible for me to see the siam sinfonietta as a novelty or a shame when that's just what high school was like. when I was in vienna I went to a Haydn performance at minoritenkirche, which was also hosting a thing with a SF youth orchestra and it had the exact same vibe to me despite taking place in a rich neighborhood in western europe

teacher/student relationships are significantly less intriguing and "forbidden" when you move through academic spaces in a physical guise (chinese girl with small tits) that leads everyone, male or female, to assume that you're only there for sexual adventures

ratatouille

idk all the little spots of unreality make it impossible to take this seriously as a cautionary tale about MeToo and cancel culture, especially when the inciting incidents are either weirdly obscure or obviously pre-kneecapped to tar's benefit

on the other hand, those trying to spin this into a happy "aw she rediscovered the real meaning of music and still gets to conduct" ending are slowly shrinking and turning into a corncob. as she put it herself, it's not a democracy and everything she tells to her players suggests that she's always approached music as a standard to be mastered and feared

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tomorrcwz · 2 months

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✰ HELPING HANDS, LANDOSCAR

[ preview ] in which fem!reader is helping out oscar's puppy love on his teammate lando without realising the consequences

[ tw ] swear words 🗝 . . previous part & next

lando was an incredible impatient man when it came to private goals to archive, especially when it was you, little beautiful smart y/n, being the centre of his growing irritation — you, who started to talk about stupid dates with even stupider men, whom you met through strange dating apps or the paddock, and those dates, that all ended after a meeting or two, because like he mentioned they were stupid. he didn't understood how you still find the desire to meet up at restaurants and cinemas, not when he and osc were right in front of you, getting bolder with their not so friendly gifts, touches and comments, but you just winked all away?

someone please explain the woman to him (no wonder he was in a stable relationship with a man for months), he couldn't find an explanation of the mess you build.

"think this bracelet would fit her pretty wrist, babes?", lando showed his boyfriend a photo of a costume made handbraclet, that held small trinkets of their shared memories and a ln4 and op81 charm too, to claim slight ownership over the woman — that just how he was, minimal possessive about the people he got romantic feeling about, see oscar; the aussie wore a golden promise necklace and in its middle was a small ruby stone, in which on the golden backside was a ln4 craved. in turn, the brits matching ring read inside an op81, letting osc have an equal claim about him too. "or should we do a matching necklace to yours? love when i feel the necklace around your strong neck when choking you", the curly haired man said, voice heavily laced in lust. his partner still wore the testament on his neck, proudly yet already just light blush and no deep hues of pinks and purples.

shaking his head in agreement after he scanned the design, osc's kiss swollen lips brighten up. "i love it, my treasure. you might aswell bring out a jewellery collection at this point, your creativity for craft never creases to amaze me."

a tint coated lan's cheekbones, finding himself in a state of deciding to be either humble or slash out his inner gemlin. "i'd need the best models for this", he stated, "and my brain—" "ah you do use it, 'm glad after alex and george hit you over and over again with the padel ball, lan—" lando grumbled. "yes, yes, i survived, full function is activated, oscar", he vocalised, right indexfinger pointing against his temple. "anyways, before you rudly interrupted me, i wanted to say a small ode of love but now I might aswell keep it to myself."

furrowing his eyebrows, the younger man, waited patiently for his partner to break (lando couldn't shut his mouth to safe his life) and some short minutes seconds, he heard a low groan, admitting defeat. "i've never ever designed jewellery for anyone else but you, my mum and y/n. it's just something, i want to share with you lot and not the crazy world out there; like a promise to whomever wears a piece of my creativity also carries a fracture of my love in some way, y'know?"

"oh lan, you big ole romantic", osc smiled softly. "that's such an honour you give is and 'm happy to wear this" - he pressed a kiss to his necklace - "wherever, whenever."

not wasting time, the man leaned in, capturing the soft lips of his boyfriend in a kiss, tongues running against each other as they closed their eyes and just felt; every ridge and bump, taste lando's minty fresh gum and the aussie's vanilla stuffed protein bun, and the scents of their perfumes, which harmonised beautifully.

the ringing of one of their phones brought them apart, foreheads touching as they slowly breathed in and out.

"you wanna look, treasure?"

"someone has to, no? and by the cozy look you have going on, it's not going to be", he teased while standing up to where they had put their phones away last night after a good night out with some monaco resistancal drivers like charles and alex. hearing a shuffled "you're the best, lan", the mclaren veteran chuckled. "I know."

if the aussie had been more awake, he'd for sure commented the playful arrogance but at the moment the bedsheets were still warm and had the smell of his partner all over it, making him purr like a happy kitten — he was a simple man.

a while later, he couldn't really tell, the brit came back into the room, a scheming expression etched on his handsome facial features. "guess what, babe?, he sung, rolling in the awaiting arms of his sleepy lover. he didn't let him guess tho, tongue burning to share the news. "we're invited to a gala, mark sent you a reminder, that smart man. its the ideal way to swipe y/n off her feet, don't you think?" his brown eyes twinkled in the sunlight, tunking him in a soft glow. if the topic wasn't that important, he'd fuck him then and there and lan would let him. "ow, don't look at me like that, later, maybe with an addition, alright, you horndog?"

his lover tsked him, however his lips were closed, wordlessly forming a pact with him — tonight was the night.

per oscar's request you wore a dress, which fell down to your ankles in flowy skirt and the top was simply designed, making you look like some sort of greek goddess or a princess — between the valley of your breasts hung the gifted necklace deep, daring eyes of strangers teasingly.

you haven't heard anything from lando, but you did expect him to be there, right at his lover's side, looking handsome too.

the venue, to no one's surprise was incredibly gorgeous, a château with meter high cellings, golden framed oil-paintings and even older looking wooden floors, that shone brightly in the light. a few people stood out in their service clothing, also sharing the expense vibe of the large ballroom, presenting guests with trays of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, little snacks and small cloths to clean of crumbles, the food would eventually rest against the skin.

walking further into the room, you mingled with possible new ad partners for oscar till you catched said man staring at your chest rather obvious, teeth sunken in his bottom lip — you gave him a cheeky grin before turning around, scanning the room for the other one.

and where one of them was, the other wasn't far way off.

lando already sat down in his dark purple suit (you wondered were the matching shirt went, when seeing his bronzen muscle shimmer underneath the suit's jacket), head laying on his left hand, whilst the other was streched over osc's empty seat.

signing lightly under your breath, you charmingly said goodbye to an older woman, a monaco resident owing a shit tone of money from her luxurious clothing brand, you've neither seen nor heard about and you visited the country more than you could count on your hands but instead of falling deeper for the lore, a warm hand smoothly found its home in between your shoulder blades, resulting in your train of thoughts to be broken off and focus on the presence standing next to you.

pretty osc pressed you forward without a warning, no word creeping over his thin lips. "ah hello, lovely to see you too, how was your day?", you sarcastically muttered, smiling at the people around the pair of you on the way to the table. oscar muffled a cough (hiding a snicker from you to not erange or ruin the plan). "sweets, you look breathtakingly stunning", he whispered, doe eyes closing as you arrived in front of the table and you were stood body to body, getting him to take in the sweet perfume you liked to use.

"little y/n, osc is so right", the other mclaren driver shared, getting up to plant a kiss on both cheeks. "lets sit down and get over with this, yes? then we can go back to the flat and just enjoy the good company we have going on, yes?"

you didn't think too much about his comment at first, appreciating the invite for a cozy night in after to stuff your faces with some cheep take out food but then you felt both men, who were to your left and right, getting touchy in your lap, holding hands and rubbing your lightweight dress fabric above your juicy tights, causing you to choke back a groan as lando's middle finger plunged inside the high split. "i — if you'll excuse me", you murmured, abruptly shooing their hands out of your lap to escape to the toilets.

a breather or two, or more would relax you.

"treasure, remember what we said just half an hour ago, hm? don't make rushed moves, she's gonna freak out."

"sorry babe", lan rushed out an apology. "should we go after her?"

"to take matters worse? no let's wait and see if she going home with us, chill out. i'm eighty percent sure, all three of us are landing in bed tonight", oscar whispered hotly against his lover's ear as he caressed the brit's knee.

POLY/MULTI DRIVERS — SINGULAR DRIVERS

wanna be tagged in the next part of helping hand? comment below :)

🗝 . . . tag list — @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @vellicora @jupiter-je-taime @denisebeee @jaehyunluvcult @chezmardybum @koalalafications @thebook-bitch @ln4norizz @entr4p3 @67-angelofthelordme-67

#landoscar #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic

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jjmaybanksblog · 4 years

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Stress Release- John B

(Not my gif, credit for whoever created it!)

Summary: Friends with benefits; Two friends who trust each other enough to engage in sexual activity without fear of hurting the other's feelings.

Word count: 1,912

Warnings: Mentions fwb, sex, and underage drinking.

You rested on your stomach, textbook in front of you as John B joined your side. You two had been chosen to be partners for a Chemistry class project, but neither of you two had actually paid enough attention to figure out what you two we're doing.

You guys sat in silence for a minute before you exhaled loudly. "What's with the sigh?" You ground loudly, flipping yourself over and laying on your back.

"It's my senior year. I should be out in the world not giving a single fuck about anything, but I'm stressed out of my mind and I have no clue how to get rid of it." You ranted, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it. John B looked at you with a confused look. "What? I'm a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general." "I can make that sexually." He said, earning a smack from the pillow.

"Therapy?" "Tried." "Painting?" "Tried." "Going to the gym?" "Ha! You're fucking funny." John B remained quiet for a second before coming up with something. "Have you tried just hooking up with someone? You know, like a friends with benefits type thing."

Your head snapped up from it's spot as you stared at the boy with a dumbfounded look. "I'm sorry?" "Well it's just, if you need to release tension, shit like that helps a lot." John B said as he suddenly felt idiotic for bringing the idea up. You sat there for a moment, trying to process his words. "Okay but even if I wanted to I don't know who would even want to."

John B's index finger pointed to his face as you observed his gesture. "Really?and why would you want to be friends with benefits?" "I get stressed too, I help you out, you help me out." You considered his offer for a moment before agreeing on his idea.

"Okay. But we have to make a guideline." You negotiated, ripping out a piece of paper from the notebook. Now it was John B's turn to roll his eyes.

"First rule, we do not tell a single soul about this." You said, grabbing your pen and scribbling the words down. "Okay, okay. Second rule, we call each other whenever we need a release. Whenever and wherever." "No hooking up with anyone else unless either of us get

a boyfriend/girlfriend." He thought aloud.

You nodded your head, writing his words down quickly. "And the last one," you two looked at each other as you spoke in unison, "no feelings." You held the pen out towards him, giving you a questioning look. "What? We gotta make this shit official."

John B let out a chuckle as he took the pen from your hand and scribbled his name. Returning the pen to you, he adjusted himself so he was resting against the headboard. You quickly signed it, closing the notebook shut.

John B sighed softly before looking at youm "You stressed?" You quickly rose up from your spot, your legs resting on both sides of him as you straddled his lap. "You have no idea." His hands trailed up your back, one hand staying on your thigh and gently rubbing it. The other was wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your lips met halfway, he sighed in relief at the feeling of someone else's lips. The kiss was fierce and rushed, both of you wasting no time in getting your stress out.

_________________

You guys had this 'relationship' going for the last 5 months. Almost every other day you called each other. It was an odd thing for you to do. You had done it before in the past, but sex with John B was something else. There were nights where the type would change, he would take control for most of the time. Angry sex, sex in the living room, car sex, anything he wanted to do, you two did.

However, as time went on the feelings John B had began to change. He wanted to spend more time with you, and not just hook up. He wanted to find out more things about you, watch movies with you, be able to kiss you in public whenever he wanted. The at first sloppy sex slowly morphed into passionate sex. He noticed and it scared him shitless. He loved every moment he spent with you and he didn't want that to change.

He was mad at himself. That was the third rule and he broke it. He never expected it to happen, but when it did it slapped him right across the face.

You two were lying there naked, sheets covering your bare chests. You were fast asleep, your body facing him. He took in the tiny details about you, everything that he could. How sometimes your eyelashes flutter. How you'll snore sometimes. How he rests his hand on your cheek and you unknowingly lean into his touch. He buried this hole too deep and he can't get out.

You both were currently at your friend Angela's party, drunk teens were horribly dancing in the living room, couples were hooking up in the bedrooms and bathrooms. John B was drinking a shot of vodka as he saw you walk by, a red plastic solo cup in your hand. "Hey Routledge!" You winked at the boy who shyly drank from his cup.

A classmate of his walked up to John B, "Hey, what's with you and that Y/L/N chick?" The boy asked, nudging John B's shoulders. He smirked at his classmate leaning closer to him, "we're friends with benefits!" John B exclaimed, clearly tipsy and not knowing the words that are spilling out of his mouth.

The classmate smirked at the intoxicated teen, giving JB a high five, congratulating him. You were out in the backyard enjoying the night sky with Sarah Cameron.you two were laughing after watching someone run and fall into the pool.

The fun was quickly ruined as the classmate stood in front of you guys. "So Y/N, I heard you help release stress from my good old friend John B. How about you help me out?" Your face dropped in shock, the cup falling from your hand. "I'm sorry?" You asked, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.

"Oh yeah. But real shit, whenever I need something I'll give you a call." The boy sent you a wink before licking his lower lip and walking away. You stared at the ground in shock. "Are you okay?" "I don't know how to answer that." You admitted.

You stomped out of the backyard and out of the house. Stares, comments and giggles were all you noticed as you made your way through the crowded rooms. Making way to your car, you opened the door and slammed it shut. Your fists pounded down onto the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. You crossed your arms and leaned against the wheel. Your head fell against your arms as tears stung your eyes. You were furious at John B, but you were also angry with yourself.

During the time you had been sleeping with John B, you also began to realize how your heart would race a mile a minute with him, even before the physical contact. You had been trying to deny the feelings, 'it's just sex' you repeated to yourself over and over after every session. But to you it was something else, and that scared you.

You sped down down the road, the lights blurring from the tears, your cheeks and nose a shade of pink. Your breathing was uneven as you hicupped every now and then. Returning home, you quickly changed out of your clothes into pajamas and laid in bed. That night was the last time you and John B had an interaction for a whole month.

He would call you, but you'd let the answering machine pick up. You'd swerve him when you walked by him in the halls, catching his eye then turning around to walk the other way.

You wanted to distance yourself as much as you could. John B tried his best to apologize after his classmate reminded him that he told your secret that night at the party. He felt absolutely destroyed hearing the rumors that were spreading about you, about you both, he hated it.

Your eyes were sealed shut as you attempted to let sleep overtake your body. It was finally Friday and you just wanted to sleep for 12 hours. The sound of rain hitting your window sounded like heaven to your ears, just pure silence except for that one noise.

A soft tapping sound echoed off the window. Knowing it wasn't rain, you hesitantly opened your eyes to see John Booker Routledge holding himself as he stood in your backyard, in the pouring rain. His hair was plastered down onto his face. His clothes clung to his body. His eyes were squinted shut in hopes to not get too much water in them.

You quickly got up and pulled him through the window harshly, making him fall to the ground. His skin made a loud slapping noise as he made contact with the hardwood floor. You sighed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. "Hold on." You quickly went out of the room and walked back in with a towel. You handed it to him as you sat on the bad, John B standing there as he attempted to dry off.

"Look this isn't a guilt-trip. I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you." He started, the towel running through his hair, drops of water flying everywhere. You sighed loudly and pitched the bridge of your nose. "I don't hate or dislike you. I hate that you spilled what we were to what's his face at the party. Do you know how many phone calls I've gotten of guys asking me to hook up with them? 24."

"What we were?" John B asked softly. "You broke your promise, you can't come back from that." You huffed, your eyes not leaving the floor. "It was just a fling." He lied, not only to you but to himself. "Not to me it wasn't." Your voice was just above a whisper.

"What?"

"Throughout the last few months things felt different. It was really fucking weird to think about, but my heart would always just... race when we spent time together. I wanted things to just be more than a fling. But I figured you just wanted it to be just that thing since you came up with the idea." you admitted. He lightly chuckled as he bent down to be face to face with you.

"Princess. I walked here to you in the rain. This is how much I love you. This," he pointed his finger between you two, "I want more than a fling. I want to be able to just walk around with you on my arm and just give you all the fucking affection I can give. And I'm sorry about the calls. I'll make sure people get the notice to-" you cut him off by quickly pressing your lips against his.

He exhaled loudly, your skin suddenly felt as if it were burning. "God I missed you." He mumbled against your lips as his thumb stroked your cheek. "Show me how much you missed me." You whispered, pulling the boy onto the bed.

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