#critical condition movie

[dimonds456]

Okay, as a former film student, there is ONE PART of James' apology that is GENUINELY viable that people keep criticizing him for:

He was going to use $3,000 to make a short film.

This IS possible, done all the time, normal, and FINE.

I've seen professional films that are 2 hours long that were made on a budget of $8,000 or less.

If you could do that, then $3,000 to make a short film is MORE than fine, especially if it was all going to the actors.

If you want to make a short film unprofessionally and for fun, you can 100% put up posters saying "I'm making a film, volunteer actors needed!" And people will sign up for free purely off the novelty of BEING in a movie. I've made 4 short films where that was the exact case, including an animated film I did by myself in a MONTH for a school assignment (here's the link if you're curious).

The one thing you NEED to spend money on for your set is something called "crafty," or more commonly known, "lunch." You need to buy food to have on set, enough for everyone that isn't something shitty that will put everyone in a bad mood. Having crafty is essential to filming if you're even REMOTELY serious.

Listen. Somerton's apology is absolute dog shit. But this is the one thing he said that is genuinely okay and normal and fine. Don't put it into people's heads that they need a massive amount of money to pursue their passions. You don't need a Marvel budget to film a fun action film in your backyard.

From the way he talks about his process, yeah that's shit. You don't need to completely throw away a script because it's the wrong fucking SEASON outside, all you need to do is retool your story and rewrite it. That's a sign he's a bad writer. A lot of the other things he says about Telos is also a load of all BS.

But the $3,000 thing is fine. Whatever.

#i think this is what originally persuaded me that he was being honest the first time i watched this when i was half awake #because i have experience in that field and actually know how it works #so i was sitting there agreeing with him which then conditioned me to agree to everything else #so. whoops. #criticize literally any other part of this thing but the $3000 movie is fine and normal #dimond speaks #james somerton

[timeisacephalopod]

You know as a horror fan "cultural Christianity" is such a useful term because as an atheist as well as a horror fan and a fan of haunted house stuff if it's done well I very, very quickly noticed how many horror movies are Christian propaganda. So few horror movies involving religion (which is a shocking amount of them btw) pick any religion that's not Christianity to center itself around and when they do that religion is bad and evil, not the cause of evil and the savior from it (because the demons may be Christian, but God and the bible are also the solutions in a way other religions aren't granted. Bonus points if it's an indigenous religion being portrayed as Evil and Bad).

Pretty much any exceptions I can think of to that rule use Judaism and the Holocaust as a backdrop and never in like a normal, the Holocaust is horrible way it's always playing on myths of Nazi Germany's experimentation on the Jewish population. Which I find highly troubling and disturbing, but regardless nothing like being a horror fan to convince you of cultural Christianity because no other genre leans on religion as a plot device so much unless it's straight up a Christian movie for a Christian audience using Christianity as it's main theme and through line.

#winters ramblings #side note i ALWAYS hear about how we learned SO MUCH about medicine and the body from nazi Germany and i KNOW that has to be #at least SOMEWHAT untrue because the methodologies nazis would have used in CONCENTRATION CAMPS do not seem #like theyd yeild USEFUL information about anything. people criticize studies now for being overly populated with undergrads #because THAT skews your results theres NO WAY the camps had conditions good enough to yeild useful information #and theres NO FUCKING WAY IN ALL HELL that nazis had good enough methodologies and treatments of their PRISONERS #to be getting any result worth using. maybe we learned a lot on how to TORTURE people but medical sciences?? #i think body snatchers orobably taught us a lot LOT more than the fucked up things the nazis did to the jewish population #and i find it DEEPLY DEEPLY troubling that we seem to remember the nazis like the NAZIS want us to remember them #and not as the scum of the earth they were- they werent useful DOCTORS even if there were olenty of useful engineers but they werent good #engineers BECAUSE they were nazis they were just good at their jobs WHY do we attribute their intelligence to BEING A NAZI #if anything thats proof all their smart at is building shit but anyway something tells me nazi germany didnt teach us NEAR #as much about medical anything as the myths lead us all to believe and WHY are we myth making about FUCKING NAZIS #time to start myth making the jewish people who survived or did uprisings or literally ANYTHING but the fucking nazis #now on the flipside as a horror fan Christianity is SO BAKED IN to how certian genres of horror run #if you had a haunted house movie WITHOUT Christianity id be genuinely surprised. if it wasnt at least Judaism with Weird Holocaust shit #id be even MORE surprised. ive never seen a weesterm horror flick that centered around like. Sikh people or even Muslims #and youd think being an abrahamic religion Muslims would make the cut but no even THEY get shunted because brown #like you CANNOT convince me culture Christianity doesnt exist because as an athiest horror fan BOY do i know thats not true #its actually one of my LEAST favorite things about the horror genre and WHY i have a hard time with haunted house movies #sure i LOVE james wans work but its STILL uses Christianity as a plot device and i HATE Christianity in my horror cheerios #plus you got shows like supernatural who LITERALLY wrote a show of bible fanfiction and uts very clear they never read the bible #i know this because i have a good friend who is religious and even CHRISTIANS find the Christianity in that show baffling and overbearing #and hilariously inaccurate but still lmao. anyway cultural Christianity is 100% a thing as an athiest its IMPOSSIBLE not to notice #so i find it REALLY WEIRD that athiests deny its existence as if weve not been victims of it out whole lives #and religious people who arent Christian too!! we should team up to beat the christians back to where they should be!! #just as invisible as the rest of us OR the rest of us just as visible as christians!!

[queer-ragnelle]

An Arthurian adaptation need not resemble its source when the creator cares about thoughtful storytelling and themes. This transcends medium and genre. I’m not a snob about “accuracy” so much as a stickler for adherence to the respect of one’s audience through sustained narrative quality.

Examples forthcoming.

Camelot 3000 comic is set in the far future. Everyone is reincarnated. Tristan is reborn as a woman, and has to overcome dysphoria and questioning of sexuality in order to properly embrace their new life with Isolde, another woman. Kay explains that he was unruly all those years ago to deflect criticism off of Arthur and direct it at himself, an attempt to subtly aid his brother in maintaining a positive public image. Guinevere is a military commander whose role in the love triangle remains intact aside from the ending. The fellowship of the Round Table are battling aliens while grappling with their new identities and personal journeys. It concludes after Arthur dies, and Guinevere reveals to Lancelot she is pregnant, but doesn’t know by who. He says he will love the baby regardless. So they escape their doomed fate of the medieval source.

Monty Python and The Holy Grail movie (and musical) takes one of Arthurian Legend’s darkest and most tragic stories and retells it as a comedy. Every trope is subverted to an extreme. King Arthur’s supremacy and the conventions of his story are constantly challenged. Serfs question the Divine Right of Kings and “didn’t vote for” Arthur. The Black Knight denies his inevitable defeat, suffering “but a flesh wound,” until he’s nothing more than a torso and a head. French sentries refuse Arthur’s appeals for entry and mock him from the battlement. Meanwhile Galahad endures the Castle of Maidens only through the help of a queer-coded Lancelot (which becomes explicit in the musical when he marries a man). Not only a complete reversal of their medieval roles, but conflict from Guinevere and Elaine is entirely absent (except in the musical which includes a character named Sir Galahad’s Mom). The group then faces the Bridge of Death. Lancelot contrasts his medieval counterpart yet again by answering a simple question and succeeding, OC Robin the Not-Quite-So-Brave-as-Sir-Lancelot fails an absurdly challenging one, followed by Galahad’s failure of another easy one. It ends with Arthur and Bedevere searching for Lancelot, and ultimately results in their arrest by the police.

High Noon Over Camelot is a folk album that retells the story as a dieselpunk western. The three Pendragons—sheriff Arthur, quick-draw Guinevere, and sharpshooter Lancelot—run Camelot as a polyamorous throuple. The love triangle conflict is turned on it’s head which opens the story up for exploration of side characters and their niches. Arthur’s daughter Morgause is not killed by the Ghouls (Saxons) as he thought but instead raised by them, eventually transitioning to Mordred. The Hanged Man, a robot named Merlin, gives three prophecies: Arthur’s son is alive, Gawain’s hatred of the Ghouls is unjust, and Galahad the preacher should sit in the Siege Perilous. Only Galahad heeds the prophecy. Driven mad by the power of the Siege Perilous, he has visions of the space station’s imminent danger, which can only be helped by restarting the GRAIL system on board. So the Pendragons depart with the Grail Knights, leaving behind Mordred and Gawain in charge of Camelot. Mordred tries and fails to pass a peace treaty between Ghouls and Camelot when a fight breaks out and Gawain goes berserk. A hopeless Mordred ends up abandoning his convictions and heads for the space station. He corners the Pendragons as they reach their goal, the Grail Knights having fallen to get them this far. Mordred kills Lancelot and Guinevere, wounds Arthur, then ejects him into space inside a life-pod. Lastly he crashes the station, killing everyone on board and himself.

The Knights of Breton Court is a trilogy by Maurice Broaddus that retells King Arthur’s story in a modern inner city American setting. Street hustler King attempts to reconcile a group of drug dealers, gangbangers, and well-meaning but lost street kids into a uniform front. All kinds of issues arise to comprise his vision, sometimes borne of character flaws within his crew and sometimes otherworldly forces. In some ways, this series could’ve stood to divert even further from the medieval literature that inspired it, as it suffers from the same pitfalls causing modern readers to drop antiquated literature. The meandering plot, inconsistent pacing, and multitude of characters can read nonsensically to someone unaccustomed to the style. The central thread, King [Arthur] and his goal, is sometimes lost. In trusting Broaddus, I think this criticism relates not to his ability as a writer, but can be traced and attributed Le Morte d’Arthur. Regardless, that’s neither here nor there. The point is that The Knights of Breton Court’s shortcomings are unrelated to its divergence from medieval sources. Although it’s not my favorite, it illustrates beautifully how far a novel can stray while keeping itself firmly under the retelling umbrella. The Indianapolis setting and reimagined personas for the knights is it’s greatest strength, but would be fundamentally broken if Broaddus had stripped it of its original essence. They are intrinsically linked. Also Kay is an unfriendly Rottweiler.

These examples offer thought provoking changes while utilizing the framework of existing characters and their established dynamics/traits to subvert or deepen the meaning behind them. For all the differences between the adaptations and their shared source material, it works, because the creators committed to the bit. This isn’t to say all retellings toe that line effectively.

Cursed is a novel and Netflix series written by Tom Wheeler, illustrated by Frank Miller, and produced by them both. Considering the amount of involvement these two had on both the book and series, it’s safe to assume their creative control was absolute, and each of these mediums fully realized their vision for the story. However, regarding Miller and Wheeler as storytellers with a vision implies they are creatives. It assumes a passion for the project, some semblance of personal expression through art, which is unsubstantiated by the artificial depth of significance displayed in Cursed. The series was green lit before the book even published, so that should give you an indication of the true motivations behind this retelling. It wasn’t made for the love of the source material realized through an artist’s unique perspective, but quickly drawn up and produced to capitalize on the joint products as much as possible.

I will spare everyone a long-winded review of this wretched book and show. They fulfill none of the promises made in the back cover blurb and series description. It’s an insult to the audience’s intelligence. But the point is, the Arthurian elements are not integral to the story, but rather recognizable set pieces and props artificially painted on like a brittle veneer. They exist solely to capitalize on what Miller and Wheeler hoped was an existing audience without the need to develop worthwhile story and attract an audience on their own merits. What they’ve done feels not like inspiration or transmutation, but appropriation of something they neither respect nor care to understand. That is the stipulation, for me, to garner enjoyment from a retelling, regardless of how far it strays from the sources it claims aspects from. An artist must comprehend their material, their muse, their emotional connection to the piece in order to properly manipulate and utilize it. Miller and Wheeler are not artists and their lake is a puddle.

#Arthurian legend #Arthuriana #literary criticism #literary critique #idk what else to tag this as I am ranting #I am not a proper critic I don’t even write goodreads reviews #I just hate how many people in writing groups dismiss arthuriana out of hand bc the image has been tainted #making anything worthwhile takes work and I wish nepotism in publishing and Hollywood didn’t constantly muck it up #somehow arthurian retellings as a genre is both over saturated and in dire need of a rennaissance #it would seem the public opinion at least in writing groups online is poor #and this is entirely the fault of capitalism #Disney remakes their own films and unpublished writers with money get movie deals for weaksauce stories #if you don’t understand that ‘arthuriana’ is not what you’re writing about you need to take a step back #consider arthuriana the genre as well as the subject #but that is not enough to carry a narrative what are you saying with your work what is the theme what are we exploring #I don’t relate to arthurian characters bc I recognize their names I relate bc of the human condition and struggles even when they shift #from story to story it’s okay if it’s new just COMMIT have some authenticity #nobody wants to show their ass when writing anymore it’s pathetic #put your passions into your work or fuck off #Monty Python set out to highlight the joy of comedy with King Arthur and some coconuts and we loved it #Broaddus wrote about his very personal experiences where he grew up discussed race and wealth disparity thru King Arthur as a gang leader #I’m sold on that bc they cared about making it #anyway I am done lol

[moviecriticseanpatrick-blog]

#Nikocado Avocado #YouTube #Mukbang #Conditioning #Pavlov #Pavlovs Dog #movies #film #movie review #movie #film review #movie critic #film critic #film criticism #movie criticism

[xllizs]

"What's your favorite scary movie?" Ghostface! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

TAGS: Serial killer, corn maze, halloween, made up characters as readers friends, SMUT

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

You step out of your car into the eerie night, the grass brushing against your ankles. The cold air rushes past your body, making you shiver. You aren’t the biggest fan of this kind of stuff, but your friends wanted to go somewhere over the weekend, and since you miraculously finished all your work this week, you agreed. 

“Wait, are you guys fine leaving around, like, 8:30?” your friend, Himari hushes.

“Yeah, sure, but I kind of wanted to stay longer,” you say back, starting to walk towards the gates.

“Okay, but like, I’m still kind of paranoid because of all that Ghostface shit going around. I just don’t want to take any chances, y’know?”

You turn around and face the car, where Himari and your other friend, Keishi, are standing.

“Oh my god, if you keep mentioning it, then it’s actually gonna happen. You’ll be fine,” Keishi assures her. You nod at Himari with a slight smile. He yanks Himari by her wrist as you push open the gates of the pumpkin patch.

The sun’s glow reflects off of the field, making the lackluster grass look golden. The end of the sky fades into a deep saffron. There are a lot of people, but it isn’t too loud. You breathe in, take in the sight, and then exhale. After you pay for your tickets, you look back at your friends.

“Okay! So, what should we do first?” You ask, eyeing the seemingly endless rows of corn across from you. There’s an arch with a big sign on it that says Haunted Corn Maze at the beginning of the pathway.

“Ooh, we should do that!” Keishi exclaims, lightly jogging towards the entrance. You and Himari glance at each other before you follow suit. 

At the entrance, there’s a wooden A-frame chalkboard with a handful of warnings and disclaimers. Keishi struts up to it, and begins to read.

“Warning: the Haunted Corn Maze is not for the faint of heart. Those who suffer from seizures, asthma, heart conditions, or any physical, mental, or respiratory conditions should not enter. Anyone who enters understands that there may be dangers or hazards– okay I’m not reading all of that. Let’s just go in, I didn’t see anything on their website about it being super scary anyways.”

The three of you start to walk down the path, but you aren’t aware of the critical mistake you’ve all just made.

At the bottom of the chalkboard is written in bold letters: On October 1, 2, and 3, The Haunted Corn Maze will be closed from 7:30-11:00 PM for maintenance.

It’s 7:04, but you sure as hell won’t be leaving for a while.

…

You, Keishi, and Himari, have been walking for a good 20 minutes, running into a few scare actors. It’s gotten darker now, making it harder to stay together. The noise of fake chainsaws not only irritate you, but sometimes drown out the sound of your friends’ voices. As you’re trying to get through the maze, an announcement airs over the speakers.

“Greetings, visitors! We hope you’re having a spooktastic time, this is just a reminder that the Haunted Corn Maze will be closed in 5 minutes due to maintenance. Again, the Haunted Corn Maze will be closed in 5 minutes due to maintenance. Thank you for your cooperation, and we hope you have a good rest of your evening!”

Oh, shit.

“...You have got to be fucking joking,” Himari says in a stern voice. You all stare at each other, then start desperately trying to find a solution.

“Should we call for help… I swear to god I didn’t know… oh my god… are we really stuck… just finish the maze…” 

You all agree that you should just try to find the exit as fast as you can, and if you can’t then at least help will find you. You and your friends start running slowly down the path, panting. It’s gonna take a fucking while for help to arrive, and you don’t want any random people trying to scare you in this anxious state–

Oh. Speak of the devil.

As you turn the corner, you see someone wearing a black robe holding a prop knife. It’s weird, they’re just facing the end of the aisle, which is a dead end. You groan loudly, realizing you have to go back, when the person turns around. The turn is curiously slow. Now, you can see they’re wearing a mask, a Ghostface mask. 

“Hah, Himari, you were right, there is a serial killer,” you sneer. You squint at the figure, trying to inspect them a bit harder, but they start to move their arm, raising the knife, and–

“Oh my fucking god, it’s an actual serial killer!” Himari screams. The knife barely flew past her.

“Himari, calm down, it’s just a prop… see–” You swear, trying to calm her down. Her arms squeeze around you as Keishi approaches the knife. His shaky hands try to cover his mouth, but he’s gawking. 

“N-no, it’s real.” The air turns even colder. You feel sick, like you’re going to puke, but you feel so horribly bare inside. You’re gasping for air, but it feels suffocating somehow. You’d think that your fight or flight instincts would kick in with a situation like this, but you’re just frozen. No way. No fucking way is this real.

“Oh– oh my god, run!” Keishi wails, holding onto both you and Himari as you try to get away. Any color in Himari’s face has completely faded at this point, and Keishi looks so distraught, which hurts to see, comparing it to his usual demeanor. Do something, idiot. Anything, it doesn’t matter, just please do something. You throw yourself away from your friends and take a shaky breath.

“D-don’t,” you choke, “don’t get near my friends, bitch!” You sob, clawing pathetically at the hunting knife on the ground. You didn’t realize how scarily far the knife was thrown, until now. The figure takes a firm, sharp step. 

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?!” Himari yells. You’re glad she’s still conscious.

“I-I don’t… I don’t know, just hurry!” You yell back. It’s true, you don’t know what you’re doing, but at least you’re trying to do something, right? 

“Are you sure about this?!”

“Just go! I’ll keep him off for now, just get help, okay?” It’s hilarious, really– because you and your friends are all bawling your eyes out, how the hell are you gonna make it out of here?

Keishi and Himari look back at you before scurrying away frantically. The person in black takes another step towards you. Are you terrified? Probably. Do you think you can beat this guy who’s a foot taller than you? Probably not. Are you still going to try and protect your friends? Of course. 

“How cute,” the man in black coos, his voice muffled by the mask. You’re both taking one step at a time, waiting for the other to act. You blink, and before you know it, he’s almost right in front of you. You hurl the knife at his torso, and then run as fast as you humanly can.

…

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been stuck in this shithole, but it’s definitely been a while; the fatigue is really starting to settle in now. Constantly running around while still trying to keep quiet is excruciatingly difficult, especially when you’re being hunted down by a serial killer. You think you’ve finally lost him. It’s completely dark out now, and you’ve finally accepted that nobody is going to come looking for you. I mean, they would have found you by now, right? You wonder where Himari and Keishi are. It would kind of defeat the whole point of this if they were still stuck in the maze too. You reach into your back pocket for your phone, but there’s nothing there. You reach into the other pocket, but there’s still nothing. Shit, did it fall out while you were running?–

“I feel bad for you, you’re so oblivious it’s almost charming.”

There he is.

In his left hand is the knife from earlier. It’s covered in blood. He must’ve pulled it out. In his right hand is your phone.

“W–what– how did–” You didn’t even realize that you had fallen backwards. Get off your ass, do some–

“Are these your little friends, sweetheart?” He shows you the– oh god– 28 missed calls from you and your friends’ group chat. You haven’t been able to get reception until now, how ridiculous. You don’t have time to mope though, you need to get away from this psycho. 

“What do you want?” Your voice is strangled but still fierce. He cocks his head to the side, then looks back at the phone.

“Hm, they’re calling again,” he shrugs nonchalantly. You stare at him, terrified. How could he sound so normal about this? You start to get up, but then quickly realize it's a dead end. Fuck. He starts to walk towards you. You decide that if he comes at you, you'll try and escape from the side. 

You run towards the open space on his left. His arm moves towards your neck, the bloody knife brushing against your collarbone. 

“There's nowhere to go, doll.” 

He pushes you down, quickly straddling you so you can't move. 

“Why don’t we pick up the phone?” He questions, and you swear you can hear the grin in his voice. What a sly motherfucker. You throw your hands up, trying to get him away from you– not like it's gonna help, he's clearly built. He drops the phone to hold both of your arms together. The other hand quickly slides the knife up to your neck. “Answer the phone, and let your friends know you made it out safely, and that you're okay. Or I’ll slit your throat right now, got it?” His deep, scratchy voice shivers down your spine. You frantically nod your head yes, pleading for your life. “That's what I thought–” the phone rings. “Perfect. Now once I let go of your arms, don't fight back. You won't win.” You were too scared to, now. If you tried, who knows where the knife would end up.  

He lets go of your arms, grabbing the phone and answering it. He puts it on speaker, holding it up between you two. It's still closer to you, and the mic side is facing you. 

“Oh my god! You're alive!” Himari cries out with relief. You catch your breath. 

“Yeah, I got out,” you say, trying to stabilize your shaky voice. 

“Why weren’t you answering your phone? We were about to call the cops,” Keishi lectures you.

“I, uh– sorry, the reception was bad and then my phone died. I'm okay now,” you reassure them. You really wish you were. 

“Alright good, stay safe, we love you!” Himari says in a loving tone. 

‘Wait, guys–” they had already hung up, but you hadn't realized and kept speaking. “Please, he has me– please!” you scream out. You start sobbing, you're done for. Why did you do that? 

“Oohh, you stupid bitch.” He throws your phone. The knife that was just held up to your neck is now in his pocket. 

“No! No! Please! They didn't hear me!” You hiccup mid sentence, trying to catch your breath from sobbing. “I'm so sorry! Please, please! I don't wanna die! Please!” you're hysterical. His hand goes to your neck. Right now, he's just holding it. 

“Would you shut the fuck up? Im not fucking killing you, yet,” he spits out at you. 

His hand adjusts around your neck. For some reason he doesn't want to get rid of you. There's just something about you. He makes sure he puts pressure on the right spot, just to knock you out. 

“No! No! I'm so sorry!” You shriek out. He starts to squeeze your neck, and you instinctively bring your hands up to try and take him off. He grips both of your hands again. You’re gasping for air. You're starting to feel funny. Your vision is blurry. You– you can't get any more air.

…

Cold. It’s a lot colder than before. Am I dead? Where am I? 

Youre propped up on a chair. Your arms are behind you, tied together by something, whatever it is, it's cold, you assume it's handcuffs? Don't know. Surprisingly you can see. 

What about your legs? Can you move them? No. you can't. They're stuck around the chairs legs. 

You aren't able to talk, there's tape on your mouth.

Your visions still blurry, but you’re  trying to decipher where you are. Its dark, maybe a basement?

Clearly its not your house, so whos is it-

Then, all the memories came flooding in of what happened before you blacked out.

Fuck.

You hear somebody walking down the stairs. This time, zero robe. Is this sick fuck seriously wearing a tanktop and sweatpants? Still that stupid ass mask. You notice the bandage near where you stabbed him before. 

 Your face is soaked in tears and you're breathing so loudly. Your heart beat is so loud. The silence breaks when you hear a deep chuckle.

'`Pretty girls awake, huh?” he mocks you. He walks toward you and crouches down. “Oh yeahh, cant talk, can you?..kay’ gimme a sec.” 

Why is he talking to you like he didn't just kidnap you?? 

His hand approaches your face. You close your eyes. He gets a grip on the tape and rips it off fast. It comes off smoother due to your tears. You feel the light burning sensation and whimper. “Get the fuck away from me.” you quietly spoke. 

He scoffs at you. “Nah. Don't worry. You'll be gone soon.” Why does he say it in an assuring tone? Does he expect you to feel better? “Huh???” you start panicking. This can't be happening. He gets up and walks behind you. You follow him with your head as he starts to unlock your cuffs. The tight, cold metal around your wrists is gone. “My knife is in my pocket. Dont fuck with me.”  he tells you fiercely. You nod, if obeying him keeps you alive longer, you'll take it.

Youre free, he got your legs undone. His back is facing you, while he stands only a few feet away. This is your chance! Go! 

You spring up and the second the chair creeked his heels turn and he pushes you towards the ground.

You crash on the cement floor. Your knees automatically ache. He gets on the ground and flips you on your back. 

You are fighting back with everything you got. Moving your arms so he cant grab them. While he tries to keep your legs down, you knock off his mask. Holy fuck.

His raven hair  thats not too messy is revealed. His face and gorgeous green eyes. How is a serial killer, so attractive?

His mouth curls up, you notice a scar on it as he does. He scoffs. Fuck, you are so done, now. Your mouth opens a little from eyeing his face up and down. “You fucking little bitch. Now I really gotta get rid of ya, huh?” he says with a chuckle, acting like it's some sick joke. No, no. you really are gonna die. “Please. Please.” His hand wraps around your neck to pick you up. He leans closer to you. Only a few inches away from your face. “How should I kill you? Hm?” his head leans to the side as he has a small grin. 

Why are you finding the man that wants to kill you attractive? 

“No please. Please. I just graduated college! I have a life to live for! Please! I have so much left to do before I’d even die. Please!” you sob out. Tears coming out again. 

“Yeah?” he lowers his mouth to your ear, “Like what?” he questions. 

Your eyes widen in disgust, he's seriously asking about your future?

You stammer, “Uh- I, are you serious?” it was scary to ask, but you didnt wanna piss him off.

“Yeah.” He moves his head and is staring deeply into your eyes, “Why don't you tell me things you haven't done yet, or what you're planning? Gotta know what you'll miss out on, once I kill you.” he snickers at you. 

Your eyes widen in horror. That word, kill. You’re gonna die.

 “Uh. I mean” you breathe out shakingly, “I guess get a steady job?..and, nevermind. Finally get a boyfriend,” you really didn't understand why you were honestly telling him this, “I don't know-” 

“Nuh uh. Go back, you know you were gonna say something before that, doll.” he coos. 

That nickname. Now that you've seen his face, and you hate to admit it, it did something to you.

“I wasn’t.” you gulp. You both knew it was a lie. 

“You know I didn't believe that for one second.” He takes his knife out and you flinch, “don't worry, i ain't doing anything, yet.” he sneers. “So what was it? Your first kiss?” he starts fidgeting with his knife and his eyes light up, “Oohh, orrr.. are you still a virg-” 

“No!” you cut him off. Obviously, that was what you were going to say, but there was no point in telling the man who's going to kill you that you are. 

“Got ya!! Not very good at being secretive, hm?” he smirks.

He starts to eye you down, stopping where he straddled you. You take the chance to eye him down too. The way his shirt hugs his body. You gotta admit, he makes you wet. Your eyes run down to the tent in his pants. Is he hard? 

“So, you just really dont wanna die a virgin?” he asks

Your cheeks light up in a pink shade. “Why does it matter?” you shoot a question back at him. 

“Ehh, dunno. Personally I wouldnt mind a quick fuck, ‘specially with a pretty girl like you.” that nasty, but very attractive smirk, appears on his face again.

You break eye contact.

Was he attractive? Fuck yes. Would you fuck him in a heartbeat? Definitely. Isn't he planning to kill you? Yep. 

“Tell ya what,” He does a swift move with the knife, “If you let me fuck you, we’ll both get something out of it. You’ll lose your virginity you are so worried about, and I’ll possibly spare your life if its good. Andd, hopefully I’ll get a good fuck. Deal?” He looks you up and down.

Fuck. You mean, you'd do anything to live. And if he wasn't your killer you would accept his offer right away.

“Will I actually live?” you wonder, for all you know he might just stab you mid fuck. 

“Probably. Hopefully that wet cunt of yours is good.” he winks

“Fine. Will it hurt..?” you squint while asking, he chuckles, “ehh, you decide once you see my cock. But first, I want you to suck it. You bite and I slit your throat, ‘kay?” 

You've never sucked cock. You can barely swallow a pill. You try to remember all those stupid things Himari told you once after she gave a few guys head.

You nod at him and he gets off of you. Knife in hand. You watch as he takes his sweatpants off, revealing the large bulge in his boxers. Then, he removes them. Your eyes widen. You've seen porn a few times, and you knew, this was big. He lets out a light laugh. 

He sits on the chair you were on a few moments ago, queueing you to come towards him.

Your knees still hurt so badly, so as pathetic as it was, you crawl towards him. 

As you get between his legs, you get on your knees and wrap your hand around his cock. 

You start to stroke it up and down, spitting on it to help you lube it up. Not sure what to do, you kiss the tip, letting go with a pop noise. Circling his tip with your tongue, he grabs a handful of your hair with his hand gripping it. “That's good. Better start sucking it.” he pants out. His dick spilling with a little of precum still.

You let more spit dangle out of your mouth onto his dick and put your mouth on it. Starting to slide farther down his dick until you gag, you were gonna move back up until he pushes you down and starts bobbing your head up and down. Tears start to brickle out of your eyes and stream down your face. Remembering, you take your and stroke the part that isn't in your mouth. You play with his balls a little, hopefully not doing anything wrong. You stare up into his eyes as they fill with tears from gagging.

“Fuck, youre a fuckin’ slut arent you? You know how to work that mouth.” he grunts 

You start stroking more and he loosens his grip on your hair as you start to bob your head past you limit by yourself. “I’m gonna cum. And it's going in your mouth.” and when he says that, you swear you almost heard a whimper. You rest your hands on his knees, your head moves up and you circle his tip with your tongue one last time and put it far down your throat again. 

His dick twitches as he unleashes a load inside your throat. Without a single thought, you move your head away and swallow it. Why did you enjoy it? “Haha, swallowed it like it was nothing. This really your first time?” he breathes out, trying to get down from his high. His dick is still hard.

“That was good. Can't make any promises on your life though till I fuck that  cunt.” he has a smirk on his face.

You hated how badly you wanted to have this man fuck you. 

He stands up avoiding hitting you as you're still kneeled in front of the chair. You look to the side as if offers a hand to help you up. You question whether or not he's actually gonna help you up, but you take the chance and you're standing up.

 Once you're standing up you barely have a second to look up at his eyes staring into yours before he roughly pushes you against the wall. He pins you down, cupping your face and roughly kissing you. He forces his tongue into your mouth as one of his hands start to run down to your boob, circling around your nipple. 

He bites your lip and sucks on it before he releases and his lips move back a little, a string of salvia following him. He quickly moves down to your neck, you whimper as he bites down then quickly sucking on it. You try to contain you moans but between him playing with your nipple and sucking on your neck, you couldn't. 

He takes his knife and cuts down the middle of your shirt quickly revealing your bra. 

He rips off the rest of it and undoes your bra, letting your boobs fall out. 

He removes his mouth from your neck and starts to suck on your sensitive nipple while his other hand rubs the other one. 

“Fuck~” you moan out. His low breathless chuckle vibrates against your nipple which makes you squirm more. You don't want this to end. You bring your hand to his cock, starting to jerk him off, you move up and down a few times until he unhooks his mouth from your boob and starts to take your pants off, ripping your panties off with them. 

He exams your panties, “Fuckin’ wet, huh?” He throws them to the ground and plays with your clit but soonly he picks you up and your legs wrap around his waist, letting you lean against the wall. 

He slides his cock up and down gathering your slick to help it go in easier, smirking when you shiver every time your clit and his tip make contact. 

“Please-mmmph. Please be careful, I've never,” you try speaking but he pushes his tip in slightly, “Yeah, yeah. Your first fucking time or what not. Does it look like I give two shits?” he thrusts all of it in in one go. You scream out in pleasure and pain. The burn. Hes so deep, you swear you practically feel him in your stomach. Holy shit. 

“Fuuuuckkkkk..you're sucking me in so good.” he groans and his eye roll back as he throws his head back. He waits a few seconds until he starts thrusting in at a slightly fast pace. “Mmpp..- feels soo good!” you moan out unable to hold it back. The pain you felt before is totally gone. 

You've tried to touch yourself before, but you could never reach where he's reaching right now. So many spots you never knew would feel good. He dick kept hitting that exact spot that made you see stars each time. “Godd, you're so fuckin’ tight. You gotta stop squeezing me like that, doll. You'll make me never wanna get out.” he manages to get out between breaths. 

He picks his pace up making your tits jiggle at the same time. As he thrust in, he pushes you into a powerful kiss and forces his tongue in, smashing into yours. He comes out of your mouth slightly and sucks on your lip, leaving a ticklish feeling, but it doesn't last long as bites down on it causing you to whimper and clench around him. “Hm? You liked that huh?” he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, raven hair strands sticking to his forehead. His eyes were so beautiful to look at, they were a beautiful green shade. 

He continues thrusting but goes harder, deeper hitting that same spot over and over again. You start to clench more as he quickened his pace again. You couldn't grasp how he had so much stamina.

“I-i…fuckk.. Please. harder. “  You knew you were close to cumming. “So close..mmppp!” you cry out. “Shiitt. Me too.” he grunts, starting to somehow go harder then he was. The sound of your body's colliding echoing throughout the room, both of your moans syncing with his thrusts. He goes harder, you were seeing stars. You couldn't believe you were losing your virginity to the man who wanted to kill you, the man who is the serial killer, Ghostface. “Cum-ughhhfuck.. Cumming!!” you scream out, your cum gushing around his cock. He continues thrusting as your orgasm, until only a few seconds later he cums inside of you. 

You both are coming down from your high, catching your breath. “Was it good? Am I gonna live? Please.” you question.

“Huh? Yeah. That was really fucking good. You'll live, but I want you around for a while with me."

written by szillx (me) and @ems-interlude !!

TAGLIST: (if you want to be added, check kinktober masterlist for the form!) @slutforfictionalman @queendessi24 @tojishugetiddies @thebestgirlever2 @getosho3cakes @hotvillianapologist @taxevadingblob

#dilf toji #jujutsu toji #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujustu kaisen #jjk season 2 #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x virgin #toji smut #toji x you #toji imagine #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk smut #ghostface #dabi x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo

[angelamcss]

TJ MIKELOGAN'S HALLOWEEN 2023 EVENT + day 4: favorite horror movie

[•REC] (2007) It's nearly 2 A.M. and we're still sealed in this building that we came to earlier tonight, to assist an elderly woman who later attacked a policeman and a fireman. They're both in critical condition. The police won't let us leave and are giving us no explanation.

#rec #rec 2007 #filmedit #movieedit #moviegifs #horroredit #USERTJ #blood tw #body horror tw #myedits #god tier movie

[cpunkhobie]

I wanna make the bee movie 2 and call it something like “the bee movie: the bee stings back” but the twist is that my parents are bee keepers so the whole thing is actually accurate to how bees work and the only reference to the bee movie is the hive hears about the weird fucked up backwards hive in the bee movie with “men who go to work? That’s a women’s job!” And it’s 2 hrs long and the first act is pretty standard bee movie shenanigans with the main character being the star worker-bee in her hive. but the story gets progressively darker as it turns out to be a trans/queer allegory with the main bee character realizing she doesn’t want to adhere to bee standards after her friend commits suicide via stinging a human for no reason. The rest of Act 2 is about grief and discovering who you are in an oppressive system that values productivity over individual life as she slowly views the factory and machine of the hive through a critical lens, and yeah it’s about capitalism. So then at the end the trans-bee actually has a really touching and heartfelt argument with his Queen (his mom) and it ends with “if you don’t accept me I’ll find somebee who will!” And he leaves his hive for good and glances back to see nothing but the Queen’s apathetic stare, as if any love she had for him completely dissipated and he realizes all that love she showed him was conditional. There’s a montage of him traveling alone through the rain and the shine, sleeping under flower petals and having to fight butterflies n shit for pollen and nectar so he can get a meal. By the time the movie finishes he’s beaten and clearly malnourished just to hear a woman’s voice “you alright there honey?” And the sky clears with the sun beeming down on his face as he looks up to see his old friend, and the finishing shot his him smiling with tears in his eyes as the screen turns to black and he says “I missed you.” The credits roll with a picture of them sitting on a flower leaning on each other watching a sunset, because even if they couldn’t bee together in life, they could bee in whatever comes after. And it’s called “The Bee Movie: the Bee Stings Back”

#jonah with a megaphone

[elryuse]

Yandere older sister Chengxiao x younger brother reader she obsessed with him and never wants him to leave her and stay with her forever with smut

FORBIDDEN DESIRE

Yandere Older Sister Cheng Xiao X Male Younger Brother Reader (Slight SMUT)

Y/n stared at the muted television, the blaring K-pop music a distant hum in his ears. Images of his sister, Cheng Xiao, flashed across the screen, her flawless face and captivating dance moves mesmerizing millions. Yet, to Y/n, she was just a stranger with a familiar face.

Cheng Xiao had been a whirlwind of fame ever since she debuted as a K-pop idol years ago. Their childhood memories were fragmented at best, stolen by her relentless training and packed schedules. He barely remembered the warmth of her hugs, the sound of her laughter, replaced by hurried goodbyes and forced smiles.

A pang of loneliness tightened his chest. He missed her, the sister he barely knew. But whenever he tried to bridge the gap, he was met with a polite smile and a dismissal disguised as work commitments.

Suddenly, a news alert blared on the screen, shattering the silence. It was a report about a car accident involving Cheng Xiao. Y/n's heart lurched into his throat. The details were blurry, but one sentence slammed him to his core: "critical condition, emergency surgery."

Panic clawed at him. He scrambled to his feet, phone clutched tightly in his hand. He dialed Cheng Xiao's number repeatedly, each unanswered ring a hammer blow to his chest. Finally, a voice, unfamiliar and strained, picked up. It was their aunt, informing him about Cheng Xiao's urgent need for a kidney transplant.

Y/n didn't hesitate. He volunteered, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. It was the least he could do for the sister he barely knew. The surgery was a blur of anxiety and hope. Days turned into weeks as Y/n recovered in the sterile hospital room. He barely slept, his mind constantly checking on Cheng Xiao in the adjacent room.

One day, the door creaked open revealing a pale, gaunt Cheng Xiao. Her eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull and shadowed. But when they landed on him, a flicker of recognition ignited within them. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she choked out, "Y/n… you saved me."

Her voice, usually strong and confident, was a broken whisper. Y/n felt a surge of warmth bloom in his chest. This was Cheng Xiao, vulnerable and real, a stark contrast to the distant K-pop idol on the screen.

From that day on, a change swept through their relationship. Cheng Xiao, discharged from the hospital, made a conscious effort to connect. They spent evenings watching movies, Y/n patiently explaining the plot points lost due to her years in Korea. She cooked for him, her laughter filling the once-silent apartment with a melody he never knew he craved.

One night, as they sat on the couch, a comfortable silence settling around them, Cheng Xiao reached out and took his hand. Her touch sent a jolt through him, a spark of something unfamiliar. He looked into her eyes, expecting warmth, but found a possessive glint that sent shivers down his spine.

"Y/n," she started, her voice a husky whisper, "You saved my life. You're my hero."

He smiled, his heart stuttering in his chest. "We're siblings, Cheng Xiao. That's what siblings do for each other."

But her grip tightened, her gaze burning into his. "No, Y/n," she breathed, her voice laced with a possessiveness he couldn't decipher. "You're mine. You gave me a part of yourself, and now I want all of you."

Y/n's smile faltered. He stammered, trying to pull his hand free. "Cheng Xiao, what are you saying? This isn't… this isn't right."

But she wouldn't let go. Her eyes, once filled with gratitude, now flickered with a manic intensity. "You saved me, Y/n," she insisted, her voice thick with emotion. "Now, let me save you. Let me be the only one you need."

Fear, cold and sharp, snaked its way into Y/n's gut. He tried to reason with her, to explain the boundaries between siblings, but her words fell on deaf ears. The sister he yearned for had morphed into something dark and possessive.

The nights that followed were a chilling descent into madness. Walls seemed to close in, the once-comfortable apartment transformed into a gilded cage. Cheng Xiao became clingy, her affection suffocating. She'd follow him around the house, her gaze an unnerving constant.

One night, Y/n woke up to the faint scent of lavender, his sister's favorite. He sat up, heart hammering in his chest, as he saw a dark figure leaning over him. It was Cheng Xiao, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight, a seductive smile playing on her lips

Y/n's breath hitched in his throat. Panic clawed at him, but before he could even stammer a protest, Cheng Xiao's lips were on his. The familiar scent of lavender mingled with the sweetness of her lip gloss, sending a confusing jolt through him.

The kiss wasn't gentle; it was desperate, possessive. Her hand snaked around his neck, her fingers digging into his skin as she deepened the kiss. Y/n froze, his mind in a war between confusion and a primal instinct to respond.

He tasted her fear, a strange undercurrent beneath the sweetness of her cherry lip balm. It was a fear that mirrored his own, a fear that twisted into something else entirely. He found himself responding, his hand hesitantly reaching for her waist.

Cheng Xiao moaned into the kiss, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. It was a sound of hunger, a yearning so intense it scared him. He pulled back slightly, gasping for breath. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now dark and hungry, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that made him feel like prey.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Don't leave me. You're mine now. We're connected, you and I."

He wanted to argue, to explain the lines she was crossing, but the words wouldn't come. He was trapped in the storm of her emotions, caught in the headlights of her obsessive gaze. Before he could find his voice, her lips were back on his, this time softer, more seductive.

She explored his mouth with a newfound urgency, her touch igniting a fire within him he couldn't explain. Her hand trailed down his chest, sending shivers down his spine. His own inhibitions crumbled like sandcastles under a tidal wave. He was drowning in her touch, a prisoner of his own conflicting emotions.

He found himself kissing her back, his own hands roaming her body, a desperate attempt to make sense of the situation. He felt a mixture of guilt, fear, and a strange, exhilarating thrill. The lines were blurring, and he wasn't sure he had the strength to fight the current.

The kiss escalated quickly, their clothes becoming an obstacle they both desperately wanted to remove. Cheng Xiao, fueled by a feverish obsession, undressed him with trembling hands. He was her savior, her hero, and now, she possessed him completely.

The night was a blur of tangled limbs and stolen breaths. Cheng Xiao devoured him with a frenzy that left him breathless and weak. Every touch, every kiss, was laced with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. He felt like a doll in her hands, manipulated to fulfill a twisted desire.

When dawn finally broke, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink, Y/n lay sprawled beside her, utterly drained. He felt a deep ache in his muscles, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil he couldn't process.

Cheng Xiao, on the other hand, seemed radiant. Her eyes glowed with a dark satisfaction, as if she had finally claimed what was rightfully hers. She cupped his face, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

"See, Y/n," she murmured, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "We fit perfectly. You'll never want to leave me now, will you?"

Y/n tried to speak, to voice the unease churning in his stomach, but no words came out. He was trapped, caught in the web of her twisted affection. As the days blurred into weeks, the nights became a relentless cycle of passionate encounters.

Cheng Xiao became clingy, her possessiveness reaching suffocating levels. She'd monitor his every move, his phone calls, his texts, a jealous glint in her eyes whenever he interacted with another girl.

"They don't understand you," she'd hiss, her voice dripping with venom. "Only I understand the bond we share. We're more than siblings, Y/n. We're one."

Y/n, exhausted from the emotional and physical toll, felt himself withdrawing. He craved normalcy, the company of friends, a life outside the suffocating walls of their apartment. But every attempt to break free was met with a silent storm of tears and accusations.

He was her lifeline, the living embodiment of her gratitude, a twisted version of love that kept him tethered to her side. He was a prisoner in a gilded cage, a trophy on her shelf, a possession she refused to share.

#cheng xiao icons #wjsn cheng xiao #yandere x reader #yandere roleplay #yandere #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #sexy content #beautiful #apreciation post #update #kpop smut #accident #18+ only #18+ content

[de4dlyniightshade]

Post!prison Reid being an absolute sweetheart headcannons PLEASEEEE🤞

omg yes

he'd be such a little househusband like he'd do so much for you all the time even if it didn't need done, he'd change the sheets while you were out, do your laundry that you forgot about, organise your things, do the dishes, all of it.

loves cooking for you too, even learns how to make your favourite foods for when you have a bad day or just when he feels like treating you, which is always. he loves to spoil you and make you feel as special as you are to him.

goes full on doctor reid when you're sick, even just a little like it could be a mild cold and he's ushering you back to bed and tucking you in, going out to get you medicine, snacks, drinks, everything. he'd also make you soup, specifically whatever soup diana made for him when he was sick and he'd take your temperature in intervals throughout the day and check on you like you were in critical condition, also watches movies with you and just tries to forget the fact that you're a walking germ factory.

always looking at you with the biggest, most loveheart eyes when you're out with friends and you're not watching, he just can't help but smile and stare when you're just laughing and enjoying yourself, definitely gets caught all the time by derek who just fake gags and makes kissy faces at him.

candid photos all the time, even bought a polaroid camera specifically for them which he takes everywhere in his bag so he can take pictures of where you go, making sure to put the date and location on the photo and a little message on the back about how pretty you look or just how much he enjoyed that day with you. he'd also collect them in a nice little box and wait until he has a good amount for pinning them all to a memo board.

knits for you, no matter how long the project takes he'll make it for you, especially if you show him something knitted and say how cute it is, him taking a mental note and learning how to make it to surprise you with it.

such a hopeless romantic, never ever misses a valentine's day or anniversary, he'd rather shoot himself in the foot than see you not spoiled rotten on important dates, he'd do the works for you on valentine's day, flowers, chocolates, dinner and at the end of the day he'd bury his face between your thighs.

picks flowers for you, doesn't care how weird he looks picking some random flower in public, he will get it for you and would cry when you tell him you keep every single one in a box to make a bouquet of all of them(idc that's what i'd do.)

#📬 maeve's mailbox! #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #dr spencer reid #mgg #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

[coldairballoons]

i've seen a lot of people saying that saltburn (2023) isn't a commentary on class, and genuinely, i have to disagree.

keep in mind, i watched this at 3am last night with my sibling, but i'm also a literature major with a focus in literary criticism of popular culture (including film), so i do know what i'm talking about!

spoilers below the break

first of all, framing saltburn as a conflict between the upper class and lower class is incorrect. in fact, that in itself is one of the major criticisms that comes up throughout it! oliver is quite literally not lower class, but uses the preconception that the cattons will view anyone in a lower social class than them as a tool to manipulate his way into their life. despite this, he is not lower class. and you are not meant to root for him, especially not towards the end.

the marxist theory of literary criticism surrounds the idea that in every story, one of the key concepts is a class struggle. this could be between any class, but the most common is the rich vs poor duality that shows up in most stories - ex. titanic, the fall of the house of usher. the thing is, in both of those examples, the sympathy lies with the victims - the lower class. in titanic, you are meant to feel guilty on behalf of the rich leaving the lower class to die. in usher, you are meant to feel anger towards the mistreatment of those who seek out the treatment the family offers. but while usher is a clear criticism of class, is that its main genre? is is purely a class struggle movie? no. it is a story inspired by edgar allan poe that surrounds horrors of family, trauma, and yes, class, but also morality. meanwhile titanic is supposedly a romance. though jack dawson is young and poor, he is not the only sympathetic character. what i'm saying here is that media is incredibly layered, and while on the surface level, something may not be entirely a class conflict story, those undertones exist throughout, no matter what. even take hit series percy jackson for example. there is still a class discussion to be had there, with percy and his mom struggling with finances, while annabeth and her father live comfortably.

but saltburn is interesting, because the antagonist throughout the entirety of it is, as far as the audience knows, lower class. you are introduced to him, not through judgement for his living condition, but through compassion and generosity. felix offers him a hand, even when he isn't in the same group as him. that in itself is a criticism of class dynamics.

listen. i hate rich people as much as the next gen-z college student. i personally have a hit list with many a billionaire's name right at the very top. but it's undeniable that, despite the class difference, the cattons - at least venitia and felix - are kind to oliver at first. obviously, he is a part of the other, but he is still a person. elspeth enjoys his presence. james treats him as a son. farleigh feels threatened by his presence, because he knows that, if they so choose, they could replace him with oliver.

i want to talk about farleigh for a second.

i literally have not seen anyone talk about farleigh, and i am upset about it. not only is he one of the most compelling characters - a supposed american slacker who lives with his extended family and blows their money on lavish means -, but he is important in the class discussion because it affects him directly. the cattons do not support his mother. she is in america, and although they have the ability to, they actively choose not to. the reason felix is bothered when farleigh implies that it is, in fact, a "race thing", is because it is. why is farleigh the one dependent on the cattons, and risking expulsion from the family? because he is the first other that they encounter.

and then pamela, who not only has sought help from the cattons, but disappears midway through with no explanation. she goes directly from rehab to them, and although she is trying to find a place to live on her own, the cattons offer her no assistance. they offer her nothing, and complain when she is in their space. they offer her NO help, when they so easily could set her up with a small flat and monthly allowance to help her find a job.

and not only is this a criticism of the upper class - the inactivity and extremely single-minded worldview that the cattons have, the amount that they are out of touch with not only the outside world and the lower class, but their own emotions -, it's also a criticism of the upper middle class.

as someone currently in college, whose parents are a college professor and a high school teacher, i am fairly middle class. however, there are so many people in my immediate vicinity - folks i know from high school, in my classes, extended family, etc., - who are Extremely upper middle class. however, they have the comfort of certain things that i, and my family, don't have. that's just part of life. however, in saltburn, oliver milks the "middle" in his "upper middle" class. he milks it, and he runs it absolutely dry.

someone truly in his alleged position would not be able to spend the summer lavishly and hedonistically gallivanting around the countryside of england, playing tennis and smoking cigarettes by the lake. hell, someone in my middle class position wouldn't be able to do that either, especially not while attending oxford fucking university. he would likely need to work, not just to support himself, but to support his mother, especially after - again, allegedly - his father died. and not only is this coming from a place of an oversight on his part, not realizing what his privilege truly is, but it also comes from a place of oversight on the part of the cattons.

do i think that saltburn is a movie about class? nope. at its core, it's a story about a desire for power and possession, ownership and obsession. there is this intense, almost vampiric lust throughout the entire thing, and that's in part what makes it the perfect setting for discussions of sexuality, of madness, and, honestly, class. wealth is power, and the cattons have a lot of it.

#saltburn #saltburn 2023 #oliver quick #felix catton #barry keoghan #film #movies #saltburn movie #miles is dumb

[ay0nha]

Boiling Point | Chef Luca (Prologue)

(working) SUMMARY: A well- known food critic is retiring. Apart of this condition is that you continue writing on his behalf as if he hadn’t. To show you the ropes, he implores Luca to teach you what it takes to enter the culinary world.

There he was. His pristine white jacket contrasted perfectly against the warm ambiance of the evening. The distance was covered within a few long strides and once at the table, his charmed smile made you nauseous. He played his part better than you had that night

PAIRING: Chef!Luca x f!reader (food journalist/critic)

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

WARNINGS: smoking, drinking, canon-typical things, future enemies to lovers sort of, mutual pining, inspiration from Kitchen Confidential and the movie Boiling Point, etc.

A/N: Just a little sneak peek/intro to this request. Might do a short series (three/four parts)...stay tuned. It’s a little choppy at the moment, so I hope it makes sense. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged. Comments are always appreciated! Enjoy.

Deep breaths helped.

The nicotine’s warmth sparked excitement in your veins. It made a tedious night seem just bearable with each inhale. You eyed the falling ash as if it were tea leaves promising your near future. Yet, when your eyes surveyed the crowd within the restaurant, it cemented the dull company you’d join.

Excusing yourself was easy. Slipping away wasn’t the issue; it was expected as the call for a cigarette completed your image. The cliché of it made your mouth pucker with your final drag.

“There you are...” A hand settled on your shoulder. Ryan. “They’re ordering another bottle as we speak.” Lighting her own cigarette, she cursed. “We better fucking land this deal—I’m about to max out the company card.”

Flicking your roach under the point of your heel, you scoffed, “Please, if I have to hear that man say heavenly one more time, I’ll—

“You’ll smile.” She reminded you. It was an instruction, really. “Nod your head, agree with anything—Everything.”

“He said supposebly.” You tutted. “I can’t take him seriously.”

“He’s ancient. Cut him some slack!” She laughed. Charm came second nature to Ryan; you weren’t convinced she even knew its effect on people. “He’s sweet on you.”

“Right…” You tried to make out the stars, but the light pollution fought against you. “So, what? I marry him for the life insurance?”

“Let’s just make it through dessert,” Ryan spoke definitively, always cutting through. Yet, room always remained to entertain you. “Then we can talk wedding plans.”

The man that waited for you was Avery Sinclair—world-renowned something. You had listened, but the information had already left you. Those around you, though, knew who sat across from you well. They were almost as good as you hiding their discomfort. Eyes were always on him, knowing his thoughts before he could form them. New forks were laid after the slightest touch, napkin splayed on his lap before he could lift it himself, and every meal came with the chef that made it.

He was respected.

Yet, all you saw was his brittle and thin mustache, sitting upon his lip like forgotten food. The comb-over was just as wirey and pulled kindness to his cheeks. They flushed now as he flirted with another glass of wine.

“There you are!” He bubbled. With a wave of his hand, your diligent waitress returned with the Italian bottle. “I ordered the oak-aged white. It has a buttery note that is just heavenly with the gelée.”

You smiled.

“I cannot believe our night is coming to an end.” Ryan charmed. She held her nose to the glass, listening intently as Mr. Sinclair explained each technique to her. The slurping was a bit much.

“My dear, this is just a start.” The deal was confirmed with those words alone. A part of you wished the promise had a false bottom. “We can draft up something agreeable, I’m sure?”

He looked at you. You had that feeling like you’d forgotten to walk. Each step felt forced and off. You played off your misstep cleverly, your glass raising to the center, “I look forward to working together.”

Ryan was impressed, pride swelling in her chest. She and you were an unmistakable duo. Angel and devil. Thelma and Louise. Introvert and extrovert.  Fill in any this and that, and there you two were. Most importantly, she was the publicist, and you were the writer.

“Under one condition…” Mr. Sinclair smiled, far too tickled by your toast. He leaned in, elbows brushing the circular table. “Do you know why I chose this place tonight?”

You hadn’t expected the question. Your answer came out blunt. “Favoritism.”

“You’re sharp.” He smiled broadly, wagging his manicured finger at you. “Exactly that. Look around you…”

You took a genuine moment.  The perception of fine dining was all theatrics. It was a large show that ran every night of the week. Even those who dined were an unassuming audience. Those swiveling doors may as well be the curtain line to backstage. The kitchen, the dressing room. The dripping alleyway, the green room.

You were all too aware of the communication chain. The insults were coded frustrations that later into the service would be water under the bridge. There was a reason for everyone being here just as you were.

“We’re all cut from the same cloth. You, me, dear Ryan.” Mr. Sinclair smiled at her. “We all express our passions differently, but we love just the same.”

He felt content. His body relaxed with his decision to hire you. Sinclair could see how you hadn’t quite trusted yourself with the responsibility that he was putting on your shoulders. But he was confident you’d grow into it perfectly.

“I hope you understand the reasons for my poetics—” The rumors and gossip about him failed to do his sincerity justice. “—as I’m trusting you with my legacy.”

“Of course.” You gave another smile; this time, it felt real.

“Excuse my sentimentality!” Mr. Sinclair clasped his hands together in a soft clap. You could almost see tears forming in the corner of his eyes.   “With that out of the way, dessert? The pastry chef here is—” His favoritism came into play. “—is something special.”

You could picture the chef now, cursing at the interruption. Hopefully, complaining about the big wig seated at table seven wasn’t worth his time. You waited for the rehearsed, polite decline.

Apologies, however, our chef is tied up between aeration.

But there he was, Chef Luca. His pristine white jacket contrasted perfectly against the warm ambiance of the evening. The distance was covered within a few long strides, and once at the table, his charmed smile made you nauseous. He played his part better than you had that night.

His features were tight, unwavering as the compliments poured. Your lips twitched down as you took him in. With his hands behind his back, his chest pulled broadly, but you could still make out the littered tattoos on his forearms. Typical.

Even with his eyes on you, you hadn’t shied from your judgment. You only stopped when you heard your name.

“Isn’t that right?” Ryan prompted you again, defined features expressing her sternness. Focus.  “You always talk about how much you love to bake.”

You don’t.

“Sure.” You nodded.

“A match made in heaven, then!” Mr. Sinclair exclaimed. “You must get to know Luca; he has the most interesting story!”

In your short assessment, you already disparaged his comment. To you, Luca was, like you, a walking cliché.

“I don’t doubt that…” Your sarcasm was palpable. Luca’s stoicism broke with a smirk of confusion. “Let me guess... You were a troublemaker?” Your tone was teasing but bordered something wicked.  “Cooking put you straight, and you owe your life to grease and adrenaline.”

“Forgot to mention that I’m a hard-partying criminal.” Luca didn’t waste a beat. Impressive.

“And when did the anger issues start?” You hummed. You played at every stereotype you knew. “Before or after your—

“I think what she means to say—” Ryan cut in seamlessly. She came prepared for your shenanigans. “—is that she admires the journey you’ve taken to get here.”

Luckily, Mr. Sinclair was far too enamored with the preciseness of the dessert to interpret the sudden banter.

“Of course.” Luca looked at you. Then as you had only moments ago, he pulled a practiced expression to address his loyal customer. “Mr. Sinclair, as always, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Unfortunately, I must savor tonight.” He spoke. “My home on the Amalfi coast has been quite lonely.” Sinclair let out a regretful sigh. “I trust you to keep this between us, yes?”

Luca nodded. “Of course.”

“You will be a very lucky man, son.” Sinclair further divulged the secrets behind his retirement. “I hope you heed my advice and get to know this young lady.”

All eyes were on you.

“She will continue to write for me. Use my name.” He explained your purpose. You weren’t ready to hear it aloud. “So treat her kindly, or you will have to answer to me.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Luca almost protested. It seemed elaborate to allow someone so young—you— to take his place.

“Be open. Present.” Sinclair answered. He wasn’t a man of riddles, but you noticed that the more he spoke, the harder to understand. “You were once new. You had to figure it out on your own. Maybe you can help her, show her your world. Our world.”

#q #chef luca #luca #chef luca angst #chef!luca x reader #chef!luca x f!reader #chef luca fluff #chef!luca #pastry chef luca #the bear fx #the bear luca #luca the bear #will poulter #will poulter x reader

[antlerqueer]

sorry im literally putting all of my complaints about ppl's critiques of leave the world behind here bc it's alll..... like what? so i literally looked up interviews from sam esmail and rumaan alam and i'm not crazy!!! the things i was like "this is the opposite of what was going on??" were actually the opposite of what was going on.

Some criticism I've seen is people saying "the movie mocks Rose's dependence on technology with the final scene" but it was like... Rose's journey was seeking her own solution to not wanting to be miserable and inside and waiting for death?? And she found it??

Quote from Sam Esmail, from Rolling Stone (emphasis mine):

During the early days of the pandemic, I remember how we were all very scared. We were scared for our loved ones, we were scared for one another, we were scared for ourselves. People were dying on a daily basis and we were locked in and trapped. There was this real sense of fear and anxiety. And then Tiger King dropped on Netflix and that was all we could talk about for weeks.  As silly as that show is, I love that we as a community dropped our differences to engage with this story and to laugh with it and talk about it. I just found that very human. I love when you can mix tragedy and comedy like that because I do think the essence of tragic comedy speaks directly to who we are and to the human condition.  So when I was constructing this story, I felt that throughout all this bleakness, to have this character, Rose, escape into something comfortable — I thought that was just something that felt like a kind of universal touchstone.

Rumaan Alam, the author, also says this to Variety:

I say it’s funny, but I don’t think it’s a joke. I don’t think it’s a joke on Rose. I don’t think it’s a joke on the audience. I don’t think it’s a joke on “Friends.” It’s a reminder that art is kind of a salve.

Sam Esmail LOVES media. He's not fucking condemning a child for wanting comfort????? Anyway. The dependence on technology isn't a point of inherent criticism, it is a point of what do we do when our survival is reliant on technology but we lose it. It's part of the horror. It's scary.

Literally, a quote from Esmail in GQ:

[It] really kind of underlines the theme of this reliance on tech, and once it goes away, what are we left with? And that in its own way is pretty terrifying.

I've seen it said Julia Roberts's character was "redeemed" in the film from her bad actions, which I so heavily disagree with, and so does Rumaan Alam, in the Variety interview:

In that final scene between Julia and Myha’la, they don’t embrace. Even prior to that, when they’re in that little shed and come to a détente, Ruth acknowledges that there’s some truth to the things that Amanda has said, that they’re in agreement about something, but it doesn’t end with a hug. It’s not that kind of story.

(A detente is "the easing of hostility or strained relations" - not a reprieve or a reconciliation, but an easing.)

These characters don't have to like or forgive each other to agree that there are things more important to survival and making it through than Amanda being overbearing and racist. Ruth lost her mother and even though Amanda steps in and maybe saves her life (we don't know what the deer were gonna do) that is not an apology! And it's not treated like one because we don't see any sort of forgiveness from Ruth!

And then the whole "it's an attack from a foreign government making the US a victim" shit. Like... GH theorizes, out loud, that this could be the US government's doing? Anyway.

#leave the world behind #it's a rant folks #i'm sorry i'm like this

[boldlypurplelight]

Love is a drug|| JJK ||6

Pairing: Yandere Jungkook × Female Reader

Genre: Yandere Themes, a bit fluff, angst, betrayal.

Warning: Yandere jjk, use of drugs, stalking.

Summary: OC had a very Happy life with her lovely Boyfriend Jeon Jungkook, a 24 year old ceo ; but things take a vast turn and oc finds herself in critical condition.

CHAPTER 6

Sarah didn't forget to invite Jungkook to taste and approve her cake. She had his trust, it was the time to use her tactics. Jeon Jungkook was a smart man, and to tackle a smart man is that you always hit on his weak point.

YN was his weak point.

As Jungkook turned around, he saw yn walking out of the deck. He was sure it was yn though, he can recognise her from her back itself.

Suddenly his phone pinged, he saw the message.

Jungkook was hurt, disappointed by the fact that she came till here and walked away lying to him.

They didn't talk since then, Jungkook sighed as he ring the doorbell. Sarah opened the door and smiled as if she was waiting for him all night.

"I knew you would come" she whispered under her breath.

She let him in and decided to take out the cake, although Jungkook was a bit hesitant to try.

Sarah took a small bite to prove him there wasn't anything else in the cake.

Although she added the psychoactive drug, a drug which is hard to find it in market but she had connection and a little money worked.

The psychoactive drug would work loosen up his emotions and make it is easy for her to manipulate him. She is careful giving him it small amount.

Jungkook tasted the cake and he was more than impressed. There was right amount of sugar and cream but he was little blank, there was nothing going on in his mind. Until Sarah interrupted.

"How's the cake?"

Jungkook smiled "It's tasty!!". Jungkook was feeling much more ease now with Sarah. The cake was getting more addictive.

Everything was going good but sarah was little nervous, she wanted to make sure the drug was working.

" You look stressed Mr. Jeon, is everything ok?" It was a safe question.

" Well, the day I was waiting for yn at the deck" Jungkook paused still wondering if he should actually share his feelings.

Sarah saw this as an opportunity,

"So she didn't arrive, I'm so sorry Mr. Jeon"

Licking his lips, Jungkook answered

"No, she did but she left...she lied to me."

"Oh! That's sad. It's ok, you're a good boyfriend Mr. Jeon you took all the risks just to meet your lover. I wish I had a lover like you, Mr. Jeon."

Sarah knew it, that she managed to break the house of cards.

"You can call me Jungkook!!"

Sarah started meeting up Jungkook with innumerable excuses. Bringing any kind of food or drink she slipped the drug everytime. Jungkook became more like her ragdoll, she could play with him anyhow she wanted to. She got control of his emotions. It was fun for her tho watching a successful CEO being her puppet while his girlfriend had no idea.

Jungkook on the other hand was not just getting brainwashed but also drugs the making him physically sick. He vomited, got sick twice and started eating less because of low appetite. Jungkook was scared he might have caught any disease, he remembered he kept movie date today with yn. They were meeting up after long time and he was nervous.

'What if it's a viral disease' he thought.

Jungkook kept his mouth shut and maintained distance throughout the whole date but yn caught on his behaviour. Before he could explain yn accused him of cheating. Jungkook froze. You accused? Him for cheating?

Did you even knew how much of crazy he was for you since he saw you in the hospital for the first time? Did you know that he stalked kept the track of you, made sure you're okay. Transferred all male colleagues who tried hitting on you. Made his home looking similar to yours so you could be comfortable in his home. Has an album of hidden pictures all of you? No. You don't. Jungkook thought you were being ungrateful. He remembered the day you walked out, ofcourse he would, Sarah reminded him everyday.

"I saw you walking out of the deck!! You just threw me under the bus and walked away"

"Well no shit you deserved that"

He froze. Bitterness bubbling in his stomach, that was the worst thing you could say to him. He was sad now not even angry, he had no energy because he didn't eat enough nowadays. Yn walked away leaving him just like that. Jungkook had no idea what to do yet his hands found their way clicking on the very number.

"Hello, Sarah!"

Jungkook was a mess as well as yn after their huge argument. Sarah, that day although calmed him by her talks but Jungkook still dreaded. Yn's birthday was coming up he didn't want to ruin it for her, for himself, for their love.

With that in mind Jungkook took out his but he heard a knock on his office door.

"Hey!! Jungkook" Sarah peeked from the door showing him the meal she brought.

Jungkook's sad mood was currently lifted up, he had been sharing his personal life with Sarah for sometime now. He, at first thought it was not good talking to other woman so closely while he had a girlfriend but everytime she came up to him he couldn't hold back his emotions.

"Do I love Sarah?" Did he? Honestly he didn't know the answer.

"Come on!! Don't just stand there, let's eat. I bought our favourite ramen noodles" Sarah squealed.

Another part Jungkook thought was how similar him and Sarah are, from hobbies to favourite ice cream flavour. Another dumb part of his brain thought that they were soulmates, maybe he was in love with Sarah.

Sarah had added not just one but two drugs, she knew the effect might be bad but this was her endgame. Sarah heard from Nayeon that you're gonna apologize Jungkook for the fight. You're going to visit his office.

Jungkook was gone. Totally gone as he was a dog and he gave his leash in the hands of Sarah.

Sarah confidently sat on Jungkook's lap knowing he won't do shit about it.

"I can't believe YN was so cruel to you, you don't deserve that Jungkook, you deserve a loving and caring partner"

Jungkook looked up his head spinning, but he still managed to hear what sarah said. Her all accusation seemed right to him.

"You're right!! I deserve someone better, I deserve you. You always considered my feelings, never judged me, tried to cheer me up every single fucking time"

Oh how Sarah wished you were here listening to what your lovely Boyfriend was confessing, she wanted to see your face crumble. Sarah was desperate to see you putted down in your place.

As if all gods were listening to her, Sarah's wish came true. You arrived. You were listening to all the miserable things your boyfriend said about you.

"I regret meeting her"

Sarah had a devilish smile on her face.

"I could even kill her for you baby!!"

Sarah's smile disappeared, she looked at the corner of her eye at how yn backed out. She looked terrified, that was not she expected Jungkook to say. She knew he was on drugs but saying this was a little astonishing for her.

Sarah was just hoping that Jungkook doesn't find out the truth. Because his thoughts were little disturbing.

Author's note: Hey!! Armys. Sorry for updating late. Comment down if you what do you think about this chapter. Also if you wanted to be added to taglist :)

Taglist: @princess-sunshyn , @douknowbts , @ane102 , @jk97bam , @bangtanpov , @dodoneck , @hellbornsworld , @heyyymin , @loumin908 .

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#bts fanfic #bts army #bts yandere #jungkook imagine #yandere jjk #bts angst #bts imagines #yandere #yandere jungkook #yandere ceo #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook and reader #jungkook and you

[jediskywalkerblog]

your fallen angel

A/N: This imagine is set after The Dual of Mustafar (Anakin’s Fight with Obi-Wan in ‘Revenge of the Sith’ movie), except he’s not left in critical condition after the fight. He’s left alone in a lot of pain…

I’m sat in front of the window, looking out over the madness that is Coruscant. Anakin left abruptly hours ago in his shop and told me to stay put… for some reason I just can’t. As I stare out of the large window that overlooks the entire city a terrible feeling hits me, like what I imagine death feels like. Suddenly I’m no longer in control of my body whilst I fall to the ground. It’s him. I can feel his pain.

“Y/N?!” I hear as I’m slowly bought back to reality.

“Y/N?” I hear C3PO repeated as he helps to pick me up off the floor.

“For give me your lady, it seems you fainted” He said in his robotic voice as o regain my balance.

“It’s Anakin 3PO” I say as I grab my things just before rushing to my ship.

“I must come with you (Y/N), we must make sure master Anakin is safe” he says as he rushes behind me.

As I’m approaching my ship I see Obi-Wan landing, as soon as he gets out I rush up to him with C3PO attempting to keep up behind me.

“Obi-Wan, where is Anakin, is he ok?!” I ask as I rush into his arms and he pulls me into an embrace.

As soon as he pulls away and looks into my eyes I know somethings wrong…

“Where’s Anakin?” I ask as my heart beats out of my chest.

“He’s gone.” Is all he says before walking off with his cape flowing behind him.

“What do you mean?!” I scream at him, attempting to get a reaction from him as I walk behind him but he doesn’t even flinch and keeps on walking.

I feel a tear fall from my eye. I knew something was up with Anakin the second he walked out of our room hours before. He can’t be gone, he can’t of joined them.

“Come on 3P0” I shout as I rush onto the ship.

“He can’t be gone” I whisper to myself as I prepare the ship for takeoff.

“How do you know where master skywalker is (Y/N)?” 3PO asks me as he sits next to me as we take off.

“I can feel his pain” I say quietly, trying to keep calm, all that matters is that I get to him.

…

I find a place to land on Mustafar, this place is my idea of hell. It’s dark. My Anakin is here. My hearts racing as I prepare myself to get off the ship and go and find my husband on this terrible planet. He’s all alone.

“CPO, stay here and watch the ship” I say, knowing that he won’t be able to keep up with me anyway.

“Ok my lady, I hope you find master skywalker” he says as he drops the ramp down for me to exit.

As soon as I leave the ship I’m hit with the gif aid, the kind that comes from boiling lava, the air is thick and uncomfortable and I can barely see die to the ash surrounding me. Obi-Wan can’t of left him here.

I don’t know how but I can just feel Anakin, it’s like he’s leading me, I know that this feeling will get me to him…

After what feels like hours of walking I’m finally at the edge of a bank of lava, it’s too hot to even keep my eyes open but the feeling is getting stronger. He’s close.

My heart is racing as I see a figure laying in the side of the lava bank. Is that him? That can’t be him. I think to myself as I rush up to this limp lifeless figure. As I get closer I’m able to make out the features of this person. It’s my Ani. My heart sinks to the floor as I rush up to him.

“ANAKIN!” I scream as I rush up to him and pull him into my arms. Who has done this to him. I think to myself as I hold my husband in my arms; a hand cut off, burns all up his legs, bleeding practically all over.

“NO NO ANAKIN, PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME” I scream as I attempt to move him off this bank onto higher ground.

“Ani, please” I whisper as I lean over his body, even in this state he still is perfect to me. My fallen angel.

“Y/N?” I hear him groan. He’s alive. Is all I think as he reaches him mechanical hand up to touch my face.

“Ani, please open your eyes” I say as I place my hand on his face.

His eyes are slowly opening revealing a yellow golden glow. It’s true. I think to myself in shock. My Ani has turned to the dark side. But none of this matters right now. All that matters is him.

“Why ani?” I ask as tears fall from my eyes onto the crisp floor.

“To save you” is all he says before groaning in pain.

“Obi-Wan did thi-“ is all he can get out before passing out again.

“It’s ok Ani, we’ll get you out of here.”

Hey lovelies. Hope you liked my first imagine🥹✨

Thank you so much for reading and let me know if you’d like a part two via the ask button! - @jediskywalkerblog 🚀🛸

#anakin skywalker #starwars imagine #star wars posting #star wars fanfiction #star wars anakin #star wars blog #anakin gif #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #obi wan and anakin #hayden christensen #revenge of the sith #star wars imagine