#fake violence upon VIEWER

[katkalis-the-fanartist]

POV: You get slapped by the Demon Lord

#i once looked for a first person gif of this slap and never found one so i made one #also his walk is killing me my GOD #the legend of zelda #skyward sword #tloz #ghirahim #gif #fake violence upon VIEWER #warnings right there so if you click on it you know what happens to you

[thenationofzaun]

Why do so many Arcane viewers insist on viewing Powder and Jinx as two separate people and act like Jinx is just a brainwashed drone doing whatever her Big Mean Scary Dad ordered her to? It just seems like such a weird thing to do if you claim to love Jinx's character. Not only does she have a lot of agency and act of her own accord throughout the show and clearly isn't brainwashed, the narrative actively calls out this refusal to accept that Jinx = Powder as a mistake on Vi's part.

-

Jinx's problem isn't that she's been brainwashed by Silco's mind control and only does horrible things because she's under his spell. Her problem isn't that the "true Powder" is trapped somewhere inside her underneath all the scary evil layers and if Vi just peels them off her real sister will emerge. Her problem is that she is a severely traumatized and mentally ill teenage girl who suffers from extreme insecurities and paranoia, exacerbated by her psychosis. And that she then acts out in cruel, violent, selfish and destructive ways that just end up sabotaging the relationships she so desperately wants to protect.

-

Jinx IS Powder. Powder grew up to be Jinx. Powder, the sweet little girl, an innocent child, who at the age of 9 or 10, was already gleefully making nail bombs to use on other people, particularly enforcers (which Vi encouraged). Who had already witnessed incredible violence and lost her parents to it. Who already dreamed of becoming strong and wanted to be a fighter. Who already had attachment issues and suffered mental breakdowns when she felt that someone she idolized didn't think she was useful. Who then went through a devastating tragedy that shattered her mind, giving her a severe psychotic disorder and fear of abandonment. She became 100x more unstable, cruel, and violent after act 1, but the seeds were already there in childhood. If a completely different child with a different background had gone through the same trauma in episode 3, they would not have become Jinx.

-

So many viewers mistakenly view the situation as if Powder, the good kind soul, is buried deep under the evil Jinx layers, and that she can still be "reached". That she's still "in there". Lol, in where? There's no secret "real Powder" hiding inside Jinx. Powder grew up, she changed as a person. And yeah, a lot of that change was negative. It's tragic and disturbing but it is the reality. Jinx is Powder all grown up. Jinx is who Vi's sister is now.

-

I'm just baffled as to why so many people misunderstand Jinx and her situation. It would be one thing if this change was just a minor, unacknowledged part of the show. But it's not. It's a MAJOR part of Jinx's turmoil in Acts 2 and 3, she desperately tries to get Vi to understand this about her, and then Vi is explicitly called out by the narrative for this misconception. It's acknowledged and hammered home within the actual show.

-

And Vi pays for this mistake greatly. Jinx ends up giving up on her. Vi's insistence on treating Jinx like a fake persona, a Silco-made shell that needs to be broken in order to retrieve the "real" Powder, screws her over. Jinx is far more aware of things than a lot of people, both the characters in the show and the real world audience, give her credit for. She knows how she has changed. She is acutely aware of how she is perceived by others. And that's why she was so insecure and nervous about how Vi would react upon meeting her, why one of the first things she says to her during their reunion is to warn her that she's changed. And then look how Vi speaks to and about Jinx. "She's still in there. I can reach her." "Powder, wake up! Remember who you are!"

-

Vi doesn't understand or accept that Jinx IS who her sister is now, who her little sister grew up to be. Hell, she even misunderstands the name Jinx. To Vi, the name is a mark of shame, and she needs to reassure her that she's not a jinx and that she can drop the name. But Jinx's new name is not a mark of shame, it's a mark of empowerment. To take a word that was used to hurt you and own it, wield it, make it your signature. And this misunderstanding hurts Jinx.

-

To be clear, I am NOT BLAMING Vi for this situation. The thing is, Vi making this mistake is completely understandable. Tragically understandable. After all, the last memory she shared with Powder, she slapped her and derogatorily called her a jinx after a horrific accident caused by Powder that killed their brothers. In prison, she stewed with the guilt and regret over that incident for around seven years. OF COURSE she wouldn't want to call her sister "Jinx" now, right after reuniting with her. Of course she would think that Jinx has been ruthlessly brainwashed by Silco - she, as a character in the story whose father was killed by Silco, whose life was ruined in large part by Silco's actions, who was in prison for around eight years and hasn't actually witnessed his interactions and years spent with Jinx, has no reason to trust him. She has every right to despise him, and it's fair for her to initially assume that all of who Jinx is can be neatly pinned on him. And Jinx tries to explain to Vi that this is who she really is now, and that she can't go back to being her 10 year old self, but of course, Jinx doesn't really do a very good job of it. She attacks Vi, shoots at her, scares her, threatens her, then kidnaps her and ties her to a chair. So hostile, violent and antagonistic, of course Vi would be even more freaked out and reluctant to reconcile this person with the memories she has of Powder. All this doesn't change the fact that Vi screwed up with this misunderstanding of Jinx. But at least she has all these very understandable excuses.

-

What are all your excuses? You all watched the show. Every part of it. You saw every characters' point of view, were shown the situation from all these different angles, heard several lines in the show driving this point home. Yet for some reason I'm still seeing countless takes about how Powder and Jinx are two separate people, that Vi needs to reach the "real Powder" in season 2, how Silco's death was great because now the "Jinx persona" doesn't have someone to enforce it, how "Jinx has DID". It's just weird seeing so many people miss the point so badly.

#don't think i'm absolving silco of any responsibility either he for sure screwed up by projecting way too much onto jinx #but that's for another post. this is specifically about how ppl in the audience still make the same mistake that vi was CALLED OUT FOR #anyway it's just so frustrating seeing ppl misunderstand one of THE main jinx conflicts in season 1 all while claiming to love jinx #jinx #arcane #arcane jinx #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #vi #silco #arcane vi #arcane silco

[brokehorrorfan]

4K Ultra HD Review: God Told Me To

If God Told Me To were made today, its mass killing sprees would likely be approached in a less exploitative manner, and the guerrilla filmmaking style certainly couldn't be accomplished at the same scale (more on that later). But — with the proliferation of gun violence, conspiracy theories, and religious zealotry — the concept is every bit as potent now, if not even more so, than it was upon its original release in 1976.

The first two-thirds of the film might lead a viewer to believe it's one of writer-director Larry Cohen's more straightforward efforts — a police procedural thriller with psychological underpinnings — but the wildly unpredictable third act reveal immediately repositions it as perhaps Cohen's most bizarre outing. That's saying a lot, considering his delightfully delirious work on the likes of The Stuff, It’s Alive, and Q: The Winged Serpent.

God Told Me To opens with a sniper picking people off in the middle of New York City from high atop a water tower with astonishing accuracy. NYPD detective Peter Nicholas (Tony Lo Bianco, The French Connection) takes it upon himself to climb up and speak with the shooter. The nonchalant explanation for his heinous actions — "God told me to" — followed by the leap to his death leaves Peter chilled.

This incident is followed by several more killing sprees that end in the same confession, including one reminiscent of a key scene in The Dark Knight: a police officer (Andy Kaufman, in his film debut) marching in a parade opens fire on the crowd. The fast-paced first act gives little indication of the aberration that follows, as Peter’s investigation leads him to learn that it’s a force other than God causing these people to commit such atrocities. I won’t give it away here, as it truly has to be seen to be believed, but it involves a gratuitous close-up of a fake vagina.

Cohen is an audacious filmmaker in every sense of the word. He’s fearless in his approach to offbeat material; in this case, an unclassifiable amalgam of crime thriller, science fiction, subversive exploitation, and religious horror that would make an interesting double feature with John Carpenter's Prince of Darkness. He’s equally intrepid with his filmmaking. He "stole" many of the New York City shots — including a volatile confrontation at the city’s actual St. Patrick's Day Parade — without permits; a miraculous feat that could never be accomplished in a post-9/11 world.

Lo Bianco is a treat as the lead, committed to the peculiar material as if it were Shakespeare. Oscar winner Sandy Dennis (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?) plays his wife, while Deborah Raffin (Death Wish 3) receives a guest starring credit as Peter’s mistress. Sylvia Sidney (Beetlejuice) and Richard Lynch (Halloween (2007)) each take on pivotal roles later in the film. Mike Kellin (Sleepaway Camp), George Patterson (I Drink Your Blood), and character actor Robert Nichols (The Thing from Another World) pop up in small parts as well.

God Told Me To has been newly restored in 4K from an original, uncensored negative with Dolby Vision HDR as well as Dolby Atmos and DTS-HD Master Audio options by Blue Underground. The transfer retains the marvelous grain synonymous with ‘70s genre pictures (doubly so for the gritty New York setting) coupled with high-definition clarity with improved contrast and saturation. The new transfer is included on both 4K UHD and Blu-ray. Only one new special feature was produced, but all of the extra's from Blue Underground's 2015 Blu-ray are accounted for.

King Cohen director Steve Mitchell and film historian Troy Howarth sit down for a new audio commentary. Mitchell's time spent documenting Cohen’s career proves to be indispensable, supplemented by Howarth's astute observations about the film. Also included is Cohen’s original commentary from the 2003 DVD release, moderated by his old friend William Lustig (Maniac Cop, Maniac), which makes for a great listen as well.

Other special features include: an interview with Lo Bianco, who flexes his remarkable memory as he recounts stories from nearly 40 years ago like they were yesterday; an interview with special effects artist Steve Neill (Ghostbusters), who built the aforementioned genitalia for his first gig; a 2014 Q&A with Cohen at a Los Angeles screening with no shortage of fun anecdotes; a 2002 Q&A with Cohen at a New York screening, wherein he reflects on how different it is to watch the film after 9/11; two theatrical trailers (one of which is under its alternate title, Demon); seven TV spots; and a gallery of posters and stills.

God Told Me To will be released on 4K Ultra HD/Blu-ray on July 19 via Blue Underground.

#god told me to #larry cohen #tony lo bianco #horror #70s horror #1970s horror #blue underground #dvd #review #article #gift #andy kaufman #sandy dennis #deborah raffin #richard lynch

[kingofthewilderwest]

DreamWorks Dragons: The Nine Realms liveblog Dragon Club

Lemme guess. Based on this title, the other two characters get their dragon friends. At least one. I figured it’d be like, one char per episode for S1.

Also upon doing basic Googling I realize her name is spelled Jun. My bad.

The giant hole. Hmhmmmm there can’t possibly be an analogue Red Death in that hole, a big boss they go up against at the end of the season

“You’re saying a dragon did all this damage?” says Jun. This conversation should have the two characters flipped. Jun, who always believed in dragons, versus Tom, who didn’t recognize a dragon when it was two feet away from him. Yeah, sure, Jun operates on assumptions of what dragons are through legends, whereas Tom is based more on experience, but this involves burnt rock. Burnt stuff. Dragon fire. This seems like a Jun thing to believe.

I do appreciate the live flutes and the large amounts of cello in the soundtrack.

“I got this” he says before getting fired upon. I appreciate the mistaken belief he can do it. Keeps our hero from being infallible, yada yada, basic writing stuff.

I’m increasingly wanting to do a TNR rewrite fanfic.

I like Alex’s taste in music.

The amount of exposition in the dialogue is annoying. They’re trying to remind us of things that happened, which can be a useful thing in tv shows, but it’s poorly executed and it’s too much. It’s babying the viewer’s intelligence to follow the basic plot.

The earthquakes are caused by the biggo boss dragon tunneling through the earth, aren’t they?

Eyyyyyyyy we get to meet both parents of one of the kids.

So this scene with D’Angelo and mommo is a great example of the stiffness of movement and dialogue in TNR. The conversations come out stiff, particularly when combined with the animation. And things like throwing the boxes comes out looking unnatural. My mind attributes this kind of movement with the “toned down violence” of younger kid’s tv, in the sense movements are slow, awkward, and limited. 

D’Angelo is one big giant cutie, inside and out.

Okay Jun and Tom sneak-crawling past D’Angelo got me to snigger.

Also ever since they announced that the place was called ICARIS in the first episode, I was smirking. A little on the nose with the analogies, eh?

“Doctor D.” Also a good stripper name.

D’Angelo is such a ray of sunshine that he is oblivious because he is a ray of sunshine.

“The first rule of Dragon Club is you don’t talk about Dragon Club.” Rotflh, how did I know they’d quote that?

The fact every character has a completely different reaction to the dragons is great.

“DID I MENTION I’M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!?” The voice cracking in that line is solid delivery. XD

Ah yes. Let’s gently electrocute people awake.

I still want to hug that Gembreaker.

I appreciate D’Angelo has legitimate skills applicable to interacting with dragons.

“Sparky” and “Wonder Twins” hahaha. Yes I like D’Angelo

I also appreciate that even though they’re trying to help an injured animal, she’s a wild animal, so it’s not easy. It’s not just Walk Up To A Wild Animal.

“He made it.” “And he survived.” Isn’t that the same thing?

That is not a sufficient reason to completely prevent an animal from flying.

D’Angelo is officially too pure for this world

THAT FALLING LOOKED SO FAKE

She has an ankylosaur taiiiiil <333

I like how basically they’re just flying in circles with the one small environment they made.

Seriously though, gemstone rhino beetle dragon was such a good idea

:Weoijag;eogija;eorjag;oerijga;eorij D’ANGELO I LOVE YOU I’m cracking up at his inability to keep a secret. But at least he speaks so absurdly that it sounds like, yep, imagination. I love that the parents mistake it for DnD

#TNR #TNR spoilers #The Nine Realms #DreamWorks Dragons #analysis #my analysis

[quasar1967]

Videodrome (1983)

FIRST IT CONTROLS YOUR MIND. THEN IT DESTROYS YOUR BODY.

As the president of a trashy TV channel, Max Renn is desperate for new programming to attract viewers. When he happens upon “Videodrome,” a TV show dedicated to gratuitous torture and punishment, Max sees a potential hit and broadcasts the show on his channel. However, after his girlfriend auditions for the show and never returns, Max investigates the truth behind Videodrome and discovers that the graphic violence may not be as fake as he thought.

#david cronenberg #sci-fi movies #sci-fi movie posters #horror movies #horror movie posters

[lazyartisticeye]

Killing Eve

Killing Eve: the Finale Unlike everyone else on Planet Internet, the eyes and I waited more than a week before coming here to post our feelings about the Killing Eve finale. We did this for several reasons. 1. We needed time to process it 2. We needed time to process it some more. 3. Well, I’ll go to that in a bit... Lazy Eye, though disappointed, wasn’t at all surprised at the ending, and was quick to say I told you so. But the more sensitive Artistic Eye actually shed a few tears. Not because the ending was,in any way, poignant or touching... but because the ending came abruptly and too soon, leaving Artistic sadly unsatisfied. And, I will ante up my two cents by saying the finale of KE was the biggest pile of (both bull and chicken) shit that soulless TV execs have ever dumped on us. (If you wanna read a more eloquent and thoughtful assessment of the Killing Eve controversy, head to this link.. I’ll just wait here. But don’t forget to come back afterwards, ok?  I’ve still got ranting to do.) 

Ah, you came back. Good. Thanks. Because, I really do want to tell you about reason number 3. It’s the main reason that it took me this long to get here. It was the hardest thing for me to process. Like constipation hard, if you know what I mean. (I’m also aware that in waiting so long, this ranty little essay might seem akin to picking at a scab, which.. well, yeah, I guess it is.)  The Weeping Wound 3. The eyes and I honestly did not think that the finale was the real finale. (Ok, even more honestly, Artistic Eye and I believed that. Lazy just called us hopeless.) But then, that’s how highly I thought of this program. It had been so perfectly crafted.. The casting, the acting, the writing, the timing, the music, the tension, the locations, the violence.  All of it. But best of all, it had been so outa the box. It was queer, and unapologetic, and just so much mind fucking, gut wrenching fun to watch. *sigh* So then, why wouldn’t I believe that anyone involved in such a production would have to be crazy, cool, and creative as fuck. ( I wasn’t the only one who believed this, either.) And I held onto that belief, throughout all the trippiness that was season 4, because I knew that the brilliantly twisted minds behind KE would eventually give it purpose. Then, of course, they’d give it the outrageous send off, it deserved. However, as the world now knows, that did not happen. Didn’t even come close to happening. Instead, as it so often does, the end came in swiftly, riding tall, on a bullet. Bang! The End. Roll credits. Hear Lazy Eye say I told you so.

The Festering Artistic and I got through that following week by sketching out our own version of the real finale, which we called...

The Real Finale

(TPTB  (both real and fictitious) as well as casual viewers would easily accept Villanelle’s abrupt assassination, and move on. But the faithful knew there was still more to come...)

Episode Setting: Exactly 7 days from the fake finale. In what was the KE’s time slot something called The Epilogue is listed. Hmmmm…

Tuning in we see Villanelle, dripping wet. We see Carolyn walking up to her and handing her a towel and dry clothes. We get some backstory. The why and how Villanelle’s death was faked. Somewhere along the way, V and C have bonded. Maybe they have a common cause, or maybe they decided to go rogue, or perhaps (something clever to be filled in later.) Eve doesn’t know. She believes that V died. She’s even a witness to her death. It was V’s wish not to tell E. Maybe to protect her, maybe to break from her, or (something new to be filled in later) Of course, E will find out. Much emotional mayhem and grim hilarity will ensue, etc. Maybe, in the end, they (C,V, and E) will spin off into a new program called The Three, or (something cooler to be filled in later.) - The End

We quite liked out little scenario, though we knew that the actual Real Finale would put our paltry effort to shame. As the week progressed, it dawned upon us that this epic epilogue would be airing on April 17th, Easter Sunday. And with that revelation, all the little leftover KE puzzle pieces snapped into place. 

Like, all that Villajesus business at the start of the season. And the totally misleading interview by that head writer.. it was just a fucking red herring. Everyone (both real and fictitious) believed Villanelle was dead. We hated the show because we believed she was dead. Hell, we all witnessed her assassination. But, HA! Artistic and I were practically giddy knowing that Villanelle would rise up on Easter Sunday. And what a bloody brilliant television event that will be! We even did the happy dance of anticipation. That’s when Lazy called us hopeless.

The Scar Supposedly, Jesus rises early, on Easter. Up with the sun, and making the rounds to show off his wounds. But, we waited all day for Villanelle.   At 10pm we called it. Called it as the time of death.. Except, technically she’s been dead for a week now, quietly decomposing, in her shallow, unmarked grave.

#killing eve #bbc america #tv #sandra oh #jody comer #worst finale ever #villanelle #eve #carolyn #they killed v #villajesus #sigh

[joeycontextual]

I began to think about what I wanted to make for my visual work, and with the artists I have looked at so far, I decided I wanted to continue on with another ‘poster’ style piece. I had thought about putting myself into my visual work, either through drawing myself as monsters, or experimenting with makeup and Photoshop to turn myself into one. Wanting to experiment with more performance based art, I thought about what kind of horror visuals I was most interested in and begun to sketch ideas for poses or makeup.

I started off with an idea of a creature covered in eyes, almost like a spider, a design I had previously toyed with in a project in the first year. However, I felt this was quite boring, and I had already experimented with it, and found the outcome to be weaker than I had originally intended.

A second idea was inspired by Frankenstein’s monster, which I felt a connection to as a character upon watching 1931’s Frankenstein. I have heard people make the comparison to transgender individuals and the monster; my favourite occurrence was getting called a “Frankenstein Baby”, which was laughed at, but there was something about it that made me think. The reason behind the insult was that as a transgender person, that meant that I wanted surgeries, in that persons eyes, “mutilating my own body to feed into delusion”. There is no delusion surrounding my identity, which I think has been a positive thing for me and has helped me conceptualise the world around me, more than if I had not been queer. I, unintentionally, welcomed that insult and I suppose that may be where I began this exploration into monstrosity. My first steps towards reclamation. I enjoyed this idea, but felt as though writing about this experience above trying to visualise it was more what I wanted to do.

The third, being inspired by artist Claude Cahun, known for their photography surrounding gender identity. I had learned about them in my foundation year and was immediately struck by their work, which was being produced prior to the Second World War, and how ahead of it’s time the pieces were. I looked specifically at the self-portrait “I am in Training, Don’t Kiss Me” (1927), and the mime-like makeup they had used, projecting an almost surrealist portrait of Cahun. I wanted to replicate this feeling, whilst adopting a monstrous aesthetic, as opposed to a theatrical one. I was planning on doing my makeup in a similar way, but upon actually doing the makeup, I decided rather than giving myself upturned, sorrowful eyebrows I decided to play with the idea of a clown/mime’s makeup and changed my idea.

This third one begun to turn into an amalgamation of visuals that have been stuck in my brain, whether to the topic or not. I was inspired by Videodrome (1983) and it’s infamous “torso tape player”, finding something quite interesting upon viewing it and ultimately putting it under the queer microscope. Videodrome challenges the lines between violence and sex, a concept that reminds the viewer of Cohen’s sixth thesis. With the aforementioned “torso tape player” resembling a vulva, and it’s host body reacting with visible upset, disgust and terror, it revealed something I wasn’t expecting. Despite the unbelievable circumstances and it’s fantasy scenario, there was something that felt all too familiar. The addition and insertion of the gun could perhaps be read as the anger, pain and potentially self-destructive emotions one feels upon viewing a body that is not corresponding with who a person is. The makeup, inspired by Cahun, and very loosely on Eric Draven’s makeup in James O’Barr’s The Crow (1989 – 1992), was very simple. A graphic eyeliner, incredibly pale foundation, sharp but messy lips and some fake blood.

Photo 1-4: Sketches

Photo 5: “I am in Training, Don’t Kiss Me” Claude Cahun

Photo 6: Videodrome (1983, dir. David Cronenberg)

Photo 7: The Crow (1989-1992, James O’Barr)

Photo 8: Unedited test photo

[nickywhoisi]

Okay I was gonna go without saying anything about this, but...I caved. I was planning to go my whole life without knowing anything about what really happens in the Mario Illumination movie, but I both got curious one time, and then just today, I had a trailer thrown in my face. Rant under the cut if you want to know my thoughts.

I could have skipped, but my damned curiosity got in the way of my mind. And now I feel like my curiosity in any IP I cherish is getting so irrecoverably punished. Because I saw a Luma, or this fake luma with a mouth, saying the most horrifying visceral things that I know do not belong in a kid's movie. "More meat for the grinder..." "The sweet release of death." In a way that did not convey some cheesy edge, but an actual declaration of violence through the screen. Like that character wad adressing all the viewers, and not at all in contextually appropriate ways. The disturbia, the disassociation i felt wss like reading a horrible mario fanfic but the author was a maladjusted teenager who was earnesy trying to threaten someone they know by invoking death words and mental images too gruesome for the material. If you've seen it, I am sorry, and you maybd have an idea of what I mean.

Just...between this and Bowigi, I am truly never spending money on a movie again. I can't. I just can't condone this. Nintendo has shat the bed for greenlighting this, I feel uncomfortable about how much responsibility Miyamoto and Charles Martinet have in these choices, I feel a deep chasm within myself being cast out from existence and being betrayed, and I wonder for what purpose did I reach out and connect with the Super Mario Bros as a series if somewhere down the line I was not to be repaid for that loyalty. I want Nintendo to just be a game company again. I want my most fond memory of completing Mario Galaxy to be honoured, not shat upon with Spark of Hope and this. Some people who I had respected were surely there, and someone had said yes to all of this...when they should have said no. I hate this so much. I have never known such engulfing hatred as this, and I lived under the thumb of an entire cabal of narcissistic relatives. But I made it out of that, somewhat! What about this? How can i possibly escape and cut ties with what I chose and what provided me such happiness for so long in my life? When did we all decide to stop having standards, and really ask for only the best renditions of what we know to be in our movies? I want Mario to remain pure, and not have that disgusting Pratt voice. I want Luigi and Peach to remain pure too, and not have wrong voices of their own. I knew Illumination was wrong to be collabing with the one company I've cared about the most. I want everyone to stop putting Bowser into uncomfortable forced relations with the human characters. I never liked how Peach was always shipped in porn-y ways with Bowser, and it is no better with Luigi. It may be even worse because I always saw him as so immensely pure a character, cut off from that! It's like crack shipping gone wrong! And do not get me started on the existential travesty I went through having to go through Bowsette.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL DOING TO ME, YOURSELVES, AND EVERYONE.

#I lived because Nintendo always struck me as a creator driven company #they made videogames and creative developers are the ones who make videogames so they're the ones who I wanted to work with #I thought for a long time they got the say in their organization and everything was fun there #Or that whatever excecutives were doing didn't seem like anything so detrimental in comparison to the projects and art being made #I even had my yearbook mentiin that my dream was to work as some kind of designer at Nintendo...to be a part of what I loved so much #And everytime I bought a game I believed the creative teams were getting directly supported #Now over recent years I saw the paradigm shifting to business suddenly having mire control over everything instead of the creator #The very reason nintendo as an entity has even stuck around to be cared about #Should the creators not be the ones directly compensated for their good work? And the fans also compensated well for their loyalty similar? #But now I hear even nintendo has become a corporation...businessman driven...controlled by execs pathological money addiction... #The devs and creators slaves worked to the bone for barely anything...INVESTORS being a cancer within not caring about anythin but money 2 #And now an illuminati named company bastardizing the visage of everything I love in the name of money and attention stunts #without any care about the true history of what it is or who it affects connected to that #I.e. me #I will remain a fan of Mario and the gang #but THEY were always my real friends #I thought their parent creators were better than the rest #had their heads on straight #Turns out this whole time I was wrong #They had moments in the past that I should have paid attention ti #Once again it's jyst a sad display of a visually beautiful pile of out of touch worthless garbage that no one sane would invest anything in #Not time not money not emotional connection not spiritual value not nothin #Because Nintendo was my friend once...but fell prey to money addiction and will never recover now #Like all corps...they sell everything for their fix #But what makes me sad is we're not gonna cut him off...we're just going to feed him and nothing will get better now #If I meet Miyamoto at a convention I think I will deck him #the truth spoke #I need to lie down this is all too horrifying I'm not okay with anything except trains rn #A star has been lost and my spirit dies #I feel like I'm living in a limbo land where nothing feels real or true like it once did

[technowoah]

Hi! If you do tommyinnit x reader (romantic), I would like one where reader is tubbo's sister perhaps? She would have the feature reader has still not tubbos. Maybe they meet when tubbo and tommy meet up and he just kinda starts to like her? If not that's ok! -paw <3

Prepare For Trouble Make it Double

I hope this suffices 😋

Requested!

Romantic(?)

Tommyinnit x Tubbo's sister!reader (blurb?)

⚠︎ its tommy so it'll be slight swearing-

It wasn't a secret that Tubbo had siblings, he had Lani of course, but what people didn't know that he had another sister closer to his age.

You tended to stay out of the spotlight, for reasons. Streaming was interesting but not your fortè. You usually tended to stay behind the camera when Tubbo was streaming or off to the side quietly talking to him as he did his own lore or sitting on Lani's bed doing your own thing listening to her talking to her viewers.

Your siblings never tried to convince you to go out of your comfort zone and appear on streams, only once in a blue moon you would talk to Lani out of frame. Lani of course would respond, the chat would freak out asking if you were a friend, finally the moment was gone as fast as it came.

Thats how days go in their household. Tending to hover around eachother and whatever they were doing at the moment. But it was this one particular moment when Tubbo was streaming and he suddenly decided to bring you on to show his 700k viewers that he had another sister.

He had pulled up a brown folding chair next to him and patted it beckoning you to sit down in frame.

Tubbo was currently streaming on the Dream SMP, you didnt think he was doing lore today so you hesitated a little bit. Other days you wouldn't have budged out of your spot out of sight, but he looked so excited in his yellow jumper you had bought for him whe going to out to the shops.

In a unrelated note You remember saying that "yellow is your color" and he ended up buying it, and his stans loved the jumper. So a win win.

"C'mon Y/N!" He yelled as continued to pat the folding chair next to him.

You ended up shuffling over to the seat next to him and smiling at the camera. Over in the corner of your eye you saw the chat which was going 1 million miles an hour. You saw some comments that were basically copypastas of other comments in the chat. It was basically nonsense, now the only thought in your mind is that you're going to make an uproar on twitter.

"This is my sister chat!" Tubbo said while shaking you around by the shoulders making the both of you laugh.

"Yes chat! I have more siblings" he continued while rocking back and forth in his gamer chair.

He continued to answer more questions and ask you some too, wanting to include you in the stream.

"Lani isn't the only one! My big sister is just shy."

"I just chose not to be on their streams! I was in the background of Lani's streams though."

"Out of frame. Dosent count." Tubbo said bluntly while still walking around SnowChester in the Dream Smp not looking your way.

You could still see the chat in the corner and you couldnt tear your eyes off of it. It was slight glare from the lights and the sun shining in his gaming room. He always had the lights bright in his room. The chat was spamming purple hearts and either still freaking out that Tubbo had a sister. It was getting old to you, so you decided to lean into Tubbo's space focusing on his screen as he quickly hopped around the map.

He continued talking to chat about anything else, but your presence. He continued to talk about gathering supplies and what he needed to bring back to SnowChester. You knew a lot about the Dream Smp lore because you weren't in it. Spending time on Twitter interacting with people and their theories and also making theories and showing them to Tubbo and him debunking them, or accepting them in some way.

"So we need some more lapis." Tubbo said suddenly after being quiet for a while.

"I can help you!" You said wanting to be apart of the stream.

You might as well, you're already here.

"I dont think you can help, 'cause you're not on your account. Plus it'll be awkward with your laptop." Tubbo said while speeding through his water transportation system.

"Well I can just point it out to you." You said while leaning back into your seat.

"Talk to the chat while I go mine for lapis."

"Fine then." You smirked as you turned your attention to the speeding words in the chat.

"Is there a slow mode on this?!" You laughed.

Tubbo laughed as well. "This is on slow mode!"

You both screamed in fake agony and then turned your attention back to the chat where the you caught a few questions. You were about to answer until the chat stopped for a quick second and you saw one comment out of all for a quick second.

✔tommyinnit: HI TUBBO'S SISTER IM TOMMY LETS MAKE A VIDEO TOGETHER

After that comment the whole chatt was just spamming the word 'TOMMY' or 'TOMMY IS IN CHAT'. That confused you even more than that comment.

When you did know about the Dream Smp you also knew a little bit about who Tubbo hangs out with. You knew about the time Tubbo had met up with Wilbur Soot, Philza, and Tommy. And that prompted you to look up their individual accounts and get into their content.

You knew about Tommy and his character and channel, you enjoyed his content a lot as well, but you wanted to play around a little bit. Hopefully Tubbo will play along.

"Why is the chat spamming Tommy?"

"Tommy? You know Tommy don't you?" Tubbo asked with a small bit of shock in his voice.

"No I dont, who's Tommy?" You asked again, acting oblivious.

"Oh. Oh well then, Tommy is like my best friend, we're actually meeting up soon!" Tubbo said with excitement.

He continued. "You hear that chat! You get Tommy and Tubbo content!

You had lost interest in Tubbo talking with his chat about hanging out in Brighton with Tommy again. Your eyes drifted towards the chat again and saw Tommy comment in the chat again.

✔tommyinnit: HOW DARE YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM

✔tommyinnit: I WILL NOT MAKE A VIDEO WITH YOU ANYMORE

"Well Tommy I dont have an account so, sorry I cant get you views whoever you are." You said responding to Tommy with a smirk.

"Woke up and chose violence huh?" Tubbo laughed and you joined in as well.

"Tommy chose violence today too."

"You both are violent you will be nice together." Tubbo said with his focus still in his screen.

"Together?!" You exclaimed.

"Yeah together!" Tubbo said matching your energy.

You rolled you eyes and continued answering other comments instead of thinking about Tubbo's answer.

After that whole, incredibly longer than you thought, stream Tubbo decides to invite you along to their little meeting. Which you didnt know how you found yourself walking along Brighton's rocky shore in old Crocs. You were walking along the shoreline letting the cold water come up and hit your feet every so often.

He was waiting for Tommy at the moment, but you wanted to walk for a bit, he let you ho on by yourself while he waited for Tommy by himself.

You were quite a long way from where Tubbo seated himself on the rocks, you were doing your own thing looking at people who stared back at you for temporarily blocking their line of view of the shore, and little kids who decide to run away from their parents who weren't paying attention. Your peaceful walk got interrupted by your thoughts because you were quite a long way from Tubbo's resting place.

You started to head back, following back the way you came, but this time picking up the pace a bit to reach your destination. As you came upon Tubbo you saw a taller figure approach Tubbo and they seemed to greet eachother, it was hard to see where you were standing. Of course it was Tommy so the two of them started talking about who knows what, until Tubbo pointed your way.

As you kept walking, Tubbo continued to wave you over enthusiastically. You waved back with the same energy, finally making your way over to the both of them.

"What's up?" You asked the two of them with a smirk.

"Nothing much! Apparently you two haven't met before! So Tommy this is Y/N! Y/N thjs is Tommy!" Tubbo user hand gestures to introduce eachother.

You held your hand for Tommy to shake it, "Hey Tommy! Im a big fan."

"Big fan?! I thought you said you didn't know me?" Tommy exclaimed.

He was a lot less shouty in real life, than online. He was still loud, but to a lesser extent.

"Yeah I lied back then." You sent him a huge grin.

Tommy scoffed and groaned a little, "I cant belive you fuckers lied to me."

"Im actually a big fan. Well not big, but a fan at least." You laughed.

Apparently you and Tommy were the only ones standing while Tubbo typed on his phone while sitting back on the rocks not paying attention and letting you both talk amongst yourselves.

"Oh! That's an honor that Tubbo's big sister like my videos." Tommy's eyes widened slightly as he talked to you.

"Big sister only by 1 year! It's close!" Tubbo complanied, looking up from his phone.

"It still count big man." Tommy said to his friend.

"Thanks Tommy!" You thanked the tall man standing next to you.

"It's only a year! It dosent count! We're the same age!" Your brother continued to complain.

After the laughter and joking around calmed down you and Tommy stood there awkwardly until he spoke up again.

"Well good thing I know what I have to deal with. I cant deal with one of you, now I have to deal with two." Tommy joked around taking a seat next to Tubbo.

The exact moment when Tommy took a seat next to Tubbo, Tubbo shot up from his spot on the ground.

"Do you think we can do Uber Eats here?" Tubbo asked as he stood up.

You say down next to Tommy. "Yeah maybe if you go to a certain place and not say "the beach".

"I'll go to the pizza place and order there. What do you both want?" Tubbo asked, ready to put in any order.

"Just get McDonald's really." You sighed leaning back on the rocks.

"Im not hungry." Tommy said bluntly.

Tubbo nodded and walked away from you both leaving you two to sit in silence for a while with the small waves crashing, and kids having their own fun. It was a comfortable silence to you, but Tommy kept figeting over where he sat criss-crossed.

Tommy finally spoke up. "Im actually fucking starving ya know?

"No I don't! You should've asked for food!" You laughed in disbelief.

Tommy sighed. "Do you want to get some food and ditch Tubbo for now?"

Your eyes widened, not opposed to the idea, but was this his plan the whole time?

He continued on, "We could go sit at that pizza place and order some food there. Just the two of us until Tubbo freaks out."

You opened your mouth to protest leaving your brother in the dark, but he beat you to it.

"Dont worry about Tubbo! Stuff rolls off his back easy."

"No it dosent-"

"Yeah it does! You wanna just go out with me now?!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Are you getting annoyed?" You asked amused at his words.

"No I am not I just-"

"Yeah I want to go to the pizza place now. I would love to Tommyinnit." You smiled at him and he smiled back.

Both of you got up and made your way over to that small pizza diner close to the beach. You only could hope this goes as well as you wanted it to

#tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit #mcyt blurb #mcyt imagine #mcyt angst #mcyt fluff #mcyt headcanons #mcyt x reader #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit x you #mcyt hc #tommy x y/n #dream smp x reader #requests open #tommyinnit fluff #tommyinnit angst #minor! reader #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit imagines #tommyinnit blurb #requested #technowoah! #tommyinnit blurbs

[letterboxd]

Spectacular Spectacular!

On the twentieth anniversary of its explosion onto big screens, Ella Kemp high-kicks into the Moulin Rouge! once again, accompanied by screenwriter Craig Pearce and a chorus line of jukebox-musical academics and swoony Letterboxd fans.

“You’re always writing for yourself, for the film you want to see. I like all kinds of different films and I think teenage girls do too.” —Craig Pearce, Moulin Rouge! co-writer

This is a story about love. A love born at the turn of the twentieth century in an iconic Parisian cabaret and brought to life in 2001 on Australia’s most spectacular sound stage. A valentine to excess, greed, fantasy and, above all, to the fundamental Bohemian ideals: truth, beauty, freedom and love. This is the story of Moulin Rouge! and how it still burns bright, two decades on, in the hearts of romantics all over the world.

The film, a fateful love story between penniless writer Christian and dazzling courtesan Satine—played by Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman—premiered at the Cannes Film Festival on May 9, 2001 and opened in New York and Los Angeles cinemas only weeks later, on May 18. Cast and crew fought hard to get it there: unimaginably, writer-director Baz Luhrmann’s father passed away on the first day of filming, and Kidman’s then-marriage was in turmoil. “There were times of beautiful moments, but there were times where we were like, ‘This is so hard’,” Luhrmann recently told an Australian journalist.

And, though this seems strange to say in a world that has since welcomed Mamma Mia!, Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman, making a movie musical early in the millennium was a high-risk pursuit. Luhrmann again: “‘Musicals will never be popular again’ … I can’t tell you how many times I was told that.”

“It’s part of a cycle,” explains Dr. Eleonora Sammartino, an academic specializing in contemporary American film musicals. “It came after a period in the 1990s where musicals had disappeared from the big screen.” Lisa Duffy, Letterboxd member and Doctor of Hollywood Musicals, agrees: “Films coming out [that year] were a lot more dour, so this was a real gamble.”

Nobody understood this gamble better than the film’s co-writer, Craig Pearce, who has been Luhrmann’s close friend and professional partner since the pair were students together. Moulin Rouge! is the third and final entry in what we now know as their red-curtain trilogy, alongside Strictly Ballroom (1992) and Romeo + Juliet (1996).

“Baz had been thinking about the parallels between the Moulin Rouge and Andy Warhol’s Factory,” Pearce recalls. “Places where artists congregate, where it’s more than a place, it’s a petri dish of creativity. Like The Factory, and Studio 54, the Moulin Rouge was a place where the old and the wealthy pay a lot of money to hang out with the young and the sexy.”

At the end of the twentieth century, however, the Moulin Rouge wasn’t all that great (the original had burnt down in 1915). Pearce recalls: “We went to Paris in 1999 on a research trip and discovered, to our horror, that the Moulin Rouge now is just a hideous tourist trap. So we had to go on this journey to find out how this amazing creativity—artists and dancers and musicians—came out of what now feels like this tawdry girlie show.”

With the location and period locked in, Pearce and Luhrmann worked to find the story’s driving force. “This movie wouldn’t work without the exclamation point,” writes Adelaide. Pearce is the first to admit this: “It’s saying it’s Moulin Rouge, but it’s not that one. What we’re trying to do is heighten truth, but you have to start with that underlying truth,” he explains. “It’s not casting around for ‘what would be a cool idea’ because you never come up with one. It’s never as interesting as the truth. Like, there was an elephant in the garden of the Moulin Rouge. And why does that matter? It matters because there are certain inherent logics in the way human beings operate.”

“It's a musical of recycled parts. It’s a story which, beat for beat, has been told for centuries. It’s a staged show drawn from the lives of the characters themselves… This is a film [that] is bold enough not just to say that all art is about finding your own meanings behind someone else’s ideas, and that all art is just copying and stealing, but that this can be totally valid and authentic. When Nicole Kidman sings ‘Your Song’ to the Duke, she’s stealing from the writer, and Luhrmann is stealing from Elton John. But when Ewan McGregor is singing to Kidman, it’s the most magical moment you could possibly imagine. That’s what makes ‘Moulin Rouge!’ a true masterpiece. Cinema has never been more fake, and cinema has rarely been more real.” —Sam

Moulin Rouge! borrows from all over. There are hints of La Traviata, of Cabaret and of Émile Zola’s Nana. There were Toulouse Lautrec’s paintings (John Leguizamo tremendously embodies the painter in the film), Baudelaire and Verlaine’s literature, Jason and the Argonauts, Homer’s Odyssey, and the revues of the 1920s and ’30s. “Moulin Rouge! really embraces that vaudevillian component,” says Dr. Hannah Robbins, a Broadway and Hollywood musicals specialist.

Craig Pearce and Baz Luhrmann writing in Paris (1998) and New York (2019). / Photos from Luhrmann’s Twitter

“This genre lends itself to repetition and fragmentation,” Sammartino expands. “It’s part of the syntax of the musical and has always been, this idea of borrowing from other sources. This doesn’t take away from the daring postmodern approach Moulin Rouge! is defined by, it’s simply further proof that it’s, well, a very good musical.”

Above all else, the core of Moulin Rouge! is inspired by the myth of Orpheus of Thrace and his doomed love affair with the beautiful Eurydice, whom he followed into Hades after she died. “The show must go on, Satine,” the nightclub’s impresario Harold Zidler grimly tells his star, as their world begins to crumble. “We’re creatures of the underworld. We can’t afford to love.”

It wasn’t the first time Pearce and Luhrmann had looked to ancient mythology. Strictly Ballroom’s mantra, which tells us “a life lived in fear is a life half lived” owes everything to David and Goliath. But with the Orphean myth, the screenwriters were looking to dig deeper, to find something much darker. “The Orphean myth is a romantic tragedy in its essence,” Pearce explains. “David and Goliath is more youthful, and it’s about saying that belief can conquer anything. But as you get older people get sick, they die, and life is about resilience and finding ways to embrace the hard things in life and move forward.”

That might sound antithetical to the all-singing, all-dancing nature of the movie musical, but the genre has been trying to tell devastating stories like Moulin Rouge! for decades. “Hollywood is rarely interested in buying and remaking stories with devastating endings as much as stage musicals are,” Duffy explains. (See: Les Misérables, Phantom of the Opera.)

This reluctance can be traced back to the classic era, during which there were rules about the ways a musical could end under the censorship laws of the Production Code. Simply put, they had to have a happy ending. (Which also led to a fair amount of bizarre deus ex machina to guarantee a nice, cheery final act).

But then in the 1960s the Code fades away, and Hollywood starts engaging with violence, sex and explicit trauma on-screen. “We have much more freedom in the contemporary era to have people die explicitly,” Duffy says. “And that’s why we keep returning to Moulin Rouge!: there’s the explicit negotiation of our entry into the fantasy world, and then we’re devastated, and the curtains close and we’re in reality again.”

“It’s one of the great 21st-century films. Baz Luhrmann is only good when figuring out how to make historical periods of excess into contemporary displays of grotesquerie, somehow turning great films (‘French Cancan’) or great literature (‘The Great Gatsby’) into tacky Technicolor vomit that somehow understands the underlying sorrow of the material better than any serious-minded adaptation.” —Jake

The red-curtain trilogy has a distinct set of rules: one, the viewer must know how the film ends from the start; two, the story must be set in a heightened world; and three, it must contain a device that keeps the audience awake at all times, whether that be ballroom dancing, scattershot Shakespearean dialogue, or pop songs.

“Part of the appeal of the artifice is that it gives the audience permission to say, ‘This isn’t real, you’re about to see a fantasy, and that’s okay,’” Duffy says. “The pleasure is the fantasy of it. The whole film is us seeing how Christian is imagining what happened—and the musical is the most extreme genre that allows such imagination.”

The point was never to temper the elaborate, hyper-aware fakeness of it all, but to really commit to it. Says Robbins, “Musicals are ultimately artificial and exclusively constructed. And that’s what Moulin Rouge! achieves and quite a lot of films don’t. It goes, ‘This is where the story is going, this is the energy, this will be played in the soundtrack.’ There’s a deliberate thought process there.”

Luhrmann recently said: “The way we made the movie is the way the movie is.” An under-explored aspect of Moulin Rouge! is how the whole affair, with its ‘Spectacular Spectacular’ musical-within-a-musical device, is an insider’s guide to the mechanics and politics of making ‘big art’. How money can control both the art (the dastardly Duke insisting on “his” ending), and the artists (Satine is never told she is dying, because she is the golden goose upon whose shoulders the success of the company rests; Christian is likewise left in the dark, because he is the scriptwriter who needs to finish writing the show. Both are wrung dry for their talents).

There are shades of Luhrmann in Zigler, the impresario juggling cast, crew, investors and opening dates (Moulin Rouge! was originally slated for December 2000). Christian and friends in playwriting mode are surely Pearce and Luhrmann themselves, searching for the most economical way to say “the hills are vital, intoning the descant”.

And, from the show-within-a-show rehearsals, to the bustle of the backstage, to the gun-chase through the wooden bones of the fly tower, the production details are Catherine Martin to the very last diamante. Nobody does daring bedazzlement quite like ‘CM’, Luhrmann’s fellow producer and life partner. Electricity was the new, exciting thing in Paris at the turn of the twentieth century and this film was lit.

A necklace worn by Satine as a gift from the Duke was made of real diamonds and platinum. Designed by Stefano Canturi, It was the most expensive piece of jewellery ever specifically made for a film, with 1,308 diamonds weighing 134 carats, and worth an estimated one million dollars. Needless to say, Martin won both costume and production design Oscars for the film.

Also among the film’s eight Academy Award nominees: editor Jill Bilcock, about whose singular craft there is a recent documentary. Her breathless, kaleidoscopic cutting (also deployed in Strictly Ballroom and Romeo + Juliet) dropped us right on the dance floor; one 65-second sequence contained a boggling 85 cuts. And this is on the back of her superbly judged opening, a scene that repeats itself as she places Christian at both the start of his love story, and its devastating aftermath—heartbroken, unshaven, self-medicating, reaching for the words to begin making sense of his loss.

“I wondered, for the first hour of this, how Baz Luhrmann had managed to balance such in-your-face stylistic audacity while maintaining a genuine feeling of care for the characters and their struggles—is it all down to Ewan McGregor’s wonderfully earnest face, or the way Nicole Kidman’s smouldering-temptress persona is worn down by one of the most charming cinematic uses of Elton John’s ‘Your Song’? But as the ‘Elephant Love Medley’ transformed into David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’, I stopped caring, I just swooned.” —Kat

If electricity was the thing that drove the kids wild in the 1900s, the internet was on everyone’s minds in 2001. We were just figuring out how to juggle tabs and text people. The real magic dust sprinkled throughout Moulin Rouge! is, obviously, the cacophonous soundtrack, which made sense to our collective, fragmented consciousness.

“No other musical of the modern era has so perfectly captured the sense of spinning an iPod wheel every 45 seconds to play something else,” writes Jake of the medley of songs by David Bowie, Fat Boy Slim, Nirvana, Police, Elton John, Rufus Wainwright, Madonna and many others.

Luhrmann and Pearce stopped at nothing to get every single track from every single artist they wanted. The journey took more than two years, and some bodies were left at the side of the road. “You constantly have to kill your darlings,” Pearce sighs. RIP to Rod Stewart’s ‘Tonight’s the Night’, The Rolling Stones’ ‘Under My Thumb’, Prince’s ‘Raspberry Beret’ and Fifth Dimension’s ‘Up, Up and Away’. (Hot air balloons were big in 2001.)

"We wanted the music to be modern, because we didn’t want it to feel like a fusty, crusty world,” says Pearce. “We wanted to find the universal modern parallels that have existed since time immemorial.” But it wasn’t just about finding the most popular songs at the time. “The structure had to be driven by the needs of the story,” the screenwriter explains. “The musicals on film that tend to fail are the ones where the music feels like a film clip. If it’s not serving the emotional needs of the story, you very quickly check out and it becomes boring. With good musical storytelling, it builds and builds to a point where you can’t do anything but express yourself through song.”

Has there ever been a more desperately romantic promise than when Christian starts telling Satine he doesn’t have much to give her, before nailing that one perfect high note to reassure her that his gift is his song? Why, yes: when the mirrored love stories of Christian and Satine, and of the penniless sitar player and the courtesan in ‘Spectacular Spectacular’, meet at their dramatic peak, with ‘Come What May’. (The film’s only original song, it had been submitted for the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack by writers David Baerwald and Kevin Gilbert.)

“Moulin Rouge! was successful because it was using songs from different ages and periods, appealing to different audiences with something they could have a connection to. So it wasn’t just boomers, not just millennial or Gen X,” says Sammartino. “Something like Rock of Ages, for example, was much more narrow in terms of the kind of music you needed to like.”

“This film is a dramatic bitch and I love her.” —Mulaney

‘Moulin Rouge!’ co-writer and director Baz Luhrmann.

There is a pattern to our most emphatic reviews for the film: they come from relatively young people, who mainly identify as women. It’s something critics anticipated back in 2001. The New York Times wrote, in a fairly ambivalent review, that “young audiences, especially girls, will feel as if they had found a movie that was calling them by name”. We don’t have time to fully dig into the antiquated notion that “low art” (the publication’s quippy headline for that review was “An Eyeful, an Earful, Anachronism”) is aimed specifically at women, but surely we have to ask the question twenty years on: does anyone still think this could possibly be true?

“You’re always writing for yourself, for the film you want to see,” says Pearce. “I like all kinds of different films and I think teenage girls do too.” And let’s remember, it was Harry Styles who said of the broad demographic of his fanbase back in 2017: “Teenage girls—they don’t lie. If they like you, they're there. They don’t act ‘too cool’. They like you, and they tell you.”

Robbins: “The rom-com has made the connection between song and emotional display about female pain. The Emma Thompson crying to Joni Mitchell kind of lineage has tempered musicals—people think that’s what Mamma Mia! is: women and mothers and daughters and feelings.” Dig a little deeper and you’ll find a lot of musical-related data suggesting a broader scope. “When I went to see Frozen on Broadway, kids of all genders were wearing Olaf costumes, much more than princess ones. That is not the narrative Disney would like. And when people gender musicals and think of the princesses franchises, they don’t look to the fact that The Lion King and Aladdin were more successful.”

There has been an undeniable effort to reel male audiences in to see 21st-century musicals. On Hugh Jackman’s welcome, flamboyant career pivot (surprising to anyone but Australians), Duffy says: “Casting Wolverine in Les Misérables and The Greatest Showman is very, ‘See, manly men can do it too!’” Let’s not forget that Ewan McGregor had gotten his big break as freewheeling heroin addict Mark Renton in Danny Boyle’s Trainspotting just six years prior to playing Christian.

Indeed, says Duffy, “more of my male friends have seen Moulin Rouge! than other musicals. The MTV tone might have been significant, and there was the ‘Lady Marmalade’ music video—the fact you have all these beautiful pop stars writhing around in corsets. And just having David Bowie on the soundtrack is like, ‘Okay, this isn’t just girl music.’ Pop music offers an easier way to move past the stigma of show tunes.”

Crucially, Robbins notes that all of this prejudice, and the effort to tear it down, is speaking to, and about, a very specific—cisgender, heterosexual—subsection of audiences. “I always wonder where the critics think the queer audiences are. I do wonder if there’s a cis-het vibe going on that has even more to do with it, reinforcing that norm rather than actually focusing on young girls as an audience.”

I asked my interviewees whether they thought, twenty years on, that Moulin Rouge! would be better received today—and which parts of our contemporary cinematic and musical fabric owe a debt to Luhrmann’s jukebox wonder. “We’re more receptive but we have specific demands,” says Robbins. “And today’s musicals sink or swim on whether they meet those demands. So The Greatest Showman is the Moulin Rouge! of now. I think people would be lying if they didn’t say that the cinematography in Moulin Rouge! hasn’t affected almost every movie musical that has been made since. We wouldn’t have ‘Rewrite the Stars’ if we didn’t have ‘Sparkling Diamonds’.”

Duffy agrees: “So many things that come after you can draw a line directly to Moulin Rouge!—Pitch Perfect, Rock of Ages, Happy Feet… but most significantly, Glee would not exist without this movie. The jukebox musicals of the 21st century owe everything to Moulin Rouge! and the blueprint it lays down.”

Among the films that premiered at Cannes in 2001—David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive, Michael Haneke’s The Piano Teacher—was another kooky little number: Andrew Adamson and Vicky Jenson’s animated Shrek. Two jukebox musicals in the same prestige film festival, at a moment when the genre was considered deeply uncool? What a time to be alive!

If the last eighteen months have taught us anything, it’s that we film lovers enjoy nothing more than a comfort rewatch of our favorites. Moulin Rouge! and Shrek (and French Shrek) delivered untold comfort in the pandemic—but they had also soothed us much earlier, in the months following the unspeakable tragedy of the 9/11 attacks.

“For me it was very much a comfort film,” recalls Duffy, who had discovered Moulin Rouge! as a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, during her first year away from home, studying in New York. “Part of that was rooted in this really traumatic thing that had happened, and all of us wanting to escape into this fantasy world as much as possible.”

Luhrmann said, in his recent Australian interview, “I love to see people united and uplifted and exulted. It’s a privilege to be a part of helping people find that.” As life outside our homes resumes, Moulin Rouge! will very much be part of a return to exultant living. The live musical—interrupted by Covid—opens in Melbourne in August and on the West End and Broadway in the fall.

Pearce last saw the film on a large screen in a derelict warehouse in London, at Secret Cinema’s interactive, carnivalesque spectacular. “I have to say, I was really proud of the film,” the screenwriter says, finally letting himself speak fondly of his accomplishment well over an hour into our conversation.

“I mean, some people liked it back in the day, but you’re never really satisfied with your work. You just tend to see the things that could have been better. But seeing the love for the film was really, really emotional.”

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Craig Pearce is currently producing ‘Pistol’—a biopic miniseries on the Sex Pistols, directed by Danny Boyle—and his next film with Luhrmann is a biopic of Elvis Presley, with Austin Butler playing the king of rock and roll. Additional thanks to Dr. Eleonora Sammartino, Lisa Duffy and Dr. Hannah Robbins.

#moulin rouge #moulin rouge! #baz luhrmann #catherine martin #nicole kidman #ewan mcgregor #children of the revolution #truth beauty freedom love #musical #movie musical #jukebox musical #paris #australian director #letterboxd

[introvertguide]

Goodfellas (1990); AFI #92

The current film up for review is Scorsese’s famous crime drama, Goodfellas (1990). It is the story of Henry Hill and how he lived through the psychotic and neurotic life of a mafia member. The film was nominated for six academy awards including Best Picture and Best Director, but only took one trophy home for Best Supporting Actor (Joe Pesci). I watched the movie 3 times over the last 2 weeks and my opinion changed from one opinion to another as I watched each time and I want to discuss why. First of all, however, we need to do summarize the plot with a standard warning...

SPOILER ALERT!!!!! I HAVE ALREADY GIVEN AWAY THE PLOT IN PREVIOUS POSTS AND I AM ABOUT TO DO IT AGAIN EVEN MORE SO!!!! CHECK OUT THE MOVIE FOR YOURSELF IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY!!!

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The movie begins with three men checking the trunk of their car and finding that the body in the trunk was actually alive. Tommy (Joe Pesci) stabs the man multiple times and then Jimmy (Robert DeNiro) shoots him multiple times. Henry (Ray Liotta) looks on and explains his life in voice over and how the men all got to this position. 

In 1955, a young man named Henry Hill becomes enamored with the criminal life and Mafia presence in his working class Italian-American neighborhood in Brooklyn. He gets a job working for local mob boss Paul "Paulie" Cicero (Paul Sorvino) and is introduced to the entire family. Most important were associates James "Jimmy" Conway, an Irish truck hijacker, and Tommy DeVito, a fellow juvenile delinquent. Henry begins as an errand boy for Jimmy, gradually working his way up to more serious crimes. The three associates spend most of their nights in the 1960s at the Copacabana nightclub where they can impress women. Henry starts dating Karen Friedman (Lorraine Bracco), a Jewish woman who is friends with Tommy’s current date. She is initially troubled by Henry's criminal activities but is eventually seduced by his glamorous lifestyle. She marries him, despite her parents' disapproval.

We follow Henry and his rise in the mafia along with Jimmy and his growing paranoia and Tommy with his constant chip on the shoulder. In 1970, Billy Batts, a made man in the Gambino crew who was recently released from prison, repeatedly insults Tommy at a nightclub owned by Henry; Tommy and Jimmy then beat, stab and shoot him to death. The unsanctioned murder of a made man invites retribution; realizing this, Jimmy, Henry, and Tommy cover up the murder by burying the body in Upstate New York. Six months later, however, Jimmy learns that the burial site is slated for development, prompting them to exhume and relocate the decomposing corpse. At this time, Jimmy begins watching his back, Tommy feels invincible, and Henry takes on girlfriend while Karen stays at home with the kids.

Fast forward to 1974, Karen finds out about the infidelity and harasses Henry's mistress Janice and holds Henry at gunpoint. Henry moves in with Janice, but Paulie insists that he should return to Karen after collecting a debt from a gambler in Tampa with Jimmy. The mafia is all about family and there is no divorce and appearances must be kept. Things don’t go as planned because, upon returning, Jimmy and Henry are arrested after being turned in by the gambler's sister, an FBI typist, and they receive ten-year prison sentences. In order to support his family on the outside, Henry has drugs smuggled in by Karen and sells them to a fellow inmate from Pittsburgh. In 1978, Henry is paroled and expands this cocaine business against Paulie's orders, soon involving Jimmy and Tommy.

In 1979, Jimmy organizes a crew to raid the Lufthansa vault at the JFK Airport, stealing several millions in cash and jewelry. After some members purchase expensive items against Jimmy's orders and the getaway truck is found by police, he has most of the crew murdered. This part of the film is based on a true story Jimmy, in fact killed almost a dozen people in attempt to keep things silent. In his voiceover narration, as dead bodies are being discovered all over the city, Henry theorizes that Jimmy would have killed them anyway rather than share the profits of the heist. Tommy and Henry are spared by Jimmy since they had worked so close together. Also, Henry wasn’t actually involved in robbery and Tommy is going to be a made man and Jimmy wants the connection. Tommy is eventually deceived into believing he is going to be made, but he is murdered on the way to the ceremony, leaving Jimmy devastated.

By 1980, Henry has become a nervous wreck from cocaine use and insomnia. He notices that a helicopter is following him but is trying to visit with his family and deliver drugs at the same time. He sets up a drug deal with his Pittsburgh associates, but is arrested by narcotics agents and jailed. After bailing him out, Karen explains that she flushed $60,000 worth of cocaine down the toilet to prevent FBI agents from finding it during their raid, leaving them virtually penniless. Henry has nowhere to go so he returns to Paulie to ask for help and admits to dealing under the table. Feeling betrayed by Henry's drug dealing, Paulie gives him $3,200 and ends their association. Henry meets Jimmy at a diner and is asked to travel on a hit assignment, but the novelty of such a request makes him suspicious. Henry realizes that Jimmy plans to have him and Karen killed, prompting his decision to become an informant and enroll, with his family, in the witness protection program. He gives sufficient testimony to have Paulie and Jimmy arrested and convicted. Henry is grateful to be alive, but he is forced out of his gangster life and has to readjust to normal life once again; he narrates, "I'm an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook."

The end title cards state that Henry is still a protected witness as of 1990, but that he was arrested in 1987 in Seattle for narcotics conspiracy, receiving five years' probation. He has been clean since then. He and Karen separated in 1989 after 25 years of marriage, while Paulie died the previous year in Fort Worth Federal Prison at age 73 from respiratory illness. Jimmy is serving a 20 years to life sentence in a New York prison for murder, in which he will be paroled in 2004, when he will be 78 years old.

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Even more of an update from the end title cards, Henry Hill and Karen Hill divorced in 2001 and then Henry remarried and fathered one more child. Karen and her kids have lived in hiding and fear they will never escape possible retribution. Jimmy died in prison in 1996 before he was eligible for parole and Henry died in 2012 of cancer. With their history of explosive violence, I am kind of glad that all three of the main men (Tommy, Henry, and Jimmy) have shuffled off this mortal coil.

So I ended up watching this film three times in the last couple of weeks and I liked it less and less each time. So many people have such good things to say about the movies (including me), yet what the movie is most celebrated for is what I like the least. The first time I watched was with my housemates and they talked throughout the movie and laughed at the antics of Joe Pesci. I feel that many viewers enjoyed that crazy performance, and this was probably the reason for the Best Supporting Actor award. I am sure that capturing the volatile nature of a lunatic mafia hitman is very difficult and deserves praise.

I then watched it twice more to take notes on the different camera shots and then to compare to the real story of the Lucchese family and Lufthansa heist. I was not disappointed with the camera shots since Scorsese tends to let his actors go wild and then move the camera in interesting ways to capture the action while telling the story he wants to tell. He uses extreme close up shots and the vertigo trucking shot to represent the paranoia of Henry Hill and Jimmy Burke. He used the tracking shot to bring the audience into the world of the mafia man using the the character of Karen Hill as the “fish-out-of-water.” The choice of music was great including using the Sid Vicious rendition of the classic “My Way” popularized by Frank Sinatra. The colors were so bright in the beginning and became so bleak and washed out by the end. Fantastic cinematography and direction. 

By the last watch, I realized that I did not like Tommy DeVito (real life name Tommy DeSimone) because he made everybody around him scared. It was like having a pet feral tiger and just hoping that he never turned on you. He was not loyal at all. In actuality, he tried to rape Karen Hill while she was married to Henry. He really killed a young bartender named Spider because Jimmy was teasing him. He brutally attacked and murdered out of anger because he was completely unhinged. Just watching Joe Pesci play the part made me anxious and I wanted him to go away every time he appeared on screen. I guess this makes him a great actor, but it also doesn’t make me want to watch his movies. 

I brought this up with the Godfather movies on the list, but do Brooklyn based Italian-Americans act like these people in the movies? Constant noise in which men treat women terribly and the women go off to the kitchen and make food? I can except the loud large families and the giant shared meals, but I sure hope that the poor treatment of women and the huge lack of equality between the genders is fake or at least outdated. I have met some really nice Italian people who are nothing like the people in these films, so I believe it is a stereotype (if this is true, then Hollywood needs to stop promoting these stereotypes).

A final positive note towards the acting, I thought that Lorraine Bracco did a wonderful job as Karen Hill. She played a sheltered girl that wanted a little danger and got way more than she ever wanted. There is a scene in which she realizes that her husband is cheating and that she and her children are miserable and unprotected. She wakes up Henry with a gun in his face, but she can’t kill him because she wants that drama in her life. She is treated horribly and at one point barely walks away from a hit set up by Jimmy, yet she still stays with Henry until she is forced into the boring life of Witness Protection and she leaves him. After wading through the history of all the different characters from the movie, I actually find her story to be the most interesting.

In the end, I still want an answer for the same two questions. Does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Absolutely. It is a well made movie with a strong vision about one version of growing up in Brooklyn and how searching to realize the American dream can lead you down dark and dirty paths. Great vision by Scorsese and a well told story. Do I recommend it? Not really. I recommend doing the research on these American mobsters and get a feel for what these people were really like. I recommend checking out clips on YouTube that show the filming techniques that have become hallmarks of great directors. But don’t watch these portrayals and laugh. They are not fun or funny like they come off in the movie, these are horrible (yet interesting) people that should serve as a lesson/warning and not have their lives glamourized by Hollywood. 

#goodfellas #hollywood #70s #joe pesci #ray liotta #Robert De Niro #Martin Scorsese #Oscar winner #crime drama #mafia #robbery #murder #true story #introvert #introverts

[arch-archivars]

aesthetics for the entities, part i + ii.   bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambiling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines.  sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters.  hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.  blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls.  focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstorous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter.    a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby.  improvised weapons.  blinding rage.  intent to kill.  a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers.  a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain.  not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster.  an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.  kill or be killed.  unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral.   sleep deprivation.  corridors you can get lost in.  maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions.  losing people.  losing your sanity.  corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality.  walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallusinations.  wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.  a place that has never existed.  doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.  loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger.   wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together.  the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings.  mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.  the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight.  uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices.  images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  the vast.   open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you.  staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control.  a fall that doesn’t end in death.  glass floor to the view below.  terminal velocity.  the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building.  falling into nothing.  feeling your feet let go of the ground.  a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate.  manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap.  never voicing discomfort.  outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it.  red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unrealiability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny lengs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.  suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

+  the extinction.   the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism.  the last written history.  a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

TAGGED BY:  @radioways   mwah  !!

TAGGING:  @stfreds  /  @meinliied  (  martin or rikar ?  )  /  @lorefound  (  barnabas  )  /  @mistiqued  (  maxwell  )  /  @vulpesse  /  @killedfirst​  /  @ghrisha​

#〉〉swallowing mud / swallowing glass / the scent of blood —— » inspiration . cecil #/ #not me annoying my non - tma mutuals #with tma memes #indulge me <3

[hungover-and-broke-student]

esthetics for the entities, part i.   bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiitng for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambiling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines.  sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters.  hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.  blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls.  focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstorous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter.    a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby.  improvised weapons.  blinding rage.  intent to kill.  a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers.  a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain.  not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster.  an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.  kill or be killed.  unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral.   sleep deprivation.  corridors you can get lost in.  maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions.  losing people.  losing your sanity.  corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality.  walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallucinations.  wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.  a place that has never existed.  doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.  loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger.   wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together.  the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings.  mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.  the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight.  uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices.  images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  the vast.   open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you.  staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control.  a fall that doesn’t end in death.  glass floor to the view below.  terminal velocity.  the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building.  falling into nothing.  feeling your feet let go of the ground.  a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate.  manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap.  never voicing discomfort.  outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it.  red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unrealiability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny lengs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.  suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

+  the extinction.   the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism.  the last written history.  a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

TAGGED BY:  @brokentoys

TAGGING: steal it! @monomaniiametus @tricksterreformed-a @acriminallawyer

#ooc #tag meme #this was fun thanks for tagging me <3 #long post

[teletapedarc]

aesthetics for the entities, all of them.   bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. repost. do not reblog. from @sagamemes. under the cut bc it’s long as hell. TAGGED BY: no one TAGGING: you.

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiitng for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambiling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines.  sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters.  hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.  blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls.  focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstorous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter.    a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby.  improvised weapons.  blinding rage.  intent to kill.  a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers.  a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain.  not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster.  an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.  kill or be killed.  unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral.   sleep deprivation.  corridors you can get lost in.  maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions.  losing people.  losing your sanity.  corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality.  walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallucinations.  wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.  a place that has never existed.  doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.  loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger.   wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together.  the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings.  mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.  the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight.  uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices.  images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  the vast.   open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you.  staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control.  a fall that doesn’t end in death.  glass floor to the view below.  terminal velocity.  the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building.  falling into nothing.  feeling your feet let go of the ground.  a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate.  manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap.  never voicing discomfort.  outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realizing it.  red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unreliability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.  suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

+  the extinction.   the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism.  the last written history.  a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

#💧 》 ⤻ BRIDGETTE ◞ aesthetics !

[notstolen]

aesthetics for the entities. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.  insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment. breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites. something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark. shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night. time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north. an empty church.

v.  the flesh. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone. long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

iv.  the desolation.  senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire. heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

vi.  the end. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain. ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death. as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines. sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls. focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstrous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

vii.  the eye. googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t look away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism. police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers. books that read you back.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone. fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows. isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea. depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter. a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby. improvised weapons.  blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions. losing people.  losing your sanity. corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality. walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallucinations.  wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger. wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings. mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices. images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate. manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unreliability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii.  the vast. open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in a universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

+  the extinction. the end of an era. apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism. the last written history. a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

tagged by: stole it from one of my other blogs

tagging: @xwhiterabbitx, @lonexwolfe, @desolationtrial ( for ari since i think you might’ve done this for norman already? )

#dash games.

[cloakedinfall-a]

aesthetics for the entities bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiitng for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambiling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines.  sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters.  hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.  blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls.  focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstorous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter.    a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby.  improvised weapons.  blinding rage.  intent to kill.  a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers.  a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain.  not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster.  an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.  kill or be killed.  unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral.   sleep deprivation.  corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions.  losing people.  losing your sanity.  corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality.  walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallusinations.  wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.  a place that has never existed.  doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.  loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger.   wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together.  the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings.  mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.  the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight.  uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices.  images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate.  manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap.  never voicing discomfort.  outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it.  red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unrealiability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.  suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii.  the vast.   open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you.  staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control.  a fall that doesn’t end in death.  glass floor to the view below.  terminal velocity.  the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building.  falling into nothing.  feeling your feet let go of the ground.  a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

TAGGED BY:  stole it. 

+  the extinction.   the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism.  the last written history.  a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

TAGGING:  @theaterism <any of them> @dcigrxtia @tragicblood @runnerkiller @pickdroses @fartemis-crock @rxdhairxdsirxns @nullcide @discipulusmaleficus @bustcdkneecaps <elias>

#veres~musings #/theater #/he might actually be vast holy fuck #bustcdkneecaps