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christophe76460 · 10 months

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La mort à soi-même, première condition de la vie chrétienne authentique

1° – Quand tes désirs et tes opinions seront ridiculisées, quand on t’oubliera, te négligera, se moquera de toi, on t’insultera même; quand tu seras calomnié pour avoir fait du bien; si, conscient de tout, tu ne ressens aucune amertume, ou sentiment de vengeance, si ton coeur reste humble et heureux de ce que le Seigneur (à qui tu dois ton salut), a Lui-même subi avant toi, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (1 Cor.4;13 Matt.5;11) HUMBLE

2° – Si, face au désordre, aux injustices ou illégalités, aux retards et aux ennuis qui en découlent; si devant le gaspillage, l’indifférence, l’extravagance, pleinement conscient, tu peux, comme Jésus, être coopérant avec amour et patience, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Jean 3;17 et 8;3-11) TEMPÉRANT ET CONCILIANT

3° – Si tu n’as plus envie de protester au sujet des repas, des offrandes, des vêtements, d’un climat, d’un milieu social ou de la solitude, ou même lorsqu’on te dérange au milieu de la nuit, sachant que tout est sous le contrôle de Dieu, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (1 Cor.4;11-12) CONTENTEMENT CONSTANT

4° – Si tu ne cherches plus à montrer de la supériorité dans les prédications, dans les conversations et les autres domaines de ta vie; si tu ne cherches plus à mentionner tes bonnes oeuvres et à recevoir des compliments; si tu peux rester effacé et aimer cependant, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Rom.12;16) EFFACÉ, SOBRE

5° – Si tu peux te réjouir du bonheur des autres, voir un frère ou une soeur réussir et être comblé; si tu te réjouis avec lui ou avec elle en toute sincérité, sans leur porter la moindre envie; si dans une situation où tes besoins sont plus grands et plus urgents que les leurs, tu te sens poussé à louer le Seigneur pour le bien qu’Il leur a accordé, c’est cela mourir à soi-même (1 Cor. 13;4) ALTRUISTE, PUR

6° – Si tu considères volontiers ton prochain supérieur à toi-même; si l’image de Dieu qui est en lui t’inspire à l’aimer; si ses éventuels défauts ou divergences ne diminuent pas ton estime pour lui, et que tu le lui montres en toutes occasions, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Phil.2;3-4) COMPATISSANT

7° – Si tu as réalisé que tout ce que tu as ne t’appartient pas et que tu n’en est que le gérant, (ta vie y-compris); que la « perle » en ta possession ne t’a coûté que ce que tu as; si tu es conscient qu’à tout moment le Seigneur souverain peut te demander tout ou partie de ce qui est Sien, si tu es heureux de ce qu’il en est ainsi, c’est cela mourir à soi-même (Matt.13;45) GÉRANT ET NON PROPRIÉTAIRE

8° – Si tes activités sont toutes dans l’intérêt direct ou indirect du Royaume de Dieu; si plus rien de charnel ne vient à te voler le temps qui Lui appartient; si les passions, les attractions du monde n’ont plus d’effet sur toi, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Gal.5;24) ACTIF, INTELLIGENT

9° – Si tu as compris que, sur toute la terre, la « justice de Dieu » est la seule vérité; si désormais ta seule raison de vivre est de la faire connaître à toute l’humanité, c’est cela mourir à soi-même et être propre au Royaume de Dieu (Col.3;1-2 Matt.6;33) AU SERVICE DE DIEU

10° – Quand tu entendras un frère donner des messages plus profonds et plus édifiants que les tiens; tu remarqueras que l’auditoire lui témoigne plus de reconnaissance et d’affection qu’à toi; si tu entends des plaintes et des critiques contre toi; si tu aimes tes frères et ce serviteur toujours autant et si, en le remerciant avec une sincérité totale, tu es heureux de son efficacité, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Es.42;19) COOPÉRANT

11° – Si à juste raison, quelqu’un qui t’est inférieur t’adresse un reproche ou une réprimande; si tu te soumets sans difficulté et sans chercher à te défendre; si, sans hypocrisie et sans dissimulation tu avoues ta faute et s’il y a lieu tu demandes pardon, c’est cela être mort à soi-même. (1 Tim. 5;20) HONNETE ET SOUMIS

12° – Quand on t’obligera à renoncer à de légitimes projets et que cela te cause des frais, te prive de tes droits; si tu as prêté de l’argent et qu’on ne veut pas te le rendre; si, dans cette situation, aucun jugement ne traverse ta pensée, ta paix intérieure et tes relations avec ces gens ne sont ni rompues ni perturbées, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Matt.5;39-40) IMPERTURBABLE

13° – Si tu es prompt à donner judicieusement ton temps, tes biens, tes énergies, ton argent, sachant que les bénéficiaires n’en sont pas du tout reconnaissants; si tu n’attends en retour que ce que le Seigneur, qui voit tout, veut bien t’accorder, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Act.10;35) GÉNÉREUX, DISPONIBLE

14° – Quand ton meilleur ami te trahira et que ta femme ou ton mari te quitte; si tes enfants te traitent d’ingrat alors que tu t’es dévoué; si cela ne t’empêche pas de les aimer et si, sans hésiter tu peux à tous, tout leur pardonner et supplier le Seigneur de les sauver, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Matt.6;14-15) AIMANT, DÉVOUÉ

15° – Crois-tu être mort à toi-même ? Comment peut-on en être sûr ? demanderas-tu… Les lignes qui précèdent ont été écrites pour te le montrer. Cependant, j’aimerais encore t’aider : si tu as peur de la mort, c’est que tu es encore vivant. Dans cet état, tu ne peux espérer ressusciter, car la résurrection ne concerne que les morts. (Phil.3;7-9)

16° – La mort, c’est comme la traversée d’un torrent furieux; si on a peur, c’est que la traversée est encore à faire. Mais si nous sommes morts, cette traversée est déjà accomplie, on ne peut plus la craindre. D’ailleurs, la crainte est le signe d’un manque de confiance dans le Seigneur puisque « l’amour parfait bannit la crainte ». (1 Jean 4;18)

17° – Si tu as compris que tu ne peux pas compter sur tes services, ni sur ton assiduité aux réunions, ni sur tes efforts pour être un bon chrétien, ou sur ton honnêteté dans les dîmes en général; si tu as compris que ce n’est pas en vertu de cela que le Seigneur t’accordre le salut, et qu’avec tout cela tu n’es pas moins un serviteur inutile, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Luc 17;10) CONSCIENT ET CONFIANT

18° – Si tu as compris que tes efforts pour cacher ton mépris à l’égard d’un frère, ou dissimuler ta mauvaise humeur derrière un sourire forcé, ou derrière une froide poignée de mains, si tu sais que tout cela aux yeux de Dieu n’est d’aucune valeur, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (1 Pier.1;22 Matt.23;28) FRANC, TRANSPARENT

19° – Lorsque dans ta communauté, que tu dis être ta famille, des puissances sataniques s’acharnent sur une victime et que l’Esprit-Saint qui est en toi te dit que tu possèdes les armes divines; si tu ne te dérobes pas à cette interpellation, et que tu mets, s’il le faut, ta vie à disposition, sans essayer de te cacher derrière tes multiples occupations, c’est cela mourir à soi-même. (Jean 10;11 et 15;13) CRUCIFIÉ AVEC CHRIST

20° – Mourir à soi-même, c’est accepter la mort de notre « identité charnelle », pour que notre identité spirituelle qui est en Christ puisse naître et se développer. (Phil.3;21 2 Pier.1;4) SEULE CETTE IDENTITÉ HÉRITERA LE ROYAUME DE DIEU

21° – Sans cette mort à toi-même qui seule assure la résurrection, tout christianisme et toute vie chrétienne ne sont qu’une pure illusion. (Apoc.7;14 Phil.3;10-11) HATE-TOI DE MOURIR A TOI-MEME SI TU VEUX AVOIR PART A LA RÉSURRECTION

Terminons en rappelant que cet état de mort à soi-même, sur le plan humain, ne peut pas être atteint.

Cependant, il faut qu’il devienne « l’objectif unique » vers lequel tendent tous ceux qui ont compris que le Seigneur n’a que faire des simulateurs. Le mimétisme est la parodie satanique de la vie chrétienne.

Que Dieu te soit en aide.

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Fabulous Friday Evenings

Summary: You were having a really bad day. Conner decides to help cheer you up and make sure your drunk ass doesn’t face plant on the side walk.

masterlist

word count: 2,652

a/n: Special thanks to @anothertimdrakestan for helping with the ending and helping with editing! Love you, Elle!

warnings: alcohol and swearing and author does not know how alcohol works. No one is under the drinking age. This may benefit from more editing.

"Mosht people are jusht the careful scaffolding of complexshesh," you slurred, your face red, head half buried in your arms, and golden ear cuffs winking under the dim bar lights.

"You somehow still sound like a fucking nerd even you're when drunk," Conner laughed throwing his head back, handsome face stretched with a cheeky smile. "You look like a mess," he said softly, reaching out for your cheek.

"Fuhk you! Not eberyone can be born too pretty for their own guhd- how did yah evehn know I was here? It was Tim wasn't it! "

"Good guess buuuut it was actually Bart" Conner explained casually taking a seat next to you as you lifted your head momentarily before plopping it back down to stare at the amber gloss of the drink. The light from the ceiling seemed to dance so elegantly in your eyes even as you wrinkled your brows. "That rat," you cursed miserably into your arm.

Across from you, a pretty brunette shot you two a wink and without looking you could tell Conner flirted in kind. Normally, you'd have the audacity to steal the girl's attention away before Conner could even make a proper move but tonight you were in absolutely no mood to be charming. In fact, you were sloshed. You didn't know whether it was the fourth or fifth drink that did it but there you were sitting next to one of the most attractive people he knew with your makeup smeared and eyes still swollen and puffy. You kind of just want a portal to open up and swallow you.

The brunette made a motion to her friends which indicated that she was gonna try her luck and you wished her the best of luck. You bit your soft lips before pressing them into a pout. It took everything in Conner not to kiss you on the spot. Be the responsible one they said. It would be fun, they said.

"We should go. You're-"

"Have fun," you said, patting him on the shoulder, cutting him off curtly; placing some cash on the bar before leaving. The buxom brunette approached Conner placing a hand on the shoulder you’d just touched moments before. He didn’t seem to notice her, his mind still lingering on the warmth of your hand. Before she can say anything, he pivots and runs towards you .

The casual slump in your shoulders in place of your usual elegance was a pretty good indication that you would probably fall in a gutter before you got home. Conner highly doubted you could see straight.

"I can’t believe Roz let you get this sloshed without checking on you," He joked bringing one of your arms over his shoulder and slinging his own arm around you for balance. You walked like a newborn horse. It was incredibly embarrassing and you wanted to die. Conner, on the other hand, just found it incredibly hilarious.

"She's out getting into her own brand of sloshed at a bachelorette party,"

"Huh. Didn't know she was the wedding type. Thought she hated going to those,"

"She's the stripper," You deadpanned, sounding abnormally sober. With that Conner let out a genuinely hearty laugh. You would trade all the martinis, dackories, and margaritas in the world just to get drunk on that laugh.

"That reminds me," Conner drawled, adjusting his hold feeling just how shaky you were from the late October Metropolis weather pressing you closer to his warm body. You kind of wanted to melt into his side but you had too much pride. "Bart never said why you were out here getting shit faced," You frowned at him but couldn't really muster any sharpness into your expression.

There were lots of reasons to get 'shit faced' even in shiny Metropolis. You twitched your nose and mouth side to side gathering the makings of a sentence. Where do you even start? Your little sister got suspended, your mother (who somehow found out you were in Metropolis) is either demanding money or for you to drop everything to go back home to help around the house (translation: help out with the bills while babysitting your siblings), Bats and some other league members were on your ass for the last mission (probably the only thing on this list you found reasonable), this morning, you got fired from your library job so they could hire Marco's girlfriend (who is in fact a perfectly nice person which means you can't really hate her), or the dozens of little annoyances such as Bart not being able to keep his trap shut.

"This week was just a little much,"

A long moment of silence passes between you. Uncharacteristic for Conner but it was cute that he thought silence would make you fess up.

"You know I could have gone home on my own. That brunette looked like she was up for a good time,"

"Yeah right. Also you're welcome."

"You're right. Thank you for getting blue balled this fine evening to escort me" you didn't want to be prickly but Conner was being too nice and that made your skin crawl. Why couldn’t he be mean to you right now like a normal person?

"First off, she wasn't even my type-" You raised a brow.

"Kon, her tits were the size of Jupiter-"

"Did you really just say 'tits'?"

You threw him a scowl clearly sobering up from irritation.

"Shut up. Point iiiis, you didn't have to-"

"You just said-"

"Oh for the love of- yes, I said tits. Speaking of which you should be staring at some instead of having to lug my sorry ass around on this fabulous Friday evening." Your hand fluttering, gesturing vaguely in the air.

"Eh. There'll be other Fridays" Kon shrugged. Pulling you closer and some selfish part of you felt relieved.

----------

Much to your surprise (you really ought not to be), Roz wasn't home yet which meant you had to dig out the keys from the secret hiding spot- another hassle. You reached out peeling a hilariously well concealed hole in the wall and fished out the set of jingling keys. Conner looked like he was between amusement and bewilderment. Good enough. At least, this stopped Conner's 30 minute TED Talk about the new 70s sitcom he'd found.

You two entered the shoe box apartment clumsily thanks to your disastrous limbs.

You blew out a breath and muttered a thanks as Conner helped you plop onto the couch. Though, it was more like gravity decided to magnetize your body to the couch and Conner just let it happen.

You shut his eyes for a moment wrapping a ragged blanket around you. You made a mental note to raid the thrift store for a new one. Preferably one void of holes.

"So what's up and don't you dare say it was nothing. I've never seen you this hammered before," He said handing you a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

"Does it occur to you that I might get hammered like this often and you might just not see it? Who knows maybe I'm actually a functional alcoholic?"

"Ok, first off, you are barely functional. Second, that might be your weakest deflection yet. Try again,"

"Ok... did it occur-"

"I didn't mean it lite- just tell me what happened. Everyone's worried,"

You stared at the steam rising from the fresh cup of cocoa. It was none of Conner's business. It was no one’s business. Your friends were too goddamn nice. Blowing out another breath, you said "You might wanna sit down too,"

Conner takes his own mug of hot cocoa and sits next to you because for some reason eye contact made you a better liar and Conner for all his dumb decisions wasn't gonna let you off the hook that easily. You shifted uncomfortably and muttered about either Cassie or Roz ratting you out. He assumed it was the eye contact thing. Conner felt a little offended. He might not be Tim but he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own. Despite his hurt feelings and bruised ego, he decided to table that and focus on the current issue or, likely, issues.

"Do you want it in alphabetical order?"

"Please tell me you can actually do that," Conner teased with a wide grin. You couldn’t fight off a smile forming on your face. "Sadly, I am not Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. My brain cells work like a normal person's,"

"Didn't you die?"

"Death only fixes stupid when you stay dead. You've seen Red Hood and whichever other Ex-Robin has been to the pearly gates,"

"You say that as if Jason wouldn't tell the big man to fuck off,"

You blinked and turned your head up to the ceiling. "Ok that's true," You conceded, your mouth twitching rapidly from side to side making you look like an exasperated rabbit. Cute.

"So what's up?"

All the good mood from the past few minutes dissipated in an instant. You looked down solemnly at the still steaming mug. You were silent for what felt like an eternity.

"It's family- Immediate. And the source of all evil-"

"Lex Corp?"

You snorted a shy tired smile cracked across your face. You shook your head. Those little gestures just make Conner feel a little warmer. You, on the other hand, cursed at how easily Conner could make you laugh. You were supposed to be sad damn it.

"Money," Conner knew immediate family was always a sore spot for you. No one knew the specifics except Roz but that was inevitable when you're cousins. Money was also a sore spot and based on your near dead tone. You’ve either lost a lot of it or you’re in a tight spot but not ready to elaborate.

"Wanna try buying a lottery ticket?"

"What?"

"Who knows you might get lucky?"

"You could have gotten lucky you if you-"

"Are you seriously gonna keep bringing that up?"

"Yes, most likely. Depends,"

"On what?!"

"On whether I can think of something funnier to give you shit about or if you can convince me-whatever the fuck you're thinking of doing stop!"Conner's cheeky grin did not disappear nor did the faint flush on your cheeks.

"I wasn't thinking of anything, you sick pervert" he laughed. You really should have been exasperated with Conner. You tried damn it. You looked at him skeptically before violently letting his head rest on Conner’s shoulder causing the other boy to fall over.

"Aaaaaaawwwww babe , if you wanted to cuddle you could have just said so,"

You wanted to. In fact, both of you wanted to. But unfortunately neither of you were martian and neither of you was willing to say jack. You closed your eyes trying to pretend Conner wasn't a little shit. Conner radiated too much smug for that though.

"Shut up," You mumbled into Conner's shoulder already feeling sleep pull him under. You clung to him. Maybe just for tonight you can indulge in this. Just for a little while you can cling to Conner's warmth. Maybe in the morning your head will ache too much to remember this. Waking up alone wouldn't be too painful then. Hopefully.

---------------

You woke up feeling like a troop of Can Caning hippos decided to host a live performance all over your head. You sighed remembering that you had in fact run out of Aspirin just days before so you decided on just lying there and praying that Roz also needed Aspirin and had more energy to run to the store.

You settled in nuzzling in to the warm-

Wait. It was October.

Nothing in the apartment should be warm.

NOTHING.

Then, you heard it. A LOUD snore. It honestly sounded more like the roar of an engine than anything. Everything else followed. The slow rising and falling of the chest beneath you, the press of stubble against your forehead, and the strong arms loosely wrapped around you.

Yeah. You died again. Yeah. You finally went to heaven. Yup. You were ok with that. You were definitely 100% A Ok with this if this was heaven. Being held tenderly by the guy you liked while you got a good night’s sleep was definitely heaven. God, you were such a sap.

How the hell you missed all of that baffled you.

Oh wait. Dancing hippos. Fuck.

Your head felt like it was threatening to crack open but somehow you honestly could not mind even if you tried. You were laying on top of a hot (literally and metaphorically) guy mutually cuddling. You nuzzled into the junction between Conner’s neck and shoulder in an attempt to steal more warmth. Sure, you were probably gonna go deaf from the snoring. Sure, you were definitely irritated by the stubble pressed against your face. And sure, you would probably die of embarrassment once Conner woke up. You could worry about all that later. All you could think about was how nicely your arms fit around Conner’s neck and how Conner’s arms wrap around you a little tighter in return.

Click.

You could hear the distinct sound of your own camera shutter. Each sound chipped away at your peace of mind. You lifted your head only to see Roz holding your camera.

TAKING PICTURES.

Your cousin was nothing if not a petty opportunist.

“I would tell you to get a room buuuut the only bedroom iiiiis preeeeeeetty occupied,” Roz drawled smugly way too pleased with herself. You opened his mouth to ask but you’d already made the mistake of walking in on Roz and a guest once and you were pretty sure you needed more therapy for that than you did for your murder. You just sighed as Roz took another picture.

“Come on, (y/n), smile a little,”

“I’m not smiling for your blackmail material,”

Roz gasped trying to sound scandalized. She failed, only sounding amused beyond belief. “It’s only blackmail if you’re ashamed of it. Personally, I think you’re scoring big time,”

“Roz please just fuck off before you wake him up,”

“Too fuckin’ late for that. He’s been awake for awhile,”

You could feel Conner smiling into your hair and his arms wrap around you a little tighter. You tried to straighten up. To tower over him. To look intimidating.

But…. you couldn’t. You were kind of trapped because, yanno, super strength.

You were seething and threw a scowl at Conner who only chuckled at you in response.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” You snarled, clearly exasperated and feeling the hippos start their encore performance.

“ Mmmmmm, it depends,” Nope. The hippos did not only come back for an encore. They brought friends. Based on the absolutely smug look on Conner’s face, you were in for an entire parade.

You let out a breath not sure if you wanted to play this game but not really seeing any other options. “On what?“

Conner paused and hummed and hummed and hummed some more as if he was actually thinking but you knew from the crook of his lips that he had this planned out. Maybe not this exact scenario but something close“Go out on a date with me,”

You blinked then rolled your eyes theatrically enough that your head rolled along with it. “And be seen with you in public?” You teased, an almost sheepish smile tugging at your features.

Yeah, Conner wasn’t exactly expecting you to say yes.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?” You said playing it off as casually as possible but you couldn’t help but mirror the absolutely goofy grin plastered on Conner’s face. His happiness was infectious. You felt weightless. It was probably the fact that you were floating with him but you were pretty sure you were just on cloud nine. You were doomed. Definitely, inevitable, indubitably doomed. Even though everything has been shit up to now. The happiness radiating off of Conner was enough to make everything feel a little better.

Thank you so much for reading!

tag list:

@idkmanicantenglish

@batarella (I thought you might like it?)

#conner kent x reader #conner kent #conner kent imagine #My writing #dc fanfiction #DC comics #kon el x reader #kon el imagine

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thecursedhellblazer · 3 years

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ღ - Alright, John. Demons rating time: Ellie, the First, Nergal, Buer, Rosacarnis, your demonic self

Attraction meme || Accepting !

“...Yeh can’t be fuckin’ serious! Bloody ‘ell, woh th’ fuck ‘s wrong wit’ yeh, mate?! ...Jesus H Christ, if I found out who yeh are...”

Ellie

“We were...almost friends. Till I screw ‘er o’er. In more than one sense. N’, ‘ell, she’s a bloody succubus, bein’ sexually attractive comes wit’ ‘er nature.”

The First

“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell, Christ on a motorbike, god-soddin’-dammit, I swear it’s all Tim’s fault if I’m still bein’ bloody stalked by tha’ pink piece o’ gobshite. He n’ ‘is fuckin’ wingman deal!”

Nergal

“Th’ only ways I like tha’ steamin’ chesspit o’ ‘ellish gobshite ‘s either dyin’ in th’ most painful way possible or put under me ‘eel n’ unable to get outta it.”

Buer

“...Nay. Just NAY.”

Rosacarnis

“I’ll give yeh tha’ ‘er chosen form ‘s attractive, but I wouldn’t touch tha’ soddin’ cunt wit’ a bloody stick after all th’ fuckin’ troubles she caused me wit’ tha’ nut revenge plan o’ ‘ers.”

Demon John

“...Shut th’ fuck up.”

#* Blokes like me? We cheat. * ::ic::#(( Who are you again? ::anon:: ))#* My reality is eleven tenths perception. * ::headcanons::#(( good job you BROKE HIM nonny x'D ))#(( thank you whoever you are xD ))#(( save tag ))#(( because this was HILARIOUS #* You're the Mirror I'm not Afraid to see My Darkness reflected in * ::John&Demon John:: {thedemonconstantine}

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cubeswhump · 4 years

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Sunglasses at Night

A weird interpretation of Tooth Knocked Out for my character, Noelle.

So you all know Noelle, maybe not by name, from my profile picture. She was actually one of the first characters on this blog but I’ve neglected to write her until coming up with an actual plotline like two nights ago.

Warnings for mentions of murder (specifically serial killing), blood, some gore, mentions of alcoholic intoxication, violence, kidnapping, discussed sexual abuse, implied sexual abuse, broken bones, minor mouth gore, briefly mentioned racial bias and police brutality, politically incorrect joke that the character is immediately guilted for.

There was regular stupid, and then there was Noelle Alan.

All of five feet and two inches, the girl thoight herself a badass, the Batman of middle of nowhere Florida. But instead of the Joker she fought petty criminals and that one neighbor who hit his kid, and she was dirt-poor with no grappling hook and Noellemobile, just a hockey stick and homemade pepper spray that was starting to smell fermented.

She came home bruised and bloody most nights. People looked at her father with scorn when she stood next to him with black eyes and swollen lips.

"Elle, you're gonna die one of these days," Marshall grumbled when he saw how intently she was looking at her phone, "and I'm gonna piss on your rotting corpse."

"Kinky," she giggled.

"Scratch that. If you were on fire, I wouldn't piss on you."

He had an idea of what she was looking at and a pit formed in his stomach. When the bodies of young women, necks torn and blood drained, had started to be found around town on a weekly basis, not even hidden, Noelle wasn't scared; Marshall recognized the glint in her eye.

"No," he growled, looking over her shpulder at the news article on her phone screen. "Don't you fucking dare."

"I'm hunting a vampire," Noelle murmured, lips stretching into the dumbest smile.

"Vampires aren't fucking real. You're gonna chase after a serial killer and end up raped and dead in a gutter."

Noelle didn't look up from her phone. "Way to sould callous about rape."

Marshall grit his teeth, fists clenched tight. "No, I'm the one actually taking that shit seriously and bringing up an actual risk."

"I'll sharpen my stakes."

Marshall unclenched his fists and granbed her by her shoulders. He shook his overgrown hair out of his face to look her in the eye.

"Your jawline's looking really defined," Noelle tried, but the flattery was ignored. "Is that stubble I see?"

He huffed out a sigh. "Noelle, I will kill you myself."

"Do it, pussy."

"I don't think you're taking this seriously."

"I'm serious all right." Her shit-eating grin was back. "Seriously about to kick some undead ass."

Marshall drew back his hands, face contorting. "I can't fucking stand you sometimes," he said softly, and turned his back to her. "See you in Hell."

He slammed the bedroom door on his way out. Front door opened and slammed as well. He peeled out of the driveway in his beat-up secondhand car.

Okay. That hurt a bit.

Noelle tried to keep her spirits up. She'd apologize to Marshall after she caught a vamp- serial killer. Caught a serial killer.

People often called Noelle stupid but when she wanted answers, she knew how to get them. When she bothered to actually do her work in school she could always find the cause and effect, the author's purpose, subtext, textual evidence. She got scolded for being mouthy. Teachers said she was far too opinionated when she badmouthed authors and mocked bias in her essays. She was in internal suspension more than the mainstream classroom for arguments with teachers and fights with peers.

Her father joked, with a hint of seriousness, that she was the cause of his receding hairline. Some black people rose to the top and lead social change, but where does having a big mouth usually get a black girl from a poor family? All these police shootings terrified the man and Noelle knew it, but she couldn't stay out of trouble.

He thought she was finally behaving when he caught her pouring over notebooks, scribbling with pencils, using up all their printer ink. His frown lines softened. She was doing her homework, and she was working hard.

In actuality, she was printing up police reports and jotting down the hints, connecting all the detaild. This killer stayed within a small radius and his victims, young women of various races (so racial motivation was crossed out) but tending to be on the smaller side, were all last seen at bars (three specific local ones). And all were seen leaving on their own.

This killer made no attempts to hide their bodies. Two were found in a canal less than a mile away from Marshall's house. One was stuffed into a trashcan missing its lid. One was found behind poor Mrs. Johnson's teashop, and she'd told her young, female employees to stay away for their own safety. One, the most brazen display, was tied to a lamppost on the town's busiest intersection.

All victims were found within a five mile radius.

And the manner of the killing stumped Noelle and detectives alike. Police reports and news articles were vague, almost glossing over it in saying that "throats were torn and copious amounts of blood was lost", but Noelle had managed to find and save some leaked photos before they were taken down.

These women didn't just have their throats slit. Despite Noelle's earlier jokes about vampires, there weren't two neat little punctures; throats were ripped open, skin flapping, jugulars severed and windpipes exposed with multiple points of entry. She reasoned that the weapon must be one designed to grasp at the skin and tear.

She sketched designs for metal claws that attach to the hands, designed to bite into the skin and tear it away when the killer drew his (or her, Noelle Alan was no misogynist) arm back. They would have to attach to the fingers for better flexibility and range of motion and they would need to be relatively short, perhaps protruding only an inch past the finger tips, to have a good grasp. Such a cautious design would be needed to attach well and firmly to the fingers without causing harm to the wearer. Would the blades continue down along the fingers? They must. The intricate joints needed to bend with the fingers.

"This is fucking cool," Noelle breathed, imagining such a weapon on her own hands. Mirror-like silver against brown fingers. She would be a viscous tiger-lady clawing at her enemies and protecting the innocent.

Right. Back to the toxicology reports. While finding blood alcohol levels above 0.05% in what little blood remained in each victim, there was something else. A small amount of some foreign substance but there was more of it than blood after the killer got done with these poor women.

Surely the medical examiner would be able to identify any known toxin or poison, so it was nothing like cyanide or chloroform. Perhaps it was something homemade the killer was lacing his (or her!) weapon with? Or, Noelle thought, perhaps he just didn't clean the weapon in between uses and let it build up enough grime to show in blood?

No, that would not only dull a blade, but a medical examiner would recognize simple dirt and bacteria.

Once a week, usually Monday or Tuesday. Girls always seen leaving after two in the morning, dead before three. Bars the girls came from following no pattern, like the killer was picking which of the three at random. So which one would Noelle go to if she couldn't predict the target?

The killer liked small girls, short of stature and narrow shoulders. Noelle's height fit the bill, but she needed clothes that hid her muscles while allowing enough skin exposure (no turtlenecks).

Her wardrobe: tank tops, tank tops, short-shorts, athletic shorts, more tank tops, pajamas, sports bras, running shoes. Why was her middle school uniform still in there? A momentary distraction while she tried it on and found that while she'd gotten wider, she hadn't grown much vertically since seventh grade.

She had to blow her birthday money from that one rich aunt at Goodwill. A green dress that had a good balance of making her butt look fantastic while still allowing movement. A good dress couldn't help her chest though and she stuffed some tissues in her bra. A-cups, while great for athletics, scarcely got noticed.

A cardigan covered the bulk of her arms (and bra straps) and the dress hid her thighs but showed of her calves. She practiced some kicks and defensive stances in the black kitten heels until the clerk threatened to kick her out. They slipped off easily enough, and were only nine dollars, so she'd just kick them off to fight.

She arived at Uncle Tim's Beer Belly (always pick the one with a funny name) at 1AM. She was only eighteen so she wasn't supposed to be in bars but she discovered that she could get away with it by staying away from the bar, hiding in crowds, and acting casual and confident if the bartender looked her way. She couldn't actually get drunk before a fight but she rubbed whiskey in her armpits, behind her ears, and on her wrists and neck and practiced a drunken shamble to look and smell the part.

Each victim seen leaving around two in the morning. Check, Noelle was out the door by 2:10, feeling so stupid shambling down the road that she couldn't help giggling and sticking her arms out in a zombie impression.

She circled the block for a good hour, and only attracted the attention of some catcallers. At least it was fun to yell back at them.

"I'll suck your dick if you suck mine!" she shouted at one in a red car, and immediately felt guilty. Marshall would punch her in her padded boob if he heard her making jokes at the expense of transwomen.

God, she missed Marshall. He hadn't responded to any of memes she sent him the past few days. She knew he'd disapprove of her activities.

She tried the next night and had no luck again. The only difference was that her dad caught her coming in through the window smelling like a bar and freaked out. That was not fun.

That morning, someone found the body of a young woman who had last been seen leaving The Wench's Tavern. Caitlin Weiss, a girl who graduated when Ne was a junior, and an old friend of Marshall. She was so nice to everyone and gushed about how she was going to be a veterinarian, and instead she was found with her skirt hiked up as her lower half dangled out of a dumpster. Neck torn.

Ander boiled inside Noee. Caitlin didn't deserve that. None of them did!

If only Noelle had guessed the right bar, Caitlin might have made it home.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" Noelle yelled. She had to put duct tape over the hole she accidentally kicked in the wall. Hopefully her dad didn't notice that. She was on thin ice already.

She was back next week, and the week after that. She stuck to the Beer Belly. After all, when you're guessing on a multiple-choice test, you're meant to pick all the same letter. Surely a percentage of those A's will be corrext and you'll fail the test if you alternate answers.

For the first time in her life, she was beginning to lose hope. Would she ever catch this scumbag? But she kept going even as that hope dwindled. She kept going even when Marshall responded after countless texts and only said, "I know what you're doing and I want no part in it."

She owed it to Caitlin, Therese Jenkins, Natalie Hernandez, Jessye Zhao, Katy Smith... She ignored the voice in her head telling her she was doing it out if pride, not the innocent lives lost.

She was having a mental debate when she heard footsteps on week four. Heavy footsteps, like a man. Confident footsteps like he wanted to be heard. She wasn't a girl who feared sharing the sidewalk with men. Maybe it was just a courteous young guy walking loudly to let a woman know he was there and avoid her thinking he was following her.

But she didn't believe that.

She waited until she'd taken four right turns and the footsteps continued. Yep, she was heing followed. She snaked a hand in her bag and whipped out the hairspray bottle, spraying the spicy concoction as she spun around. But the man's face was higher up than she expecyed, and he was wearing sunglasses. At night.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, so I can

Watch you weave-

She pushed the stupid song away and reminded herself this wasn't the time.

In the dim light of the streetlight across the street, she could see...wow, he was tall, and not quite fat but plump and round. He raised his hand and swung it at hers, and there was a crack! even before the cannister hit the ground. She shouted and clutched her hand.

Hands that definitely didn't have metal claws pulled her close, pressing her against his body. She struggled but the hold on her back grew painful.

"You've been looking for me, haven't you?" he asked, voice deep and husky. She could hear the smile in his voice, and grit her teeth.

"You're a sick fuck," she spat. If she could just get her throbbung hand in her bag, if she could move just enough to retrieve her knife...

"I like you, girl," he chuckled.

His hands moved to her shoulders, and with the increased space between them, her hand was able to dart into the bag. Bone fragments ground against each other as her bad hand tightened around the handle, and tears stung her eyes.

The man was suddenly coming down toward her, and he was coming down fast. With a shout, she plunged the knife right in between his ribs just as pain blossomed in her neck.

"Help, I'm being fucking murdered!" she screamed, warmth dripping down her neck and chest. "Fire! Fire!"

A muffled laugh. The creep was amused.

Surely the blood was flowing out, but there was an odd pressure like something going in. It felt like getting an injection at the doctor's office, but the needle at the end of the syringe was actually a bear trap.

Noelle was screaming even after the pain faded to tingly numbness that spread to her limbs, until her vocal cords seized. Her hands fell limply from the handle of the knife still sticking out of his ribcage. The only thing holding her up was his mouth on her neck. She fought to keep her eyes open but everything faded to black.

***

There were lucid moments here and there but it was like watching an old, grainy home video. Long fingers that she couldn't see in the darkness wrenching her jaw open. Something thick and bitter pouring down her throat. The taste remained, sticking to her teeth and mouth and throat. She gagged. Darkness.

Alone on a mattress, sitting back on her ankles, never questioning why she could see with the lights off. A chunk of something was on her tongue. She plucked it out wuth her fingers, one hand still throbbing, and her eyes widened at the little white canine tooth. And then there was another, and then a premolar. Fade to black.

She dreamed of tall, pink men with long fingers and metal claws. She dreamed of her skin ripping open and a skeleton bursting out and flying into the night. She dreamed of teeth: white teeth, yellow teeth, rotted teeth with cavities, square teeth, molars, sharp teeth. Very sharp teeth.

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tim-burtonnet · 5 years

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Dumbo

Quand Tim Burton a été annoncé en mars 2015 comme l’homme qui porterait l’adaptation live de Dumbo sur grand écran, la nouvelle avait été accueillie avec un certain sentiment de méfiance, pour ne pas dire de scepticisme. Après la douloureuse expérience Alice au Pays des Merveilles (2010) et un Frankenweenie en forme de vibrant hommage mais au succès mitigé en salles, l’échevelé de Burbank pourrait-il à nouveau se lancer dans une collaboration avec Disney tout en continuant de faire preuve du même entrain à la création ?

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Certes, notre Tim est chez Mickey comme chez lui et si la maison aux grandes oreilles lui a offert ses premiers jobs d’illustrateur et d’animateur (jusqu’à lui redonner l’opportunité de lancer Nightmare Before Christmas en 1993, projet jusque là bloqué dans les tiroirs de la firme), il n’en reste pas moins que la cohabitation a souvent été houleuse et que l’entertainment de masse de la boîte n’a pas toujours été raccord avec les valeurs gentiment transgressives du bonhomme.

D’autant que si Disney est aujourd’hui au sommet dans ce domaine, les adaptations de ses classiques en images réelles sont devenues - depuis Alice et son milliard de dollars de recettes mondiales – une véritable manne pour les studios qui ont prévu cette année la sortie de pas moins de trois de leurs classiques revisités : Aladdin (Guy Ritchie), Le Roi Lion (Jon Favreau) et le dit Dumbo qui ouvre le bal et dont l’aura par rapport aux deux succès pré-cités n’est pas aussi frais dans les mémoires du jeune public – ce qui justifie peut-être davantage sa relecture aujourd’hui.

Or, grâce au grand succès commercial de Alice, il s’avère que ce cher Tim est indirectement responsable de cette mode et que s’il faut bien reconnaître une chose à la version proposée par le réalisateur d’Edward aux Mains d’Argent et Big Fish, c’est qu’elle s’est fendue d’une toute autre histoire que son modèle. Ce qui n’a pas été le cas d’autres gros succès live des studios – La Belle et la Bête de Bill Condon et Le Livre de la Jungle de Jon Favreau sont peut-être de belles prouesses techniques, mais elles demeurent des redites trop timorées des grands classiques qu’ils adaptent.

Dès lors, c’est en se parant de tout son amour pour les individus étranges, d’un casting d’habitués et d’une volonté affirmée de proposer une lecture neuve du classique de 1941 réalisé par Ben Sharpsteen que Tim Burton nous livre sa propre version de Dumbo, petit éléphant mutique aux oreilles hypertrophiées, forcé de divertir un public ingrat et de satisfaire les responsables du cirque qui l’ont prématurément séparé de sa mère. Un terreau fertile de thématiques et de figures que Burton a coup sur coup défendu et conspué le long de sa prolifique et passionnante carrière de presque trente cinq ans de longévité.

Prendre son envol

Première remarque positive à propos de ce Dumbo version live : sa complète réadaptation. Là où le dessin animé déshumanisait les personnages humains, souvent réduits à des ombres chinoises ou à la vénalité de son monsieur Loyal, Tim Burton et le scénariste Ehren Krueger ( Le Cercle, Les Frères Grimm, Transformers) leur donnent le premier rôle. Le petit éléphant devenant ici davantage le personnage-clé du récit que son acteur principal. Entièrement réalisé en images de synthèses, Dumbo n’en demeure pas moins le réceptacle privilégié des obsessions de Burton, son double à l’écran. Quiconque connaît un tant soi peu la carrière et les aspirations du réalisateur ne saura ignorer que cet éléphanteau rejeté pour sa difformité s’inscrit totalement dans la galerie des mal-aimés qu’il affectionne tant et auxquels il s’est à maintes fois identifié. On est même tenté de rapprocher Dumbo d’Edward, le semi-automate qui en 1990 lança définitivement l’amitié entre Tim Burton et Johnny Depp. Mutiques, moqués, artistes plus ou moins malgré eux dont on récupère le talent pour se donner de la valeur, les deux anti-héros partagent aussi ce regard si particulier. Celui d’un clown triste, qu’on balade au gré de ses envies et du besoin compulsif de ses voisins de se faire mousser au nom de son talent inné. En plus de ses merveilleuses oreilles qui lui permettent de voler (le plus vieux rêve de l’humanité), les deux larges billes bleues de Dumbo ressortent sur sa petite masse tendre, ridée et grise, avec autant d’éclat que les figures des tableaux de Margaret Keane dans Big Eyes (2014), là aussi une artiste dont on exploite le talent à des fins purement pécuniaires. Ses yeux si expressifs qui se chargent de joie quand, dans une séquence superbe, des bulles de savon rose en forme d’éléphants – hommage appuyé à la marche des éléphants éthyliques du dessin-animé - dansent dans les airs pour captiver les spectateurs du grand cirque Dreamland avant de subitement éclater et de faire revenir dans les pupilles du petit pachyderme le désespoir de l’illusion fragile si soudain envolée.

Doit-on y voir là l’acidité d’un auteur, initialement enchanté mais qui n’a eu de cesse que de voir son travail récupéré et exploité par ceux-là même qui n’avaient pas eu le bon ton de le remarquer lors de ses jeunes années et qui aujourd’hui le courtisent avec tant d’assiduité ? Si aux mauvaises langues Burton paraîtra esclave volontaire, le dénouement du film prouvera qu’il est encore bien le seul de la sphère Hollywoodienne à pouvoir se permettre d’être élu, appelé et de jouir de sa position d’auteur intouchable pour dynamiter – littéralement - le système.

Dreamland : l’île des rêves oubliés

PARAGRAPHE AVEC SPOILERS

Plaidoyer humaniste, ode à la différence et fable pro-animale, Dumbo va non seulement permettre à son attraction volante de finir son histoire libre des entraves du cirque (là où la fin de l’original, très discutable, laissait Dumbo revenir auprès de sa mère mais toujours sous le joug du divertissement) mais lui donne également la possibilité de se faire justice avec davantage qu’une pluie de cacahuètes sur ses tortionnaires. Initialement propriétaire de Dumbo et de sa mère, Max Medici (Danny DeVito, de retour pour la quatrième fois chez Burton dans un rôle très similaire à celui qu’il occupait dans Big Fish) accepte de vendre son affaire périclitante à monsieur Vandemere (impeccable Michael Keaton, qui revient dans le giron de Burton 25 ans après Batman le Défi). Cet homme d’affaires chic, déambulant canne à la main et dont les ambitions réelles ne sont guère discrètes, se verra acquéreur de l’éléphant volant fraîchement séparé de sa maman, avec l’objectif clair d’en faire l’attraction principale de son parc à thèmes : Dreamland, « où tout ce qui est impossible devient possible ».

Sous ce plus grand chapiteau du monde contenant cirque mais aussi attractions de fête foraine et galerie de monstres, le divertissement est roi, grandiose… et flanqué d’un grand « D ». Le message n’aura su être plus clair, jusqu’à ce que banquier et propriétaire des lieux ne s’installent dans des fauteuils de luxe pour assister au spectacle et dont les accoudoirs (filmés sous plusieurs angles) font immanquablement penser aux grandes oreilles de Mickey. Ce monde de paillettes qu’on offre clé en main à Dumbo et ses compagnons humains sont la poudre aux yeux que Vandemere espère bel et bien changer en poudre d’or. Une poudre qui, dans le film, prend parfois des atours inattendus. D’abord, ceux d’une plume. La fameuse plume magique qui fait éternuer Dumbo quand il la renifle et lui permet ainsi de s’envoler. Cette même plume qui devient alors le placebo de l’éléphant sans confiance dans ce nouveau monde trop grand où il doit justifier sa place en réitérant inlassablement chaque soir ce miracle de la nature devant un public venu en masse. Allégorie de la cocaïne ? On serait tenté de le penser quand c’est une autre poudre, celle d’haltérophile, qui vient faire rater à Dumbo sa première entrée en scène. Mais la poudre la plus explosive, c’est celle qui embrasera tout Dreamland dans une longue séquence finale où Dumbo sauvera ses amis humains en piochant de l’eau près de la galerie aux monstres. Symbole fort de la part d’un Burton qui a toujours choyé les figures issues de l’épouvante et du fantasmagorique – cette même attraction dans laquelle il retrouvera sa mère prisonnière auprès d’autres animaux grimés pour faire peur.

Il est à la fois déroutant et réjouissant de voir Disney laisser son auteur mettre le feu à ce qui est manifestement son parc et l’un des symboles de son hégémonie à travers le monde. Et pourtant, Tim Burton s’en donne à cœur joie et cet acte (quasi punk, s’il en est) permet le temps d’un instant de retrouver la gentille indécence de Burton qui, malgré qu’il ait toujours été bon joueur, semble autant prendre un malin plaisir à incendier son décor qu’à donner la part belle à ses acteurs fétiches dont il sait à nouveau tirer tout le sel.

FIN DES SPOILERS

Le casting : amis et ennemis d’hier et d’aujourd’hui

Si Dumbo porte le nom du film, ce sont les humains qui tirent la couverture à eux. Si le script sait rendre hommage à l’original et intelligemment réutiliser ses éléments phares (clin d’œil à la souris Timothée, la plume, la cigogne, le numéro des clowns pompiers et le fameux petit train), la surprise principale vient avant tout du casting, mené par un Colin Farrell dont c’est la première incursion dans le monde de Tim Burton. Holt Farrier est l’image du héros américain déchu, à la fois cow-boy de cirque et vétéran de guerre mutilé qui revient des tranchées de France avec un bras en moins. Un membre absent qui semble le prédestiner à être complété par l’autre attribut notoire de Dumbo : sa trompe, longue et grise à l’image de la prothèse gauchement portée par Holt. Cet homme brisé, veuf, sans chevaux à monter et avec deux enfants à charge, devient alors un freaks parmi les freaks, galerie d’artistes auxquels Burton donne à nouveau droit de citer. La famille adoptive ou de cœur est toujours au premier plan des œuvres de Burton et aussi imparfait soit le cirque de Max Medici, il fait office d’accueillante maison pour un homme qui non seulement accepte la personne qu’il est devenu mais doit également reprendre contact avec des enfants dont les aspirations ne sont pas en phase avec les siennes.

Cet adulte « nouveau » qu’incarne Farrell est une figure autoritaire que Burton connaît trop bien : son propre père qui n’a pas toujours compris les aspirations artistiques de son fils. Ici, l’incompris devient une jeune fille : Milly (Nico Parker), une passionnée de sciences et de progrès, comme l’était le jeune Victor dans Frankenweenie (2012). C’est elle dont l’esprit éclairé verra avant les autres tout le potentiel de Dumbo. Cet espoir par les enfants, Burton en a fait son apanage depuis déjà plusieurs films – les combatifs enfants particuliers de Miss Peregrine (2016) en étant la parfaite incarnation. De nouveau père célibataire de deux enfants (comme Holt), Burton renoue enfin avec son enfant intérieur, sans sacrifier sa particularité sur l’autel du grand public ou du gimmick trop facile. Ainsi, la jeune Milly finira par offrir au cirque l’avenir radieux que nous réserve les sciences : le cinéma.

Autre marginale, la trapéziste Colette (Eva Green qui assure elle-même presque toutes les scènes de voltige), poupée de soie bien française qu’exhibe Vandemere comme artiste et conquête dont il pourra s’enorgueillir à loisir. Au delà de sa nationalité qui la démarque en terres américaines, le personnage de Colette est aussi une figure de trophée tenue par un entrepreneur américain qui n’a de cesse de lui rappeler qu’il l’a tirée des rues pour lui offrir les cieux. Message outrancier d’une Amérique qui assoit sa puissance après avoir tiré l’Europe des griffes de l’ennemi lors du premier conflit mondial. Pas une surprise si l’artiste, qui tutoie les cieux tel le petit éléphant, finit par prendre le parti des marginaux et à sécuriser Dumbo, Holt et ses enfants sous son aile bienveillante. L’Europe (et la France, soyons chauvins) a toujours été d’un grand soutien pour Tim Burton dont la sensibilité a bien souvent trouvé un refuge et une complicité réciproque dans les cercles critiques et cinéphiles du vieux continent. Simple hasard ? On ne saurait y croire.

Mais Dumbo marque aussi le retour d’un duo de choc : Michael Keaton et Danny DeVito, les cultissimes ennemis de Batman le Défi (1992), cette fois-ci dans des rôles inversés. À Keaton, ex-homme chauve-souris, de devenir la crapule du duo. Doucereux et cupide, son personnage devient ici une sorte de Bruce Wayne maléfique et capitaliste, tournant le dos à la fenêtre pour plonger dans son journal. Lui aussi flanqué d’un majordome (et de la même voiture que Alfred Pennyworth), Vandemere emprunte aussi bien de son faste à JFK en personne qu’au Joker campé par Nicholson dans le premier Batman de Burton (1989), comme le confirme l’entrée en fanfare dirigée par une troupe de clowns dans l’impressionnant décor de Dreamland – l’un des plus crédibles et merveilleux du cinéma Burtonien depuis bien des années. Sans parler bien sûr du grand Walt Disney lui-même, homme que l’histoire a souvent retenu comme étant peu scrupuleux et colérique à l’excès.

Cette direction artistique sans faille, le chef décorateur Rick Heinrichs la met à nouveau au service du cirque. Après Batman Le Défi et Big Fish, celui qui accompagne Burton depuis ses débuts s’est encore fendu de nombreuses références, à la fois agréablement retro et à l’usage des initiés, encore qu’avec un brin moins de systématisme que par le passé. Parmi ces réjouissantes trouvailles, on note le petit train, usé mais vaillant, qui fend la toile dès le générique, comme dans l’introduction de Dark Shadows (2012) et dont la locomotive est placardée d’un sourire très régulier dans les esquisses de Burton l’illustrateur (et qu’on retrouve dans les machines d’Edward Scissorhands ou sur le visage du chat qui décore les bâtiments de Schrek Industries dans le second Batman, ainsi que sur le faciès du chat de Alice.) Ou dans la « tour de contrôle » de Dreamland, hérissée d’épines et dont l’aspect sphérique renvoie aux bâtiments torturés et expressionnistes de Nightmare Before Christmas. Le plus beau décor demeurant Dreamland lui-même, intégralement construit en dur dans un hangar et devenu l’habitat de véritables artistes de cirques venus expressement à la demande de Burton pour effectuer des numéros inédits.

Quant à Max Medici, il est cet entrepreneur qui lutte avec son univers, qui se rêve avoir un frère et trop souvent débordé par les responsabilités. Y aurait-il un peu de Burton là-dessous également ? Le réalisateur, artiste fatigué ? Malgré quelques défauts, son Dumbo ne le laisse en aucun cas transparaître, bien au contraire.

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Script simple ?

S’il faut bien reconnaître quelques défauts au film, il viennent avant tout de l’accessibilité obligatoire que l’on se doit d’apporter à cette histoire et qui transparaît dans le scénario. Vu sous l’œil de personnages humains, la cruauté de voir Dumbo séparé de sa mère perd sensiblement en émotion par rapport au dessin-animé qui aura fait pleurer jusqu’à un gradé de l’armée U.S dans le 1941 de Steven Spielberg (la chanson Baby Mine est ici chantée par les forains lors de la déchirante séquence où Dumbo et sa mère se tiennent par la trompe à travers les barreaux d’une cage). Bien qu’adorable, Dumbo n’en reste pas moins victime et ne devra son statut de personnage à part qu’aux réactions parfois abusives de certains personnages, uniquement motivées à l’avancement du scénario. Ainsi, Max Medici le qualifiera automatiquement de monstrueux lorsqu’il verra ses oreilles pour la première fois ; de même, les premiers spectateurs à l’apercevoir le railleront avant de le bombarder de pop-corn. Un dégoût difficile à croire quand autant de soin a été apporté à l’adorable bouille du pachyderme. De plus, un homme de spectacle aussi avisé que Max Medici aurait su déceler le potentiel d’une telle attraction, d’autant que Dumbo semble très alerte et (trop?) apte à comprendre les consignes qu’on lui donne. De même, lors de son premier vol à Dreamland qui manque de peu de rater, le banquier joué par Alan Arkin (le même qui tente de persuader Edward du bien fondé du capitalisme) se dira floué et menacera Vandemere de lui couper les vivres si Dumbo ne fait pas cinq tours de pistes. Devant le miracle que représente l’éléphant volant, cette réaction semble tout de même exagérée, d’autant que ce personnage ne réagira en rien face à la destruction du parc qui semble lui avoir coûté un certain investissement.

C’est le souci d’un conte : il faut admettre qu’il soit parfois gros et que les méchants soient unidimensionnels et sans nuances, parfois proches de la caricature. Mais chez Burton, il n’est pas rare de tomber sur ces brutes sans que le récit en soit spécialement impacté – que ce soit le grotesque adversaire de Pee-Wee Hermann (1985), lord Barkis (Les Noces Funèbres) ou l’infect Jim dans Edward. De plus, il est parfois nécessaire pour le jeune public (à qui le film est commercialement destiné) de reconnaître le mal quand il se présente et le film possède bien assez de degrés de lecture différents pour être apprécié par tout type de spectateur.

Savoir tendre l’oreille

Burton s’est-t-il vu comme le clown triste du grand cirque de la vie ? Fort des riches thématiques de son récit et quelles que soient ses vues sur le divertissement d’aujourd’hui, il permet pour la première fois à l’un de ses anti-héros difformes d’en réchapper et de revenir parmi les siens (la PETA ayant en partie beaucoup insisté pour que la fin originale du dessin animé soit modifiée). Dumbo revient à la famille, aux animaux qui ne portent pas de jugement et aura, au passage, participer au rapprochement d’une famille humaine désunie par la vie. Un poids bien lourd à porter pour un si petit animal doté d’aussi grandes qualités. Un petit poisson dans une grande marre où il lui a été préjudiciable de trop nager.

Contre toute attente, le 19ème film de Tim Burton le fait revenir à un certain essentiel, à une fantaisie sincère et à une humanité dans ce qu’elle a de plus éparse, imparfaite mais parfois bienveillante. Comme le cirque Medici revient à ses valeurs et à la beauté de l’exploration par l’Art, sans exploitation et en conservant son âme d’enfant. Emprunte de nostalgie.

Grâce à Tim Burton et tel Christopher Reeve avec Superman, nous pouvons désormais croire qu’un éléphant peut voler.

Arnold Petit pour Tim-Burton.net

#Tim Burton #Dumbo #Disney #Walt Disney #Movie #Colin Farrell #Danny DeVito #Eva Green #analyse #Tim-Burton.net #Joseph Gatt #Michael Keaton #Alan Arkin

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flowerflamestars · 1 year

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Migration Patterns snippet

“Pretty obvious,” Tim told her. “I mean. I was in the room when you set his childhood legacy on fire and he spent the entire time staring like you were something he couldn’t wait to put in his mouth.” He reached, stole the wine. Elle let it happen. “Plus,” Tim added, wiping his lips on the back of one bruised to hell wrist, after a hefty chug, “You left together. He tucked you inside his jacket.” A laugh, nearly silent, hidden against her neck. Jason’s mouth- Jason’s teeth- entire gesture charmingly soft and still something that left Elle shivering if she thought about it hard enough. Three knives, two guns, and Elle, precious against his person. Held. Elle switched legs to lean on, juddering as she went, unable to stay still. “That’s just- affection.” Wine discarded, last of his coffee tipped dramatically to catch every dreg, Tim made an absolutely scathing sound. “Jason doesn’t touch people.” Jason, whose sheer physicality tore open every attempt to stymie the fond, hungry desires of her heart. Never more than a reach away, those first three days they’d known each other again. Smooth confidence that made her feel a little insane- care, Jason was so fucking careful it made Elle want to break things, wrapping his arm around her in rain, pulling her out of the way of fire, one broad hand between her skull and brick. “What?” Tim hauled himself upright by grabbing the island. “You want a latte?” It was not, apparently, a request that required answering. Elle stared at the sea green wine bottle, and tried not to think about the incredible color of Artemis’s eyes. The way Kori had lifted Elle straight off her feet in a hug, six and a half feet of stunning curves. Elle liked herself just fine. She wasn’t even jealous, exactly- embarrassed, thoroughly- explosively attracted, yes- maybe they’d let her go lay on Amazonian beaches without her more gorgeous other half, and she could finally learn how to use Messalina’s sword. New York could have her back in any need. Jason could keep Gotham. Her heart might as well also get her home. It might even be a nice exile. Donna was cool as hell, and Elle probably had just enough Warden inherited Greek lurking in her brain that she’d be able to read the books in their famous citadel.

Tim pushed a coffee mug into her nerveless hands. Perfect froth- little bits of culinary lavender and rose from her tea cabinet sprinkled over, clear if unneeded evidence Tim had gone exploring. Elle took a sip. “Where’d the milk come from?”

Rather than retreat back to his hiding place, Tim lowered himself down across from her. Stared for a just a second, before his mouth twitched. “You’re freaking out.”

#sadness talk round two? SADNESS TALK ROUND TWO #(now co-starring Krypto the super pup)#I love a weird party as a plot beat #but I love even more what happens adjacent to the party #Tim broke into her kitchen!#at frankly #the exact right time for more soulmate angst as this is Elle's one big moment of weakness #Jason's hot murderous reputation!#Tim expanding on the sheer suffering that like #all of his friends who didn't have crushes on Dick?#had EVEN WORSE crushes on Jason #he has that...energy #THAT VIBE #anyway everything important in this story continues to happen in either kitchens or on rooftops #Tim breaking in leaving to get milk and then breaking in again: this is friendship?#Also Tim because he is a Gremlin: leaving out the part where Jason in complete sincerity #(JASON TODD ALL FEELINGS ALL THE TIME)#watched Elle smash a bunch of shit and said: I'M GOING TO MARRY THAT GIRL #Eleanor is too bisexual for this evening yes exactly #robin fic #migration patterns of turdidae

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onceuponaprincessworld · 6 years

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CaptainSwan Neighbors Au

Hello CS fandom! I made a new list and it’s a long one because there are so many great stories with that trope. It includes stories where our favorite couple are neighbors. Hope you enjoy!

If you are intrested you can find my other lists here.

Multichapter Complete

With Affection, @phiralovesloki

Emma Swan isn't a middle schooler. So why is she receiving notes from a secret admirer? She's also definitely not a romantic person. So why is she writing back? Modern!AU Captain Swan, with side orders of Snowing and Frankenwolf. Updated with second epilogue.

Knock, Knock, @charmingturkeysandwich

Emma Swan has made the best of her crappy apartment ever since she became best friends with her neighbor, Ruby. But when Ruby moves out and a loud Brit takes her place, the thin walls and lack of space are suddenly not so endearing. After a particularly stressful day, Emma decides to confront the nightmare next door, and entirely against her better judgment, she might just be making a friend.

The Pirate Next Door , @the-captains-ayebrows

A handsome stranger moves into the apartment right next to Emma Swan's. Emma isn't ready for romance, but what harm could come of making friends with the charming self-proclaimed "pirate" whose bedroom shares a wall with hers?

Unbreakable, @xemmaloveskillianx

What if Hook was able to go with Emma and Henry when they left to escape Pan’s curse? With no memory of each other or Storybrooke, Emma and Killian meet in New York as complete strangers, both with broken pasts, and both with clean slates for their future.

Sign of Attraction, @hooklineandswan

Some day she was going to find a way to kill him without leaving a trace. Hopefully it would happen before he drove her insane.

In the Name of the Brother, @tnlph

Killian Jones not only finds out about his father's death, but about the brother he never knew he had. Rather than let another Jones boy grow up without a father, Killian takes the boy into his life. He'll do all he can to be the man for his younger brother that his older brother had been for him.

Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor, @kittennharington

Killian and Emma knew each other in middle school before she was taken away to a new foster home. They meet each other again years later as neighbors in an apartment complex. Contains smut.

Can You Feel it Right Now?, @cutieodonoghue

When Emma Swan agrees to let her annoying neighbor Killian Jones join her to go to the grocery store, the last thing she could have ever anticipated is becoming his wife over the course of a conversation with some people from his past.

Some Sort of Neighborly, @shipping-goggles

They're not neighbors, not exactly, and they're not friends either. It's pretty hard to find reasons to bump into the woman who lives next door to your best friend, especially after your only interaction with her has been waking up on her couch one Saturday morning. Sequel to Rude Awakening.

Look What the Cat Dragged In, @athenascarlet

There are only a couple things Killian Jones knows about his neighbor, Emma Swan. She's a bail bonds person and she's attractive. Also, she apparently has a cat. And he apparently is now her cat sitter.

The Reason, @xemmaloveskillianx

he three of them share a laugh before they all look to Emma. She has yet to comment on the new addition because she isn’t sure what to say. She usually doesn’t like change, they have a good thing going there, just the four of them. Plus, they all know him and she doesn’t, but she trusts their judgement, and she’s sure any brother of Liam can’t be all that bad.

So, with a shrug and a smile she says, “Welcome to Storybrooke, Killian Jones.”

Make Some Noise, @fyeahcaptn

Emma doesn't hate her neighbour per say, she barely knows him. Killian Jones an irritating, insufferable ass who's far too cocky and confident for his own good but seriously, would it hurt him to keep the shower to a normal time like an actual human being? Before she kills him. Modern!AU.

Pay It Forward, @acrobat-elle

Breaking your ankle is one thing. Breaking your ankle three days after you moved into a fifth-floor walkup is something else entirely.

Wip

A Helping Hand, @hookedonapirate

My girlfriend just dumped me and I've gotten piss drunk and somehow managed to get into your apartment instead of my own. I'm trying to masturbate my feelings away and boy were you surprised.

Breaking the Hinges, @piratesails

When Killian Jones decides to spend his night off relaxing in his apartment, the last thing he expects is a beautiful blonde woman bursting through his front door.

Neighborly Affection, @hookslovelyswan

Emma Swan's new neighbor, Killian Jones, is the talk of the neighborhood, and living next door to him is almost more than she can stand, especially since the man doesn't seem to own a shirt! But the tug she feels toward him is inexorable, and the genuine feelings that develop between them...quite unexpected.

One-shot

Transatlanticism, @mahstatins

Emma Swan went to Britain looking for family. It should have been a Hallmark movie, a Christmas miracle waiting to happen. Instead she’s stuck in a grimy London ‘flat’, with the worst next door neighbor in the world.

Well, maybe not the worst.

What a Year (for a New Year), @high-seas-swan

Killian Jones, Boston Bruins right winger, needs a break from the questions and concerns over his career-threatening injury. He thought Storybrooke would be the perfect place to escape to. What he didn't expect was Emma Swan, her kid and a holiday season he never knew he needed.

Subtle and Nuanced, @phiralovesloki

Killian Jones has an unusual relationship with a neighbor in which they exchange notes via cat. He’s also slowly falling for his flower shop’s newest customer. Surely these two things are unrelated.

Tim Finnegan's Wake, @icecubelotr44

"You live in the apartment next to mine and you're always blasting music while I'm trying to sleep but you've been silent for the last two days, are you all right?"

Emma Swan never minded the music. Not until she broke her ankle and her shift moved to days. Now she just wants to sleep. But Killian Jones doesn't seem to notice. So when the condo next door goes silent, she's understandably concerned. When she finds Killian after he got the phone call about his brother he never expected, they'll have to figure out if everything is as it seems.

Smoke and Mirrors, @lifeinahole27

I was burning scented candles and fell asleep. You’re my neighbour who bashed the door down when my smoke alarm went off.

The Perils of Firemen and the Food Network, @shireness-says

Emma Swan is not a cook. But maybe, with the help of her upstairs neighbor, she could be - if her feelings don't get in the way.

Keep On Fallin' , @resident-of-storybrooke

Emma Swan may be a successful bail bondsperson, but when it comes to her love life not so much. After several failed blind dates Emma is ready to give up, but Mary Margaret convinces her to give it one more shot. Is Mr. One Shot going to be the one? Or is she willing to risk taking a chance with her blue eyed gorgeous neighbor?

For the Story, nothandlingit

If there's one thing Killian Jones is ruthlessly stubborn on, it's not letting Emma Swan know how many coffee/hot chocolate/bear claw combinations he's had to gift on to unsuspecting strangers when she doesn't show up at the little bakery near their apartment building. Turns out accidentally running into each other costs some money. A CS AU week submission - beloved tropes.

The Worst/Best Christmas Ever, @captainhookcaptainfreedom

When their flight home is cancelled, Emma is convinced that she and Henry are going to have the worst Christmas ever. However, their next door neighbor, Killian Jones, has different ideas.

That Guy Next Door, @a-fictional-life

M-rated AU one shot just cos it’s Saturday…

You Make Me Better, @ilovemesomekillianjones

CS Neighbors AU where Emma is a nurse and Killian is her definitely-faking-it hypochondriac neighbor who uses illnesses and injuries as an excuse to talk to her.

walking the high line, @losttalongthewayy

Captain Swan NYC neighbors AU – It’s Emma Swan’s 28th birthday and she finds herself stuck helping her upstairs neighbor —the very one she’s sure she hates.

seven for all mankind, @arexnna

“we’re neighbours and we do everything together and spend all our time together and that’s normal, but someone pointed out how we’re essentially dating, but we aren’t, are we?”

Postcards and Shower Songs, @nightships

Emma often finds herself wondering whether it's possible to hate a stranger. Despite never having met or seen him before in her life, she knows exactly two things about Mr. K. Jones — he gets a ton of mail from all over the world and he plays extremely loud music when he wakes up in the morning.

Too Hot (Hot Damn), @this-too-too-sullied-flesh

Emma just doesn’t know what’s hotter--the weather and the fact that the air conditioning is out in her building, or her neighbor.

The Savior's Spatula, @imhookedonaswan

Killian Jones hears his neighbor Emma screaming from her apartment, being the gentleman he is he grabs the first thing he can find to go try to save her.

how not to meet your neighbor…, @startswithhope

Here’s a bit of modern AU nonsense, starring Killian and Emma…

The Sabbatical (or how Emma Swan brought Valentine’s Day back), @lenfaz

Killian Jones abhors his neighbors. He really does.

Two-Shots

The Favor, @madjm

AU. Emma Swan doesn't do relationships, but her annoyingly attractive neighbor, Killian Jones, might change her views. Captain Swan. Previously on ffnet.

The Not So Neighborly Noise, @optomisticgirl

After an exhausting day, one which started with her annoying neighbor waking her up with his singing, all Emma Swan wanted to do was sleep. Little did she know when she crawled into bed that night that everything she thought she knew was going to shift dramatically. Can a closed off woman give a man a chance to prove her wrong?

Ten Minutes, @hookedonapirate

“The game's simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”

“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”

Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”

“If you win, I will never bother you again.”

A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.”

We Can Feel So Far (From So Close), @once-uponacaptain

Waiting until your best friend left for a cross country tour was a fine time to realize you're in love with him. Captain Swan.

Stray Hearts, @piratesails

He’s insufferable, and nothing, not even the fact that he’s laughing with childlike glee as he cuddles a litter of stray kittens, will change Emma’s mind about Killian Jones. Or, that’s what she thought, anyway.

Three-Shots

Please, Please, Say You Feel it Too, @cutieodonoghue

modern au; Emma pawns her son off to her neighbor Killian. Romance ensues. (Daddy!Killian feels abound!)

Spider Slayer, @startswithhope

"This is totally awkward considering before this the only interactions we've ever had have been casual nods to each other in the hallway but there's a huge fucking spider in my bath tub and you seem like the friendly neighbor type please help me."

#cs ff #cs rec fic #cs rec ff #cs recs #cs fanfiction #cs fics #cs rec list #my rec list #fic rec #rec list #cs recs ff #cs ff rec #captain swan

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frecklessbellamy · 6 years

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Did someone ask for another tag game?

Apparently @bellarkes-hope did (thanks, lovely!) 😘

Answer these then tag 10 followers you’d like to get to know better!

• 1. have you ever been in love? Not romantic love, but other types of love? Absolutely

• 2. who is your favourite artist? Taylor Swift

• 3. what is your favourite music genre? Pop

• 4. have you ever had a penpal? Yes! When I was fourteen, I went on a school trip to France and stayed with a host family in Lyon, after I left, my host sister and I wrote to each other for like two years until I got a Facebook account

• 5. are you single or in a relationship? Single pringle!

• 6. what colour are your eyes? Hazel

• 7. what is your favourite word? If I’m being honest, I have to say, ‘‘fuck’‘ because it comes in handy in so many different scenarios (fun fact: I swear like a sailor)

• 8. do you play any instruments? I used to play the piano and flute and I also took voice lessons when I was in high school

• 9. what is your favourite colour? Turquoise

• 10. do you have any nicknames? Els, El, Elle Belle, Els Bels, Tiny Jane, Smelly

• 11. what is your favourite flower? Roses and orchids

• 12. what qualities do you find attractive in a person? Intelligence, a sense of humour, good conversation skills

• 13. do you have any pets? No, my family has a really bad track record with pets

• 14. have you ever travelled outside of your home country? I’ve been to Europe, the UK, the US, Thailand and Senegal

• 15. what language(s) do you speak? English and French

• 16. who was your first crush? A boy who was in my class in Year 5, he was also my first kiss

• 17. do you wear glasses? Yes, although not often, as I tend to wear my contact lenses in preference

• 18. what is your favourite pastry? Apple pie with custard

• 19. do you prefer swimming in a pool or in the ocean? The ocean, I hate chlorine

• 20. bright, dark, or pastel colours? Dark

• 21. what is your favourite social media app? Tumblr

• 22. what is your sexuality? Bi 💖💜💙

• 23. do you have any siblings? Yes! I have a younger brother

• 24. what is your favourite scent? Frying onions and garlic because it reminds me of my mum’s cooking

• 25. where do you want to travel to? Literally everywhere, my list of places to visit only gets longer the more I travel

• 26. what is your favourite film? Love Actually

• 27. who do people say you look like? My mum (to be fair, we are actually peas in a pod)

• 28. who is your best friend? @highladyofdreamcourt @marysmusicaldaydreams @charming-little-liar @sidewaysthinking are my IRL besties, also pretty much all my mutuals

• 29. what is your dream job? Medical scientist

• 30. do you know how to drive? Yes

• 31. who is/was your favourite teacher? My research supervisors, Tim and Christine, who are both endlessly patient, helpful and encouraging

• 32. are you a feminist? Abso-fucking-lutely 👌

• 33. what is your zodiac sign? Scorpio

• 34. do you enjoy reading? Yes, although I don’t read much these days

• 35. do you have any hidden talents? ...writing?

• 36. have you ever dyed your hair? Many times!

• 37. what is your favourite thing in your bedroom? My bed

• 38. what is your biggest fear? Being/feeling incompetent

• 39. can you whistle? Yes

• 40. do you make your bed every day? Yes, my mother made sure the habit of making my bed every morning as soon as I get up was ingrained in me very early on

• 41. do you have any tattoos and/or piercings? I have my ears pierced, no tattoos

• 42. have you ever been on a roller coaster? Yes and I hate them 👌

• 43. surfing or skateboarding? Neither tbh

• 44. are you a dog or a cat person? Dog person

• 45. what is your favourite animal? Owls

• 46. do you have a skincare routine? I cleanse and moisturise my face every day and I always make sure I remove my makeup before going to bed

• 47. what time do you typically go to bed at and what time do you wake up at? At the moment, I usually go to bed around 11pm and wake up by 8am

• 48. what is your favourite memory? My 21st birthday party

• 49. how tall are you? 5′4′’ (I think?)

• 50. what is the best gift you’ve ever received? A Tiffany and Co pendant that I got for my 21st (my friends from undergrad all chipped in to get it for me and I wear it every day)

• 51. do you have a garden? Kind of? My back garden is paved because we have a pool, but we still have plants and stuff

• 52. do you like bugs? I fucking hate them

• 53. what is your natural hair colour? Dark brown

• 54. what is your favourite food and drink? My favourite food is fish and chips and my favourite drink is tea

• 55. do you want kids? Yes, I hope to adopt two or three kids

• 56. what is/was your favourite class? Microbiology

• 57. what colour shirt are you wearing? Grey

• 58. if you could time travel, what year would you go to and why? The 1920s because it’s my favourite historical era

• 59. what is your skin colour? ...white?

• 60. hugs or kisses? Hugs

• 61. have you ever drunk alcohol? Yes

• 62. have you ever done drugs? No

• 63. netflix or youtube? Netflix

• 64. ice cream or frozen yogurt? Ice cream

• 65. succulents or flowers? Flowers

@blueshirtbell @linctavias @starboybellamy @stargirlclarke @broodybellamy @moon-face-ella @raven-reyes-of-sunshine @granger--danger @dracosbellamy @commander-anya

#elly does tag games

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lucindarobinsonvevo · 2 years

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sending this here because i had more to add and it was just easier...

episode 7538 :) around 12 minutes.

unfortunately :'( nothing actually happened between leo & jack but they literally set it up to possibly be something! ...and i swear, neither tim nor andrew played those scenes between leo and jack like they were portraying two hetero men!

there was also their scenes in 7534 which just screamed enemies to lovers :) and their first scene together in 7474 :)

but the whole "leo is bi" actually started with the webisode of leo & david coming to erinsborough and leo never actually referring to being interest in women but saying "person" and then the whole leo/aaron thing where aaron was like, in love at first sight and the iconic leo/mannix scene in 7636 which just radiated sexual tension and had everyone on twitter convinced they absolutely, 100% had had sex!

Babe wake up, new Elle/Leo parallel just dropped! Dubiously homoerotic relationship with a member of the Catholic Church.

It’s starting to come back to me, I think I remember reading some jack/Leo commentary on the tweeter, though I was only a very casual viewer at the time. Honestly Leo being bi just makes so much sense to me, especially when you also think about him in terms of being the black sheep of his family (what’s gayer than being gay? Being same gender attracted in a religious environment and feeling othered) and I recall a few different times of people implying he sleeps around a lot, (and what do people always say about bisexuals?) Disaster Bisexual Leo Tanaka 💘

#mitzianswers #neighbourspost #sonyarebecchi

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bringinbackpod · 3 years

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Interview with Sugarcult

We had the pleasure of interviewing Marko DeSantis of Sugarcult over Zoom video! In August 2001, SoCal rockers Sugarcult burst onto the scene with their anthemic debut album Start Static. Combining high-energy punk riffs and irresistible power-pop melodies with a heavy dose of youthful angst, Start Static quickly earned the group a legion of fans, and spawned three hit singles, "Bouncing Off the Walls," "Pretty Girl (The Way)," and "Stuck in America." Now, two decades later, Craft Recordings commemorates this enduring favorite with a deluxe 20th anniversary vinyl and digital reissue. Set for an October 8 street date and available for pre-order, the vinyl edition of Start Static (20th-Anniversary Edition) will feature the original album — newly remastered by the GRAMMY®-winning engineer, Paul Blakemore — plus three special bonus tracks: an early demo of "Say I'm Sorry," a live version of "Bouncing Off the Walls," plus a spirited cover of Elvis Costello & The Attraction's "No Action." The album comes housed in a gatefold jacket, featuring sculpted emboss printing and updated liner notes from the band. Fans can also find a special variant of the LP — pressed on clear vinyl and limited to 500 units — exclusively on Sugarcult's website and at Craft Recordings' online store. The digital edition, also available October 8, features an additional, previously unreleased live version of the band's hit single, "Stuck in America." and "Bouncing Off the Walls (Live)" Formed in Santa Barbara, CA, in 1998, Sugarcult — whose original lineup consisted of Tim Pagnotta (vocals/guitar), Airin Older (bass/vocals), Marko DeSantis (guitar), and Ben Davis (drums)— made their mark as one of the most dynamic and entertaining pop-punk bands to come out of the 2000s. After independently releasing two demos and two EPs, the quartet caught the ears of Ultimatum Music, who signed Sugarcult and connected them with producer Matt Wallace (Maroon 5, Faith No More, The Replacements) to work on their debut full-length. Start Static went on to sell more than 300,000 copies, while the band embarked on nearly three years of non-stop touring. In addition to playing the main stage of Warped Tour and appearing at festivals like Glastonbury (UK), Summer Sonic (Japan), and Soundwaves (Australia), the group joined Green Day's American Idiot tour in the U.S. and Japan, as well as Blink 182's European arena tour. They would go on to headline hundreds of shows across North America, Europe, and Japan. Multiple songs off Start Static, meanwhile, could be heard on popular shows like MTV's Laguna Beach and in films like Van Wilder (the stars of which, Ryan Reynolds and Tara Reid, appeared in the music video for "Bouncing Off the Walls.)" In the liner notes, guitarist DeSantis recalls that Start Static "was our confrontation and/or handshake with the world; our chance to get people to pay attention, earn their respect, and then, hopefully, win their hearts. The album title fit the narrative of the songs—which are mostly vignettes of young adult anxiety over the trials of messy romance and post-adolescent dissatisfaction and uncertainty. [Start Static] was our album title and our mission statement." Following Start Static, Sugarcult went on to release two more acclaimed albums (2004's Palm Trees and Power Lines and 2006's Lights Out), and two DVDs before embarking on an extended hiatus in 2008. Since then, each band member has excelled in a variety of fields within the music industry. Tim Pagnotta is an award-winning, multi-platinum-selling songwriter and producer who has collaborated with the likes of Weezer, Blink 182, Neon Trees, Walk the Moon, and Elle King. Airin Older went on to become a founding member of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros and joined British alt-rock group thenewno2, featuring Dhani Harrison. Marko DeSantis is now a professor of music business, artist development and artist coaching at Los Angeles College of Music, Musicians Institute College of Music and Citrus College. He has also enjoyed several DJ residencies in the U.S. and Japan and has been featured as a guest speaker and panelist at SXSW, UCLA, and Sonos LEAD, among others. Ben Davis, meanwhile, enjoys a successful career writing and producing music for film, TV and commercials. We want to hear from you! Please email [email protected]. www.BringinitBackwards.com #podcast #interview #bringinbackpod #MarkoDeSantis #zoom #Sugarcult #StuckInAmerica #BouncingOffTheWalls #StartStatic #20Years #20thAnniversary #20YearAnniversary #TwentyYearAnniversary Listen & Subscribe to BiB Follow our podcast on Instagram and Twitter! source https://www.spreaker.com/user/14706194/interview-with-sugarcult

#podcast #interview #bringinbackpod #music #aspn #americansongwriter #americansongwriterpodcastnetwor

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christophe76460 · 2 years

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La mort à soi-même, première condition de la vie chrétienne authentique

Terminons en rappelant que cet état de mort à soi-même, sur le plan humain, ne peut pas être atteint.

Que Dieu te soit en aide.

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