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dweemeister · 3 months

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96th Academy Awards nominations reactions

Well, it wasn't doomsday. But it wasn't the best Oscar nomination morning I've ever experienced either!

And goodness me, the two major Best Picture contenders that have the most upwards momentum right now (Oppenheimer doesn't have upwards momentum, it's been top of the pack for the whole awards season) did well. And it just so happens, those two films are the ones I'm the most terrified to criticize.

Some thoughts:

From some of the talk going around and the lack of love from outside the United States, I'm a little concerned with Killers of the Flower Moon as it stands. It's my personal pick for Best Picture, jsyk. Ten nominations sure, but missing out on Adapted Screenplay and Best Actor for DiCaprio is not a good look, despite the surprise Original Song nomination. Certainly, AMPAS is majority/plurality American, so the story strikes deep chords for any of us who care a smidgen about the nation's history and racial injustice. But I have been seeing chatter - not gonna name nationalities - from outside North America saying how they're tired of American racial guilt movies. That is an aspect of KOTFM, but that completely flattens a morally complicated, beautifully made work. A near-miracle it was made in 2020s Hollywood. I think another part of it is that we are all now taking the Scorsese and Spielberg generation of filmmakers for granted. They've come full circle. Their films have done wretchedly at recent Academy Awards ceremonies as of late, and undeservedly so.

The (imo) overperformance of Poor Things makes the Gladstone v Stone matchup look like it may be slowly tipping away from Lily Gladstone. I don't think I will be writing on the film on this blog but, suffice it to say, I didn't enjoy it. Yorgos Lanthimos is a director that has never truly clicked with me, largely due to his earlier, very cynical work. Poor Things is not as cynical, but I didn't care for the messaging at all (yes, Victorian men were sexual hypocrites and miscreants - how self-congratulatory, I found it) or its sense of humor. I guess some can say that I'm just another puritanical American prude, as well. But I thought the sex was getting into the male gaze-y territory, and the sex work subplot was way waaayyy too sanitized. I also despised the atonal score by Jerskin Fendrix, which was very close to stuff me and my orchestra mates might do if we were messing around in rehearsal (disclosure: I was taught classical piano and violin, have studied music theory up to the college level, played in various orchestras up to a decent level in high school, and am a massive film score fan).

It looks like Oppenheimer is running away with this. I just don't see how anything can stop it in Best Picture. I can respect an Oppenheimer Best Picture winner, even if I'm not even sure if it cracks my top three and Nolan is certainly not one of my favorite filmmakers.

I don't think Oppenheimer is getting Best Actor, though. Rooting for Paul Giamatti for The Holdovers on that one. Shame Dominic Sessa couldn't join him in Supporting Actor, but Da'Vine Joy Randolph has essentially got the Oscar in the bag - despite my reservations on how her character essentially disappears in the last third of the film.

But what about Barbie? It's a movie I respect, deeply. But I never thought it in the caliber of Best Picture nominee one bit. The America Ferrera nomination in Supporting Actress I don't support one bit. Gosling? Sure. Robbie? Had a better case than Ferrera, but I understand why she didn't get it. Gerwig? I'm on the fence over her exclusion in Director.

Sensational stuff for Justine Triet and Anatomy of a Fall. It's probably my #2 vote in Best Picture. I just wish Milo Machado Graner was in for Supporting Actor. This is a dark horse, folks, more than capable of pulling off an upset or two come Oscar night. And a damned good movie, too...

... But its success appears to have come at the expense of Trần Anh Hùng's The Taste of Things. And as the Artistic Director of Viet Film Fest in Orange County, California, that stings, as he's VFF alumni. When France passed over Anatomy of a Fall for The Taste of Things in Best International Feature, there was a lot of outrage directed at Taste by people who had and had not seen the film. Perhaps the damage was already done. A massive shame if that was the case.

Other than Poor Things, the other movie with tons of upward momentum right now is Jonathan Glazer's The Zone of Interest. For the record, I think, on its face, you can still make a morally responsible movie about the Holocaust from a Nazi point of view - which I think Glazer mostly does. But my criticism comes from elsewhere. Glazer, in interviews, has said how he wanted to 1) make the movie not primarily about the 1940s, but about our time and our complicity in atrocities and 2) make a film shorn of cinematic artifice to absorb us into the setting. I think his messaging never evolves beyond the basics on the first point; I think he utterly fails on the second. Cases in point: the use of nightvision cameras that only serve to remind the audience they are watching an artistic exercise, the horrific score from Mica Levi that too many film critics (who don't know better, most notably David Ehrlich at IndieWire - really, everyone at IndieWire), and a weird sound mix that reminds me of when stage plays play off-stage sound effects or background noise but that audio doesn't sound sufficiently "far away" enough.

A slight underperformance by Past Lives. It was never going to get a boatload of nominations. But it appears Greta Lee was squeezed out (I have nothing constructive to say about Annette Bening and Jodie Foster in Nyad as I haven't seen the film) and there was scarcely a campaign for Teo Yoo.

American Fiction is, I think, going home empty-handed. Its nominations are the win, and I think it's a decent satire well worth watching.

Maestro doesn't deserve a Best Picture nor its screenplay nomination, but I'm not happy with some of the accusations of Bradley Cooper Oscar-thirsting that's flying around. You folks are taking it much too personally. Did he defecate on your kitchen table or something? Calm. Down.

And speaking about disrespect, there has been a ton of disrespect towards John Williams' nomination for Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. Again, we're coming full circle to an iconic figure of late twentieth century cinema. Especially from fans of Daniel Pemberton's score to Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (who I agree should have been nominated in Score). No, Indy 5 was not great. No, Williams' score to the film was not the best score in the series. No, I don't think Williams should win this year. But did you listen to the score? Helena's theme was gorgeous and its integration across the score was the work of a master. The interplay between the Nazi and Dial themes is something lesser composers just simply cannot replicate. And for those complaining that Williams simply reuses material the entire time, I get the feeling you haven't seen the film or listening to the score by itself (or understand how themes can develop). Yes, I know melody is on its way out in film scores (see: Hans Zimmer, his acolytes, and any composer who thinks that orchestras should be used like drums) and pop music in general in favor of texture and a beat. But I bet you many composers will sell their souls to piece together something half as good as a lesser John Williams score. It's a great score, worthy of its nomination.

Where is Robot Dreams, Neon? This movie's been on my radar for some months now, but radio silence! Do you guys not know how to distribute an animated film? Flee (2021, Denmark) had this same problem! I'm so glad it's in, though.

That nomination for Nimona, though? Dreadful. Again, tumblr won't like I'm going to say this, but I thought it was gratingly written, poorly voice acted, and its humor and character behaviors are going to date like milk.

And a massive congratulations to Godzilla Minus One for its Best Visual Effects nomination. After 38 films in the series, the big fella with atomic breath is heading to the Academy Awards!

No Disney in Animated Short for Once Upon a Studio. Surprising, but not completely so. I'm excited for a slate of independent animated shorts when the short film categories come around!

The Live Action Short slate is rather disappointing. I like the category best when it's full of no-name directors and actors. Without having seen anything else, this is going to Wes Anderson isn't it?

Most prioritized films I haven't seen: all short films, Elemental, Io Capitano, Perfect Days, Robot Dreams, Rustin, Society of the Snow, 20 Days in Mariupol

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spider-man-2o99 · 1 year

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i justd really like the sm2099 origin issue(s) a lot... #1 does a Really Good job of introducing us to miguel in just a few pages

#talking tag #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #aaron delgado #tyler stone #marvel #comics #comic panels #god ive dissected issues 1-3 of sm2099 SO many times over the years there's so much to dig ur teeth into.....#even at his Most Bitchy he actively DOES NOT want this guy to Die and especially not because of his work!!#i said it once i'll say it a zillion more times he isn't Evil or morally bankrupt hes just a goddamn hypocrite!!!!#like. Yes he is actively participating in Morally And Ethically Dubious work but the point of his whole ORIGIN is Not Doing That anymore #Anybody Can Decide To Be A Better Person Than They Were Yesterday and that's important #idk man i just. Miguel my (drawn-out dial-up screech overlaid with gmod clipping noises)

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grigori77 · 8 months

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Movies of 2023 - My Summer Rundown (Part 1)

The Runners-Up:

20. TRANSFORMERS: RISE OF THE BEASTS – it’s telling that we didn’t get a truly GREAT live action Transformers movie until Michael Bay stepped back into a mere producer capacity and we got 2018’s brilliant soft-reboot Bumblebee. This new film feels like something of a step back to Bay’s more OTT chaos, but they’ve still learned the lessons from that ridiculous excess to bring us a direct sequel to that ingenious restart, Creed II director Steven Caple Jr. going bigger this time but still reining in the excess with impressive focus for an explosively exciting and still endearingly heartfelt action adventure. The end results are still clunky but a good deal better than Bay’s misfires, and entertaining, affecting and genuinely thrilling if you just let yourself go with it …

19. TO CATCH A KILLER – honestly, I could hardly call Argentine filmmaker Damian Szifron’s taut suspense thriller an international big break considering it only received a limited theatrical release before becoming a relative promo-free sleeper on streaming, but this is one of those underdog movies that really deserves a lot more attention than it received. Divergent’s Shailene Woodley is electrifying as Eleanor, a troubled Baltimore PD officer who, after a nightmarish sniper attack and bombing, becomes an unofficial investigator under the guidance of FBI manhunter Lammark (an ON-FIRE Ben Mendelsohn) as he races to track down a brutal domestic terrorist before they commit another atrocity.

18. HEART OF STONE – Gal Gadot stretches her action heroine muscles outside of playing Wonder Woman as superspy Rachel Stone/Nine of Hearts, a top agent in a mysterious covert intelligent agency known as the Charter, who must go it alone when a former partner makes a play for the quantum computing AI that helps them fight international threats. Director Tom Parker (The Aeronauts, Wild Rose, Peaky Blinders) reveals previously largely untapped action talent as he turns The Old Guard comics-writer’s blistering screenplay into an exciting, fast-paced action thriller that’s sure to impress fans of Netflix’ previous dabbles in the genre.

17. ORGAN TRAIL – another indie underdog that snuck in VERY MUCH under the radar, this supremely twisted psychological horror western from Drop Dead Gorgeous director Michael Patrick Jann and newcomer screenwriter Meg Turner deserves A WHOLE LOT of attention. Zoe De Grand Maison (Orphan Black, Riverdale) lights up the screen as Abigail Archer, a young girl in snow-bound 1870s Montana who’s forced to grow up REAL FAST when her family is murdered by a band of marauding outlaws who make a brutal living attacking travelling groups of would-be settlers for their money and supplies.

16. INDIANA JONES & THE DIAL OF DESTINY – 2008’s Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was such a disappointment compared to the giddy heights of Steven Spielberg’s original stone-cold CLASSIC action adventure trilogy that I went into this film with very low expectations, so I was VERY PLEASANTLY SURPRISED to see that this is actually a whole lot of fun and a GLORIOUS return to form for Harrison Ford’s now VERY OLD Nazi-fighting treasure hunter and professor of archaeology. With Spielberg and George Lucas largely stepping back into producing duties here, Logan writer-director James Mangold has taken up the reins instead, delivering an engagingly nostalgic thrill-ride which beautifully redeems Indiana Jones for a new generation while also giving the character a suitably grand send-off …

15. THE PRINCE – while not technically a feature film, I was SO thoroughly impressed by this filmed performance of the revolutionary Shakespearean deconstruction play by actress, playwright and influential YouTuber Abigail Thorn that I couldn’t resist giving it a nod here. Thorn shines bright as a distinctly unconventional take on Harry “Hotspur” Pierce in Henry IV, an anthropomorphised play character who becomes ensnared in a radical shake-up of their life-story when a pair of humans from THE REAL WORLD become trapped in the play itself and wind up entirely sabotaging the narrative. It’s a fascinating experience, a revolutionary game-changer of a show which takes Shakespeare and turns his works ENTIRELY on their head while addressing important themes of genre identity, sexuality and intolerance, and this is glaring proof that this is a production which deserves to be seen whether it’s in this Nebula video presentation or performed live on stage.

14. BARBIE – Oppenheimer’s bizarre unexpected twin when it came to be released in cinemas is, in many ways, just as important a film, but for very different reasons. After languishing in Development Hell since 2009, writer-director Greta Gerwig finally realised this genuinely BIZARRE screwball comedy sort-of biopic of the iconic fashion doll range from Mattel, unleashing the character upon the world IN THE LIVING FLESH in the simply PERFECT (from a casting point of view) form of Margot Robbie. She’s simply AMAZING here as “Stereotypical Barbie”, who finds herself going through an existential crisis after some girl starts “playing with her wrong” in the real world, but the film is frequently stolen right out from under her by Ryan Gosling as her so-called boyfriend Ken, who went ALL OUT to bring the most fundamentally useless boy-toy in history to life …

13. MEG 2: THE TRENCH – supremely creepy indie cinema director Ben Wheatley may seem like a distinctly ODD choice to helm a follow-up to 2018’s most delightfully off-the-wall runaway action horror smash hit, but he actually proves to be a perfect hit because he clearly GETS the inherent silliness of this franchise. Cinema’s all-time greatest living “special effect”, Jason Statham, returns as deep sea rescue diver and professional giant shark-puncher Jonas Taylor, once again wrapped up in a whole heap of trouble when not one but this time THREE massive prehistoric megaladons escape the abyssal Trench and start munching on South Pacific tourists, but this time matters are further complicated when he also has to deal with a conglomerate of dastardly strip-miners looking to exploit the Trench’s rare earth metal resources for their own ends …

12. THE ANGRY BLACK GIRL & HER MONSTER – debuting writer-director Bomani J. Story brings Frankenstein to the inner-city projects as haunted teenage genius Vicaria (the new TV series of The Equalizer’s Laya DeLeon Hayes) reanimates her gangbanger big brother Chris (Kill a Prophet and Warrior Soul’s Edem Atsu-Swanzy) after he’s gunned down in a turf war. The results are a dark and disturbing slowburn psychological body horror that deals head-on with socially resonant issues of drugs, urban poverty and gang culture while also delivering a unique and challenging new twist on one of the most classic stories in the history of science-fiction and horror …

11. TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES: MUTANT MAYHEM – another animated feature that’s following the inventive new lead of the Spider-Verse movies, this latest big screen incarnation for Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird’s zeitgeisty comics creations is a genuine riot which takes the original core concept and runs it through a delightfully skewed comedic blender to form a compelling new narrative basis for what’s sure to be a fantastic new film series. Comedy screenwriting/producing masters Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg team up with up-and-coming young writer-director Jeff Rowe (The Mitchells Vs. the Machines) to bring the youthful mutant quartet to vivid life with plenty of visual flair, anarchic chaotic humour and a whole lot of heart, and I for one can’t wait for more.

#movies 2023 #2023 in movies #transformers rise of the beasts #to catch a killer #heart of stone #heart of stone netflix #organ trail #organ trail movie #indiana jones and the dial of destiny #the prince #the prince abigail thorn #abigail thorn the prince #barbie #the barbie movie #meg 2: the trench #the angry black girl and her monster #teenage mutant ninja turtles mutant mayhem

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sharpnosedscout · 2 months

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❰❰ TILT ❱❱ sender tilts the receiver’s chin with their hand / ff16 cid

[ from 'AN EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT MEME' ]

@cidduo

Gav's breath caught sharp in his throat, heart stumbling hard in the backs of his ears before picking up pace. Green eyes widened a little, as a vivid pink flush crept over the tips of his ears onto his cheeks. Get ahold of yourself, twat; you just had a mission, that's all. He'd do this with anyone. Right.

Swallowing hard, Gav tried to aim for his typical casual tone, a small half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "I'm alright, Cid. They didn't even see me."

#ic #rp #cidduo #in a world of stone yet we are not alone [v: during canon]#[gav fully just had dial-up sounds in his brain for a sec there lmaooo poor guy's crushing so hard]#[i am always up to continue asks into threads btw!! 😄 no pressure to if you don't want or don't have the muse but yeah! ]

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onesaltysir · 4 months

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Frankly I'm done keeping up with you motherfuckers. I'm gonna like what I like, regardless of whether it's flawed or not. A lot of you have so clearly never had an original thought in your life, someone sees something they don't like and all of you automatically go "CANCEL IT CANCEL IT" like guys. What happened to just...enjoying the things that we like and ignoring the things we dislike? I think a lot of you just want something to hate because I have seen entire blogs dedicated to hating the most miniscule thing. You're wasting your energy on something so unimportant like...go out for ice cream. Go learn a new skill. Go to the park. Go shopping. Like there's so many other things to do besides be hateful all the time.

#like ohhhhh my god #And yes I know I don't have many stones to throw because of my antinatalism. I'm trying to dial it back and post about it less.#But like come on people at this point you just want a reason to be angry constantly #You're never going to be able to be happy if you're spending all your time thinking about how much you hate this person or this media etc #I promise you the person you're hating on does not care what you think #Why do you care soooooo much about them omg you're obsessed #Why are you obsessed with being angry at everything #Like have you ever taken a deep breath in your life #Are you okay #come on guys really

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thejoyofviolentmovement · 7 months

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New Video: Elephant Stone Share Radiant "The Spark"

New Video: Elephant Stone Share Radiant "The Spark" @elephantstonehq @FuzzClub @NoExitPR @girlieaction @delkin03 @littlecloudrec1 @wally_kempton

Brossard, Québec-born, Montréal-based singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Rishi Dhir is a grizzled indie rock and psych rock veteran , who has played in a number of bands, including The Datsons and The High Dials. He is also an in-demand sitarist and bassist, who has collaborated with Beck, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, The Black Angels, The Soundtrack of Our Lives, The Dream Syndicate,…

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gaminedyke · 9 months

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youtube

cannot emphasize how important this video is to me

#this and stone butch blues were the final nail in the coffin i think #well more like this was. stone butch blues was just like a friendly reassurance #but no i rewatch this every 6 months and go god she's so right. i can't relate to the yearning for male attention specifically but #YEAH. god #spins radio dial #Youtube

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gutsby · 2 months

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Homemade

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.

Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.

Part of the Waiting Game series

“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”

Joel knew you meant it, too.

The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.

Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.

It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.

“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.

“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”

Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.

You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.

“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.

You rolled your eyes.

“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.

“JOEL!”

Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:

“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.

You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.

Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”

The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.

“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”

You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.

The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.

“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”

“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch.

Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.

He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.

“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”

“Yup.”

Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.

“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.

“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.

Then you pulled off.

“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.

“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.

It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.

As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.

“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”

Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”

You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.

Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.

“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”

Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.

He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.

You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.

“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”

He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.

“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”

With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.

“Get on the bed.”

You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.

“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.

In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.

When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.

“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”

That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.

Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.

Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.

Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.

You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.

He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.

“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.

Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.

“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”

Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.

“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”

It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.

Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?

Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.

The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.

Or another minute, it seemed.

You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.

“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”

Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.

No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.

You shivered and started to push Joel away.

“Can we maybe just—”

“Sweetie?!”

Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.

“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.

“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.

You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.

Your dad was caring like that.

He just never knew the right times to show up.

No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.

That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.

You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.

“I thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”

The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.

“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”

Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’

“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.

Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.

Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.

You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”

Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”

An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.

Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.

“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”

“Okay.”

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.

The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.

Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?

“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”

Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.

You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.

Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.

He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”

Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”

Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.

Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.

Maybe.

Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.

“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”

The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.

Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.

Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.

Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.

At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.

You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.

You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.

“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”

You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.

Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”

You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.

When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.

“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.

“Thank you, what?”

Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.

Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.

To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.

You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.

“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.

“You, daddy.”

“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”

“You, daddy.”

Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.

He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.

You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.

Water.

It wasn’t on your back anymore.

It was fanning between your legs.

Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.

“Try it one more time.”

You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.

“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”

Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.

“D-D-D—”

Damn, you sounded stupid.

“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.

In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.

“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”

Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,

“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”

“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”

But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,

“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”

Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,

“Daddy!”

Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.

You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”

In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.

“One more, sweet pea.”

“Joel—”

“And say it louder this time.”

Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.

Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:

“DADDY!”

You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.

Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.

The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.

“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.

“I—”

“Are you hurt?”

Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.

You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.

Your dad was still there.

The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.

You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.

“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”

“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”

That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.

Then he sighed.

“Alright.”

Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.

Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.

Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.

But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.

Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.

Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,

“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”

#TO THE CREATIVE MINDS WHO BROUGHT THIS MAN’S BUSH TO TELEVISION…..I OWE Y’ALL MY LIFE #it took COURAGE and TENACITY to decide that showing the happy trail was essential to the narrative #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller

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pegglefan69 · 2 months

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woke up bcuz my legs were cramping & twitching ugh...😑

#cannot take weed about this bcuz it's nearly 5am & i do Not want to wake up Stoned #doing my best to just tuck myself in & fall back asleep #dial p for post

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greensparty · 11 months

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Stuff I’m Looking Forward to in June

How is it already June? This is a fun month with Summer in full swing. In addition to LGBTQ+ Pride Month (June 1-30), Flag Day (June 14), Father’s Day (June 18), Juneteenth (June 19), first day of Summer (June 21) and Eid al-Adha (June 29), here is what’s on my radar for this month:

Movies:

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

I was a huge fan of the 2018 animated Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (I named it my #7 Movie of 2018) and am excited about the sequel opening 6/2. Watch for my review.

Asteroid City

A Wes Anderson movie, good or bad, is always a big screen cinematic experience. This one takes place in a desert town in 1955. Can’t wait! Opens 6/23.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

I out and out love Indiana Jones and in the 5th movie James Mangold took over directing duties. Don’t care what the buzz has been so far, I am excited to see Harrison Ford return to his iconic role. Opens 6/30.

Music:

Foo Fighters But Here We Are

The 11th album from the Foo Fighters is here. The band’s last album Medicine at Midnight was my #1 Album of 2021. This is their first album after the 2022 passing of drummer Taylor Hawkins. I was lucky enough to see the band at Boston Calling last week and can’t wait for the new album dropping 6/2.

Tommy Stinson’s Cowboys in the Campfire Wronger

Tommy Stinson is rock royalty! As if The Replacements weren’t enough, he also spent time in Guns N’ Roses and Soul Asylum, but he’s been laying low since Bash & Pop. Now he’s back with a new project with Chip Roberts. Their first album drops 6/2. Watch for my review.

Hollywood Vampires Live in Rio

The super group Hollywood Vampires do not tour as often as they should, mainly because the members are Alice Cooper, Joe Perry of Aerosmith, and some guy named Johnny Depp and it’s hard to coordinate their schedules. But when they do tour it’s quite impressive. I’ve been a fan of both of their albums. In 2015, they played in Rio for 100,000 fans for Rock In Rio and they’re joined by some guests too. Live album and blu-ray drops 6/2. Watch for my review.

Extreme Six

Extreme has not released a new album since 2008. I grew up a big fan of them and have seen them live in 1991, 1995, and 2009. I even got to interview former members Paul Geary and Hal LeBeaux for my documentary Life on the V: The Story of V66. Can’t wait for the new album, which drops 6/9.

Queens of the Stone Age In Times New Roman...

QOSTA’s first new album in six years is quite a welcome comeback. Their brand of stoner rock has accompanied me on my trips through the desert and Songs for the Deaf is one of the greatest albums of the 00s. New album drops 6/16.

Books:

Paul McCartney 1964: Eyes of the Storm

Sir Paul’s upcoming photo book is a collection of photos he took during the peak of Beatle-mania. Color me curious! Book release on 6/13.

Conventions:

Collectibles Extravaganza: MusicCons 2023

The good folks who run the Northeast Comic Con also run this run music convention featuring loads of rock stars like Mickey Dolenz, Cherrie Currie, Ritchie Ramone, Michael Des Barres, and more. Con is on from 6/30-7/2 in Boxborough, MA.

#stuff i'm looking forward to #spider-man: across the spider-verse #asteroid city #wes anderson #indiana jones and the dial of destiny #james mangold #Foo Fighters #tommy stinson #hollywood vampires #Extreme #queens of the stone age #paul mccartney #collectibles extravaganza #musiccons #film geek #music nerd #books #conventions

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cinader · 1 year

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Black History, Radio History, Ancient Herstory

Davyne Dial, WPVM Radio, Dr. Kim McMillon, Tony Robles, Pam Suber, Alyeh Cady, Cleven Goudeau, Omnific Pictures, Jay Rodriguez Sierra, King Leopold, Queen Mella of Ancient Africa

Martha Cinader talks with Davyne Dial, the General Manager of WPVM Radio in Asheville, NC, and Dr. Kim McMillon, from her writing den in Merced, California. Tony Robles reports from the Rise Up! Black History Celebration in Hendersonville NC, where he spoke with dancers Pam Suber and Alyeh Cady. Also, a trailer for the film “Goodie, Outlining an Invisible Man”produced by Omnific Pictures. Poetry…

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#black greeting cards #Black History Month #Davyne Dial #Hendersonville #Jay Rodriguez Sierra #Kim McMillon #King Leopold of Belgium #Merlin Stone #Omnific Pictures #Queen Mella #Tony Robles #WPVM Radio

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elia-the-bibliophile · 7 days

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Barking Up the Right Tree (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 3,6k

When Charles loses his beloved pup, Leo Leclerc, a chance encounter with Y/N sets off unexpected connections, with Leo as their furry matchmaker.

Chaos ensued within the walls of Charles Leclerc's apartment. The normally serene atmosphere was shattered by the frantic shouts of a disheveled Charles, whose in a state of sheer panic.

“Leo! Leo Leclerc, where are you, you little rascal?” Charles bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls in a comically dramatic fashion.

His apartment was like a crime scene. Furniture was overturned, cushions were scattered haphazardly, and drawers were flung open with reckless abandon. Charles, with his hair disheveled and clothes askew, resembled a character straight out of a slapstick comedy.

In his frenzied search for his beloved puppy, Charles would left no stone unturned, quite literally. He rummaged through cabinets, peeked under the sofa, and even checked inside the refrigerator, all to no avail.

“Leo, this is no time for hide-and-seek!” Charles exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice as he stumbled over a stray slipper.

He then moved his search outside. As Charles raced through the corridors of his apartment building, his anxiety reached fever pitch. With each passing minute, his desperation intensified, evident in the way he nervously gnawed on his nails, his mind swirling with worst-case scenarios.

“Merde! I've lost my son! Comment cela pourrait-il arriver.”

Undeterred by the curious stares from his neighbors and fueled by a single-minded determination to find Leo, Charles pressed on, his heart racing with every beat. The thought of his beloved puppy lost and alone filled him with a sense of dread he couldn't shake.

With a frantic flutter of fingers, Charles dialed his younger brother Arthur's number, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a drummer in a speed metal band. As the phone rang, he paced back and forth in the hallway.

“Arthur! Arthur, it's Charles,” he blurted out as soon as his brother picked up, words tumbling out of his mouth.

But poor Arthur, who was likely expecting a casual chat about the latest racing gossip, was utterly unprepared for the torrent of words that assaulted his ears.

“Woah, Hey. Slow down, Charles, I can barely understand a word you're saying!” Arthur protested, his voice barely audible over the static of the phone line.

Charles, however, was in no mood to slow down. With a mind as revved up as a Red Bull engine on race day, he continued to babble on at breakneck speed, his words blurring together into an incomprehensible stream of syllables.

“Leo's missing, Arthur! I've searched everywhere, but he's nowhere to be found!” Charles exclaimed, his voice reaching a pitch that could shatter glass.

But try as he might, poor Arthur simply couldn't keep up with his older brother's frantic pace. In the end, all he could do was offer a bewildered “What? Please speak like a normal person.”

Charles took a quick, short breath to anchor himself. With newfound focus, he prepared to explain the emergency concisely to Arthur, knowing that every second counted in finding Leo.

“Arthur, listen carefully," Charles began, his voice measured this time. “Leo, my puppy, he's gone missing. I need your help to find him.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line as Arthur processed the information, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden change in tempo.

“Leo's missing?” Arthur repeated, his voice tinged with concern. “Don't worry, we'll find him together. I'll be there in a flash.”

With Arthur's reassurance ringing in his ears, Charles responded. “Thank you,” nodding along, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And so, Charles hung up the phone. Little did he know, however, that the help he sought was already on its way in the most unexpected of forms.

__________________________________________

Y/N had just finished working, the gentle breeze caressed her skin, carrying with it the promise of warmer days ahead. Monaco, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, seemed to shimmer with an ethereal beauty, casting long shadows that danced playfully along the cobblestone streets.

Today, the weather was exceptionally pleasant, with hints of spring lingering in the air. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the salty tang of the sea, creating a symphony of fragrances like no other.

Y/N was startled by a faint sound emanating from a nearby bush. At first, she froze in place, “What the—.”

With cautious steps, Y/N approached the bush, her senses on high alert as she strained to identify the source of the mysterious sound. Her palms grew clammy with nervous anticipation, her breaths shallow and quick as adrenaline surged through her veins.

And then amidst the rustle of leaves, she heard it—a soft whimper, barely audible yet unmistakably plaintive. In an instant, fear gave way to compassion as Y/N's instincts kicked into overdrive, overriding her hesitation.

She pushed aside the foliage as she peered into the shadows within. And there, nestled among the leaves, was a small, trembling form—a lost and frightened puppy, its eyes wide with fear and confusion.

With gentle hands, Y/N scooped up the puppy, cradling it against her chest in a gesture of reassurance. She whispered soothing words, her voice soft like a lullaby, as she stroked the puppy's fur in rhythmic motions.

Feeling the warmth of Y/N's embrace and the steady beat of her heart, the puppy began to relax, its panicked whimpers gradually subsiding into quiet sighs. It nestled closer to Y/N, seeking consolation in her comforting presence, as if sensing that she meant no harm.

And then, in a moment that seemed to stretch on for, the puppy lifted its head and looked up at Y/N with eyes that sparkled with trust. With a tentative wag of its tail, it leaned forward and pressed a gentle lick against Y/N's cheek, a silent gesture of gratitude, making her chuckle with just a simple act.

“Hi, little one. I don’t know who you are, but I promise I’ll help get you back home, okay?” The puppy let out a soft woof, as if in agreement.

__________________________________________

When Arthur arrived at Charles' apartment, he was greeted by a scene straight out of a sitcom gone awry. His older brother, usually so composed, looked like a fish out of water amidst the lavish surroundings.

“Charles, what in the world are you doing?” Arthur exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the sight before him.

But Charles, lost in the throes of his own melodrama, barely registered his brother's presence. “I've lost Leo, Arthur! My precious Leo!” Charles wailed, his voice echoing off the walls like a mournful opera singer.

Arthur blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of this erratic behavior. But Charles was already off on another tangent, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger as he ranted and raved about the injustice of it all.

“I've searched high and low, Arthur, but he's nowhere to be found! What if he's been kidnapped and sold to the meat market? Or worse, what if he's fallen into the clutches of the neighborhood cat gang?”

Arthur could only stare in bemusement as Charles launched into a series of increasingly outlandish scenarios, his arms flailing wildly in the air. “Charles, calm down!” Arthur interjected, trying in vain to inject some semblance of reason into the situation. “We'll find Leo, I promise. But first, you need to pull yourself together!”

And so, with Arthur's attempts at reason falling on deaf ears, the two brothers found themselves locked in a battle of wills—one determined to bring order to the chaos, and the other lost in a world of his own making.

__________________________________________

With a gentle pat on the back, Y/N lowered the puppy to the floor, watching with a smile as it tentatively sniffed and explored its new surroundings. The apartment, though small, was filled with touches of homely comfort—a plush rug nestled beneath a worn armchair, a scattering of potted plants adorning the windowsill, and soft, inviting cushions scattered across the sofa.

“It's okay, little one,” Y/N cooed. “You're safe here now.”

Encouraged by her words, the puppy ventured forth with cautious steps, its tail wagging tentatively as it took in the unfamiliar sights and sounds. With each passing moment, it seemed to grow more at ease.

Its curious nose led it to a corner where Y/N had left a worn cardigan on the floor. With a delighted yip, the puppy bounded over to the garment, nuzzling into its soft folds with unabashed enthusiasm. It snuggled into the fabric, finding comfort in the familiar scent of its new human friend.

Y/N watched with a smile as the puppy nestled into her cardigan, her heart swelling with affection for the adorable creature. “Well, it looks like you've found yourself a favorite spot,” she remarked fondly.

Turning her attention to the puppy, Y/N reached out to stroke its fur. “I'm sorry that I don't know your name,” her eyes meeting the puppy's in a silent exchange of understanding. “For now, I'll just call you chiot.”

Chiot let out a happy bark in response, as if to signify its approval. It wagged its tail enthusiastically.

With a smile, Y/N reached into a nearby cupboard, retrieving a handful of leftover treats from her weekend dog-sitting gigs. “Here you go, chiot," she said, offering the treats to the puppy with an encouraging smile. “You deserve a little something special for being such a good boy.”

Chiot eagerly accepted the treats, gobbling them up with gusto as if to say thank you in the only way it knew how.

Y/N rose from her seat to retrieve her phone. Social media, after all, had a remarkable ability to connect people and she was determined to reunite chiot with his rightful owner.

As she approached the window where the soft light filtered in, Y/N smiled widely at the sight of chiot playing with the edge of her cardigan. It was a picture-perfect moment—one she knew could tug at the heartstrings of even the most stoic of social media users.

With deft fingers, Y/N snapped a quick photo, capturing the essence of the moment in all its adorable glory. She added a caption to accompany the image, a plea to the online community to help her find chiot’s missing owner.

“Lost pup found a cozy spot in my cardigan. I met him on Rue Jean Bouin on my way home. Help me find its owner, Twitterverse! #LostPuppy #Monaco”

With a satisfied nod, Y/N hit the "tweet" button, sending the message out with a hopeful anticipation. And as she watched the likes and retweets trickle in, she couldn't help but feel a surge of optimism that, with a little help from the online community, chiot would soon be home.

Y/N then set her phone down on the counter and turned her attention to the stack of dirty dishes awaiting her. The mundane task of washing dishes was a welcome distraction from the excitement of the afternoon, offering a sense of grounding in the familiar rhythm of her usual daily life.

As she rolled up her sleeves and reached for the dish soap, Y/N hum the newest Sabrina Carpenter’s song under her breath, the melody weaving its way through the air. With practiced efficiency, she tackled the dishes one by one, the warm water soothing her hands as she scrubbed away the remnants of meals past.

__________________________________________

As Y/N tackled her chores, little did she know that her tweet had sparked a wildfire of activity on Twitter. Within moments, it began trending, its reach extending far beyond the borders of Monaco. Twitter users from all corners of the globe joined in the effort, sharing the photo of chiot and spreading the word in the hopes of finding its owner.

But as the photo made its rounds on the internet, eagle-eyed users couldn't help but notice something uncanny—the striking resemblance between chiot and Leo. Speculation ran rampant, with Twitter sleuths piecing together the puzzle one clue at a time.

“Could that be Leo?” one user pondered, their tweet quickly garnering hundreds of retweets and likes.

“OMG, I think you're onto something! Let's get this to Charles Leclerc.” another user replied.

And so, they all flooded Charles’ mentions, bombarding him with tweets and notifications.

Meanwhile, Charles’ annoyance grew with each incessant ping of his phone. With a frustrated sigh, he snatched the device and thrust it into Arthur's unsuspecting hands, his brow furrowed in irritation.

“Read it and tell me what on earth is happening for it to be ringing so much,” Charles grumbled.

But as Arthur's eyes scanned the screen, his expression transformed from confusion to excitement in a matter of seconds. His jaw dropped open in disbelief, eyes widening. “Charles, you won't believe this!” Arthur exclaimed excitedly. “The people on Twitter, they've found Leo!”

Charles froze, his dramatic facade crumbling in an instant as the weight of Arthur's words sank in. His mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as he struggled to process the sudden turn of events.

“They've found Leo?” Charles repeated, his voice barely above a whisper as hope blossomed within him. “Are you sure? Don’t give me false hope.”

Arthur nodded enthusiastically as he relayed the details of the Twitter frenzy. “It's true! They've been retweeting and tagging you like crazy. We need to check it out right now!”

As to prove his point, Arthur shoved the phone back into Charles' face, the screen ablaze with the viral picture. And there, in all his adorable glory, was Leo—staring back at Charles. His breath caught in his throat, as he reached out to touch the screen, as if to confirm that this was indeed real. “Leo,” Charles whispered, tears of joy welled up in his eyes. “You're safe.”

He stared upon the image of his beloved puppy, surrounded by a sea of retweets and likes, “Thank you, kind Twitter people,” Charles murmured. “You've truly worked a miracle today.”

And with that, Charles message the account that originally posted the photo. Their reply comes not even a minute later.

__________________________________________

Y/N jumped excitedly. “I've found your owner!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement as she clutched her phone tightly in her hands. “Well not exactly, since they found me first.” She said to chiot whose name is apparently Leo.

She quickly composed a message to the anonymous account that had reached out to her, fingers flying across the screen with practiced ease. “Hi there, please come to my apartment to pick Leo up. Here's my address,” she wrote, including the details of her humble abode.

But as she hit send, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of her mind—she still didn't know who she was reaching out to. The message had come from an anonymous account, offering little in the way of clues except for the name “Charles.”

But Y/N, ever the optimist, simply shrugged off her concerns. “Well, I'll find out soon enough,” she reasoned aloud to herself.

And with that, Y/N waited patiently for Leo's owner to arrive, she allowed herself to bask in the warm glow of the moment, savoring the magic of the unexpected connections that life had brought her way.

__________________________________________

Charles and Arthur arrived at the address provided, they found themselves standing before a modest apartment building, its faded facade hinting at the stories contained within its walls.

They climbed up three level of stairs before reaching the designated floor, their hearts pounding from either anticipation or the effort that it took to climb here. Arthur then raised his hand to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the hallway like a drumroll.

With a breathless hush, the door swung open, revealing Y/N with Leo cradled in her arms like an infant. The puppy barked excitedly at the sight of Charles, his tail wagging furiously as he squirmed in Y/N's embrace.

And there, in that moment, time seemed to stand still as Charles beheld the sight before him. His heart swelled with joy at the sight of Leo, but his gaze was also drawn irresistibly to the figure standing before him.

“Leo!” Charles greeted, his voice filled with unbridled joy as he reached out to scoop the puppy into his awaiting arms. Leo responded with an enthusiastic lick to Charles' face.

But as Charles looked up to thank Y/N for her kindness, he found himself momentarily speechless, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her standing before him. She was even more beautiful up close.

“Thank you so much for finding him,” Charles managed to say as he looked into Y/N's eyes. “I can't begin to express how much this means to me.”

As Y/N stood before Charles, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, she struggled to find the right words to convey the mix of emotions swirling within her. Her mind raced a mile a minute, leaving her speechless and utterly flustered.

“Um... hi, yeah. You’re welcome.” Y/N stammered as she struggled to regain her composure. But try as she might, the words seemed to elude her. And so, with a helpless shrug and an awkward smile, she simply stood there, her gaze locked with Charles', her mind a blank canvas awaiting inspiration.

Meanwhile, Arthur, ever the astute observer, couldn't help but notice the strange exchange unfolding before him. A suppressed chuckle bubbled up within him, as he watched his brother turn into an awkward mess. The woman opposite him doesn’t look that good either.

Arthur discreetly nudged Charles with his elbow, Charles just shot him back an annoyed look.

Was he witnessing his brother, THE Charles Leclerc, developing a crush on someone he had just met?

His suspicions were only heightened as he noticed Charles' telltale fidgeting—the nervous habit of tugging at the edge of his jacket, a sure sign that his brother was feeling the heat of the moment. With each tug and twist of the fabric, Charles seemed to grow more and more flustered.

But if Charles was nervous, then Y/N was equally oblivious to her own telltale signs of attraction. Unbeknownst to her, she was absentmindedly fixing her hair, smoothing down stray strands with delicate fingers in a gesture as unconscious as it was endearing. Her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity as she met Charles' gaze.

And all the while, Arthur stood there, caught in the crossfire of his brother and this alluring stranger, no longer able to suppress the laughter from deep within him. It was a scene straight out of a romantic comedy. The sheer absurdity of it left Arthur struggling to keep a straight face.

As Arthur's laughter reverberated through the hallway, Charles and Y/N were jolted awake, their gaze meeting in a shared moment of bemusement. With a sheepish smile, Charles extended his hand towards Y/N and she accepted the gesture with a shy smile, her hand fitting nicely in his.

“It's nice to officially meet you, Y/N,” Charles said, his voice sincere. “I can't thank you enough for taking care of Leo.”

Y/N returned his smile with a warm one of her own. “Oh, it was no fuss at all,” she replied. “I loved every moment of taking care of Leo. He is very sweet.”

Leo let out a playful bark, his tail wagging furiously as if to confirm that he had indeed behaved well during his unexpected adventure.

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at Leo's enthusiastic response, her heart melting at the sight of his playful antics. With a tender smile, she reached out to rub his head affectionately, her fingers sinking into his soft fur as she showered him with praise.

“You're such a good boy, Leo,” Y/N murmured, her voice filled with genuine affection as she gazed into his soulful eyes. “Thank you for spending some time with me.”

Charles realized it is time to take his leave, even though every fiber of his being longed to stay and say more. With a polite nod and another murmured word of thanks, he turned to make his exit, his heart heavy with the weight of missed opportunities.

But just as he took a few steps on the direction of the stairs, Charles felt a sudden weight lift from his arms as Leo wriggled free and bounded back towards Y/N, his tail wagging eagerly as if urging her to come along. Charles froze in his tracks.

Y/N, however, frowned slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion as she watched Leo's antics. “I'm sorry, Leo,” she said. “But I can't come with you. You’re back with your dad now.”

At her words, Leo let out a soft whine, his ears drooping in disappointment. His eyes now glistened with unshed tears.

And as Charles watched the exchange between Y/N and Leo, a pang of sympathy tugged at his heartstrings, his own feelings of awkwardness momentarily forgotten. He longed to reach out and comfort them both.

But alas, the moment passed too quickly and before Charles could find the words, Leo sullenly walk back to him.

Before his mind could process his thoughts, Charles blurted out, “Uh by any chance can I, uh, get your number?”

Y/N's grin widened into a radiant smile at his request. She went inside and came back with pen and scrap of paper, her movements graceful as she jotted down her digits.

But Y/N wasn't done yet. She added one final touch to the paper—a little doodle of Leo, complete with a wagging tail and a cheerful smile. Beneath the sketch, she scribbled a note that read, “And if you ever need a dog sitter for this little troublemaker, you know who to call!”

“Sure thing!” she chirped. “Here you go.”

And as she watched him tuck the paper into his pocket, she knew that not a minute would go by without her waiting for that message from him to arrive.

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