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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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I Wanna Be Your Slave

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

***************

You're trapped in a cellar.

With Jax Fucking Teller.

There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.

He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.

Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...

"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."

The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...

Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.

With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.

Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"

The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.

That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.

You're gonna give him more than just a little more.

With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.

"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."

"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."

Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.

"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."

Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."

"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."

When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.

You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."

***************

The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit.

To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute.

You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.

And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.

Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress.

He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.

"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."

"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.

"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"

Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.

Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."

Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.

"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."

Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.

His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.

"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"

Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.

"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."

Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.

You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.

"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"

His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.

"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"

You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.

"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."

Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.

"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."

"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."

"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."

You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.

The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.

"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."

He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.

Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow.

You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.

But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.

"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip.

Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.

"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.

"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."

You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."

"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."

"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"

A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."

Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.

"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"

His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"

Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"

"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."

"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."

You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."

Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.

The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"

"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."

For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should.

You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.

"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"

"Yes, Master," you whisper.

"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."

Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.

Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."

Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact.

You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need.

And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact.

Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.

He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.

When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.

"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."

You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute.

Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...

"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."

"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

***************

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years

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hear those bells ring: chapter 4 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo and Reader finally get a moment alone, and important conversations are had. Over dinner of course ;)

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 4, but it’s over 10k, so hope that makes up for it lol Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here

“Great. See you then.”

The words ricocheted around your head like pinballs, and all you could do was stare as Dynamight turned on his heel and strode out of your ruined shop like he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer.

“Bak—bro, c’mon!” Red Riot, or Kirishima as he insisted, called after the blond, who didn’t stop. Then the redhead turned back to you, clapping his hands in front of his face and bowing his head. “I’m so sorry about him. He can be a little…”

“Direct?” you offered when the hero trailed off into silence for a beat to long.

“I was gonna say he can be a little bit of a dick, but that sounds better,” Kirishima laughed, and you felt your face flush when he aimed that charming grin in your direction.

You’d heard stories of how charismatic Red Riot was. He was a popular, mainstream favorite hero. The gossip magazines were always covered with his shirtless pictures that never failed to rile up the female population, even Mrs. Kojima and her old lady friends.

But nothing could have prepared you for being in front of him, for having him wink and smile at you, even if you logically knew he wasn’t coming onto plain old you. He was currently wearing a dark hoodie and non-descript jeans, but you could still see the definition of his muscles through the bulky clothing, which definitely wasn’t helping matters.

“W-Well, I’m sure you and D-Dynamight have more important places to be,” you stuttered as you averted your eyes. “I-I don’t want to keep you from any hero business.”

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint, I’ll get out of your hair,” Kirishima chuckled as he held his hands up.

Your face burned even hotter, if that was possible. “N-No! I mean—”

“Just a joke.” The redhead winked at you again as he started to back up toward the front door, his boots crunching over glass and debris. “I’ll see you later, though. Oh! And, uh, make sure you’re on time tonight for Bak—Dynamight’s pick up. He really hates tardiness.”

“Noted,” you murmured as your stomach bottomed out inside you.

“Don’t look so terrified!” the pro hero laughed, pausing in the frame of your broken doorway. “I promise he’s not so bad once you get to know him. All bark, no bite, remember? But if he does bark at you too much, just let me know, and I’ll be sure to leash him.”

Kirishima shot another sharp-toothed grin at you, and you strained your facial muscles to try and flash him a small smile in return. You weren’t very successful, since Red Riot’s bright expression dimmed a fraction, but thankfully he didn’t come back into the store.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he said in a more serious but reassuring tone. “We can get breakfast! I know all the great places around the agency.”

“O-Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. Why was this pro hero offering to take you to breakfast? Was this just because of the news? You’d seen how the media had been tearing into Dynamight the last two days, calling him reckless, arrogant. Several interviews with the other heroes who’d been on the scene didn’t help matters, either, since by their accounts, they almost had the villain handled before Dynamight stepped in.

Maybe Red Riot was just trying to butter you up so you didn’t help with Dynamight’s crucifixion.

What the redhead didn’t know, however, was you couldn’t say a word against the blond, even if you wanted to.

“Okay,” Kirishima echoed and drew you out of your thoughts. The pro hero flashed you one last smile and put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “Have a good rest of your afternoon and evening! And when you get to the agency, if you need anything, just let our PR manager Nao know. Take care!”

With that, the redhead pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, slipped on his sunglasses, and ducked out of your store. Seconds later, he was gone.

A beat of silence passed by, then two, and then you felt your knees give out from under you as you collapsed to the floor. Pain flared through your lower legs as you struck the hard, debris-strewn tile, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your breathing started to quicken, coming out in harsh pants, and the two paper bags in your arms crinkled with the motion.

“Fuck,” you exhaled as tears blurred your vision, lifting a shaky hand to grasp tightly at your hair. “Fuck.”

You’d been so stupid. Yesterday, when neither Dynamight nor the police came banging down your hotel room door, you thought maybe you were just being paranoid. That the blond pro hero hadn’t noticed anything unusual, and you could just go living your normal, unimportant life.

Of course, the universe just had to prove you wrong.

Because if you had any doubts before, they were gone now, evaporated under Dynamight’s hot, crimson glare.

He knew your secret, and he was going to confront you about it. Tonight. Why else would he insist on picking you up? Alone. You’d heard Red Riot say he was patrolling this evening, so he wouldn’t be around to play buffer between you and Dynamight, which provided the perfect opportunity for an interrogation.

But what could you do? Refuse? Dynamight didn’t seem to be the type to take the word “no” very well. Run? The expression you’d seen on his face before he left clearly told you that you wouldn’t make it very far. Besides, where would you go? Your parents were in America, and as you embarrassingly admitted to that detective the other night, you didn’t have any friends.

And, until your apartment and shop were renovated, you didn’t have a place to sleep, and you didn’t have the spare money to live out of a hotel, so the agency was really your only option.

Well, there was prison, too, you supposed. Maybe Dynamight was just going to pick you up and take you straight to the police station.

He’s not going to turn you in, a small, hopeful voice inside of you said. He would have already done so if that was his goal.

There was logic behind that sentiment, but it offered you no comfort.

Because if Dynamight didn’t want to turn you in, what did he want from you?

~*~*~*~*~

“Mrs. Kojima,” you sighed for the millionth time. “I’m going to be fine. And I really can’t take all of this with me.”

You gingerly passed the large paper bag full of glass food containers back to Tadashi, Mrs. Kojima’s teenaged grandson, who stared at the bag with the hunger only a sixteen-year-old boy could achieve.

“Fine?” the old Japanese lady scoffed, narrowing her dark eyes at you. “You would be fine in a nice, fancy hotel, not in a building with those… those… delinquents!”

“Delinquents?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re pro heroes. Famous pro heroes, some of the top in the country.”

“If they’re so good, they wouldn’t have destroyed your home,” Mrs. Kojima huffed before she used her cane to nudge her grandson. “And Tadashi, give the poor girl back her food. Your face is too gaunt to be healthy, girl, and don’t think I can’t see those circles under your eyes.”

The boy sighed as he stared longingly at the homemade food, and you could have sworn he was drooling, but he obeyed his grandmother and extended the bag to you again.

“No, please, keep it,” you insisted as you waved your hands in front of you, taking a step back. “I-I don’t know if there will be a place to keep food in my room, and I don’t want to bother them too much.”

“You should bother them, since they’ve been such a bother to you,” the old lady said as she nudged you this time with her cane. “You are too nice. I always say this. You need to be more selfish.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled. “But thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Kojima. It was very kind for you and Tadashi to come see me off.”

“How many times must I tell you to call me Ayano?” the elderly woman groused, tapping your shin with her cane again. “And of course we came. I wasn’t going to let you stand alone on a dark street and wait for that monster of a man.”

“Grandma!” Tadashi gasped as he looked up from salivating into the bag of food. “Dynamight is the number two hero! He’s not a monster, he’s the coolest!”

“I’ve seen him on TV,” his grandmother sniffed. “Always yelling and swearing. And Mr. Takeyoshi said he was very rude the other night. Not to mention all the damage he caused! Nothing but a foul-mouthed delinquent.”

“Grandmaaaaa,” Tadashi whined.

You sided more with Mrs. Kojima on this one, but the absolute adoration on the boy’s face made a small smile tug at your lips.

But your amusement quickly faded as you glanced down at your phone again.

6:58.

Said foul-mouthed delinquent should be here any minute.

As if your thoughts summoned him, the squeal of tires suddenly echoed through the otherwise quiet twilight, and you turned—with a pit in your stomach—to face the intersection down the road. Your street had been blocked off by barricades since the asphalt was still missing in patches, so the sleek, black car that had just pulled up was forced to park on the corner and put on its hazards.

Your heart was hammering beneath your sternum, beating out a frantic, hummingbird rhythm, and you watched the car door get flung open, a lithe figure ducking out a moment later. The last rays of fading sunlight glinted off his ash blond hair before he pulled up his hood, but then he was looking in your direction, and even if he was too far to see the details of his face, you felt the instant his eyes locked onto you.

“Holy shit, is that him?” Tadashi asked behind you, followed by a yelp as his grandmother smacked him with her cane.

“Language,” she hissed, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out by the blood roaring through your ears as Dynamight started to walk toward you.

No, not walk. Stalk. He looked like a predator slinking down the sidewalk, dressed in black and skimming through the shadows. There were a few people milling about the street, your neighbors who were still trying to clean up, but the pro hero paid them no mind. His gaze was still zeroed in on you, and your breath grew more shallow with each step he took.

Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you chanted in your head. And smile! Try not to look like he’s your executioner.

You plastered on a smile, but it felt jagged like the broken street you stood on, your cheeks aching from the strain.

Finally, after what felt like a blink and an eternity simultaneously, Dynamight came to a stop about ten feet away from you on the sidewalk. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, his face was a cold mask on the tipping point of a scowl, and his eyes felt like red-hot embers burning into your face.

“At least you know how to be punctual,” he said without preamble, his voice as sharp as his scarlet gaze.

You heard Mrs. Kojima gasp behind you, followed by Tadashi frantically trying to shush her under his breath, so you cut the old lady off before she could say what was on her mind.

“T-Thank you for taking the time to escort me to the agency, Dynamight,” you said, bowing at the waist so you could get a moment’s reprieve from those red eyes. “It’s… very kind of you, since I know you must be busy with your hero duties.”

Mrs. Kojima harumphed behind you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you straightened up.

Dynamight’s crimson gaze had lost none of its intensity, but he finally seemed to notice Tadashi and his grandmother over your shoulder, and when he spoke, he’s tone was a fraction of a degree softer.

“Yeah, well… it’s the least the agency can do,” he said evenly, like he’d memorized a script.

You wondered if Kirishima had said something to him after they left. Or maybe the PR manager the red-haired hero had mentioned?

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, and you winced.

“Sorry, this is Mrs. Kojima and her grandson, Tadashi,” you said, motioning to them. “They’re some of my customers who just wanted to see me off.”

“Customers,” Dynamight echoed as his red eyes raked over the pair. “For your stitching shop?”

Something about his tone seemed off, but you couldn’t place it.

“Alterations shop,” you corrected with a frown. “But yes.”

“Is that all?” he asked as his eyes locked with yours, and you felt your insides liquify.

Fuck. There was no way he could know that Mrs. Kojima and Tadashi had been “patients” of yours before. Right? Even if he knew about your quirk, that was a leap to make.

Then again, it did sound kind of weird for two random customers to take an interest in their seamstress’ personal life. You’d set yourself up for that one.

You opened your mouth, ready to clumsily explain, but Mrs. Kojima beat you to it.

“I knew her grandparents long before you were a thought in your daddy’s brain boy,” the old lady huffed as she hobbled forward to stand beside you, Tadashi stumbling after her. “So I check on her from time to time, especially when she’s meeting and going off with some no-good delinquent at night. Is that alright with you?”

“Mrs. Kojima—” you started as your eyes widened.

“Grandma!” Tadashi hissed, his face flushing with mortification.

Dynamight, for his part, actually smirked at the old lady’s attitude, amusement dancing in his red eyes as he finally shifted them off you.

“Well, Stitches here is gonna be fine,” he said with a sharp smile. “She’ll be staying in our finest suite, being waited on hand and foot for the next few weeks.”

Stitches? What the hell was that? Did he forget your name?

“Is that so?” Mrs. Kojima narrowed her dark eyes on the blond, and her expression said she didn’t trust the pro hero as far as she could throw him.

“Lucky,” Tadashi muttered under his breath.

“If you don’t believe me, you can call her tomorrow and check for yourself,” Dynamight said before he turned to face you completely, effectively cutting off any rebuttal from the Kojimas. “Are you ready? It’s cold, and the car’s running.”

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, shifting the strap of your duffle bag higher up on your shoulder. “J-Just a second.”

You turned back to Mrs. Kojima, who was blatantly glaring daggers at Dynamight, but her expression softened as she shuffled in to hug you.

“Watch out for him,” she whispered in your ear. “And take care of yourself. If something’s wrong, call me, no matter what. You can stay with me, okay?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” you murmured as you pulled away. “I’ll call you when I know more about the shop’s repairs. Tadashi, take care of your grandma for me.”

“Bah!” Mrs. Kojima scoffed, shooing you back with her cane. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” You smiled as you grabbed the handle of your small rolling suitcase beside you. “Have a good night.”

You turned back to Dynamight to find him suddenly beside you, the scent of burnt sugar enveloping you a moment later. You inhaled so fast it whistled through your teeth, but the pro hero didn’t even look at you as he slipped his finger through your duffle bag’s strap and pulled it off your shoulder. He slung it on his back in one fluid movement, and then he was reaching for your suitcase, too.

“I-I got this one!” you said, a little too loudly, as you stumbled back a step and dragged the suitcase with you. “Thank you, but, um, I’ve got it.”

Dynamight pursed his lips at you, his eyes narrowing into crimson slits, but then his gaze jumped over your shoulder.

“Got something you want to say, kid?” he grunted, and he looked a little ridiculous with your pink and purple patterned duffle peeking out from over his shoulder.

“M-Me?” Tadashi gaped and glanced around quickly like there was anyone else within half a block, but when he realized Dynamight was still staring at him expectantly, the boy began to ramble. “I-I just, uh, I just wanted to say I think you’re the coolest hero there is. Even more than Deku! Man, I wish I could have seen the fight the other night. You probably wiped the floor with that villain! When I grow up, I hope I’m a hero half as cool as you.”

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by the boy’s adoring word vomit. The blond blinked as the suspicion and defensiveness drained from his face and posture, and then an easy smirk stretched across his lips.

“You got a quirk, kid?” he asked.

Mrs. Kojima made a face beside you like she was going to cut in, but you put a hand on her arm and gestured to Tadashi’s beaming face, and the old lady sighed and relented. She knew what this meant for her grandson.

“Yeah, I do!” Tadashi grinned and puffed out his chest before he shifted the bag of food in his grasp and held out his right hand. His brow buckled in concentration, but a moment later a flame exploded to life in his palm. The flame grew, flickering upwards as it twisted and twined, changing shape as it went. In the blink of an eye, the teenager held the hilt of a fiery dagger, which he twirled around his knuckles. “I can make different objects with flames, and they act solid when I concentrate hard enough.”

“That’s a pretty cool power,” Dynamight said as he eyed the flaming blade. “Bet you kick ass in your hero course.”

“I-I do alright,” Tadashi said as he extinguished the dagger, trying to go for a nonchalant shrug, but the effect was ruined by his mile-wide grin and heart eyes. “You really think it’s cool?”

“It’s only cool if you’re the best, so don’t slack off,” the blond scoffed. “Only losers half-ass their way through school.”

Mrs. Kojima’s face was silently scandalized, but Tadashi’s grew determined.

“Yes, sir!” the boy said as he bowed at the waist. “I’ll work hard to be the best of the best.”

“Good.” Dynamight smirked. “Then, when you graduate, you can come prove how strong you are by taking me on. Who knows? If you’re actually strong, we might hire a new side-kick.”

Tadashi looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as he straightened up, but the pro hero only snickered as he spun on heel and began to stride away.

“You comin’, Stitches?” he called over his shoulder.

“C-Coming!” you called back before you flashed the Kojimas one last smile. “Have a good night and be safe going home!”

Then you took off down the sidewalk, your rolling suitcase clattering over the broken concrete behind you.

Dynamight’s legs were twice as long as yours and quickly ate up the distance to his car still parked on the corner, and you only caught up to him as he was tossing your duffle in the trunk.

You stood on the curb panting for a moment, just staring at him, and then the blond looked up and caught your eye.

“What?” he grunted.

“N-Nothing.” You cleared your throat and moved to pick up your suitcase, but he beat you to it, bending down and hefting the thing up in one fluid movement. The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and the two of you were left staring at each other in silence.

“Get in,” Dynamight finally said, jerking his chin at the passenger door. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, yanked open the door, and slid inside without another word.

You could still feel the Kojimas’ eyes on your back, and you didn’t want to give them cause to worry, so you took a deep breath and got into the car.

Even though your heart was trying to break free of your ribcage.

The car itself was sleek and fancy, both inside and out. The seats were a supple red leather with ebony stitching, the dashboard shiny and inlaid with the newest gadgets, and you curled into the seat, afraid to even touch anything. This car was probably worth more money than you’d ever made in your entire life, and you had worked odd jobs since you were sixteen.

The engine rumbled to life as Dynamight cranked the ignition, warm air blasting out of the vents and thawing your red nose and cheeks. The dash said it was only eighteen degrees Celsius, but the wind had been brisk.

“Seatbelt,” the pro hero said as he yanked his own across his thick chest.

You swallowed tightly before you did as you were bidden, and the second you were secured, the blond was throwing the car in gear and peeling away from the curb. Your barricaded street disappeared in a blur, and suddenly you were on your way.

With Dynamight. Alone. In his car.

The luxurious interior of the vehicle began to close in on you, feeling more like the walls of a coffin, and you braced yourself for Dynamight’s interrogation.

Except… it never came.

Minutes passed by in silence, and all the while, the blond’s red eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. One of his hands casually gripped the steering wheel, the other wrapped around the gear shift, and every one of the hero’s movements was fluid, precise.

You tried not to, but you couldn’t help but study him out of the corner of your eye. His blank face gave nothing away, and neither did his slumped body language. He was covered in a dark hoodie and jeans again, so you couldn’t see much skin besides his hands and neck, but he looked… fine.

One would have never guessed that he nearly bled to death beneath your hands two days ago.

The memory of his blood, warm and tacky on your skin, made you clench your hands in your lap, and when you glanced over at the blond again, you nearly jumped out of your seat when you met red eyes.

“Now you got somethin’ you want to say, Stitches?” he asked as he shifted gears, smoothly pulling around another car.

“M-My name’s not Stitches,” you replied without thinking, but maybe this was a good thing. Thinking always got you in trouble.

“Yeah, no shit,” the blond snorted, darting a quick look at you again before turning back to the road. “But you keep starin’ at me, so spit it out.”

You fumbled for something to say, still thinking of his ashen face splattered with blood. “T-That was nice, what you said back there to Tadashi. He, um, really idolizes you, so you probably made his whole year.”

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Chances are, kid probably won’t end up as much.”

You frowned. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours again. “And I meant it. Slacking off is for losers. Still, the brat will probably end up as a B-lister at most, more likely just an extra. That’s just the damn odds.”

His words were harsh, but you knew they were true. There was no shortage of people signing up to be “heroes” in the world, but very few actually achieved the fame and notoriety of, say, All Might. Even years after his retirement, the Old Symbol of Peace was still talked about.

“Well… thank you for not saying that to Tadashi,” you murmured as you averted your eyes out the window.

“Someone will have to eventually,” Dynamight grunted. “But, if he proves me wrong, then he might actually have some potential.”

“Mmm,” you hummed noncommittally. You didn’t want to talk about Tadashi anymore. Hell, you didn’t want to talk about anything.

But you knew it was coming. You could feel the pro hero building up to it, the air in the car becoming more tense and charged by the second, like the calm before the storm.

Part of you wished Dynamight would just rip the bandaid off already.

The other part of you wondered if you would survive opening the car door and jumping from the moving vehicle, but at the speed the blond was driving, chances were slim.

You were just thinking to pull out your phone and subtly look at the agency on the map to see how far away you were, but then Dynamight cleared his throat, and you felt all the saliva dry up in your mouth.

This was it.

“So,” the pro hero started as he pulled up to a stoplight, and his eyes found yours again. The red light reflected off his face and made it hard to tell where his irises began, everything washed out in crimson.

But before he could get another word out, a loud growl split the interior of the car.

Dynamight blinked at you before his gaze fell to your stomach, and you felt your face flare with heat.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you clenched your abdomen, trying to shut it up, but it only growled louder in defiance. “I, um, forgot to eat dinner since I was busy packing.”

And because your stomach had been in knots all day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“Wasn’t that kid holding a whole bag of food back there?” Dynamight asked, frowning at you.

“Y-Yeah.” You blushed even harder. Nothing escaped the pro’s notice, did it? “Mrs. Kojima had brought some stuff, but I didn’t know if there would be a place to store it in, um, whatever room I’m staying in. Plus, Tadashi is always hungry because of his hero course training, so it’s not like any of it will go to waste.”

“You’ll starve yourself so some brat can stuff extras in his face?” the blond scoffed, and he looked at you like you were speaking another language.

“I won’t starve,” you argued, a nervous laugh huffing out of you. “I-It’s one meal, and I ate a big lunch.”

That was a lie, but maybe you could get away with a little one.

Dynamight studied you for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then the light turned green, and he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

“Tch.” He flicked on his blinker and turned left, weaving down a set of smaller streets leading away from the city’s center, where you knew his agency was located.

“Where… are we going?” you asked as you glanced out the window. “Is this a short cut to the agency?”

“We’re not goin’ to the agency,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat, and some of your unease must have shown on your face, because the pro hero scoffed again.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re stopping to get food first.”

You blinked in surprise. Food? He was buying you dinner?

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” you stuttered, awkwardly waving your hands in front of you. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m fuckin’ hungry, so I’m getting food. That alright with you, Stitches?” His red eyes flicked to the side and pinned you to your seat, and all you could do was nod.

The car descended into silence again as Dynamight navigated through the streets, and a few minutes later, he was pulling up to a curb. The street around you was definitely in a better part of town than you were used to, but it didn’t look too fancy. A number of small restaurants dotted the road, interspersed by a couple bars, and a few dozen people roamed the sidewalks, laughing and stumbling and obviously having a good time.

Dynamight stared out at the crowd through the windshield, a small sneer of disgust curling his upper lip, before he turned to you.

“Stay here,” he said. No, ordered. “I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere.”

“O-Okay,” you replied with a nod.

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to discern whether or not you were lying, but he must have been satisfied with what he found because he reached for the sunglasses that were casually thrown atop the dash. He slid them on before opening the car door and slipping out, but he paused before he closed it, bending down and poking his head back inside.

“Any allergies?” he asked bluntly. “I don’t need you choking and dying on my leather seats.”

“No allergies.” You shook your head. “Anything is fine.”

A part of you still wanted to argue about him buying you food, but something told you that you would both lose the argument and succeed in pissing the blond off, which you were trying your best to avoid.

Dynamight grunted in acknowledgement before he straightened, pulled up his hood, and slammed the car door. He took several strides away before he gestured back to the vehicle, and it was only when the locks engaged that you realized he’d taken the keys out of the ignition at some point.

He really didn’t want you going anywhere.

You exhaled shakily as you unclenched and clenched your fingers in your lap, trying to get some feeling back into them. Your thoughts kept threatening to spiral off down dark avenues, so you focused on watching the people outside the car. The windows were pretty tinted, besides the windshield, so you didn’t think people noticed you watching them go about their night. Everyone was happy and smiling, flushed with laughter and drink, and a yawning loneliness suddenly opened up inside you. Even back in America, you’d never had a lot of friends, but you had drinks a few times in college with classmates, and you missed going out to somewhere besides the grocery or craft supply store. You had thought you would have time to make new friends here in Japan, friends that you could try restaurants and bars with, but it hadn’t happened yet.

And depending on what Dynamight had to say, it might not happen at all.

You stewed in anxious silence for several minutes, but then the locks disengaged with a chirp, and the blond was sliding back into the driver’s seat, shoving a bulging plastic bag into your lap.

“Here, don’t drop it,” he muttered as he jammed the keys back into the ignition.

“I’ll just, um, set it on the floor,” you said as you shifted the bag down to the floorboards, holding it in place with your feet. The aromatic steam wafted out of the bag as you leaned over it, and your stomach snarled at the delicious scent of greasy meat and roasted vegetables. “This smells really good.”

“Of course it does,” Dynamight sneered. “I’m not gonna eat shitty food.”

“Only the best for the best,” you joked awkwardly. You blamed your sudden lightheadedness. When was the last time you ate?

“Damn straight,” the blond huffed, yanking on his seatbelt before shifting the car into gear. “Can you make it five minutes without fainting?”

“Yes?” you questioned more than stated, your brow furrowing.

“Good, then hang on.” With that, the pro hero squealed away from the curb, merging into traffic seamlessly.

Dynamight drove for several more minutes, but you didn’t ask where the two of you were going this time. The blond probably wouldn’t answer, and if he did, it would just be some kind of sharp retort, so you settled for staring out the window while making sure the food between your feet didn’t tip over.

You hadn’t explored the city very much since you moved here, so most of what you passed by was foreign to you. But, just judging by the amount of lights and traffic around, you estimated that Dynamight was skirting the edge of the downtown area instead of going into it. You knew the general location of his agency, since you panic-Googled it earlier this afternoon, and while it was closer, the pro hero didn’t seem to be driving toward it.

Eventually, Dynamight pulled up to the curb on an empty street and parked in the shadow of a tall office building. There was no sign on the façade to indicate a company, and only the dim emergency lights shone through the darkened windows, so it was obvious everyone had gone home for the day. Next door to the building seemed to be a small park, concrete and steel giving way to green grass and shadowed trees, but there was no one walking on this particular street.

“Where are we?” you asked as you frowned out the tinted window.

“Dunno,” Dynamight said before he opened his door, sliding out of the car without any more explanation.

You blinked in confusion as he wrenched open your door a moment later, but he still didn’t say anything as he bent down to pick up the bag of food at your feet.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” you asked. “You drove us here.”

“By the time I answer all your questions, the food is gonna be cold,” the pro hero grunted, and he glared down at you still buckled into your seat. “Get out.”

“We’re not eating in the car?” You didn’t mean to ask this many questions, you could tell it was irritating the blond, but you were just so… confused as to how you got to this point in your life.

“I’m not about to let you ruin my damn leather seats,” Dynamight growled, stepping back to give you room. “Now get out of the damn car… please.”

The last word sounded like it was dragged out of the hero against his will, painfully, and you wondered again if he was trying to be nicer because of all the negative media coverage. You didn’t think the blond gave a shit what the media thought, but Red Riot and their agency did, so maybe Dynamight was being forced to make an effort.

“Are you seriously just going to gape at me like an idiot? Do your legs not work?”

Well, what was that saying? You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t force it to drink.

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered as you fumbled with your seatbelt, and you nearly twisted your ankle falling out of the car.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re as clumsy as shitty Deku,” Dynamight grumbled as he easily caught your elbow and kept you from faceplanting.

This close, you could smell the caramelizing sugar scent that you finally realized emanated from the blond, and even through the sleeve of your sweater, you could feel the strength in the pro hero’s calloused fingers.

Your face flushed with heat, but you were pretty sure he was tired of your stammered apologies, so you just stepped up onto the curb as he slammed the passenger door and locked the car.

Then he turned to the tall office building and froze before a scowl twisted his features once again.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and his red eyes snapped to you. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

“I… don’t think so,” you said with a frown. “I mean, I’ve been on roller coasters before, and I obviously flew here from America—”

“Perfect,” the blond cut you off, shoving the bag of food at you again. “Take this.”

“O-Okayyyy?” You tentatively wrapped your fingers around the plastic handles of the bag as you drew the food close to your chest.

“Now, hop on,” he said as he turned around and crouched, his fingers starting to crackle with light and flares of heat.

“Wh… what?!” Your whole body felt hot this time, not just your face. “Y-You want me… to get on your back?”

“Again with the damn questions,” he growled, glaring over his shoulder at you. “If it will get you to move your ass faster, we’re eating on that roof, and unless you have wings under that sweater, I’m the only one who can get us up there, and I need my damn hands to use my quirk. So. Hop. On.”

You gaped at the blond for a millisecond, a thousand more questions racing through your mind. Why the hell were you eating on a roof of a random building? Was this allowed? Why couldn’t you just go back to the agency?

But you knew by the look on the blond’s face that he’d reached his limit with questions, so you could do nothing but comply.

Just don’t think about it. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.

You kept up this mantra in your head as you hesitantly approached the hero’s back. He had turned to look forward again, so at least his crimson eyes weren’t burning a hole into you as you carefully slid one hand onto his shoulder while you used the other to cradle the food against your stomach.

You were just debating the best way to finish this embarrassing endeavor when you felt strong hands slide over the backs of your knees and pull you forward, startling a yelp out of you.

“Jump,” Dynamight grunted, and you only had time to mindlessly obey as he straightened to his full height in one fluid motion.

“Shit!” you couldn’t help but curse in English, hoping he couldn’t understand you. His hands helped to guide your legs around his waist, and you dug your left hand into his shoulder so you didn’t fall backward or crush the food that was nestled between the hero’s spine and your navel.

A beat passed in silence as the two of you found your balance again.

“I-I’m not too heavy, am I?” you murmured into the hero’s blond hair. Your throat felt tight with embarrassment, but when you went to swallow, your mouth was as dry as a desert.

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he shifted your weight a little, his hands burning the backs of your thighs even through the thick denim of your jeans. “I could carry two of you without breaking a sweat. Don’t call me weak.”

“I wasn’t!” you rushed to assure him. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, shut up,” the blond cut you off, turning his head a fraction so his red eyes sliced into you. At this distance, his burnt sugar scent was almost overwhelming. “Do you have a good grip on me? And the food?”

“Y-Yes,” you said as your heart began to pound against your sternum. You hoped he couldn’t feel it.

“Make sure,” he growled, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs before he suddenly let go.

A small gasp was ripped from you as you clenched your legs around his waist, and your left arm went from clutching his shoulder to wrapping around his neck.

“Ack! Don’t choke me!” he huffed as he stretched his throat out of the way.

Your right hand scrambled down a few inches, and you fisted the front of his hoodie, anchoring yourself across his chest as you sucked in your gut, leaned more into his spine, and tried not to crush the bag of food that was steadily making you sweat.

“I-Is that okay?” you asked, your voice no more than a timid whisper.

“Fine,” Dynamight said as he dropped his hands down by his hips, his palms crackling with energy once again. “Don’t fucking let go.”

“I wo—OHHHH!” Your sentence trailed off into a startled scream as the hero suddenly exploded off the ground.

His quirk made your ears ring, but you didn’t even have time to process that before you were thirty feet in the air. Every muscle in your body locked up in terror, and you were sure Dynamight was going to have bruises on his ribs from your legs clamping down around him like a vise. The wind tore at your hair and clothes, stinging the exposed skin of your face and neck, and you ducked your head against the hero’s blond hair as you clenched your eyes shut.

Don’t let go, don’t let go, you chanted in your mind.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and you heard Dynamight extinguish his quirk an instant before his boots slammed into concrete.

The two of you stood there for a moment as you panted against the back of his neck, your hammering heart still lodged in your throat, before the blond patted the side of your thigh.

“You can get down now,” he said. “But don’t drop the damn food.”

You peeled open your eyes with a shaky exhale, and you could feel your entire body trembling as you slowly slid down from the hero’s back. The crinkling bag drew your attention, and you had a split-second worry that you had crushed the food in your terror, but a quick inspection showed that while the containers were a little crumpled, no food was leaking out.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Dynamight muttered before his boots started to crunch away from you.

You snapped your head up and blindly followed after the blond, your eyes darting to the ground to make sure you didn’t trip over anything and then up to your surroundings to try and figure out where the hero was leading you.

The answer, apparently, was to the very edge of the roof, and you wondered if the hero was going to make you hop on the Dynamight Express again, but instead he came to a stop beside a large electrical box. To your shock, he opened a small door on the tall metal rectangle and produced a thick, dark colored blanket, which he then threw down on the roof’s gravel.

“Sit,” he grunted before he flopped to the ground, sighing as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

There was about four or five feet between the electrical box and the edge of the roof, but the soles of Dynamight’s boots nearly brushed against the roof’s wall.

Or they would have, if a three-foot section of the cement wall wasn’t missing right in front of him. The edges of the concrete partition looked suspiciously charred black, and you frowned at the sight.

“Did you… blast a chunk out of this wall?” you asked as you slowly sank to your knees beside the blond. You were painfully aware of the void of protection in front of you, and you knew you were at least ten to fifteen stories above the street. But at least it wasn’t so cold up here, tucked into this little nook with the six-foot tall hero’s body heat helping to warm the air.

“It was in the way,” Dynamight sneered, leaning over and snatching the plastic bag from where you had set it between the two of you. “And wipe that look off your face. I’m not gonna push you through the hole, and you’re not gonna fall with me here.”

He didn’t look at you as he said this, too busy pulling out several food containers and spreading them out on the blanket, but the absolute surety, the confidence, in his voice actually eased some of the tension from your shoulders, and you sighed as you shifted onto your butt and leaned back against the electrical box.

Now that you were seated in front of the hole, you realized this building gave you the perfect vantage point to the east. Most of the other structures were shorter than the one you currently sat on, so the streets stretched out before you like a map. The night sky was clear above you, devoid of clouds, nothing but a dark purple canvas sprinkled here and there with stars. But the moon was nearly full over your head, and its pale light was just enough to see by. You could see cars several blocks away cruising through the pools of lamplight, people waiting at bus stops or walking down the road to their next destination, and a realization came over you.

“Oh, I see,” you murmured, still staring out at the view. “You must use this building as a perch during your hero patrols, right? You can see a lot from here.”

“No shit.” Dynamight rolled his eyes as he opened one of the take-out containers. The smell of a well-made yakisoba hit your nostrils, and you watched as the blond ripped open a pair of chopsticks. He must have felt your gaze, though, because his red eyes snapped up and narrowed on you with a glare. “Quit starin’ at me and eat something. I didn’t go through all this damn trouble for nothing.”

“R-Right.” You cleared your throat as you glanced between the other take-out boxes. “Was there something for me in particular, or…”

“Just pick something!” he snapped before he shoved a bite of noodles into his scowling mouth.

You pursed your lips as you reached for the closest container, flipping up the lid to find nearly a dozen yakitori skewers. Your stomach snarled and cramped as the roasted scent of the chicken filled your nose, and you could feel saliva pooling in your mouth.

Grease immediately began to stain your fingers as you picked up one of the skewers, but you didn’t even care as you brought the kebab to your lips. You took a tentative bite to find the meat still pleasantly warm, but then a groan rumbled in the back of your throat as the flavor exploded across your tongue.

“Mmmm, that is so good!” you mumbled around a mouthful as you ravenously tore off another bite. “It’s seasoned perfectly, and I like the bit of spice it has.”

“Told you I don’t eat shitty food,” the blond scoffed before he reached over and snagged a piece of yakitori for himself.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you quickly covered it up by taking another bite of chicken.

“Thank you for the meal, Dynamight,” you said once you finished the skewer, reaching for one of the other containers. This one turned out to be another plate of yakisoba, and you eagerly pulled it into your lap.

Silence settled between the two of you for a minute, punctuated by the sounds of you both quietly chewing, before Dynamight broke it again.

“Katsuki.”

“Hmm?” you asked around a mouthful of noodles. When you lifted your head, your eyes clashed with glaring red ones barely two feet away, and you swallowed quickly so you wouldn’t choke. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“My name,” he grunted before ripping into another skewer, white teeth flashing in the pale moonlight. “It’s not Dynamight. It’s Katsuki Bakugo.”

Another hot flash broke out across your body as his scarlet eyes bored into you, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. The blond was too close, his burnt sugar scent still strong beneath the aroma of food, and your brain struggled to come up with a response.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” you murmured because you couldn’t help yourself, testing out the syllables on your tongue.

You thought you saw the hero twitch out of the corner of your eye, but he might have just been taking another bite.

“Yeah, and you better remember it,” the blond said after a moment, his tone adamant, commanding.

Like there was any way you could forget his name. Japan’s Number Two Hero wasn’t exactly forgettable.

You found it a little funny, though, that he was so weird about his own name after refusing to call you anything but “Stitches” so far.

“I will,” you murmured, darting a glance at Dynamight—Katsuki? No, that felt too familiar. Bakugo, then—to find him still staring at you.

The blond’s crimson gaze was piercing, pinning you to the spot, and you couldn’t look away. You thought he was going to say something, but his eyes only roamed over your face silently, like he was searching your features for an answer to a question he hadn’t voiced. His scrutiny unnerved you, made you fidget, and you played with your chopsticks to try and quell some of your nervous energy.

Still, he didn’t say a word, but his red eyes began to narrow bit by bit.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, before he beat you to it.

“You have a healing quirk.”

The words hit you like a sledgehammer.

Your heart slammed to a stop in your chest, and you inhaled so fast it was almost a scream. A million thoughts, excuses, and lies scrambled through your head, but the hero didn’t even give you time to grasp at any of them.

“Don’t deny it,” he said, face twisting into his usual scowl. “Fuckin’ hate liars. I know you have a healing quirk.”

The blunt confirmation, after so long worrying, felt almost like a relief, but it was quickly followed by a deluge of dread.

He knew, he knew, he knew. The truth blared through your head like a siren. There really was no running from it now.

“Well?” Dynamight—Bakugo—demanded as he glared at you. “Are you going to answer?”

“You didn’t ask me a question.” The words fell from your mouth without your permission, and you winced as the blond’s expression darkened.

“Fine,” he growled. “Do you have a healing quirk or not?”

“…yes.” There was nothing else for you to say, so you just stared at the pro hero as the noose tightened around your neck.

“I knew it.” A wild smirk stretched across Bakugo’s mouth, triumphant and proud.

“How?” you couldn’t help but ask as you clenched your hands in your lap, the food long since forgotten. Your stomach was churning itself into knots anyway, but a morbid part of you just had to know what was the final nail in the coffin that had sealed your fate.

“How what? Did I figure it out?” the blond asked as he lazily picked up another skewer and took a bite, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t hold your whole world in the palm of his calloused hand. “Because I’m not a blind idiot.”

“I’m serious,” you said with a frown, digging your nails into your palms.

“So am I,” Bakugo scoffed, and his red eyes found yours again. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it right. That night in your apartment, you said I wasn’t really hurt, didn’t bleed that much, but your hands and my clothes were soaked with it. Way too much for the stupid paper cuts or whatever you blamed it on. The burns on my left arm were better off than they should have been, too, but I knew you were lying before I even noticed any of that shit. I knew the second you opened your mouth.”

You cringed with guilt, dropping your gaze to your fidgeting fingers. So, all your lies had been futile from the start. “Was it something in my tone or…?”

“Well, stuttering over your words with your guilty ass face didn’t do you any favors, but no,” the blond grunted. “It wasn’t your tone, it was…”

Here, the pro hero trailed off, and he was quiet for so long that you chanced a glance at him.

Bakugo was frowning off into the distance, staring out over the city without seeing. You could tell he was struggling with something, and since you were obviously a masochist, you pressed him about it.

“It was…?” you led and then had to stifle a gasp as the blond snapped his head around to glare at you.

“You can’t say shit about this,” he snarled and bared his teeth like a cornered animal, and you distantly noted that his canines were more pointed and pronounced than what was usual. Then his next words stabbed into you, sharp and serrated, and dragged you back to the conversation. “Do you hear me, Stitches? You don’t say shit to anyone. If you do, I’ll kill you.”

You blanched at the seriousness of his tone, the sharpness of his eyes, and a nervous laugh was startled out of you.

“I’m obviously not in a position to say anything against you, Dyna—er, Bakugo,” you said, adding the “-sama” honorific after his name as a show of deference. “You could have me arrested or even deported for using my quirk on you without permission or a license.”

“Damn right I could,” he huffed as he narrowed his eyes at you, but some of the tension and anger left the lines of his face. “But I’m not gonna do any of that shit because I need—you are going to help me.”

“Help you?” you echoed in an incredulous tone. “What could I possibly help you with?”

Bakugo glared at you as the muscle in his jaw worked, like he was chewing over his words, before he finally spat them out.

“My ears. The reason I knew you were lying immediately was because I could hear you.”

Your frown deepened as you processed his words. “You remember losing your hearing?”

“Remember it?” The blond scowled at you. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I remember being fuckin’ deaf!”

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, waving your hands in front of you. “I just—right after you crashed through my window, you woke up for a second, but you were disoriented. I was trying to tell you that you beat the villain before I saw the blood coming out of your ears and realized you must have blown your eardrums. Then you passed out, and when you woke up again, a-after I… healed you, you asked about the villain a second time, so I just assumed you didn’t remember waking up the first time.”

Bakugo frowned at you, pale eyebrows furrowing over crimson eyes. “I woke up more than once? Yeah, I don’t remember that shit.”

“Wait…” You blinked and pursed your lips as you tried to understand what he was saying. “If you don’t remember that, how do you remember losing your hearing?”

“Because my hearing was shot to shit before I even ran into that damn villain,” Bakugo growled, and his face tightened again as he turned away from you. “Couldn’t even hear my quirk activate anymore.”

He held up his hand to demonstrate, and flashes of light crackled to life in his palm like mini fireworks. The hero’s expression grew strange as he stared at the visual manifestation of his quirk, but then he clenched his fist and extinguished the sparks.

Meanwhile, you felt your jaw gape open as your eyes widened. “You… how long has your hearing been in decline?”

The blond ground his jaw so hard you could hear the scrape of his teeth, and he glared off into the middle distance for so long that you just assumed he wasn’t going to answer you.

Then…

“Fuckin’ years, I dunno,” he muttered as he pulled one of his long legs up, balancing his forearm against his knee and pressing his mouth into the back of his wrist. “Didn’t notice it at first, but it probably started at UA, once I was able to use my quirk more regularly.”

Ohhh, of course. Your eyes dropped to the clenched fist in his lap, and you remembered the boom that made your ears ring as the hero flew you both up here. It had been so loud, and to think of experiencing that multiple times a day, at close range, for years apparently since you knew UA was a famous high school here in Japan…

“Did you see a doctor?” You frowned, glancing up at the blond as his gaze snapped back to yours.

“Tch, doctors,” Bakugo sneered, disgust glinting in his crimson eyes. “Fuckin’ useless pieces of shit. I left a good-for-nothing white coat’s office the afternoon I ran into that asphalt villain. Idiot doctor said most of my hearing was just gone, I was going to lose the rest, and there was shit all he could do. Then, few hours later, you patched me up in fuckin’ seconds, so I know that bastard was full of shit.”

All you could do was blink rapidly at the pro hero as you tried to process all this information. Japan’s Number Two Hero had been going deaf for years, and no one had noticed? You knew that would have definitely made the news, let alone the gossip magazines. What’s more, a doctor said his hearing was a lost cause, and yet…

“How well can you hear now?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you. You hadn’t even intended to heal his ears that night, it had just been a side effect of you dumping your energy into his body in order to keep him breathing.

“Dunno, haven’t exactly done a hearing test,” the blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “But I can hear you just fine, my phone, too, and my quirk. I’d say that’s good enough.”

You pursed your lips in thought, studying the hero like he’d been studying you all night, and then you remembered what had started this whole conversation.

“Okay…” you said slowly. “Well, if you’re hearing is… fine now, what am I supposed to help you with?”

“Keeping it that way, obviously.” He glared at you. “You’re gonna be stuck at the agency for the next few weeks anyway, so you need to make sure my ears stay working.”

You gaped at the pro-hero, wondering if you were suddenly losing your hearing.

“M-Me?” you stammered as your heart crawled up your throat. “B-But I… I’m not a doctor.”

“No shit,” he said, apparently a favorite phrase of his, and he looked at you like you were a particularly dumb child. “I don’t need a doctor, I told you they’re fuckin’ useless. I just need your quirk.”

“But…” you trailed off in disbelief. Out of all the outcomes you’d envisioned for this night, this had never even crossed your mind as anything in the realm of possibility. “I’m… not a hero. I don’t have a license to use my quirk.”

Bakugo stared at you in silence for an endless moment before his upper lip curled into a snarl.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he hissed. “I know all that!”

“W-Well, I don’t know what you want then!” you said, your voice rising in pitch and volume to match his.

The echoes of your words ricocheted around you before they faded off into the night, and the blond clenched his jaw as he glared at you.

“I want you to use your quirk anyway,” he said, the low growl of his tone vibrating through you. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off mid inhale. “And don’t start bitching about rules. You’ve been using your quirk illegally already. That kid and his old hag of a grandma are patients of yours, aren’t they?”

Your jaw snapped closed with an audible click, and a smirk bloomed across the blond’s pale lips.

“Hah,” he snorted. “Knew it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you gritted out, and your breathing grew shallow.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his smirk taking on a taunting edge. “You really gotta work on your poker face, Stitches.”

Your vision started to tunnel, interspersed with flashes of Tadashi and Ayano’s faces. “The Kojimas have nothing to do—”

“Oh, calm the fuck down,” he cut you off as he rolled his eyes again. “I’m not gonna turn a grandma and a kid into the cops. Especially not for doing the same shit we’re going to do.”

A knot of tension unraveled beside your heart, but your insides still felt more tangled up than a yarn ball being batted around by a crazed kitten.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a sigh, dropping your eyes to where your fingers were picking at the frayed hem of your sweater.

“I don’t need your gratitude,” he scoffed. “I just need—”

“My quirk.” You were the one to cut him off this time, and you lifted your gaze to his again.

“Yeah,” he said as he narrowed those scarlet eyes at you like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “So, is that your way of saying you’ll do it?”

You bit your lip as you considered your options, but really, you didn’t have any. Dynamight was a famous, rich pro hero with all the leverage. He could ruin your life… but he wasn’t. He was instead providing a trade.

His silence for your quirk.

The Kojimas flashed through your mind again, as did your other “patients,” as the blond called them. You thought of your parents, too, and your grandparents. If you agreed to the hero’s proposition, you wouldn’t have to return to America as a failure, and after a few weeks, you could reopen your family’s legacy shop.

And, in the meantime, you still got to use your quirk. You could heal, actually be useful. Even more than that, Japan’s Number Two Hero was relying on you.

You didn’t know if you were up to the task, having never used your quirk beyond minor instances that were usually days or weeks in between each other.

But…

“Yes,” you finally said as you looked up into Katsuki Bakugo’s face. “I’ll help you.”

You just hoped you didn’t hang yourself in the process.

125 notes · View notes

life-rewritten · 3 years

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Giants of Thai BL AKA The MOST ANTICIPATED THAI BL SHOWS FOR 2021

It's weird to think that the year 2020 has ended. This has been a journey in the past year, on the surface everywhere you looked it looked like there was no place to be happy and excited because of all the things that happened. It was suffocating at times, tiring at best, and it was just astonishing how many things could go wrong in only one year. That being said, one genre/demographic that grew even stronger this year, took some time to impress and improve on its tropes, its ideas and concepts and that's BL. Which also took some of us by surprise, for the ones who've been watching BL since the first oldies, to the new people who joined and also became in love with the genre and have stayed since then. BL has been an incredible, interesting journey, and I am so happy to say that it looks like 2021 isn't letting go of that energy. So to celebrate entering 2021, a year hopefully for a release from all the worries in 2020, a year to restart, refresh and keep getting better, here are the Giants of Thai Bl making their way in 2021. We have so many insane ones, from more mafia dramas to new unique non-university storylines, to og actors, and new powerful ones, to interesting pairings and new channels producing shows for 2021 to many many more countries joining the fight to be the top of our affections and energy. Thai BL is not going anywhere, and you know what that's perfectly fine with me.

GMMTV

I already did a whole squeal about the shows upcoming from GMMTV here: But after careful consideration here is my top 3 most anticipated: Enchante, Not Me, Bad Buddy. I know Enchante beat out ATOTS, but for me, I'm obsessed with the way the writer plans secrets and meta to unveil, and I keep repeating it's by Theory of Love director and production team. I'm so excited. I just hope they put in the same energy and effort they used in theory of love for this you have so many potential incredible actors that can take over this genre if you give them a good script and hard work. Hopefully, GMMTV intends to do so for not just their royal couple shows but also for rookie actors because Book and Force in this trailer? Looks fantastic.

Studio Wabi-sabi

When I hear about Studio Wabi-Sabi, you see two juxtaposed reactions from me, one you see anticipation and excitement from seeing my most loved actors off-screen; however, you also hear a groan from me. I'm sorry I didn't use to be this way, I used to be so ready to embrace every show directed and created by New Siwaj; in 2020, New was one of the directors I kept having headaches about because of all his shows in 2020? What exactly happened? Why did they flop so hard? Why was he so slow? I'm hoping that it's because he had too many projects to handle at the same time since fair enough LBC was filmed same time as GMMTV My gear and your gown and maybe that was too much to handle? But the reason why I like News choices usually are because they're emotional, impressive with their plot lines and have good character arcs and couples we end up falling in love with. He could be an iconic director because he has so much talent in his company, so I'm hoping he uses his lessons and grows and becomes better in 2021. But Let's get to the shows announced so far for 2021 because they both have the potential to take over 2021. I said what I said.

Between Us

Genre: Friends with benefits, Romance, Comedy, PTSD, Angst,

Ahh, this is incredible. I'm so happy. Win and Team are from a great tv show already with Until We Meet Again and not going to lie, but seeing Buon as Win and Prem as Team? Perfection. Like guys I actually fell so hard for this couple despite their low screen time. Buon stole the scene each time he appeared, with his little smirks, and mischief, with flirty bad-boy energy and their relationship, was precisely what I live for passionate and full of chemistry. They're great, which is why it's so exciting to see that Between Us is getting its own show, the show based on these two love story in a parallel timeline to Until we meet again. I screamed. The book sounds interesting; we're getting some conversations about PTSD, some healing relationships, and angst and more passion. I'm so excited about this since I first saw BuonPrem. I knew they were going to get known enough to bring their own show. And they deserve it, let's hope we get an interesting script that keeps us invested, enough opportunities for these two to have softer and profound moments whilst still holding on to their passion, and let the drama not be stale but addicting. Please New, don't let this show also be slow-paced, I'll lose it if another show is ruined by directing from you.

Ratings: 4/5: BuonPrem, they leap off the screen, their chemistry is that great. From hearing about the plot I'm also excited to a more in-depth look into Team's insomnia and his past and psychological scars, and I'm hoping to see a deeper reason for why these two should be together.

Love Mechanics 2

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Angst, Drama, Friends with benefits, Unrequited love,

That's the thing about Wabi-Sabi; they have amazing actors that steal our hearts away. This shows cast is no different, it's YinWar and it's a collab with Channel 3. Like What? It's everything. YinWar from Love Mechanics trended with millions of people obsessed and wanting the show to be extended and actually appropriately done. In came Channel 3 and we have this gem coming on April. No words. YinWar on screen is thrilling; War is just outstanding as Mark, his nuances, his glares, his looks of pain and longing, man I was absorbed into it. Although LM's writing is toxic and really left me feeling confused and uncomfortable with the details pushed aside, it was hard to ship VeeMark when Yin's character made terrible decisions and was awful even in the book. I'm the queen of analysing damaged flawed characters, and I don't run away from toxicity as long as there is a growth and change later on, as long as there's a good reason we needed to see that. For Vee's character, his actions were unnecessary for us to know about his character; they were just messy and upsetting. That's why I think seeing more depth for his actions and seeing Mark regress and also make mistakes like him will even out their relationship and make me feel more understanding about how these two flawed characters came to be and why they should be together. Let's hope with funds from Channel 3, more effort and energy put into the show, it'll be great because with actors like War this show can be just as big as it was when it had errors. Maybe even better.

Ratings 3.5/5 Love mechanics messy storyline makes me worried about this, but I think I might have a great time watching and analysing Mark's revenge after being heartbroken. The angst and drama of it all just sound interesting.

Channel 3

2020 brought a new surprise with Channel 3 deciding to invest in BLS. BLs have always been not on mainstream channels, so seeing Channel 3 in Thailand decide to make their own shows, a collab with other companies, and bring some directors and writers and actors known in the BL world already, shows they are serious. This may be because of the success of 2gether and other breakthroughs in 2019 taking over the scene. But I can see that Channel 3 did not come here to play, they are researching, looking for ways to make a great BL with the information provided on the past BLs and they want to make it big. And you know what with shows like GEN Y showing up last year, I want to believe that Channel 3 is a competition for GMMTV and others. They invest in funds and have longer minutes for their episodes, and they also pay attention to international fans by streaming on new places like Iquiyi and others. It's exciting. Channel 3 has already dipped their toes with Love Mechanics, and in 2021 they have even more shows to give us:

Teddy Bear Miracle

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Supernatural, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Fantasy, Mystery, Lakorn

What a weird title for a show. What an odd premise. What a bizarre book. But you know what I'm so excited about this; this is meant to be a lakorn series that is BL. Like wow, it has a good cast, known faces in the Thai acting scene and a director/screenwriter who has won awards for his own script. That's even more exciting. But the best thing about this is that it's a fantasy and has supernatural themes, yep it's weird we're dealing with a magic system where teddy bears come to life, and other inanimate objects talk? But I'm so excited to see what this brings; we have a man transformed from a teddy bear with amnesia who's searching for his past and how he ended up as one and his owner who's not yet ready to let his comfort go. It's so interesting, with family history and drama and of course, a romance that will probably touch my heart. I'm excited for this zany, wacky and dramatic show. Normally, I shy away from the crazy because I don't like crack humour, and it just means a bunch of many irritating sound effects and editing choices. But I want to trust the whole team from Channel 3, from the behind the scenes the show looks great, the couple has chemistry, and I'm excited to delve into the mystery at play and see what this story is meant to become. So excited honestly.

Ratings: 4.1/5 The wacky magic system scares me not going to lie, but I have faith for some reason in Channel 3, so I think this might shock us all. I think we'll get good acting, and perhaps good directing too. The mystery might also make me want to analyse. We shall see.

Lovely Writer

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Angst, Drama, Acting/Writing Industry, Haters to Lovers,

Did you say Kao and Up and P'Tee the director of TharnType the series? Sign me up I'm there; I've been screaming a bit since I heard about this series. From the first time, it was announced that Channel 3 was turning the book into a show, I was like this sounds unique again? And it has an interesting plot, I guess, and it's also going to have drama. I'm hopeful then. When I heard about the whole team and watched the trailer, I got into it even more. Lovely Writer sounds right up my alley, to be honest, we have this introverted writer who is determined to write a masterpiece and stop his company from making him produce BLs for the hype only for his next project to be a BL show which leads him to his new sneaky, sly, wolf in sheep's clothing roommate. Kao played his roommate from Until we meet again who won my heart as Korn and made me cry buckets. So, of course, I'm excited, Nubsib (Kao) may have some tricks up his sleeve to get next to Gene, but I think things will be more complicated than he thought, I'm ready to explore the world of the film industry and dating scandals that Gene and Sib will fall into the more they fall for each other. The angst and drama. Can't wait. Also, TharnType is one of my favourite series, and one of the reasons is because of Tee so... That's even more reason to see Gene and Sip's love story develop. Will it be as angsty, passionate and filled with plot twists? From what I hear maybe.

Ratings: 4/5 I just think this is an excellent team for a BL backed by Channel 3 and also has an exciting plot filled with ups and downs. I'm excited to see what happens and from the behind the scenes they released in the new year I think it'll be right up my alley.

NADAO

It had to be mentioned that I'm still in shock that Nadao is investing more into BL's. I don't know why, it just feels too good to be true, after giving me show after show that's perfection and quality I'm starting to have high expectations and hope for more, despite my weary heart not wanting to trust that this is real. I'm dramatic, I know. Anyways Nadao has gifted me twice with two shows that have shocked me and made my jaw fall in awe. I'm just like wow, they really did that. Every single piece of work that comes from them is art. Every single script is exceptionally written. Every single show is acted beautifully, and every single director and producer makes me inspired by the way they create. This is when focusing on their BLs because Great Man Academy and I told sunset about you are masterpieces in their own way, they deserve to be praised and never forgotten. It's just incredible that with a company like Nadao, everything falls into place, even when we think it won't because of past experiences. Nadao has shown up and decided to create unique pieces each thoughtful. Deep and breathtaking. Why won't I be over the moon when 2021 announces that we're getting another part from them with I told sunset about you getting a sequel. You bet I haven't stopped screaming and looking at the time to hurry up, so we get to March 11. I'm serious.

ITSAY PART 2

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama, University, Coming of age

And that's because of what ITSAY was to us in 2020. It was something that can't be explained concisely. It was everything. To hear that we're getting the second part of the story of Oh and Teh, I feel like I am already preparing my heart and mind for another invasion, last time I was a mess because of this show, I was all over the place because of this show, and I was incredibly happy for a moment because of this show. To relive that again would be everything. It's slightly worrying that Teh and Oh finally getting together and fighting through the odds to stay together will run into more obstacles. Are you kidding me? After all, we went through to see them together?? It makes me worried, I have this real distrust for sequels of BLs, and it hasn't changed despite 2020 producing some okay follow-ups. Sequels never meet the expectation set; sequels are always reduced in quality because the focus is now on popularity and fame, sequels lose their integrity of the characters we've come to know and love and sequels hurt. They make me sometimes give up on a show that is my love, and it hurts. It's a painful realisation that I can't take away or forget the sequel events, so these characters are now ruined infinitely for me—looking at Together with me next chapter. It's scary. But Nadao hasn't failed yet, I mean it when I say their scripts are like works of art, I mean it when I say you can tell they put blood, sweat and tears to create their shows, why would ITSAY part 2 be any different? These two shows I mentioned before are coming together because the director of GMA is joining the team of ITSAY to produce whilst Boss becomes the producer. As long as he's there, I'm fine, as long as we still get hard work, energy, effort and thought put into it. I'm fine. Because it translates on screen, I'll try to lower my expectations, but I can't wait to see BilkinPP as TehOh again. I can't wait to fall in love with the show all over again. Let's hope we all end up satisfied.

Ratings: 4.5/5 The being a sequel is what's deducting the 0.5. I can't come here and be a fool; I must guard my heart against disappointment somewhat, despite failing already to do so.

Other Affiliates

We have our other shows. These were a pleasant surprise. With all the growth of new BLs, it's starting to get crowded and saturated, but as much as it's hard to see which shows stand out above all the noise, some make you see it. These shows are the ones that stand out for me out of the rest in 2021. I don't know what companies they're from, all I know is the information given to me and past experiences.

KinnPorsche

Genre: Romance, Mafia, Angst, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Haters to Lovers, Bodyguard trope

AHHH. Can you hear me AHH. Okay, I'll calm down. But no really, KinnPorsche is finally preparing for filming and the cast has been set and I'm screaming. KinnPorsche was the book in 2020 that was announced as the most coveted; I remember so many fandoms wanted their actors to be chosen as the main cast. The reason? Because this is meant to be the first Mafia/Crime BL. Yes, you heard us, no more universities and engineers we're doing bodyguards and spoilt gangsters. I'm... But just knowing this, you just know that the show will also have angst, angst angstttt for days, drama, and a romance that probably involves haters to lovers, passion, and character development. We're coming in with guns blazing, with many side couples that look just as good and interesting, and many actors that look perfect for their roles. I cannot wait for KinnPorsche, especially when one of my favourite actors is going to be in it as a second lead Jeff Satur! Have you seen the posters, the character introduction, who they're casting for the rest of the show? This looks amazing, it seems well put together, and the whole team looks determined and ready to give us a great show. I'm honestly so excited, but I've also heard things about the book that I will have to wait for the show to be a judge of before saying. All I can say is quality of a show also includes the themes in the script, we're trying to evolve past the toxic plots and ideas in BL, so I'm hoping if there is any we cut it real quick and change that part. It's the producers and directors' choice to keep parts in that could be edited or removed. I haven't read the book, so I'm going to be wary about it for now, but from the whole cast, teasers, and posters I really think this show could be a favourite if appropriately handled.

Ratings: 4?/5 The question mark is for the rumours I've heard about the book. I can't lie that I want this show to be great and become one of my all-time favourites but with angst and violent personalities and passion comes leeways to toxicity and more and that's just not cute or needed.

My Engineer Season 2

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Angst, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Haters to Lovers, Unrequited love, University,

Okay, this is it, folks. My Engineer came in 2020 and knocked our socks off; it's the most underrated great show in 2020 (apart from why r u) in my opinion. It was brilliantly constructed with enough screen time and plot for every couple of the show. My Engineer is a great show; it didn't make it to my favourites because I had issues with the main couple, but it was my most enjoyed when it came to the side couples. Because we had KingRam, TharaFong, and MekBoss. (Sorry to BohnDuen Fans). These were some of the most exciting, heartfelt, loving couples in 2020, KingRam was just chef kiss. And to hear that we're getting a sequel based on them? Well you know what I did, I screamed. I loved both KingRam and TharaFrong they were done so well, acted so well, and they made me laugh and laugh and then squeal and blush. They were too cute. The ending of my engineer left both these couples on a cliff hanger; we had a depressing bro zone with TharaFong as Fong came to realise his feelings, we had a wait what moment with Ram telling King he wasn't drunk when the kiss happened which is essentially a 'we need to deal with this new situation' text. And it's got me so excited to see what happens next. The first part of this was excitement. The second part is sigh, sequels. I told you didn't sequels are just urgh. I couldn't stop my excitement about KingRam, and I went to read the novel, and I usually don't mind it, but I don't think if the sequel is based on their story that I'd like them in season 2. And that's ridiculous because they're finally the main couple of season 2, and TalayPerth is impressive to see on screen. Sigh. I wasn't happy when reading the book; there are specific actions and choices made that just shifts the dynamic of the first season into the opposite. And I'm not particularly excited to relive those moments. Let's just say I still have high hopes for My engineer mostly cause I don't know what's happening to the other couples; I really hope there's a change in the script, maybe more information, more reasons for the characters to act the way they do, more depth? Because I want to like this show, I want it successful, but I'm not a clown I can't pretend it will be if it's based on the books. We'll see if I'm proved wrong. I hope I am.

Ratings: 3.5- Why did I read the book why?? I should have come into it blind I would have given it a 5/5 just for KingRam. Sigh

Love Stage

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Gender Bender, Friends to Lovers, Childhood friends,

This was a shock. Thailand has started to remake mangas from Japan, and it's all the most loved ones. In 2021 we already have Antique Bakery being remade by GMMTV (Read my GMMTV Giants of 2021) and now we have Love Stage which is also getting a Japanese Movie remake out in 2021. It's a great manga, anime and it's going to be a fun show. I enjoyed the characters, and I liked the storyline. But what I'm the most excited about when it comes to this is Kaownah and Turbo finally, after years of waiting have a new series. YES. Kaownah plays Long in TharnType our villain, and he was incredible in that. I heard he and Turbo were meant to be in the show My Umbrella, but it was cancelled and forgotten which was disappointing. These two are so cute, they're known for their fanservice and their chemistry and friendship. And I like them a lot. I can't wait to see Love Stage. I think they'll kill it. Can't wait to hear more about it let's hope this time it sticks and comes through on our screens.

Ratings: 4/5 It's a fun storyline, and it has an excellent acting couple. I'm excited.

If 2021 already sounded brilliant because of GMMTV 2021, 2021 sounds even more exciting with these new shows; there's so many coming out, so many breaking stereotypes, so many unique plotlines, and so many great actors showing up. It's going to be a great year. I'm just glad BLs are growing, things are changing slowly, things are starting to have meaning and improve, international fans are being listened to, LGBT voices is also being listened to, we are getting there, not yet there but closer, every single time someone makes a choice to create a great plot and story that is more than just two guys making out, a show filled with heart, messages and essential representation with the good actors that also want the shows to mean something or are willing to put their all in it, every time someone chooses to make a good BL, you're paving the way for change and for the meaning of BL to change as well, for it just to be seen as something more in media. And that's needed for so many people who want shows like this to be respected and created for voices that need to be heard and displayed. Let’s see more with excellent quality in 2021.

#thai bl #bl series #bl drama #gmmtv 2021 #between us #love mechanics #itsay #i told sunset about you #my engineer #lovely writer #wrpup #2021

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thekitschdiet · 3 years

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the kitsch diet part II

part one alr posted!! this chunk is about 3,000~ words long... let me know what u think :-) thank u all for all the luv already!!! looks like I really will hit 31 followers by easter!!!!!!!!

Who is the Kitsch Girl?

I think this is more loosely defined, but The Chic Diet did a truly admirable way of reducing a girl to her YSL bag and her really skinny legs. Now, that implies an archetype, or a population in a specific location. I think kitschness is kind of the niche you fill when you’re not really much of anything else, sort of your own conglomerate of mainstream-specific. One major requirement, though, is being a little too into something somewhat uncool. And the whole illusion falls apart if you have any sort of outward insecurity. See, the Kitsch Girl is somewhat undefinable because she is so much of everything. She exists in multitudes, in a way that is also quite simple to understand; think of a list of axioms, or principles to live by. And now add a section to each one that says “but…” to make a collection of verified exceptions. Say, the kitsch girl will never wear jeans. But she thrifted this pair of vintage flares she just loves. She doesn’t reply to texts efficiently, but sometimes she will within a couple seconds. No mascara, no dinner forks, candles are to be collected not burned; but that was a gift, or something. It’s not personal, of course, those are just the contradictions she exists in. Don’t try to understand it, the enigma is essential to the facade. Or maybe she just lives like this, and her character is so homogenous with her inner world there’s no sense in trying to separate it. You have to have a little bit of an individuality complex about the whole ordeal, which is normally so eugh, but if you’re kitschy enough it works on you. Trust!The Kitsch girl is not someone unlikeable, but amiable and well heeled. I double checked that last one, assuming it meant liked by most, but apparently means affluent. I suppose that is an aspect of the kitsch girl too, having seemingly endless frivolous expenses with no real strain, but that’s not important right now. People that don’t like her think so out of jealousy, or something. Envious that her clothes are all kind of shake-it-up-esque and her highlights desperately need touching up, but she still seems so enthralled with the whole of life… How does she enjoy her own company so much when other people want to know her better? Doesn’t she feel weird about blowing people off to make a joke about reading Kafka in the bath? Why would she document her cluttered, unexciting life on Instagram so delicately, so vibrantly? Of course, no one would say this to her face because they are really baseless claims. She’s nice, generous, and valuable to have as a friend. Trade-offs exist, as they do with anyone. But I like thinking it’s easier to overlook a forgotten birthday when your kitschy best friend gave you a multi strand pearl necklace to celebrate the welcome breeze of June. Or some other made-up holiday. She is so unassuming if you’re not really looking. Girls want in on her inner circle. Or they just don’t care. Nothing wrong with being liked or thought of naught, for the most part. Boys are either enthralled or repulsed by her. Her doctor knows her as something of a hypochondriac, but only minorly. It’s just carpal tunnel, don’t worry… The sales staff at CVS turn a blind eye when she slips an eyeliner pencil into her tote bag. She shoplifts on occasion, just to see if she still knows how. But she is not a shoplifter. $9 here and $6.45 there doesn’t really add up to much. Everywhere she goes, she makes a tertiary friend or two. The term of friend is loosely used here, of course. But it is nice to tell a stranger you like her earrings. Or her phone case is so fun, is it Wildflower? The kitsch girl has an eye for this kind of detail. Simply put, she is sort of unspectacular. But in a way that makes you sort of wish you knew her better.

Phone cases

The phone case is, like, religious for the kitsch girl. Sorry, but there’s just no other accessory as flippant and expensive and single-purpose as a trendy little iPhone case with some semitacky stickers plastered over the design. I used to have an iPhone XS- extrasmall- with like, 18 phone cases. It was kind of a sordid affair. I jest, but really… owning that many phone cases was kind of sick. We get it, you are frivolous and spontaneous and sooo stylish! Stop posting mirror selfies on your Instagram story, your crush isn’t going to see it. Kidding again. Having an extensive collection of phone cases is just so fun because while attainable, most people just simply do not partake in it. That makes you kitschy and unique. I really thought I had more to say about the IDEA of the phone case, but I guess in practice it is all very, very simple. You can slide your driver’s license in the back of a clear case. At what point does it stop being cool to have legal operational control of a vehicle? I don’t display mine because I don’t really like the photo. I look round. In the eyes but also just in general, swollen, unglamorous. Whatever. Not like I drive a Nissan or anything. I drive my *Mom’s* Nissan. Playing Bladee in the car seems sacrilegious. She would hate it.Back to phone cases. Sonix ones are cute but kind of overpriced retail- unless you have like, an iPhone 12 Pro Max or whatever the fuck is new this year, just go to Winner’s. They always have Xs and 11 cases. I had a cherry one for my previous phone, like the exact one Lana Del Rey had? Thank god I sold it before she got outed as a copfucker or whatever. Casetify is for an inadvertent flex. Flexing your lame, lame taste. Sorry, I know you bought it because you liked it, but what you failed to consider is just how un-Kitsch they are. SO common, and they advertise on Instagram. Sorry, I just can’t get into it! Kind of how I just never liked the Brandy Amara tanks. Or lowtop converse. Otterbox is just distressing. Like, if my boyfriend gave me an otterbox phone case I would probably break up with him because somebody clearly isn’t paying attention- one of my favorite, potentially overused joke is how Otterbox cases are the equivalent of orthopedic insoles. Sorry but if you have poor arch support or whatever, but no pain is worth giving up a good pair of Margiela slingback tabi heels. Obviously I couldn’t afford that right now because all loose income goes directly to Wildflower and my cig boy. But like, one day. I hope you want to punch me in the face a little bit after reading that. If Wildflower isn’t your thing, at least have the decency to get a beaded phone strap. But not from String Ting. Pray tell you aren’t keeping score, but they are one of my several parasocial enemies. That should have been ME collaborating with Wildflower! Should have been ME mailing shit to Caroline Calloway (more on her later, but she is the only blue check I follow. I adore her! I was on her patreon for a bit I thinkl!!) …. Side note. Phone cases are cute but there is no way to properly protect your laptop without looking just absurd or colossally lame. The foam sleeves… ick.

Having the shittiest music taste ever

So like, here’s the thing. I’m an Apple Music user, which sort of reinstates my status as an unironic My Bloody Valentine Hyperpop Death Grips kinda gal. Read; volcel. My most recent conquest ended up being a huge L on my part, but also… I totally dodged a bullet. The guy had an iPhone 11 (female trait) and didn’t know who Rei Brown was, which just seemed suspicious given his Niche. I just know he had a “making out playlist” comprising entirely of like, Joji. Which isn’t a bad thing I guess but so unembarrassing it horseshoes back to being humiliating.Like I said. Having the worst music taste. It’s nice how subjective and deeply personal your music taste can be; no one really Needs to know you’re a die hard drainer. But there’s also no point in being a die-hard drainer and Not capitalizing off it somehow. I added it up and I have well over 150 hours of just Bladee and Yung Lean. Which is so yass? The more I write, using myself as a case study, I realize just how desperately jobless I am. And Yogenfruz isn’t even hiring! UGH!I think there is something very kitschy about liking hyperpop in the least ironic, least obnoxious way. Sort of feeds into a “I’m not like other girls” thing, but I mean… That’s kind of the idea of kitsch, isn’t it? Be a little different but also the very same as your lipgloss brethren?!Side note. If you make monthly playlists I am genuinely kind of afraid of you. That is just so organized!! I just make playlists with esoteric titles and then make a new one when I’m sick of the stuff on the last. I have exhausted most genres but I think my favorite is the “I’m wearing f****ng air forces and my teeth are SO white”. Guess what genre it is. Or don’t, but it’s probably what you think is. Okay, moving on….

Curating a scent

I like thinking I smell like mango and peach, Glossier you, whatever citrus is in that Lush shower jelly and mint 5Gum. But of course it is probably less distinct and just kind of generally fruit-floral-mint. Anyway. I think Glossier You is the perfect scent for anyone with a rather elementary understanding of the whole.. Perfume business. Every bottle of intentional fragrance I own was made via aesthetic choices… it really helps that Glossier You is so cute And so universal. Now, Glossier is kind of interesting to me because it really is at the intersection of cheugy and kitsch. Kind of basic, overplayed, unspectacular. But also…. Often popular things are popular because they are good. Glossier has excellent customer suurv, they ship SO fast (and no import duties! W!) and their stuff is just so sweet and nice if not unoriginal, in kind of the same way strawberry ice cream is. Which is still my favorite, of course, especially if there’s a vegan option. I was talking about Glossier. What the hell! It’s really worth trying out. A huge principle of kitsch is just… having as many possible layers and appendages to your composure as possible. And adding a signature scent just really completes that! When curating your own, I say this as a complete amateur, know-nothing; make it something that comes kind of naturally to Your Character. Like, I’m just not a Chanel No 5 kind of girl. Odds are you aren’t either. My bottle (before she asked for it back when I told her I didn’t use it, in exchange for a Nordstrom’s gift card) was from my grandmother. Ummm.. Yeah, I really have no expertise in curating a scent. But it is nice to have a signature. And having a bottle displayed on your dresser next to your aughties McDonald milkshake themed beanie baby and a handful of lip products is just way too fun! This is the kind of girl I am, everyone! Cluttered, but prioritizing pretty-delicate things!

Cheugyism

Cheugy is a relatively new word that has unfortunately wormed into my vocabulary to replace “uncouth”. Which I use to mean graceless or tacky, but if that isn’t what it means…. Don’t tell me. That would hurt more than weighing myself after a “feast” slash pastry binge at my dear Grandmothe’s house. Like I was saying. Cheugy. It’s sort of a fucked up concept to me because it is a critique on consumption, but not the pace or volume or magnitude of it. But rather… the idea of not being “good” enough at engaging in microtrends, or involvement in the fast paced fashion cycle. Don’t get me started on TikTok, or do, but… yeah,. No. That will require a cigarette because I’m so sorry, but writing a thinkpiece on social media is so lowbrow I would need to find about six ways to aesthetically counteract it…. Moving on. I think the idea of cheugy is good, we really do need a word to simply and efficiently define “out of date/uninspired/lame”. But the way it is used to shame others for not liking the same trends or whatever is kind of gross. If you use cheugyism to put other people down and not as a neutral identifier umm… you will become what you fear. Sorry, that’s what happens. Some things that I think are cheugy or embarrassing, or just not part of my stylistic lexicon are… 1. Hooded or zip up clothing, or things with a large graphic on the back. Bingo if it's all three! I just can’t get behind it. Side note, my summer home outfit is brandy sweats and a tube top (Urban Outfitters tank I ripped the straps off) and a large cardigan that should have belonged to a stoner, but probably didn’t. I can dunk on bulky, uninspired clothes because I would honest to God NEVER be caught DEAD out of the house wearing any of it. I’m so serious. Next segment should be about the kitsch girl’s inadvertent affinity for diuretics. Remind me….. One of the ports of my laptop is dead. Not really sure what to do about that.

Eye makeup and what it means to me….

Personally, I am one of those people who never wears foundation and kind of has a complex about it. The kitsch girl wears fluffy eyelashes and owns a plethora of sparkly eyeliner. Or maybe she doesn’t, but she has something distinct and a little ritzy, if not haphazard. We all saw Euphoria and it like, totally imprinted on us. The way glitter sits on your face after a long day is so resplendent. When it’s shining and a little bit melted off from your long, semi-productive day… ugh! Just made for film. Pictures on film. But not the Prequel app. I keep getting fucking ads for it. But it’s so embarrassing. Like, isn’t the whole point of film the authenticity of the moment? The texture of the afternoon? Why would you fabricate that? Prequel is just so cheugy. More on that later. But anyhow. Wearing a ton of eye makeup kind of fits with the idea of film too I think. Like, look at you, in the moment. With your strip lash falling off! It’s all so tres-chic. Plus, for whatever reason, it’s kind of unique or notably dedicated to ~Pull up to the function~ with more eye makeup on than everyone else. Sorry, but it really doesn’t take that long! But yes I will gracefully accept your praise… it’s kind of like the dropshipping of complements if you think about it. Easy to source with little to no effort in the curating. Side note, lashes are like $20 for 40 weeks if you cut them in half and use each pair about 5 times. You could probably do more but I lose track. How the fuck is it almost June? I was trudging through the snow to check the mail for my Online Ceramics shirt just last week, I swear. The trick to cutting your lashes (the way I do it anyway) is pretty simple. Get out two lashes that are symmetrical. Find the middle and cut one slightly to the left and one slightly to the right. This means you have two sets (one set is a little more dramatic than the other but at least they are symmetrical) with longer outer edges. Glue this to the outer corner of your eye and you will look so Composed… obsessed with how this layers with three eyeliner tails (one traditional one pointing up and one pointing down directly below it, sort of like the tail light on a 2019 Lexus UX) and one below your eye, like a clown. Fun, irrelevant fact, is the first time I added this third tail to my eye makeup, my dad had just gotten home from the hospital because he was sure he had like appendicitis or something and it was actually.. Not that. Typical indie hypochondriac. He made me bring him cottage cheese on a plate with a teaspoon that evening. I put black pepper on it for flair, which he hated. Walking up and down stairs with a plate of cottage cheese is much more imprinting than most of the multiplication tables. Don’t forget to use a bright shimmer eyeshadow in your inner corner. It really opens up your eyes. I recommend Too Faced. One time I got a little bit too high and tried to film an “editorial” makeup tutorial. You will never, ever, ever see that video. But I essentially covered my whole eyelid in the ABH shadow “palermo” and smudged out the edges with a tan Tartelette Toasted shade, coupled with my long-expired Milk Makeup holographic stick. Lopsided lashes and near-blinding eyeliner experience aside, it was kind of cool. My point is, you really cannot go wrong with an arsenal of shimmers, taupey mattes and a good eyeliner pen.

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xianoquendo · 2 years

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A Year Wrapped: 2021 in Films

If there was a good thing 2021 has brought, in its whirlwind madness of span, one of it was certainly the reopening of cinemas! The closure of cinemas during 2020 has brought the indie in domination. With big studios pushing dates, there was a piling of films in VOD, streaming sites. Those things were not really a bad thing, but it certainly altered the nature of how we view films. It was nice to discover a lot of underground filmmakers or low-budget films breaking the mainstream and taking the spotlight but there was that feeling of missing the grandiosity of blockbusters and film festivals. Thus, the reopening of the cinemas last year felt like a grand comeback! Like a rain after a long drought! There was an electric lifting of spirits through the revival of film festivals and award circuits. 2021 definitely swung so high and reached the clouds! From the Cannes rolling its carpet again to superhero films being a thing again in titles such as Eternals, Venom: Let There Be Carnage and Spiderman: No Way Home. The piled 'pushed dates' dropped all at once, giving us long-awaited tentpoles like Dune, No Time To Die, Annette, The French Dispatch and many more. We're on full spectrum!

Anyone who says 2021 was a bad year for film definitely hasn't just seen enough. It's in the returning grand film festivals that most of the jewels last year lurked. Cannes definitely wasn't shy to boast a lot of magnificent crafts, and so is the case with Venice, Sundance and many more. Certainly, my favorite part last year was the resurgence of international films through these festivals. You can notice the pattern in my list as most of the top films are international titles. Local fests like the annual QCinema opened a door for us to experience such titles in the big screen, with its magnificent line up this year, mostly movies from different film festivals globally. And then, of course, there were also a few gems in streaming sites like Netflix, Amazon and Apple+. The remaining major award-giving bodies this year proves to be thrillingly more diverse because of last year. 2021 was surely a good year for film!

Now, after all those blabbering, you can continue on reading another set of my blabbering about the top films I've seen from last year. Ranked as objective as I could! (Or at least I tried)

16. Happening, dir. Audrey Diwan

In Audrey Diwan's thrilling and gripping Golden Lion winner of last year's Venice Film Festival, the world is bleak for young women suffering under the men-centric world of 60s. Anamaria Vartolomeis' doe eyes captivates anyone with the right empathy to feel the pain she portrays, being a pregnant teen in race with time to have an abortion (in a time and place where it is illegal to have one). One moment, her face is painted in fear and confusion, then in a flash, she's rebellious, unbothered and hedonistic. Diwan captures Annie Ernaux's short memoir in a striking tone that evokes a sense of urgency and relevance to the current times. It doesn't shy away in giving hostility. A woman in affliction of balancing academic tension, youthful nuisances and social peril. One will flinch and sweat. By the last string of miserable events, there is a sobering and empowering realization.

15. The Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, dir. Ryusuke Hamaguchi

There is an air of mystical aura in the mundane conversations that Hamaguchi create. In his first film for 2021 (the more gentle one, just before his grand Drive My Car), he details three tales about human connection: an unexpected love triangle, a seduction trap, and an unexpected friendship between two strangers that mistaken each other as someone they know. With a subtle hint of oddity mixed with lush emotions, Hamaguchi keeps the audience fascinated and touched at the same time. An endearing study of complex relationships and beauty on everyday lives. There are so much emotions within just three conversations. Fully empathetic, graceful and deeply humane... In one scene, a woman begs a man to promise her that he would pleasure himself on her voice.

14. Mark, Mary + Some Other People, dir. Hannah Marks

Every year, I obsess over one random indie kooky teenager movie. Last year it was Brian Duffield's Spontaneous, and I guess this year it's this movie! Only few movies touch the topic of open relationship, more so handle it so well. But with Hannah Marks' contemporary and slick humor in this one, she has handled it so effectively without compromising fun and information. Mark and Mary ventures the good and bad parts of an ethical non-monogamy relationship in an entertaining, and sometimes dramatic, way. The characters elicit a progressive and millennial air of youth that fits today's generation. Not to mention how many cool songs it feature and pin-drop in the span of its runtime! I just love its humor and charm so much!

13. Passing, dir. Rebbecca Hall

Venturing the tale of a woman of color passing as white in 1920s, Rebecca Hall has crafted a poetic piece here— in both appearance and feeling. The sharp camera angles and movements matched with the over-contrasted black and white, and pairing it with piano and trumpet scoring? Glorious. It's hard to think that this is her directorial debut. She handled the matter of turmoil in identity and racial tension with grace. And though one would wish she lingered with that matter (especially racial tension) until the end instead of wandering into ambiguous drama, there are still these delicate moments when Ruth Negga and Tessa Thompson's characters interact or shed feelings that make up for that: the way they close their eyes, feel the air, cry and look at each other. A subtleness and grace that is so hard to achieve in film yet so rewarding once witnessed. A real melodrama because of the two actresses' power. No one will ever simply get over with the last scene. So haunting.

12. CODA, dir. Sían Heder

As a CODA (Child of Deaf Adults) and the only hearing person in her deaf family, the main protagonist Ruby, puts herself in a dilemma of pursuing her love for music or aiding her parents. The result is a glorious and touching coming-of-age and self-discovery. Heder's creation feels like a piece genuinely oozing with love on its handling of deafness as a disability. I'm not a fan of family lovey-dovey dramas, but this one was just so tender that it naturally feels so fresh, warm and life-changing. I think a film is nothing less than powerful when it could break an almost-apathetic person like me (who naturally hates "I love my family" themes), and make me appreciate what I have. Joni Mitchell's 'Both Sides Now' will never be the same for anyone after this. Prepare tissues.

11. The Power of The Dog, dir. Jane Campion

News have been swarming over Campion since the start of the awards season. They all air the same sentiment: Campion is back and she will dominate! And they may certainly be right. The Power of the Dog is so mistifyingly good! In Campion's subtle nuances, she has crafted a poetic grand juxtaposition. She examines the softness in rough masculinity and the violence hidden behind gentle behavior by making the two elements meet: Phil and Peter. In an amazing study of masculinity and power using Cumberatch and Smit-McPhee's magnetic performances, Campion has broken the ground. The additional layer of chemistry, built up in a finessed grace, adds a pleasing and mistifying aura to it. Truly, you kill your enemy by making them love you. The unraveling in the last act of the film is nothing less than glorious and shivering-good! Campion is coming for that Oscar, you better believe it.

10. C'mon C'mon, dir. Mike Mills

Mike Mills continues to be one of the most fascinating contemporary directors out there who could capture emotions with great sentimentality and beauty. C'mon C'mon is a dazzling exploration of gaps between adults and children— the difference in the outlooks of the two. And you get to view it both in the lens of a kid and an adult, brought by Joaquin Phoenix and Woody Norman's alluring performances. It's a story of a deeply humane and affectionate connection between an uncle and a nephew in the backdrop of the contemporary America. This is the kind of film that puts your faith back in humans. It airs a voice that there is certainly hope in our youth, as they are the future.

9. The Hand of God, dir. Paolo Sorrentino

It's the different tales that Sorrentino merge in this film that makes it work as a formal coming-of-age. A teenager exploring life in Italy at its different aspects and the people surrounding him. The disorienting folkloric elements and bizarre sensuality add a surreal facet— things that disturb you at first, but as you get used to it, beauty springs out. The first half is a burst of colorful familial relationships; the view of an extended family makes it monumental and even a promising study of relations. Of course, one needs patience in familiarizing the many and rich characters, but once you get there, it pays off. By the second half, Sorrentino turns the film into an ode to his dream of entering cinema when he was young— as the main protagonist, Fabie, learns to love it. As a director, Sorrentino spins his pain into gold mystifyingly... Italian cinema is bizarre and beautiful!

8. The French Dispatch, dir. Wes Anderson

The French Dispatch marks Anderson's most explorative yet in terms of technicalities. We witness his first hand-held camera scene in quite possibly his whole career (I think so?), his first non-stop-motion animation (I think so too?), and also a new nuance of shifting from black and white to colored repeatedly, which works so well even in its randomness. All of these make the visuals stronger: every frame, like a masterpiece. Anderson is really trying to reach new heights here. But despite the grandiosity of these new aspects, The French Dispatch simply just plays as an endearing love letter to journalism and its wonders. Despite being more laid back than his previous works, with toned down characters and emotions, its simplicity still builds multitudes of wonder in its structure of three different feature stories. Each of these with its own charms and messages. Art and love; Youth and revolution; Crime and culture. This film is simply, (without the bias of being an Anderson fan and a journalism student), cute, charming and funny. By the end of the film, the audience are just simply oath to remember how fundamental the role magazines and newspapers play in our lives: to make our lives colorful! And this film is dedicated for those who make it happen.

7. Spencer, dir. Pablo Larraín

Nothing is not yet testified and broadcasted about Pablo Larraín's new masterpiece. From Kristen Stewart sweeping all the critics' trophies and approval up to Claire Mathon's stunning cinematography, everything seems to work so well under Larraín's hands. Spencer blends history with fiction in a way that effectively makes a ghastly psychological nightmare. It stands dignified as a warning on the perils of suppression just to follow tradition—and for that, it gives justice to Diana. It's dreamy but casually feels so claustrophobic even with its wide rooms and landscapes. This is a sign of how effective Larraín has handled Diana's case even in the decision of just portraying it all in one holiday with the Royal Family. Everything feels so suffocating in its tamed tension. The standards, the pressure, the watching eyes— demands to be felt in Stewart's portrayal of agony. A true horror. And that final act— it's like learning how to breathe again.

6. Procession, dir. Robert Greene

Perhaps the most sobering and powerful documentary created last year. Greene creates a documentary about six sexually abused men finding empowerment in creating short films inspired from their trauma. The narratives of these men radiate so much power in the reclamation of places and memories that once haunted them. The process was not easy, especially in the fact that they were all abused by Catholic clergies, but the journey was certainly reflexive and revelatory. This is a very graceful exploration of trauma and faith. The film projects that bold notion of finding power in trauma and turning it into a narrative, a weapon and a beacon of hope. It redefines a victim into a survivor. There are certainly no dry eyes after the film.

5. Dune, dir. Dennis Villeneuve

What else is left to say about Dune? Monumental? Spectacular? Grand? Psychedelic? Classic? Everything has pretty much been said about Dune, and they are all right, it is monumental. Villeneuve has already proven that he is a master of sci-fi a long time ago with Arrival and Bladerunner 2043, but he just continues to prove it anyway. Dune lives up to its promise and premise, bringing back the crowd's faith to quality, grand-spectacle, mainstream and blockbuster sci-fi. It may start out a bit tedious at first with its countless elements, but it gives out a glorious reward when you finally understand it. Hans Zimmer never disappoints with his celestial scoring. The brutalist landscapes and over-the-top machines give overwhelming rushes. The runtime is totally justified. Watch this in the cinema and it would probably make you wet... not just because of Oscar Isaac but because of all the visuals.

4. The Worst Person in The World, dir. Joachim Trier

Trier's newest craft is personally the best film I've ever seen last year as I was able to feel a deep resonance towards it. But since we are trying to add a little objectivity here, I think it would do just great sitting at number 4. Trier's addition to his humanistic catalogue is a charismatic exploration of adulthood, specifically the span of late 20s and early 30s. There is a streak of narcissism in the concept that Julie, the main protagonist of the film, views herself as the worst person in the world, in the light of her wrong decisions in life. She spends her college life jumping from one program to another until she settles on an unsure job. She argues with her lover and ponders about her what-ifs all the time, setting herself in constant existential crisis. She gets high on psychedelic mushrooms. She's always worried that she's not living her best life. She's fickle, envious, insensitive and self-centered. But in reality, she's not really that bad. She reflects the stages a human would ought to pass in turning into an adult. Yes, she's bad for breaking hearts and jumping through feelings carelessly, but don't we all typically and casually do those things as we grow up? Trier, with his direction, reflects the tumultuous journey so well in the backdrop of social turmoils, economic unrest and generational trends. He studies love, youth, infidelity and many more, in way. Renate Reinsve gives an acting glory, definitely worthy of a Cannes Best Actress, but make no mistake as Anders Danielsen Lie also gives an explosively emotional take as a supporting actor. If you're bound to face the 30s, let this film be your subtle guide.

3. Memoria, dir. Apichatpong Weerasethakul

Arthouse films are usually a hit or miss, but Thailand's blessing to cinema, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, certainly doesn't miss. Every piece is a celestial exploration of life, built in the merging of supernatural and human-mundanes, from the 2010 Cannes Palme d'Or winner 'Uncle Boonme Who Can Recall His Past Lives' up to his recent ones like 'Cemetery of Splendor'. Memoria is no exception. The Cannes Jury Prize winner is a sensory journey about existence, memories and paranoia, brought to a whole new level by Tilda Swinton's disoriented main protagonist. In part, it is about a woman haunted by a loud boom of sound that she constantly hears. While this happens, she's also attempting to understand the world around her as a foreigner in Colombia, exploring the culture and its people. But by the end, after all the heavy silence and weird encounters, you will be brought to higher celestial enlightening as Tilda's character navigate through the beauty of connections and pain in existence. The ambiguity enhances the emotions in this case. The sound hypnotizes you to understand a certain emotion: sorrow, confusion, fear and everything in between. Feel it not just with your eyes, but hear the aura too.

2. Bergman Island, dir. Mia Hansen-Løve

Chris, the screenwriter protagonist of the film, really likes writing but at the same time, she really hates it... and that for me, speaks a lot to my soul. Something about Chris' character defines a quintessential writer. She says that Ingmar Bergman's films only give her sadness and agony, but she likes it and she's not sure why. She's both sure and unsure. Passionate but also tired. Full but at the verge of emptiness. Constantly haunted by her craft, both in a good way and in a bad way. Vicky Krieps portrays that in full gravitas. Mia Wasikowska matches that with her graceful take as a screenplay character... There is magic in Bergman Island that pictures the process of writing so perfectly. It positions itself as a story about film and writing but shows it through a story about a fickle love. It's about finding inspiration and learning how to confront it when you finally have it in you. It's a case of 'a story within a story' handled so well. Everyone will love how Hansen-Løve blurred the lines between the two stories by the end of the film: the writer and the screenplay being written. It's like a confrontation of an artist and her art. An intertwining and living of her own craft. It's almost just like how the usual Bergman films end: in between reality and fiction... There's just too much passion and beauty in it. It's also an amazing feat how beside from the amazing narrative, the film still shines as a successful tribute to Ingmar Bergman and his place. Bergman, himself, plays a fundamental role of getting the characters intact and defining them. I just wish I explored more of Bergman's filmography before watching this... I've only seen Persona.

1. Titane, dir. Julia DuCournau

DuCournau has created a divine complex with Titane. The most thrillingly unique and ingenious film of 2021. Fuck the Academy for snubbing this masterpiece! But I'm glad that Cannes is starting to appreciate such bold and chaotic films, by awarding this the Palme d'Or. In Titane, DuCournau has paralleled body horror to love, womanhood and what it means to be a human. With the help of an exorbitant acting from Agatha Rousselle and a delicate one by Vincent Lindon, everything just goes so fluid in a hot mess. It's a complete ride of brutal, gross and wild but also tender, funny and graceful. How many directors can do that? It's filled with so much extremities; from having sex with a car to bleeding diesel in a bathroom. One may not understand completely what's happening, but you can definitely feel it with so much intensity; every vicious stab, so vivid, and every slow dance soaked in tenderness. When it's wild, it's wild like a fire. When it's tender, it's tender like a breeze. And when it's both, it's everything! Titane is the perfect revelatory explosion of 2021!

Yet to be seen...

The mutation of the pandemic into different forms still puts the cinemas at fluctuation when it comes to opening its doors and presenting more titles. Some films don't even reach third world countries when it comes to distribution. This, of course, includes the Philippines. With this, my trust for Torrent has never been more stronger, but still, one can get impatient... Here is a list of some films that I am yet to see. Some of these may or may not alter my initial list of top films for last year...

Licorice Pizza, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

Drive My Car, dir. Ryusuke Hamaguchi

Parallel Mothers, dir. Pedro Almodóvar

Flee, dir. Jonas Poher Rasmussen

King Richard, dir. Reinaldo Marcus Green

What Do We See When We Look at The Sky?, dir. Alexandre Koberidze

After Yang, dir. Kogonada

Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, dir. Radu Jude

The Novice, dir. Lauren Hadaway

I Was A Simple Man, dir. Christopher Makoto Yogi

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soundsof71 · 3 years

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Hey! Album: 'Fleetwood Mac' (1975) - Fleetwood Mac

Hey! Great to hear from you! You (and your previous blog) were my original inspiration for trying to raise my tumblr game to something intentionally curated, and more than that, personally creative. Sorry to have let you down. LOL

What a pleasure to talk about this one, though, an album I think is -- strangely enough -- one of the most underrated albums in the classic rock pantheon!

What’s that you say? An album with “Rhiannon” and “Landslide” underrated?!?! Well it’s true, seriously underrated, at least partly because those two stellar, nay, legendary songs are the first ones that most people think of. There's so much more! It's definitely my favorite Fleetwood Mac album!

My perspective is a little different than the standard rap that Fleetwood Mac didn't properly begin until those two California kids joined the band in 1975, because to me, they started taking off when their first American joined the band, Bob Welch in 1971 for Future Games, which I wrote about at some length here.

(For the record, Future Games is my second favorite Fleetwood Mac album. Anyone who hasn't checked it out really needs to.)

I’ll leave it at that for now, except to observe that to most of my music nerd friends at the time, I was a latecomer to Fleetwood Mac the band, having completely missed their earlier, bluesier lineups. Indeed, the 1971 lineup was their 8th! And they'd come to #9 in 1972, before landing on lineup #10 in 1975.

They had a bunch of hits on the five albums in this 71-74 range (”Hypnotized” is one that still slays me) that I think hold up as among their best ever. While the album before Fleetwood Mac, Heroes Are Hard to Find didn’t have a hit single, it rose to #34 on the US charts, and got plenty of attention.

My point is that Fleetwood Mac didn’t spring into existence out of nowhere in 1975. Nor was 1975 necessarily ground zero for the millions of people who bought the album Fleetwood Mac. It came out in the summer of ‘75, but took 15 months to hit #1 in the US! (It peaked at #11 in the UK.) This was a far bigger album in 1976 when all the singles came out, and the band was touring like crazy to support it.

They basically dragged the album to the top of the charts kicking and screaming by the end of THAT year with relentless touring, setting the stage for their true commercial breakthrough with Rumours in 1977, but artistically? I prefer everything about 1975′s Fleetwood Mac.

btw, the music nerds know that Fleetwood Mac was recorded at Sound City Studios, which makes all the difference in the telling of the tale. In 1974, the band had located to Los Angeles, and following the departure of Bob Welch in December, Mick Fleetwood went looking for both a recording studio and a guitarist.

While getting to know producer Keith Olsen at Sound City (a studio legendary for its drum sound, among other things), Keith played Mick some tracks from an album he’d recorded here a couple of years earlier with a local guitarist and his girlfriend singer, both of whom were also songwriters.

Mick said, I’ll book the studio to record my next album, I’ll book you to produce, and I’ll hire the guitarist....who famously informed Mick that he and his girlfriend were a package deal. All of this happened because of Sound City Studios.

(Here's Mick recording this very album in this very studio.)

Your friend and mine Dave Grohl directed a FANTASTIC documentary about Sound City Studios, a kind of a dump to be honest, but where tons of phenomenal records were made, from After The Gold Rush to Caribou, Damn The Torpedoes, Nevermind, Rage Against The Machine, and most recently, Phoebe Bridgers’ Punisher. Lots and lots of stories about the making of Fleetwood Mac in this movie, and much more.

Here’s the trailer. The whole movie is available on YT, too! And Amazon Prime, and a bunch of other places. HIGHLY recommended!

youtube

So here we go taking directly about Fleetwood Mac.....

the first song from the album i heard: "Over My Head". This was the first single released in the US, remarkably, four months after the album was released! I dunno, did the label not want to sell any albums? Or did they just not get how catchy these tunes were? I have no idea.

And ironically, the band didn't like the choice of "Over My Head" at all, ranking it dead-last in their own considerations of likely singles! I think that this is evidence that they were using heavy drugs much earlier than we thought. LOL

"Over My Head" peaked at #20 in the US, their highest to date by far, although, in some defense of the band's reservations, didn't chart at all in the UK. Saying that it rose to "only" 20 in the charts doesn't begin to describe how heavily it was played, though. A LOT.

do i own the album: Did then, Spotify now. The answer for most of the albums in this round of Asks. :-)

my favorite song: "Over My Head". Look, I admit that this is insane when Fleetwood Mac also includes "Landslide" and "Rhiannon." "Landslide" in particular is maybe one of the greatest songs anyone has ever written, and every single person reading this knows somebody named Rhiannon because of that song. (I've met two.) And hey, "Say You Love Me" was a MUCH bigger hit at the time too... but I'm tellin' ya, "Over My Head" fucks.

It's the single version that fucks hardest, though, no doubt about it. I was disappointed when I finally bought the album that the version there fades in (NO! THIS IS WRONG) and has a wide mix that diffuses the impact. The radio version is so tight that it's practically mono, and it punches you right upside the head.

One of my favorite things about listening to "Over My Head" in the past couple of weeks for this Ask is that it's Old School Fleetwood Mac. Chris on piano, Mick on drums, and John McVie with what might be the best bassline that anyone stroked out in 1975. My god, it's a fucking monster, and it just gets hotter as the song progresses. By the end, it's on fire, and you hear it so much better in this tight single mix.

The new guy adds a nice little solo on top of a nice rhythm lick, and he and Stevie add background vocals, but they're not front and center. "Over My Head" is really Christine McVie's showcase, although Fleetwood and Mac really shine too. This would have been a monster hit without the new kids, as indeed it pretty much was. You could say the same thing about "Say You Love Me", which is also all about Christine's songcraft, and a voice like no other, then or now.

Here's my edit of a lovely Mick Putland photo of Christine McVie from a couple of years earlier.

I guarantee that it's been way too long since you heard the in-your-face single version of "Over My Head". On Spotify, you can find it on the couple of Deluxe Editions of Fleetwood Mac (here's one), and it's also on the anthology, The Very Best of Fleetwood Mac, which I've embedded here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gw-lIt1ILzk

youtube

least favorite song: "I'm So Afraid." I'm so afraid not. LOL

a song I didn’t like at first, but now do: Hmm, I might put "Sugar Daddy" in that category, but honestly, the main thing I don't like about this song is the title. LOL But it's the 4th best Christine McVie song on an album where the best three of hers were all released as singles, so I guess it all works out.

a song I used to like, but now don’t: Anything by the new guy. I'm not going to go into detail here because what I love about this album, I still love. At the time, I dug two of his songs here (you can guess which two, surely), but I started to really despise this guy a few years later. Now, I can't listen to anything where he's prominent at all, on any Fleetwood Mac records.

Fortunately there are more than enough Christine and Stevie songs, and Mick and John's playing, plus all those earlier albums like Future Games, to keep Fleetwood Mac in the rock good pantheon. I'd have fired the new guy 30 years earlier than he was.

favorite lyric:

Mirror in the sky

What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I've been afraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm getting older too

Like I said, the two Stevie Nicks tracks on Fleetwood Mac deserve every bit of the love they've gotten over the years. You can also see with just a quick glance around my blog that she's one of my most-posted artists. Please don't take me repping Christine as any disrespect for Stevie!

Do I like "Landslide" a little more than I otherwise might because it's specifically about outgrowing the aforementioned new guy? Maybe. Or do I like it a little less than I otherwise might because I can't hear it without thinking of him? Maybe that too.

overall rating out of 10: Then: 9.4. Now: 9. The new guy went 2-for-4 for my money at the time, and the two that he whiffed on are genuinely terrible...but as bad as those two clunkers were, the rest of the album seemed perfect to me. Certainly among my most-played mainstream rock records into the early 80s. I was perfectly fine skipping one song on each side.

Even though nowadays I can't stand any of the songs he sings lead on, you take those off, and you STILL have "Landslide", "Rhiannon", "Say You Love Me", "Over My Head", and "Warm Ways". No album with ALL THOSE on them gets less than an 8.5, right?

I'm adding a few tenths each for how tightly Fleetwood and Mac are locked into each other and these songs on rythm (easily the most underrated duo of the era, sez me), and Keith Olsen's immaculate production. The score of 9 is therefore objectively correct and mathematically unassailable. LOL

I'm going to end where I began, by talking about Christine McVie. Instead of listening to this first and foremost as an album with a couple of giant Stevie Nicks songs, listen again to Fleetwood Mac as Christine McVie really lighting things up. She deserves so much more credit for the band's success than she gets, and seriously, "Over My Head" fucks.

Now looky here, @aluacrescente . I know that YOU have strong feelings about this record, so spill! And the rest of you, too! I don't intend to have the last word on the albums in any of these Asks! Just the first one. :-) So lemme know what YOU think!

PS. Apologies for any formatting weirdness! I started this on desktop, where I do all my writing, saved the first few paragraphs to come back to later, only to be told by tumblr that I'd stated this on the app (DID NOT) and could only edit there. Grrr. Not cool, @staff. I've spent another day just tweaking to make it somewhat readable and wondering how these people can be so bad at their jobs. LOL

My crackpot opinions and wobbly writing are my own of course, and I'm aware that they have a larger negative impact on readability than tumblr's incompetence by far. LOL

#aluacrescente #ask #Fleetwood Mac #christine mcvie #women in rock #stevie nicks #Landslide #over my head #john mcvie #dave grohl #sound city #youtube #essay #me #recording studio

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thedreadvampy · 3 years

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🤝 on the vendetta against fine artists they're all so pretentious. "pbbhthhtpbt my art has meaning and value" shut UP dude all art has meaning and value try holding a paintbrush after i bite your fingers off. this got more aggressive than it was supposed to but i stand by it

Like I LIKE fine art as a construction, I don’t have an issue with gallery art (although I have a Big Issue with the culture around it) and I often like conceptual art that’s deemed “pretentious”.

but. ok. it’s a cliche to say ‘you have to learn the rules to break them’ but like YEAH DUDE YOU KIND OF DO. art that’s abstract or conceptual rather than figurative is uhhhhh. it sort of can’t lean on anything other than its ideas. and I’m sorry to the 18 year olds who follow me but very few people come out of fuckin high school with enough of a fully-formed sense of concept and context to make original, interesting and strongly voiced fine art. and as far as I can see a lot of undergrad fine art courses don’t do a lot to build those skills besides give you space, materials and occasional crits (and most undergrad fine artists are just dire at taking crit ime because it’s ~their vision~)

like I think a fine art course is a really useful place to be as a mature student, someone who’s formed some experience and a unique voice and is just looking for a space to develop. but for a teenage/early 20s undergrad fresh from A-Level art classes? It’s 90% wank with incredibly basic ways of communicating a few key messages: consumerism bad, war bad, celebrity culture toxic, misogyny bad, I Have A Body, I Have Sex. a commercial/applied arts course (illustration, graphic design, animation) teaches you how to take criticism, work to brief and operate in the world; a practical arts course (painting, animation, sculpture) teaches you specific technique and theory; an awful lot of Fine Arts courses seem to teach very little beyond What You Have To Say Is Inherently Interesting And Worthwhile which.........doesn’t get you very far. trying to teach young artists to do conceptual gallery work is imo starting at the end. I cannot think of a single mainstream-successful conceptual artist who doesn’t have a degree of technical training and most of them are either self-taught or have a background in commercial work (I’m thinking Warhol, Duchamp, Emin, Kapoor, extremely Grayson Perry...)

sorry I have a lot of thoughts about this. I think the modern commercial fine art establishment prioritises the oblique and the crude/naive because it’s about elite status to Be Cultured Enough To Get It and you know that’s fine whatever. but if you actively teach towards being oblique, keeping meaning fuzzy and opaque, making naive and childlike forms and readymades, and towards very oversharey very self-indulgent work (bc that’s what’s been in fashion for the last few decades) then like. when do you learn to create clear readable meaning? to develop the skills to make your work as complex and involved and technical as you want it to be? to filter out your thoughts and decide what’s useful and interesting as an artistic dialogue instead of just saying Every Thought I Have Is Important Because It’s Art And I Made It?

as far as I can tell, the answer is far too often: you don’t, you make a lot of wank titled Untitled #46 where you’ve like. splashed menstrual blood on a canvas or carved SLUT into the bottom of a table or done a performance piece where you shit in a bottle in front of a live audience (all real examples), and then you are confused and distressed when you don’t sell and can’t maintain a career. whereas if you had taken an applied/technical arts course you could have developed some art and business skills and then you can still at any time take the informed and free decision to say ‘actually formal drawing isn’t where I’m at at the moment, what I want to say calls for me to shit in a bottle’ and that’s fine and valid! I just think fine art courses put students in a pretty disadvantageous position when it comes to continuing art past university and, not coincidentally, often renders them absolutely insufferable arseholes who cannot bear a shred of criticism on the usefulness or validity of their ~*~art~*~

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darkarfs · 3 years

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the worst movie tie-ins in the history of wrestling

Wrestling is stupid, and will show its ass at the mere mention of cross-promotion, especially when it comes to movies, which is it's cooler older brother that can get away with a lot more. Hell, the 2nd ever SummerSlam's main event, in 1989, was Hulk Hogan facing the main villain, Tiny Lister as Zeus (RIP), from the film they were both in, No Holds Barred. So wrestling's always wanted a piece of that. So... - Army of the Dead Let's just get this one out of the way. Here's the thing; I thought the WrestleMania Backlash's card was fucking perfect...except for this weird business. WMB MIGHT've been the best show of the pandemic (hot take) were it not for making sure we sell Big Dave's big zombie heist movie. If they had just kept some of the guys in zombie makeup on the Thunderdome's webcam footage, that would have been borderline charming. But instead, the Miz (who was WWE champion 3 months ago, don't forget) and Damien Priest (who they're making WWE's pop-culture liaison so far on the main roster, for some reason) had to sell for zombies in a lumberjack match. If this was the first ever wrestling show you watched with a loved one who had never watched wrestling or hadn't since like, the end of the Attitude Era, would you for a second want them to stick around after Miz and Morrison get, for all intents and purposes, kayfabe killed and eaten, and then watch Damien Priest shoot the logo at the ceiling? My money's on "no." - Shaft Speaking of the Attitude Era, anytime someone tells you that wrestling was cooler in that 3-year time frame, point them to the June 15th of 2000 episode of SmackDown, where a storyline that ran throughout the show followed Patterson and Briscoe through New York City to find Crash Holly and his Hardcore Title. Now, I admit parts of this are kinda funny, like Briscoe just wanting to give up and find a "gen-yoo-WINE New York hot dawg!" That's fun! And who does Crash Holly run into but none other than Shaft, and his woman, the only one who understands this complicated man, John Shaft. So, we have real Samuel L. Jackson, playing fake John Shaft, talking to real/fictional Crash Holly, and man is it weird. Anyway, Shaft agrees to be Crash's bodyguard for the night, and he slaps around Patterson and Briscoe in a nightclub. After all, what better way to get across how cool and badass a character is than having him knock around the fucking Stooges? - The Wrestler Well, this is complicated. The Wrestler, starring ancient wooden lion Mickey Rourke, is a somber tale about an industry that, in its heyday, left people physically spent, washed-up and addicted to adrenaline at best, and dead at worst. It famously moved Roddy Piper to tears because he recognized what destruction and brokenness the industry once left in its wake. Which is why it's super-weird that WWE jumped at the chance to promote maybe the bleakest possible look at their world in 2009, and did so by having Chris Jericho smack the shit out of three old wrestlers at WrestleMania 25, including Roddy Piper. And then have Rourke jump into the ring, wearing his "do you want to take peyote in the desert?" starter kit and bring out his amateur boxing chops. Tonally, it's just really bleak. Like if the creator of Super Size Me screened the premiere at the world's biggest McDonald's. - Bride of Chucky Poor Rick Steiner. You didn't deserve this. You're the sane Steiner. They shouldn't have made you talk to the puppet. So, WCW was heading into Halloween Havoc 1998, and after years of stomping all over the WWF in the ratings, the wheels had come off, and dramatically. Like, all at once. Like the car in the Blues Brothers. To boost PPV buys, they spent a fortune bringing in the Ultimate Warrior to rekindle a feud with Hulk Hogan, mostly by hiding in his fucking mirror. And the Steiner Brothers, one of the best teams of the early 90s, had been feuding with one another since Scott turned on his at SuperBrawl. What was the best way to build hype around this match at Halloween Havoc? Why, to have Rick get into a war of words - and lose - to Chucky. Yes.

Serial killer doll voiced by Brad Dourif, and it's so sad. Chucky cusses Rick out while Rick challenges the fucking doll to a fight, which is promptly ignored (Chucky's video segment is pre-recorded, and you can tell because he starts talking about 3 times in 3 minutes while Rick's mid-promo and missing his cues to stop) and then is made fun of. And all the while, people were probably wondering "what's going on on Vince's show?" and the answer is...that was the episode of Raw where Austin fills Vince's Corvette with cement, which is slightly more badass than being teased by a puppet. - The Goods Here's the thing: Raw is, right now, a bad show. It is bad TV. It's been bad for a while now. And as bad as it is right now, it's still not as fuck-awful as it was in 2009, aka the Age of the Guest Hosts (which, in kayfabe, was given to us by Donald J. Trump, so blame that ambulatory Nazi scrotum for one more thing, he's certainly earned it). For those of you fortunate enough to not be watching what was objectively unwatchable at the time - and hell, I sure as shit wasn't checking in very often - from mid-2009 to around mid-2010, a celebrity would be the special guest host of Monday Night Raw, often to promote a TV show or movie, and it was nearly all horribly-written, cheesy wank. Imagine if every week was the week of the zombie attack at Backlash. That's what it was like. Bob Barker was funny. The Muppets were good. And THAT'S the end of the list. MacGruber coming out to blow up R-Truth made me want to fall on a knife. The A-Team coming out to beat up Virgil was fucking awful. Go straight to fucking HELL, the Three Stooges, Dennis Miller, the reverend Al Sharpton, the 2010 Pittsburgh Steelers, Don Johnson and Jon Heder, the poor entire cast of Hot Tub Time Machine...and then there's Piven. Jeremy Piven. He showed up with Ken Jeong to promote a movie no one remembers...called the Goods. He stunk up several segments, infamously called SummerSlam "the Summer Fest" and then got roughed up by John Cena. Wrestling's the worst. Stop watching. And many did. For a looooooong time. - Robocop 2 This one's infamous, so I'll keep it brief. Robocop 2 came out in 1990, and goddamn, I don't know how much money the producers threw at WCW, but it was enough for them to rebrand an entire PPV "Capitol Combat: the Return of Robocop" and marketed the entire thing around the fancy metallic gentleman. The branding really made it seem like Robert Cop was old friends with the promotion, and indeed, old friends with Sting. Makes sense; two big, heroic idiots running on BASIC. He had been feuding with the Four Horsemen, who locked him in a cage at ringside. Out comes Robocop, called completely straight by Jim Ross, who rips the cage door off his hinges, and then leaves. An accumulated 85 seconds of screen time. Totally worth being the centerpiece of this PPV! But a little context as to why WCW fans hated it so much: 1989, the year before, was regarded by WCW fans as one of the best in company history. The era that gave us stuff like Chi-Town Rumble and the still-very-much-lauded peak of the Steamboat/Flair feud. To go from that to Robocop was seen as a bit of a slap in the face, because WCW was always seen as the more traditional "wrasslin'" company and was never into cheesy pop-culture crossovers, which is why the last one...is all the funnier.

- Ready To Rumble First of all, those dumbasses at Turner had to give Michael Buffer - who they still had on retainer - around $350,000 just to use that title, because he owns the trademark to that phrase. Strike 127 million, capitalism, that a guy gets to own a phrase and gets paid an obscene amount when he or anyone else uses it. Secondly, I initially wasn't going to do movies where the promotion itself is producing the movie, or oh holy HELL would See No Evil and the infamous May 19 shit be on here. But unlike See No Evil, this had a hand in killing a decades-old wrestling promotion, so it feels weird to not include it. On April 7th, 2000, bad movie Ready To Rumble was released, a film about two hapless dorks trying to help Oilver Platt, aka the lawyer from the West Wing, become WCW World Heavyweight Champion. Two weeks later, to promote the movie, they made David Arquette, the lead actor in the movie, the WCW World Heavyweight Champion. He pinned Eric Bischoff, who wasn't the champion, of course, in a match where he was teamed with Diamond Dallas Page, his best pal and the company's top babyface at the time, but who is also one of the villains in the film to make it extra confusing for the mainstream casual audience the movie was made to attract. And, to be fair, Arquette didn't want to do it, NO ONE really wanted to do it, and it tanked viewership for WCW once and for all. At the very least, David took his payday from the wrestling appearances and the film and gave it to the families of Owen Hart, Brian Pillman and to Darren Drozdov, who had been paralyzed from the neck down in a wrestling match the previous year.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Best Serial Killer Movies of the ’90s Ranked

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Someone must have left the freezer door in the morgue open, because grisly reminders of the past are thawing before our eyes. You can see it this weekend with the release of John Lee Hancock’s The Little Things, a throwback to the days when movie stars hung out at crime scenes instead of in spandex, and it’ll be more apparent next month with the launch of Clarice, a television spinoff of 1991’s The Silence of the Lambs. All the evidence points to only one conclusion: the serial killer thrillers of the ‘90s are back!

Not that we’re complaining. For a macabre minute or two, every Hollywood name appeared eager to play either the detective or the killer—the hunter or the obsessed, which often proved interchangeable for both characters. Granted that means there can be something formulaic about many of these movies. Yet they can also be bleak, hard-edged, and ambiguous. From our modern gaze, where the dominant studio conventions prefer reassuring morality tales and sunny lighting, these movies’ preference for shadows and discomfort in the mainstream is kind of startling.

So grab your magnifying glass and fortify your stomach, because we’re about to revisit some of the best (and worst) of ‘90s serial killer thrillers. (Also this list is strictly for the decade when the genre was at its height and it excludes slasher movies like Scream, which may feature serial killers but were not exactly adult-oriented thrillers.)

12. Eye of the Beholder (1999)

Eye of the Beholder is a tonal oddity that only passingly flirts with the conventions of ‘90s serial killer thrillers, all while it tries to pay homage to (read: rip-off) Alfred Hitchcock. But any credit it deserves for deviation—including making Ashley Judd’s central femme fatale the killer—it loses in execution. As a muddied, impenetrable tale about an intelligence officer (Ewan McGregor) who spies on and falls in love with a serial killer, Eye of the Beholder is a scattershot of bad ideas that run the gamut from ludicrous to misogynistic.

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but this movie will close the lids over your pupils inside of 30 minutes.

11. Nightwatch (1997)

It feels a little mean to rag on Ewan McGregor back-to-back, but maybe serial killer movies just aren’t his genre? That could be at least one takeaway from an ill-advised double feature of Eye of the Beholder and Nightwatch, the latter of which is a remake of a 1994 Danish film that I’ve not seen… and probably won’t since both the original film and American remake are directed by the same man.

McGregor plays medical student Martin here, a kid who gets an after school job by becoming the night watch security at the local morgue. But as a series of grisly prostitute murders pile up, Martin realizes he needs to figure out who the killer is—that or continue to be framed by the necrophiliac fiend who keeps coming by the morgue for one last liaison. It’s exactly as skeevy as it sounds. Do yourself a favor and go your whole life without hearing Nick Nolte sing “This Old Man” while climbing onto a corpse.

10. Natural Born Killers (1994)

The movie that Quentin Tarantino disowned, Natural Born Killers is a seedy mess based on a Tarantino script that was heavily rewritten by Oliver Stone, David Veloz, and Richard Rutowski. The concept itself is a seemingly inevitable escalation of the “bad romance outlaws” archetype that’s been floating around Hollywood since at least 1950’s Gun Crazy, and which was then made iconic by Bonnie & Clyde (1967).

But whereas those films relied on bank robbers living fast, Natural Born Killers descends into a seeming final form with Mickey and Mallory (Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis) as giddy serial killers who are eventually out for maximum carnage. Technically the pair are supposed to be presented as victims of traumatic child abuse—and who are then wrongfully glorified by the media. But Stone’s sloppy and tanked vision lacks the discipline to achieve anything beyond its maliciousness. Early sequences imagining Mallory’s abusive childhood like it’s a television sitcom, and later psychedelic visions of Robert Downey Jr.’s opportunistic news reporter as the Devil, do little to divorce the film from its shallow self-satisfaction in close-ups of heads being shot.

The movie came under controversy in the years after its release for inspiring alleged copycat killers as well as school shooters. It feels irresponsible to blame media for actual violence, but it’s still quite an indictment that Stone’s attempt to criticize media glorification became a favorite for many a disturbed individual with a gun.

9. Kiss the Girls (1997)

When studying competent, middle of the road Hollywood thrillers, Kiss the Girls is a solid place to start. As a decently made bit of studio convention, the movie is anchored by strong elements like Morgan Freeman as James Paterson’s literary hero, Alex Cross, and Ashley Judd as Kate, the victim who survives a masked killer’s attempt to abduct her into his harem.

Moments like Kate’s escape sequence through the North Carolina wilderness are effectively filled with adrenaline, and Judd particularly gives the salacious piece conviction. However, it is salacious to a fault. Even if the movie toned down the source novel’s even more lurid misogyny, the film studies Kate and the other victims with a lascivious male gaze, blurring sex with violence, real world horror with leering entertainment. Right down to its title, the film can be rightly criticized as Hollywood glamourizing another story about violence against women. Whether that damns the whole movie depends on the viewer, but it certainly keeps it low on our list.

8. The Bone Collector (1999)

Marketed with a hell of a tagline about there being thousands of taxi cabs in New York City that’ll get you home—and one that won’t—The Bone Collector is almost comically slavish to the clichés of ‘90s moviemaking. The wrinkle here is that after a faux cab driver begins abducting his victims off the street, the crime psychologist who must stop him is entirely stuck by his bedside. Due to a tragic accident, Denzel Washington’s Lincoln Rhyme is paralyzed from the neck down. Yet he is still able to catch serial killers by communicating in the earpiece of police officer Amelia Donaghy (an entirely unconvincing Angelina Jolie).

Movies

Lost Girls Review: Netflix Takes on the Long Island Serial Killer

By Rosie Fletcher

Books

The Last Book on the Left Takes on the Grim History of Serial Killers

By Alec Bojalad

Together the pair stay one step behind the mystery killer’s tracks as he executes a series of increasingly gruesome and ridiculous murders. It’s preposterous, and in some ways a forerunner for Saw with the satisfaction it takes in absurd death traps, but Washington is effortlessly compelling, even when he never leaves his apartment. As a bit of absurd Hollywood fluff, right down to the ultimately lackluster unmasking of the killer, it can be entertaining, even if you’ll deny it afterward.

7. Copycat (1995)

More potent than I remembered, Copycat is a genuinely well-crafted Hollywood thriller that may not reinvent the wheel but takes it out for a damn good spin. In the driver’s seat is Sigourney Weaver as Dr. Helen Hudson, a criminal psychologist who is an expert on serial killers until one follows her into the bathroom after a guest lecture. He nearly hangs her from the ceiling. Following that white-knuckled opening, the film jumps years ahead and Helen has become agoraphobic and afraid to leave her home.

Yet when a local series of murders reveal the pattern of a predator imitating the methods of his favorite “celebrities”—one crime scene is like the Boston Strangler and another emulates the horrors of Jeffrey Dahmer—Helen is pulled out of retirement by a no-nonsense detective (Holly Hunter). The winning chemistry between Weaver and Hunter—who are refreshingly free from the studio-mandated romantic subplots in some of the other movies on this list—and the blunt force power of their performances aid this sincerely disquieting flick. A needlessly convoluted third act aside, the movie still works as a warning about the danger of fanboys a generation early.

6. Fallen (1998)

Denzel Washington appears again thanks to this clever supernatural spin on the serial killer genre. At the beginning of Fallen, Washington’s John Hobbes appears on top of the world. The serial killer he chased for years (Elias Koteas) is about to breathe deeply in the gas chamber. Yet after the lever is pulled, and with Koteas singing the Rolling Stones’ “Time is On My Side” until his last breath, a funny thing happens: the murders continue.

In fact, more than just the killings, strangers in the street sing “Time is On My Side” in Hobbes’ ear, and he soon realizes that he faces a devil of a killer whose been operating since the beginning—quite literally since the villain is a demon who was once an angel that fell with Lucifer. It’s a bizarre premise given strutting confidence thanks to Washington’s performance, as well as good supporting work by John Goodman and Donald Sutherland. Twenty years later and its ending still sticks with me.

5. The Exorcist III (1990)

If you haven’t seen The Exorcist III, we know what you’re thinking: “Really?!” Yes. In fact, this isn’t even an exorcist movie; it should’ve been titled Legion like the 1983 novel it’s based on. Alas writer-director William Peter Blatty was forced to use the title and do reshoots that added an exorcism in the climax. Still, this supernatural thriller which involves a serial killer back from the dead is far better than it has any right to be.

Following the character of Lt. Kinderman from the 1973 masterpiece, the middle-aged gumshoe is now played by George C. Scott instead of the late Lee J. Cobb, and he possesses Scott’s usual love for contrasts between the restrained whisper and a bombastic howl. He also makes a sympathetic, secular detective forced to face the horrors of Hell when a series of murders committed against Catholic priests appear to be the work of the Gemini Killer (Brad Dourif), a serial killer whom Kinderman sent to the chair more than 10 years ago.

Movies

The Exorcist III is a Classic and Better Than You Remember

By Jim Knipfel

Movies

The Exorcist Is Still the Scariest Movie Ever Made

By David Crow

Somehow the fiend—plus Kinderman’s long dead pal Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller)—appear to now be living in the same body of a John Doe kept in a mental asylum. With an unrelenting atmosphere of dread, palpable tension, and more of Blatty’s intellectual struggle with concepts of faith and evil, the film is more high-minded than its hacky title suggests. It also features one of the best jump scares in movie history.

4. Summer of Sam (1999)

The only movie on this list directly based on an actual serial killer’s crimes, Spike Lee’s Summer of Sam is a serious-minded joint. However, it’s only partially about the murders perpetrated by David Berkowitz, aka the “.44 Caliber Killer,” aka the Son of Sam. Rather the film focuses on the effects a serial killer has on the culture of New York City during the sweltering summer of 1977, and how it affects young lives trying to make it in the big city.

Influenced by Lee and his co-writers Michael Imperioli and Victor Colicchio’s memories of growing up in 1970s New York, the pic is a love letter to a grim moment in history when the city was about to explode with murders, blackouts, crime, and disco. All of this is digested from the vantages of Vinny (John Leguizamo), a philandering hairdresser guilt-ridden for cheating on his wife (Mira Sorvino), and his childhood pal Ritchie (Adrien Brody), who’s left the old neighborhood behind to join the fledgling punk rock scene.

With a greater interest in how a serial killer affects the culture and institutions of a city on edge than being a traditional crime drama, Summer of Sam is a bit of a forerunner to David Fincher’s far more polished Zodiac from a few years later. With heavy-handed dialogue and a plot too big for Lee to fully get his arms around, even at 142 minutes, Summer of Sam can be uneven and messy. But it has the sweaty incorrigibility of a long night out, and of revelries half remembered like from a fever dream.

3. The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)

The rare serial killer movie told entirely from the perspective of the killer, Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr. Ripley is disarmingly creepy. Despite its glossy awards bait sheen, there is a cold-blooded streak that runs deep to the heart of the piece, likely due to Patricia Highsmith’s source 1955 novel. Starring Matt Damon fresh off his Good Will Hunting golden boy sheen, the film uses its casting to disorient and ultimately disturb.

Like Highsmith’s book, the film is not structured like a traditional thriller. It instead favors a detached ambivalence about its seemingly nebbish hero as he agrees to become an errand boy for the rich by traveling to 1950s Italy in order to retrieve a silver spoon cad (Jude Law) for his father. But the more time Tom Ripley (Damon) spends with Law’s Dickie Greenleaf, the more he grows envious of Dickie’s lifestyle, his wealth and confidence, and maybe even his affection for socialite Marge (Gwyneth Paltrow). There is a subtle—too subtle due to ‘90s Hollywood conventions—homoerotic undercurrent throughout the film as Ripley slowly works up the courage to take his first life. It won’t be his last.

Movies

Knives Out: When Murder Makes You a Better Person

By Natalie Zutter

Movies

Seven: The Brilliance of David Fincher’s Chase Scene

By Ryan Lambie

Highsmith wound up publishing four subsequent sequels to The Talented Mr. Ripley, but unfortunately no more were made with Damon. Perhaps because this was too unsettling for an ongoing franchise.

2. Seven (1995)

While watching David Fincher’s masterful Seven, the thing that immediately stands out is the oppressive nihilism that permeates throughout. There were decades of neo noir before this detective yarn about the hunt for a serial killer, but none demonstrated such an overbearing sense of despair before the opening credits were even concluded. And perhaps what makes it unshakable is how welcoming the film is toward bleakness; it succumbs long before the gut-punch finale.

Telling the story of an old cop days from retirement (Morgan Freeman) and a hotheaded rookie detective (Brad Pitt), Andrew Kevin Walker’s script has an economy of pace that still impresses despite its cynicism. Very quickly one murder becomes two, then three, and soon four. Yet none of the atrocities are reveled in by Fincher’s blocking; they’re off-screen mutilations which leave psychic damage on his two leads and, eventually, us. The deaths also quickly establish a pattern that their serial killer is targeting seven souls, each intended to embody one of the seven deadly sins.

The movie is a classic now for its climax where the killer “John Doe” (a reptilian Kevin Spacey) turns himself in and leads the cops into the darkest pit, but it’s the entire package that makes this one linger more than 25 years later. At the end of the film, Somerset quotes Hemingway by saying, “‘The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.’ I agree with the second part.” I’m not convinced his film does.

1. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

As the film that kick-started the idea that serial killers could create their own film genre, The Silence of the Lambs still remains the best of its kind. Blessedly unaware that it was creating conventions for countless copycats, the film tells its psychological drama with simplicity and clarity. Whereas other films on this list bask in their bleakness, there is a dogged optimism and even perverse warmth to this Jonathan Demme adaptation of Thomas Harris’ Silence of the Lambs novel. And that’s of course largely attributable to the casting of Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster.

As Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Hopkins is of course monumental. It’s a performance that turned a quinquagenarian into an overnight movie star, and became Hopkins’ calling card as he returned to the not-so-good doctor’s well one too many times. Still, he’s undeniably enthralling as Hannibal, a cannibal psychologist with superhuman powers of observation and mental menace. Even so, Foster is often overlooked by critics for her own contributions as the FBI trainee who’s proverbially fed to the incarcerated Lecter—a pretty face to get the serial killer to consult pro bono on the crimes of another mass murderer. It’s just one more example of casual sexism faced by Clarice that gives Foster as much to play as Hopkins.

Culture

David Fincher’s Zodiac: The Movie That Never Ended

By Don Kaye

Movies

The Little Things Ending Explained

By David Crow

Surrounded by the slights and prejudices of men—be they in law enforcement or straight jackets—Clarice is constantly underestimated. She finds an intellectual rapport with Hannibal, but she pulls herself out of the darkest night, and the screaming of the lambs, without assistance. Her perseverance matched by Hannibal’s darkly seductive qualities is the juxtaposition that makes Silence of the Lambs one of the finest films of its decade.

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shra-vasti · 4 years

Text

Pairing : Lee Chan x reader

Title : Boyfriend

Genre : fluff, non idol au, college!au

Warnings : none, word count : 2k approx

Synopsis : The cliche of you being in a bit problem and Chan is there to rescue you.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

“This is the exact reason why I hate playing such stupid games with you.”

You threw your hands in the air in frustration, glaring at your friends who were laughing their ass off already imagining and irritating you while suggesting different outcomes of the dare you had been given.

You were seated on one corner of the college auditorium along with few of your friends as it was a free class and were just fooling around when they decided to play the ever so classic game of truth and dare.

You hated that game from the core of your heart, firstly because you never liked doing those rediculous things everyone suggested to dare and second of all you didn’t like the questions they asked you, all in all you hate the game altogether.

“It’s not that hard to do.”

“But it’s the lamest and most mainstream dare ever given.”

“Just say that you lose and pay for the cafeteria for one week.”

You glared at your friends, reluctantly agreeing with their stupid shenanigans. You were a broke college student and you weren’t going to pay for their cafeteria for a whole week.

“Then that’s the deal, we’ll be keeping an eye on you to see if you really do it.”

With that you packed your belongings and left towards your next class with your friends trailing behind you.

The next classes were interesting till the time you were paying attention to what the professor were saying but then your mind drifted off somewhere in your dreamland and the rest is history.

You bolt up from your seat as soon as the bell rang indicating the class was over and hurriedly made your way towards your friends.

“Lets go to cafeteria.”

Your friends exchanged a look before some stupid grin plastered on each of their faces, were they talking in telepathy and didn’t include you in their telepathy group? Because you didn’t understand what they talked with their eyes.

“It’s a break time for the whole college, it means there will be many people present in the hallways, it’s the perfect time otherwise if you delay it more we’ll extend the punishment.”

Your shoulder slumped as you started to sulk and make sad faces in front of them. They have you a big thumbs down before shaking their head no and you stomped your feat.

“Okay, you go ahead I’ll do it now.”

With that your friends hugged you and wished you luck, ruffling your hairs and some even kissing your cheeks and made their way out of the class.

It was always fun when you were on the opposite side making one of them do something ridiculous but this time luck wasn’t on your side.

You silently thanked heaven for your friends not being as creative as you were while giving dares and proceed to go out of your class.

You kept your head up but your eyes were roaming all over the hallway you were passing to search for a potential person who would be the target of your dare.

You passed quite a few of them but all of them were looking too formal or too busy to approach so you thought of just doing it after you eat your meal.

Someone suddenly bumped into you making two books which you were holding to fall down on the floor, you turn around in astonishment when the person you bumped you just mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and ran off without giving you a second glance.

You took towards their retreating figure, an annoyed expression visible on your face. Maybe the stranger was in hurry, you never know so you just forgave them internally.

“Excuse me?”

A hand tapped your shoulders making you turn around, a boy around your age was holding the books which fell off your hand, his hands extending the books in your direction.

You looked at him from head to toe, making the tip of his ears turn red as he saw you checking him out.

You smiled, so innocent and naive. You haven’t seen him around so you guess he must have joined the college this semester or that he was a nerd who didn’t like to come out of library or his classroom much.

“Thank you, Chan.”

You saw his eyes widened momentarily at the mention of his name.

“How do you know my name?”

“I stalked you.”

You laughed loudly after watching him get startled at the little lie you just told, so to avoid making him even more flustered than he already was you pointed your fingers at the Keychain hanging from his shoulder bag where his name was written in bold.

“Aah…”

He scratched the back of his head when you finally took your books from his hands.

“No worries.”

You raised your right hand up as you said so, he looked at you confused but then raised his own right hand thinking you wanted to hi-five but as soon as your hands touched his you intertwined both of your hands and brought them at the level of your face, taking two steps close to him.

At this point he was a blushing mess.

“Lee Chan, from now on we are a couple. See you later, boyfriend.”

You winked in his direction, pulling back your intertwined hands and ruffled his hair and left him in the hallway without looking back, you made your way towards the cafeteria.

Chan turned around watching you happily skipping in the opposite direction of where he was going.

Lots of whispers started around him, mainly people being jealous that you just proposed him right in the middle of the hallway but his mind was a complete mess.

You reached at your usual seat where your friends were seated. You brought your food with you and slapped them when they tried to take some of it.

“You are the talk of college now, lol.”

One of your friend snickered and others nodded their heads repeatedly. You sighed shaking your head.

“The dare was to say I like you to a random person not to become couple with a random stranger.”

“I don’t know what went into my mind. I was supposed to say I like you to him but I was so into teasing him and watching him blush that I kind of messed everything up.”

You replied feeling really shy all of a sudden.

“Are you blushing?”

“Oh my god yes she is.”

“SHUT UP!”

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

You were walking down the stairs of your college, the last few weeks being hectic since the finals were around the corners.

You had spend extra time after college ended to revise the portion and now since it was almost evening you packed your belongings to head home.

You were about to exit the main door of your building near the auditorium when you felt someone grasp your hand forcefully turning you around.

“Dujoon? What are you doing here this late?”

He was your college senior, someone who was trying to court you from at least a year. You never liked him since he was very egoistic and didn’t have a personality you wanted to associate yourself into.

“Why? I can’t be here at this time or something?”

He smirked tightening his grip on your wrist when you tried to pull away your hand.

“Don’t even try to do that.” he said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing in a threatening manner.

“What do you want?”

He irritated you because he didn’t know how to handle a rejection. You had been telling him you’re not interested since ages but all he does in follow you places.

“It’s been a while since I last found you alone.”

You looked at him disgusted, you really hated this guy. He couldn’t take no for an answer.

“I am busy I need to go.”

“No. I want you to say yes to me otherwise I’ll make your life living hell.”

You screamed when he tightened his grip more, your other hand holding his as you tried to pry his hands off you.

Dujoon was so obsessed with you to the point everyone knew about his failed attempts at courting you.

Honestly you were among those peers who would pass on as chill people neither nerdy nor popular but he had to ruin it by constantly courting you and getting rejected.

He was among the popular boys and at first you were his just another pry but since you rejected him, you became his obsession and claiming you as his was his way of building up his pride which you broke by rejecting him.

He wasn’t seen with any other girl after that and many people do believe he’s in love with you for real but you knew better.

“Leave her alone.”

A stern voice called behind you but before you could turn around to see a hand gently circled around your shoulder and the other held Dujoon’s tightly making the later hiss in pain and leave your hand.

You immediately started rubbing your wrist trying to subsidize the pain and you were sure it was going to pain a lot and leave a mark for sometime.

“Who do you think you are, interfering yourself into another people’s business.”

Dujoon came forward aiming to throw a punch when the said person dodged his punch as smack his face.

Dujoon stumbled backward, nit being used to someone fighting back with him.

“Me? I’m her boyfriend you can ask anyone in college.”

You finally out your head up as you recognized the voice, Lee Chan. You were so focused on your bruised wrist that you didn’t notice it was him.

“Her boyfriend?” Dujoon scoffed.

“Yes.” Chan smiled as he put his hand on your shoulder in a protective manner and started inspecting your wounded hand with another.

Your eyes were trained on the boy who was caressing the wound delicately, observing if it isn’t too bad. You didn’t even realize you were staring untill he snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“I asked if you are okay?”

You nodded your head unable to utter a single word, you look around for Dujoon and Chan informed that he left warning him that he’ll be back.

“Let me drop you home, it’s not safe for you to walk alone since he just cornered you like that.”

“Okay” you said as you felt yourself getting flustered again. He behaved so timid that day that you didn’t even think he would be capable of defending you in front of Dujoon, it never crossed your mind.

But guess you should judge people so soon.

“Thankyou.” you replied, you were walking on the sidewalk.

“No problem. I’m your boyfriend I am obliged to take care of you.”

He coughed as soon as he said that making you blush at that. You stopped in your tracks and he turned around.

“I was just joking, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

You wanted to laugh at how confused and puppy like he looked when he thought you were angry at him.

You shook your head as you laughed a little before pointing your hand across the street.

“That’s my house.”

“Aah is that so.”

“Yes I’ll take my leave.” you waved in his direction as you turn towards your house.

“Wait.” he exclaimed making you turn towards him in curiosity. “Since I saved you, I do deserve a coffee date, don’t I?”

You nodded your head, taking few steps towards him and getting on your tiptoe to kiss his cheeks lightly.

“Of course, boyfriend.” you winked in his direction as you pulled yourself away from him and turning to see if the signal is red or green and crossed the streets.

You stood in front of your house gate, turning around to see him still standing at the same spot with a hand on his cheek like a status.

“Chan!” you yelled getting his attention as you showed him your 7 fingers telling him that you’ll meet him at 7 in the evening tomorrow in front of your house and he nodded his head.

You went inside your house, a big smile plastered on your face. You sure had many things to tell to your friends and you were excited for that.

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