it’s just. Grief. it’s as bizarre and random and unfathomable as an alien coming down mid ceremony despite always talking aliens. despite dedicating your entire life to them. despite naming a fucking city for them. still. it is impossible to understand and to fully imagine until it is right there in front of you and still! still you can do nothing but stare. that little alien giving and taking and arriving and leaving no matter what they say or do. happening despite! the clock being unable to be understood and comprehended until the day the alien (grief) comes. no time left to prepare. no time to stop it. bc you can’t. bc it just is. bc it’s just happens. and it confuses everything. playing a character that is mourning his wife while mourning your lover who wrote your story. who picked you. your the wife who played my actor. use your grief. trying to do grieve right which is an impossible task! it cannot be done! even if it is a grief that can be expressed which this movie implies that it cannot! it just is! you will never understand it and it will never have more of a meaning than what it is but we can do nothing but try and try and try anyway! despite!
I had established a casual and bantering familiarity with the hotel’s concierge, a West-continental known only as Monsieur Jean, who was struck as being, at once, both lazy and, really, quite accommodating. I expect he was not well paid.
fandom: OFMD | pairings: stede/izzy, stede/edward, edward/izzy | rating: explicit | tags: identity, jealousy, character study, religious themes, repression, first time | word count: 41k
Bonnet took a dainty sip of rum, then put the mug down with a fussy finality. “Look, I’m not interested in deals and riches and who gets what from who. I want to find Ed, that’s it. You’ll come with us, and you’ll guide us to the Revenge, and when we’re done, you can have my other ship to do with what you like. Sell it, sail away, set it on fire, I don’t care. Do we have an accord?”
Bonnet held out a hand. His nails were ragged, and there were blisters on his fingers. Somehow, he still smelled of lavender. With all the recalcitrance of reaching towards an open flame, Izzy shook it.
Or: after brokering an uneasy peace, Izzy Hands, Stede Bonnet and the rest of the Revenge’s depleted crew are thrown together for a mission: find Edward, snap him out of his terrible madness, and then – and then.
notes: finally made good on that izzy hands "i don't know how to love him" character study fic. 41k of gay longing, stizzy infighting, repressed heartache, and a begrudging rescue mission.
oooooo what a cool post my mutual just reblogged ! I think I will reblog it as well !!! oooooh who did they reblog it from ? That username seems familiar,,, hohoho it's me ! from an hour ago !
anyways this is a very obvious too obvious comment but it feels like some of the thesis statement of asteroid city lives in the two images we see almost immediately: the aborted road and the endless police car chase. sometimes things don't work out the way we intend. sometimes you feel like life is going round in circles. losses; second chances; our visible failures. he still doesn't understand the play.
bwomp bwomp
Cover Illustrations by HERMÈS JONES 🐓
EDWARD NORTON as THE CHAUFFEUR
THE FRENCH DISPATCH (2021)
what I'm obsessing about today is the fact that conrad's line in the script is "is it too extraordinary?" but his line in the movie is "is it too extraordinary for you?"
like
one of those is just thinking aloud and one of them is asking for jones' specific opinion.
The text and subtext of Conrad being gay and living his life through his art and Schubert being possibly bisexual and living through his art in a fantasy world and Jones being gay and having his heart broken every single night on stage which ultimately leads to his heart being broken in reality at Conrad’s death, there’s something about being an artist and being consumed by your work but also simultaneously about having a life where you’re too scared of the repercussions of what you want. The parts of the movie in color as the play itself and then the black and white as the context and textual subtext behind a queer reading of the narrative.
How much time do you spend on Tumblr everyday?
come back with a warrant
Everybody just pretend to be normal.
LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE 2006, dir. Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris
Jones hefted his jacket all the way on, glanced up, glanced left and right, and then looked at Conrad again. “Hey, can I kiss you?"
Conrad’s chest tightened. The alleyway was empty on all sides, but he feared Jones’ voice would echo. Would give them away. “No,” he said, strained. Jones let out a puff of smoke through his nose, shrugged, nodded. “Not here,” Conrad tried. His nod was softer this time. “I got it,” he said. He took his cigarette from his mouth and licked his fingertips and damped the end and sequestered the little cigarette butt in his jean jacket pocket. “C’mon. Let’s eat.”
🫠
“Hop in.” There should have been more context before such an invite, Conrad felt, and he tried to backtrack. “My car has broken down.” “I understand.” “Can you drive me to the nearest telephone? I’m terribly sorry.” “It’s no bother. Syracuse is forty miles and some. Two hours in this snow, I’d say.” “Oh, no, the nearest telephone is just fine.” “I’m living in Syracuse just now.” He didn’t say this with any annoyance, but seemed to brook no argument. “Hop in.” “My name’s Earp. Conrad Earp.” “Hall.” “I’m terribly sorry.”
IRON MAN 2008 | dir. Jon Favreau
hey so uhhhhhhhhh do you think after conrad dies
jones finally starts to understand the play
