this was originally posted on niall’s 23rd birthday
word count: 4764
warnings: sexually explicit content
Do you ever hear one of those sounds, a sound that trickles through your skin and pricks every nerve, every sensation that your body is able to capture and hold onto. A sound so intricate and particular that it sits in the deepest part of your chest, pumping through your veins and swirling around your beating heart, wrapping it in the memory of your senses so that every time you heard it, the emotions would all come crashing back. The goosebumps would rise over the tiny hairs of your arms and across the back of your neck, the air would cinch in your lungs as you struggled to maintain a steady breath and the pupils of your eyes would dilate, overpowering the bright ring of color and helping your mind picture the exact thing that was producing the inescapable sound that was slowly settling in your ears.
CEO!YOONGI ▊ ▏I Have Listened To Every Lie : (Prologue)
The Gods above smile in trepidation. Human heart is a delicacy they eat almost too often, but they are never sated for it is the most tender, juiciest part of a human being. The human heart is marinated in love, braised in agony and served with courage. It is an aphrodisiac like no other and the Gods know that with Min Yoongi and Min Nara they will have a feast waiting for them.
Game of Thrones and the Switch from Prose to Screen
So I’ve had multiple questions lately about how I see specific plotlines playing out in the next few episodes/seasons of GOT, and I thought I would be efficient for once and make a general post summarizing of my views of the show itself.
Let me start with a blanket statement that I think many people will agree with: GOT is a glorious mess of show. I love it a lot, but it is a trainwreck. Yes, there are certain aspects of the book series it has improved upon (dear Lord, GRRM, I love you but get an editor), but there are also huge issues with the show that never appeared in the books themselves. Characterization is staggeringly inconsistent from season to season and even episode to episode, internal logic is constantly ignored for the sake of plot requirements, and as many viewers have noted, either Varys has spent all his off-screen hours building his own homemade teleportation machine or time and distance have no meaning in Westeros.
Now, the thing is, you can be convinced of all these things—as I am—and still believe that GOT is a great show—as I do. The secret to GOT’s success is that it is built from a story that does have strong characterization, plots that are both intricate and logically sound, and a functional space-time continuum (or just an absence of teleporters, who can say). Because the characters and stories of GOT are taken from such good source material, they have a solid narrative backbone that they are able to continuously draw upon even when individual episodes are at their most incoherent. The worldbuilding, the character arcs, and the mythic structure of the overarching plot are something that GOT has fallen back on over and over again to save it from its own missteps - and for the most part, in my opinion, this has worked.
It’s like D&D are driving along together at night on a road covered in potholes while cheerfully ignoring the fact that both their headlights are broken, and GRRM is the guy with the map in the back seat desperately shouting instructions over the radio. They’ve taken a lot of wrong turns and short-cuts that turned out to be dead ends and there was the one time when they didn’t even slow down after hitting a deer…but somehow they keep shambling along in vaguely the right direction anyway.
Also, in my opinion most tv shows - especially long-running, plot-heavy tv shows like this one - wind up messes for one reason or another. By its nature, the medium of television isn’t kind to stories that rely on the type of subtle, incremental character development that ASOIAF utilizes so heavily, nor to internally-coherent settings with its level of complexity (I mean, most tv shows can’t even get our world right). GOT isn’t unusual in the fact that it often screws these things up; that it receives a lot more attention for its mistakes than other such shows do is a sign, not of its inherent weaknesses, but of its underlying strength (and also of its massive popularity, to be fair). People get upset about logical inconsistencies in GOT in ways they rarely do about, say, The Big Bang Theory, because they care more about the former and have higher expectations of it as a result.
At their core, the visual and musical arts are great at making you feel things because they hit below the belt, intellectually speaking; you don’t have to know the words to a song to get choked up listening to it, or know what the subject of a painting is to have an immediate, visceral response to it. We have gut reactions to these things that are hard to overcome, because that’s simply how our brains are wired. Prose works differently; while it certainly can induce strong feelings in its readers, it generally does so by creating sensory aids to help its ideas along - ‘painting a picture with words’ and so on. But it also has access to the whole realm of analytical thought that the typical person - say, anyone not trained in art criticism - naturally uses when reading but not when looking at pictures or listening to music.
Film and television are a bit of a hybrid form between visual and written arts, but although typically chock-full of dialogue, they affect their viewers most through the kinds of automatic emotional reactions we have to shapes and colors and music. A series like Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, for example, translated well to a visual medium because his books were primarily an act of myth-making; he wasn’t trying to tell a realistic story, he was trying to create an epic in the old-fashioned sense of the word, a story about archetypes and ideals and the nature of legends that didn’t rely upon realism because it wasn’t about realism. This worked great in the movies, which relied on a lot of short-hand visual tricks and inspiring musical scores that mimicked many of the techniques Tolkien used in his writing to make us feel a certain way.
But a series like ASOIAF is much tougher to translate to the screen, because it is not a traditional epic, but a deconstruction of one. It is fundamentally a work about what happens when you take archetypes and ideals and legends and apply them to a world in which realistic logic still applies. This works great in a written medium, where you can spend all the time you like teasing out the logical consequences of every action and reaction. But it’s a message that can’t help but become confused when delivered via spectacular action sequences and inspirational musical scores - because the whole point of ASOIAF is to make you think about the things that cause these gut emotional responses, not to rely wholly on them to tell its story. Thus the inherent contradiction of the show itself.
So. My attitude towards watching GOT is that these are issues I am aware of, but which I don’t plan to let get in the way of my enjoyment of the show. The best way to have fun watching GOT - and also, I think, to understand it - is to consider its storylines in terms of their overarching emotional and thematic resonances, rather than the messy plot devices used to deliver them. In other words, to let yourself buy what GOT is selling. And what it is selling is a whole lot of spectacle, a few of the sharpest-written individual scenes currently on television, a handful of truly phenomenal actors (and several more fairly decent ones), and a bunch of long-running, psychologically packed, more or less illogical political and family drama that frequently makes emotional but not logical sense. And I’m cool with that.
Now, one thing we do know is that the ending of GOT will be the same ending as the one in store for us in ASOIAF. This is why I feel comfortable making predictions about the show based on my readings of the books (and, very occasionally, vice versa). But when it comes to how GOT is actually going to get us to that ending, I honestly don’t know. I didn’t expect GOT to merge Sansa’s storyline with Jeyne’s, I didn’t expect it to cut Arianne Martell in favor of the Sand Snakes, I didn’t expect it to kill off the entire Tyrell family in a sept explosion…yeah, I’m just not comfortable making predictions about episode-to-episode events. I’m reasonably qualified for the broader narrative analyses I’ve been posting, but I’m not a film critic or a fortune teller.
So basically, while I hope the plot of this and next season will be
logically coherent, I don’t necessarily expect it to be. GOT is what it
is, and I’ve made my peace with that. I think we’re going to end up where we’re going to end up, and I am
hopeful that it will be well-done and make sense to all us viewers in
the process, but if it doesn’t - well, I doubt anyone’s going to be
totally shocked. And at the very least, it will probably still look cool.
These classical wunderkinds prove that contemporary music isn’t always spiky, melody-lite and inaccessible to the average music lover.
Hailing from the country that has more musicians per capita than any place in the world, Jóhann Jóhannsson is an Icelandic composer and electronic producer. His work draws influence from minimalism and baroque, and uses classical orchestration with electronics to build ambience. His elegant sound swells with emotion, haunting the soul and evoking feelings of melancholia.
Composer and pianist Max Richter has an immense portfolio. He’s composed countless film scores, collaborated on albums with 90s drum and bass legend Roni Size, written an opera, composed albums of his own heady blend of post-ambient soundscapes and electronic atmosphere, and most recently has Recomposed Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Winter III is his favourite movement from the album, and we agree - have a listen.
Nils Frahm’s musical influences are diverse. He was trained in piano by the last scholar of Tchaikovsky, and grew up listening neo-classical and jazz legends like Steve Reich, Arvo Pärt and Chick Corea but was also heavily influenced by the trance sound of the 90s. Frahm’s curiosity for creating new sounds led him to apply delays and analogue synthesizers to his solo piano works, to layer and blend a unique brand of classically-infused lush, emotional soundscapes.
A multidisciplinary artist, Mira Calix’s work moves from ambient electronica and sound+art installations to classical instrumentation for small orchestras. Having released music on the Warp label since 1998, her early music tends towards electronica. Recent years have seen Mira incorporate classical orchestration into her work for installation pieces, film soundtracks, theatre and opera.
Oliver Coates plays the cello and produces electronic music. He’s collaborated with contemporary artists, bands and ensembles like London Sinfonietta, Mira Calix and Boards of Canada, Johnny Greenwood, Goldie, Massive Attack and Sigur Rós as well as more traditional composers such as Thomas Ades. His music can move from drone-like industrial sounds, toward ambient treatments of classical instrumentation, peppered with micro electronics.
Eluvium, aka Matthew Cooper, is a man of many monikers - each incarnation of his musical self renders an intricately different sound. His symphonic guitar pieces have been compared to the work of Brian Eno, with twinges of Aphex Twin-esque electronics. Working an experimentally, minimal vibe, Eluvium’s music infuses wailing guitars, emotive pianos and classical instrumentation to create ambient washes that send shivers up your spine.
Hauschka is a German experimental pianist and electronic producer who specialises in the art of the ‘prepared piano’, that is, treating the hammers and strings in order to produce a desired sound. His compositions are reminiscent of composers Erik Satie or Philip Glass, taking classical techniques and seamlessly blending them with pop and electronic sensibilities. Check out this beautifully produced video of a prepared piano in action.
Another multi-talented composing wunderkind, Nico Muhly spent six years working with Philip Glass and has collaborated with myriad popular artists from Bjork, Grizzly Bear and Antony and the Johnsons to Sufjan Stevens and, believe it or not, Usher. He’s written for a number of films and just recently composed a full opera. He commonly blends traditionally composed classical for small ensembles with electronics.
Ólafur Arnalds is a multi-instrumentalist and producer from Iceland who composes music primarily for strings and piano, mixing them with loops and beats. Often cited alongside contemporary Nils Frahm, Arnalds music is as sweeping and emotive, but he came to the neoclassical genre in a slightly more roundabout way. He was commissioned to write for strings and piano when fellow rock musicians heard his solo demo…and the rest is history. Arnalds has been writing and producing solo albums since 2008, has written for film and recently collaborated with the above-mentioned Frahms.
An American chamber music group, Rachel’s is heavily influenced by the sound of 20th century classical composition including, most notably, the work of British composer and film scorer, Michael Nyman. The result is a dark fusion of classical and experimental sounds. Sadly, Rachel’s founding member, Jason Noble, passed away in 2012 of a rare form of cancer.
McHanzo Week Day 2: Canon Divergent || Alternate Universe
Alright. This is day two of that lovely, lovely McHanzo week. Both options have their pull but those who know me, know which one I will most likely go with. So, have fun reading! Also, this story is the first part of a series that will stretch over the other days of this week!
Dark smoke rose from the destroyed shell that had once been one of Lord Talon’s many merchant ships. The great big mainmast splintered into pieces when a perfectly aimed canonball hit it and took out most of the sails with it.
“It won’t be long now until it is gone completely.” Jesse turned his head away from the wreckage. His side twinged from where a bullet had barely missed him and he knew that come the next morning his back would look like Torbjörn had taken his hammer to it. Thankfully, he didn’t feel it yet. The heat from the fight still burned brightly in his veins and drowned out anything but excitement.
want to talk more about ritsu? like what's your take on him? like how do you think he views his brother and Reigen ?
i’ve already answered half of that third question, and you can see more stuff i wrote about ritsu and mob here… and i have a new idea about the brothers that i think i’ll make a separate post about…
but i’ve got some headcanons i can put here
if the kageyama brothers play instruments (and you can’t get through middle school without doing so, right? at least a little) (not counting recorders), mob plays piano and ritsu plays violin.
mob plays piano because it suits him. a piano is easy to operate (press a button and it makes a sound; press the button harder and it’s louder) but has great potential for complexity. the way it makes sound is pretty simple (whack a string), but the internal structure is intricate, almost convoluted. the sounds of a piano are generally smooth and neutral-to-pleasant, but they can get very intense.
ritsu plays violin because it suits him. playing a violin isn’t easy for a beginner, and it doesn’t get any easier. ritsu is an overachiever and thus, i believe, would be Real Good at violin. the sounds of a violin can sound much more dramatic than a piano, with a piercing quality and a potential to convey really gut-wrenching emotion… but it can’t have the same booming resonance as a piano.
ritsu is a good learner but not a very good teacher; he gets a knack for things and then can’t quite put it into words
ritsu doesn’t know how to make a cootie catcher and would look upon one with nervous incredulity
ritsu colors inside the lines
ritsu plays super smash brothers as link. when he plays against his brother, he gives mob the advantage by playing as a character he doesn’t usually use, but he doesn’t mention it
ritsu is well-liked and popular but does not have any close friends at his school (except maybe kamuro and maaaybe tokugawa, but they’re not, like, confidant-level close).
ritsu doesn’t carry a comb or hairbrush, not even in his school bag. if his hair gets disheveled, he give his head one good shake and it goes back to normal
ritsu sometimes feels a little guilty about being taller than his big brother
ritsu still sorta wishes mob would kick his ass for pulling that “good old brothers act is over” stunt, but he knows it’s not gonna happen. but it would make him feel a little better
We don’t speak enough about the fact Taylor was able to perfectly capture the line “took off faster than a green light, go” through an almost chaotic, vibrant intensity in Holy Ground. She echoed the underpinning nature of a relationship that seemingly had an electrifying air to it while it lasted, and in three minutes was able to lace together the notion of blissfully being caught up within the whirlwind beauty of the exhilarating emotions she felt. She has a way of illustrating all aspects of nostalgia so poetically.
I have a voice
It’s seldom heard
A quiet wrath
A silent storm
People too often do not listen
They just hear
Sounds and intricate combinations
Of charaters strung together
With paper thread and a plastic needle
It’s so confusing
Things seldom make sense
And meanings are void
Chemicals mingling within my brain
Are being destroyed
From misfired synapses
time soon elapses
And I am still behind
Hidden in the crowd
A voice that isn’t heard
That have never been said.
“Who’s Rulore?” She couldn’t even say it. [Arya VI, ASOS]
Stannis’s clan commander is more confident:
“Aye,” said Big Bucket Wull. “Red Rahloo means nothing here. [The Sacrifice, ADWD]
Because Arya’s attempt seems a clear mispronunciation, I refer to Hugo Wull’s way, however mocking, as confirmation that there’s a vague “ah” sound going on (Our first hint was from GRRM himself, who originally based it off the Arabic word for God, Allah). I’ve scoured David J. Peterson’s blog for further ideas—but even then, prayers are transcribed from the traditional High Valyrian, which generally refers to the deity as “The Lord of Light.” In addition, people from other Essosi cities like Thoros settle for a simplified word in the TV series, something along the lines of Rullor. (By the way, Peterson says Carice Van Houten speaks High Valyrian with a Dutch accent, and if that’s not the most adorable thing??)
Thankfully for us, we can hear a definitive pronunciation from Peterson around 55:00. This is the only guide I’d trust. He gives two ways—an “English” way, and the true Asshai’i way. I’ve no idea how to phonetically transcribe things, but here’s my best shot at R’hllor:
The easy way:ruh - LORE
The correct way:rroh - huh - LOrr
Peterson says “hl” is pronounced hlah, so I assume that’s where the “ah” confusion comes in when foreigners try to pronounce it. Furthermore, it can sound like two syllables when spoken fluently (hence the various simplifications). In reality, there are a lot of intricate throat sounds in between. The first and last syllables are rolled, and the second syllable going into the third takes a while to master.
Pairing: tattoo artist Luke + Reader Word Count: 2.3k Masterlist 8tracks playlist Parts 2&3 (A/N): new luke one shot! as always send me feedback here! and i’ve never gotten a tattoo before so it might not be accurate soz enjoy reading and coping with punk!luke feels :)
The familiar feeling of smoke invaded his lungs, instantly easing his mind. Exhaling, grey smoke clouds released out of his mouth. His fingers ran through his messy blonde locks, sapphire eyes starring aimlessly up into the obscure night sky. He sat at the back of tattoo shop where he worked with his best friends, needing a break from reality.
“Luke!” A voice rang out. “Hurry the hell up and get back to work,” The red head taunted.
“Fuck you, Michael. I’ll be there,” Luke shouted back.
The luminous, unknown streets of downtown Sydney were emptying as the night was now late. The brown eyed girl tightly clutched onto a wrinkled sheet of paper, peering at each and every shop looking for the right one. She rubbed her tired eyes and trudged down the concrete sidewalk in her worn out van’s. A bright sign came into view, the neon letters depicting “Try Hard Tattoos and Piercings."
Her nervous hand gripped the door handle of the tattoo parlor that her friend had suggested she go to.
"There’s no going back,” she muttered her breath opening the door. The brown haired girl nervously walked into the lobby of the shop. Tattoo designs covered almost inch of the walls, ranging from small simple ones, to extensive and intricate ones. The sound of a tattoo gun echoed through the walls, making her heart pound against her chest.
She anxiously walked to the front desk where a dark haired man with attractive almond shaped eyes sat. He shot the girl a small smile and stood up. He had a blonde streak in his black hair and tattoos lined his arms and neck, peeking out of his shirt.
“Hey,” his raspy Australian accent greeted. “What could I do for you tonight?”
“I- uhm, wanted to get a tattoo done,” She nervously laughed. “I hope I’m not too late,” considering it was past closing time for them.
“Nah, you’re fine sweetheart,” He assured, noticing her American accent. “I’m Calum by the way,"
"I’m Y/N,” she smiled, unfolding the paper she was holding. “I was hoping to see if I get this tattooed,” giving the design to Calum.
“Of course,” he answered. “Can you fill out the paperwork first?” Calum asked, following the rules that were set.
“Yeah,” Y/N swiftly pulled out her Driver’s License (which was American) and filled out the required forms.
“Thank you,” Calum spoke after scanning the papers.“Let me get Luke for you, he’ll be your artist for tonight,"
The girl patiently waited for this Luke guy to come, checking her phone for any messages or calls from her friends. There were none. Typical for her.
A few moments later, Calum appeared with a genuinely, drop dead gorgeous boy. He seemed a few years older than her and definitely taller. His blonde hair that mirrored the sun’s rays were hidden under a snap back that he wore backwards. His immense sapphire eyes held her gaze. His tattoo cover hand messed with his black lip ring that added to his dangerous aura. His broad shoulders were on full show in the black muscle tee he was wearing, proudly revealing the tattoos that covered every inch of his arms.
The blonde scanned over the sketch that Y/N had drawn. Luke’s blue eyes shot over to the short girl, eyes raking in her short, black jean shorts and a baggy basketball jersey.
Y/N nervously held her phone in her hands, glancing between Luke and Calum.
Blue eyes flickered between the paper and her, only the sound of the tattoo gun audible.
"Come on,” Luke’s raspy voice muttered, gesturing her to follow him to the back of the parlor.
Y/N anxiously follow the tall blonde in front of her passing Calum.
“Good luck,” he called out, smirking. What was that supposed to mean? Looking around, the tattoo shop was huge. Each room was meant for a private tattoo experience, not one of those dingy open floor plan ones. This is why she had chosen this one in the first place. A red haired guy with an eyebrow piercing walked out of one the rooms. He gave Y/N a small smile.
Luke went into his specific room, Y/N hot on his heels. Awkward was one way to describe how she felt, standing not knowing what to do.
“Have a seat on that chair,” He murmured, looking in the cabinets for something.
“Okay,” She complied, scanning the room. Several photos of Luke and three other boys were scattered on the corner. She had recognized Calum and the boy whom she had seen in the hallway, but not the green eyed boy who had a man bun and wore glasses.
Luke cleared his throat, whipping her head towards him. He grabbed his chair and sat directly in front of her.
“Is this your first tattoo?” He asked blatantly.
“Y-yeah,” Y/N mumbled, feeling inferior to the inked boy in front of him.
“Alright, I’m going to go over some basics of the procedure and everything should be fine. There’s nothing to be afraid about,” His deep voice explained. “I don’t bite,” he smirked, looking at her.
Request: Can you do a deanxreader where she is feeling like lost, thoughtful and a little down just about things in the past (high school, her parents, hunts) and dean notice that, so he brings his guitar and tries to cheer her up making her laugh and singing cute songs for her like (remembering sunday by all time low and waiting for superman by daughtry) then sam and castiel tease them about how cute they are make it so fluffly and cute i love youuuu <3
Word Count: 848
I love you tooo<3 Here it is, I hope you like it! Thanks!
PS. I love, love, love, love this song. It’s actually one of my favourites so thank you so much for requesting this one. Find it HERE!
“Y/N?” Dean asks, nearly tiptoeing over to you, “What’s up?”
The thing is? You don’t even know what to tell him. Sometimes, you just get days when the entire world seems to be sat on your shoulders. Again and again, memories invade your mind, each more horrible than the next.
High school. The girls, always out for a giggle.
Your old friends, killed by that demon chemistry teacher who disguised himself that way simply for the purpose of preying on teenagers. The sulfuric scent of the chem labs covered his little secret, taking out teen after teen.
Your parents, eyes staring lifelessly up at you.
All those people you couldn’t save.
Everything just weighs down and sometimes, it takes you with it.
“I’m… I’m okay.” You say simply. Dean shakes his head, sitting beside you on the couch.
“You ain’t okay. You look all vague and sad. That ain’t okay, not in my book.” He says, taking one of your smaller hands in both of his warm ones. “Come on. You know you can talk to me.”
You sigh softly, “It’s just everything, Dean. I’ll be okay, it’s just hard.”
He nods understandingly, not quite sure how to take your mind off of things. He squeezes your hand, features showing naught but compassion and worry.
Suddenly, his face lights up and he lets go of your hands.
“I’ll be right back!” He promises, grinning widely. You can’t help but smile slightly at his sudden enthusiasm, watching as he leaps off the couch and bounds from the room.
He returns a few minutes later, grin still in place and holding a guitar.
“You- you play?” You ask, slightly incredulous. He smiles, slightly bashful.
“Only sometimes, I’m not professional or anything.”
You clasp your hands together, smiling.
“You’d play me something?”
“Anything for you.” He chuckles, strumming his fingers over the strings, letting the notes filter out pleasantly. “Okay, promise you won’t laugh?”
“You know I wouldn’t.” You assure him and he smiles, turning his attention to the instrument before him.
He begins an all-too familiar tune, a song you’ve loved for what could be forever.
“She’s watching the taxi driver, he pulls away, She’s been locked up inside her apartment a hundred days,”
He sings, voice soft yet audible, carrying the tune in a way that feels too perfect to be true. It sets goosebumps to your skin and you run a hand over the exposed flash, finding a smile creeping onto your face.
“She says, ‘Yeah, he’s still coming, just a little bit late. He got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape.’ She’s just watching the clouds roll by and they spell her name, Like Lois Lane,”
He looks up at you, smiling as he sees the wide grin on your face. There’s something beautiful about the way his fingers ghost over the strings, other hand moving agilely over the neck, allowing the guitar to bend the sound, intricately forming it to the tune of the song.
“And she smiles, oh, the way she smiles,” He leans in, as if telling you a secret. You smile, covering your mouth. He seriously is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for- hell, you couldn’t even think to ask for someone this amazing.
“She’s talking to angels, Counting the stars, Making a wish on a passing car, She’s dancing with strangers, She’s falling apart,”
He looks like he’s using so little effort, his eyes flicking between you and his fingers, not missing so much as a note. This is a side of him you’ve never seen- the focus, instead of destroying, on creating something so incredible and beautiful.
“And waiting for Superman to pick her up, In his arms, yeah, in his arms, She’s waiting for Superman.”
He finishes, his voice slowing and fading along with the strumming. As he pulls the strap off from over his head, you’re on your feet, nearly attacking him with a hug. He chuckles, wrapping his arms tightly around you.
He presses his lips to the top of your head and you stay like that for a long moment, until you hear a gagging sound behind you. You part slowly, almost reluctantly, to see Sam and Cas stood in the doorway, looking vaguely disgusted.
“You two are way too cute for your own good.” Sam says teasingly, pretending to be bothered. You laugh, lying your head against Dean’s chest as you feel a pink blush spread its head across your cheeks.
“Y/N, Dean, you’re obnoxiously adorable.” Cas concurs, and you all let out a laugh.
“You know what?” Dean says, chest vibrating against your cheek. You look up at him, smiling slightly.
“I’m not ever sorry.”
The other guys leave the room, muttering things about getting a room and ‘stop this we’ll all end up in a sugar coma’.
“Dean?” You say softly, reaching up and cupping his cheek. He looks at you, a smile on his face.
“I don’t need to wait for Superman. I already found mine.” You smile, going up on tiptoes and pressing your lips to his.
Completely off the cuff, today I went to the Science Museum to watch The Force Awakens in glorious 70mm. I rationalised it with the argument that I would regret it massively if I didn’t, and am extremely glad for my skills of coercion. I had already seen The Force Awakens in regular 2D, 3D and IMAX 3D (no regrets), and I’ve now ticked off basically every format. And I can say with absolute confidence that 2D 70mm is the way to go - the screening was at the Science Museum in London, where we were informed by an animated Chewbacca head (seriously!) that we were seeing the only 2D 70mm print of the film in Europe.
When I saw The Force Awakens in IMAX 3D at the beginning of January, I was too close to the screen and my eyeballs were constantly trying to compensate for the uncomfortably chunky glasses balanced upon my regular specs. In short, it was a great but imperfect experience.
Compared to the 70mm print, it was like night and day. In 70mm the picture was, for lack of a better word, overwhelming. The aspect ratio with 70mm is much larger, which means you get to see more of the frame. And the physicality of the film really came across - I could see the grain forming the image, and could hear the steady flicker of the projector during the quietest scenes. I’m a huge cinefile, but I’ve never seen a 70mm print projected before - it was simply extraordinary, and I couldn’t be happier that the first film I experienced it with was The Force Awakens.
I could rhapsodise at great length about the magic of 70mm, but I want to talk specifically about how the format enhanced and even transformed the film. I’m not exaggerating when I say that watching The Force Awakens in 70mm was an entirely different experience to watching it in any other format, including IMAX 3D. There was incredible clarity and vividness to the image, and the screen seemed to almost pulsate with colour and motion - The Force Awakens is a relentless film with few pauses or quiet moments, and I was amazed by the energy and briskness of it. I’d recognised that before, but felt it more acutely this time.
And I can’t stress enough the detail you get with 70mm. The Force Awakens is a strikingly emotional and heightened film, and that hit me more with this viewing than with any previous one. With the benefit of massive and exquisitely precise projection, I paid particularly close attention to the actors’ faces. The feeling that Daisy Ridley, Adam Driver and Mark Hamill (everyone was great, but I’m calling out those actors in particular) were able to convey with minute flexes of their facial muscles was incredible. I can’t stress enough the pulsating, visceral energy underlying the scenes that Rey and Kylo share together, which is underscored by the remarkably intricate sound design and enhanced by the richness and detail of the image. The vistas seem endless with the benefit of the wider frame, and the framing becomes more striking and memorable. And as much as I’ll always be more interested in the character-focused scenes, the battle of Starkiller Base became genuinely thrilling for the first time in 70mm, with the explosions consuming the image, and the swirling snow almost breaking free of the frame.
Films like The Force Awakens aren’t normally lauded for their acting, and the performances I single out above would never normally gather serious acclaim or attention from the critics. But I find the mainstream critical consensus - which praises the actors without considering them remarkable - entirely irrelevant to the quality of the performances on display. The Force Awakens is a space opera, and I feel that the second word of that description is often shamefully overlooked - opera is the art of emotions, combining sound and imagery to move the senses and inspire a visceral response. And The Force Awakensis an opera, irrespective of the word ‘space’ before it - it’s a film about lost and abandoned children, human cruelty and spite, obsession and love. Those are the elements that make Star Wars at its best powerful and affecting on an emotional level, and they work particularly well in The Force Awakens because it lavishes so much attention on its characters, heightening their emotions to a degree never truly seen in the saga before. The actors are simply stellar, and I never really appreciated the intense power and emotion that can be conveyed with a tight close-up on a face before today.
I’d like to thank @reveduvide for bringing the screening to my attention, and being an all-round fantastic person to talk Star Wars (and laugh at Hux’s hysteria) with. I couldn’t have asked for a better cinematic experience.
I watched her freeze over at
my words, and my chest tightened. I wanted to draw her in, kiss her hair like I
used to, stroke her face and just be locked in an embrace with her and this
beautiful thing she had created.
“What.” Her voice was barely
audible as she stared at me, Poppy settling back in, her arms seemingly
comfortable. What I’d give to be there.
“I love you.” My voice cracked
as my mouth was dry. “I still love you, and I want this more than anything.”
Her eyes filled with tears, a few falling as she hastily swept them away.
“I- I don’t know.” Desperation
filled every part of me as I leant forward again, pushing the invisible
boundary, wanting to break it entirely.
“Do you love me?” I asked
softly, brushing a hair out of her eyes. She jumped at my touch, standing
abruptly and pacing slowly.
“You know I do.” Her voice
sounded empty, like an echo of lost time.
“But it’s not that easy. You
hurt me.” My eyes squeezed shut and my throat was tight, pain coursing through
me and mixing with guilt as I remembered all that I had put her through.
This was it all. There was
nothing else. This was the edge of my cliff, the dirt crumbling beneath me and
she could salvage me. She had stepped back when I walked away from her, making
it so that she was now the safest one. It was me who needed her; she could save
me from myself. She didn’t need me to survive anymore but I needed her more
than I’ve ever needed anything. I needed this and god knows what would happen
if she didn’t, not that there was any reason that she should accept.
“I’ll never stop regretting
it. I didn’t do what I did to purposefully hurt you-”
“But you knew it would.” She
cut off firmly, as I stood to meet her. Her eyes were burning with passion,
love or hate, both. She looked fierce, the look that I could never forget.
“I didn’t know how much.” I
whispered, wanting to claw at my chest. It felt hollow except for the huge beating,
warm heart. I wanted to dig it out, it thumped so ferociously it hurt, I could
pull it out and save myself this pain from love. Or I could give it to her,
hand her it and wrap her fingers around it so she knew she had my heart, forever.
“I want you in Poppy’s life.”
Her eyes softened at the thought of our daughter. “But I don’t know if you can
be in mine.”
Fear tore at me, ripping me
open. She could have reached in and taken my heart at this moment. She could
have shred and hacked at it, distorting it the way I knew I had hers.
“I understand.” My voice was
empty, heat leaving me as I found it hard to breathe in the warm apartment.
“Give me time.” She begged
suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed.
I looked at her shocked, as I
gasped for breath, tears running freely down my face.
“Anything.” I stooped slowly
as she let me, softly kissing Poppy’s forehead.
“I hope I see you soon.” I
mumbled softly, my fingers shaking as I rubbed the back of my neck.
I left swiftly; I couldn’t
stay in my raw state, I hated to be so vulnerable in front of her.
I headed to my apartment
across town, barely registering for the whole ride there. The metaphorical
ground beneath my feet was fast crumbling, the drop looking highly unpleasant.
I knew what I had to do, to
end the numb that spread through me as I fell onto my bed.
I had to feel it all, I
couldn’t try to block it out, I had to let it course through my veins the way I
deserved it to. I had to let it beat me down, claw at my edges and pour salt in
the deep ridges of my cuts.
There was only one way I knew
how to do that, to spill my words onto paper with fresh ink that couldn’t be
taken back. I liked that. The fact that something might actually be permanent. That
was the only mess I ever liked to clean, wipe down each sentence until it was
glassy and pure. To organise each letter until it all made sense and became an
amazing order, my fingers weaving intricate sounds until a melody formed perfectly,
fitting the words wholly.
A song was always created,
whenever anything went right or wrong. It was perfect therapy, giving me a
fresh mind to think with.
And the song – it always
amazed me how I managed to make sense of what I thought in such a complete way.
There was nothing else I could do to get Y/N back, this was the last leg. The
last branch on the way down that might stop me from hitting the bottom.
No other thing could possibly
describe how I felt to her, nothing could make her catch her breath and nothing
else would absorb so quickly into her senses that she understood, and it was
that thought that helped me close the envelope and shove it roughly under her
Days had passed and shock had
never left my body. I always felt dazed, to say the least. Missing
conversations people were having with me as the world around me felt numb. Most
of the time, I found it hard to breath. I cried so much that I could barely see
at night, but not out of sadness. Out of pain, the pain of indecision.
I still felt that love
whenever I looked into Poppy’s eyes, but seeing Luke still made my head rush. I
still felt the butterflies, the invisible patterns he used to trace over my
body glowing gold and lighting me up as his eyes sparkled at me. But there was
always underlying grey.
The grey tinge that set in
when he left, still shadowing over me and casting me into darkness as I
remembered each time, like a wave reaching its crest and crashing down. Over
Liz had put Poppy down as I
gulped coffee, trying desperately to relieve my senses, to revive them as she
came back in, frowning at an envelope in her hand.
“Someone just pushed this
under the door?” She questioned, eyebrows raised as I shrugged. I took it,
turning it over as my heart dropped. The writing on the back was instantly
recognised, the small always so
evidently from Luke it screamed at me.
I instantly excused myself,
shutting myself in my bedroom as I stared at the envelope. With shaky fingers,
I tore it open, the memory stick falling into my lap.
I picked it up, dropping it
instantly as I yelped. My fingers tingled immediately, like the object itself
was inserting some kind of knife into my senses to push through the detached
haze. A small smile tugged at my lips as a smile crept to my lips, grabbing it
again and enjoying the small buzz spreading though my hand as I inserted it
into my computer.
The screen went black
immediately as I furrowed my brows. He sent me a virus? My fingers went to rip
it out until white words flashed up onto the screen.
This is everything I didn’t say.
The name of his bands previous
song flashed, stark against the dark background as a melody began to play.
The same title but a different
song, more personal as tears rose to my eyes. The song was over before I knew
it, but the lyrics stuck immediately. A sense of urgency overcame me as I
quickly grabbed my shoes and keys, running through to a very confused and
“I have to go. I’ll be back
soon. I’m so sorry.” I gabbled as she nodded, pushing past her gently to run to
My fingers tapped impatiently
as I drove, taking all I had in me not to press my foot to the floor as I
murmured the lyrics over and over again in my head.
How could I have even
considered that? To push him away further until there was nothing between us,
until the underlying bond snapped completely?
His apartment block approached
me quickly as I haphazardly parked outside, dashing inside and running to his
floor as fast as I could, stumbling so many times in my hurry that I lost
count. The stairs blurred in my vision as anticipation coursed through my
veins, my heart pounding as I knocked anxiously.
Impatience caused me to jump
up and down slightly as I waited for him to come to the door. I rapped again
vigorously, my knuckled turning bright red as I heard a muffled voice.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming!”
The door clicked at the undoing of a lock and the door swung to reveal very
surprised blue eyes.
“Y-Y/N?” His voice quivered as
he bit his lip.
“I hate you!” I burst out,
watching his eyes begin to swim as I carried on. “You should have been here for
the last five months!”
He stayed silent as I ranted
on, nodding his head softly as I suddenly smiled, causing a look of upmost confusion to
cross his face.
“And I will be damned, Hemmings, if I let you miss any
more!” He broke out into a slight chuckle as he realised what I was saying. He
grinned down at me, the tears now happier than ever as I threw myself into his
out stretched arms, sealing my lips to his.
the struggle as a non-native english speaker that hasn’t lived in an english speaking country is that you don’t know when you are using regular slang or aave and honestly im so scared of upsetting or offending people so if you see me using words you know are aave or words I should generally never use, I beg you to please inform me and try to understand that I don’t do it on purpose ><
Milvertons’ Jazz Favourites — 14 / 35 → Dizzy Gillespie
John Birks “Dizzy” Gillespie was born in Cheraw, South Carolina on October 21st, 1917. A trumpeter, bandleader, and composer, Gillespie was a key figure in the creation and development of bebop and and also had a hand in the Afro-Cuban movement in jazz. Along with Louis Armstrong and Miles Davis, Gillespie is one of the most influential trumpeters and jazz musicians of all time. I cannot begin to describe how my I enjoy bebop. While it was initially rejected for the much preferred swing music of the time, bebop would soon be called the first modern jazz style. Gillespie embodies the fast, complicated, intricate sounds of bebop that I love so much.
“But why?” The quite simple question had made Phillip take a long sip of his coffee, his eyes sparkling.
“…Obviously because he’s in love with you.” She’d known Sherlock for almost five years, which meant they’d gone long past the sheer possibility of them ever actually happening.
“Umm - - oh look at the time! My break is over,” she said glancing at her bare wrist, before she escaped an even longer conversation with Anderson. Explaining to him why her and Sherlock weren’t bound to happen seemed pointless. He had concocted some intricate fantasy where Sherlock sounded like bloody James Bond - smashing through glass and snogging the living daylights out of her. The second she got into the lab, hot coffee still in hand and a muffin in the other she was greeted with the sight of ‘the consulting action-hero himself’.“Oh - hello."
His eyes flicked briefly up in greeting, mouth twisting in amusement. "You couldn’t escape him either, could you?"
Okay but I really like how before the episode starts the Disney announcer is like “Join the Matthews family….” and Maya’s part of it like it’s nbd (reminds me of Cory placing her in the family category in Game Night).
Because like Jacobs has said, while Riley is the titular “Girl”, Maya’s intricate journey is a “sounding board” for Riley’s, just as Shawn’s journey impacted Cory.
These Are The Days Of Wild: The Influence Of Prince Rogers Nelson
It is safe
to say that the ones we look up to the most hold the key pieces of who we want
to be as human-beings. It is their influence that fuels our desire to be as
brilliant as they are. Throughout the history of Pop Culture many musicians,
artists, writers, poets, instrumentalists, vocalists, architects, sculptors, painters
and overall visionaries have stepped up to the pedestal of greatness,
showcasing their talents for the world to marvel at. The thought that one person
can change your perception on the world is baffling to some as they look at it
from an outside view… However, it’s a reality to many people, including myself.
As particular as I can be, recognizing and praising true wonderment and genius
in music is a fond lifestyle I have picked up. Who better to admire than His
A wise man once said: “A strong spirit
transcends rules.” And to me,
admiring such a spirit has opened my mind to music, love, resentment, happiness
and sadness… Along with many more aspects of this fascinating thing we call life.
me, I feel as though genius can be perceived in various ways. That is something
I have always been taken by: A beautiful mind. Some say that complexity is what
truly defines a mastermind. I find that to be true, but I also find that
simplicity; the art of taking something as basic as a drum machine or a
tap-dancer, for example, and incorporating the sounds into intricate, beautiful
and creatively made music is also every essence of excellence. That excellence
is what ultimately entices me as a person.
Prince is one of the main reasons I wanted to become a writer. It was through
his lyrics, charged with raw emotion, pulsating sexuality and inspired his own
realities that I found myself influenced by his outlet: Making music. Prince
isn’t just a musician, however. That is what is so captivating about the man as
well, apart from his wildly gifted music abilities. Where else are you going to
find a man that pretty that can also be a composer, producer, director, multi-instrumentalist
and fashion icon? Not to mention Prince makes a great preacher as well as a philosopher
and bright-minded individual in general.
This essay isn’t
necessarily to gush about the undying love I have for my favorite singer, as
most 17 year-olds do. This essay is to appreciate the man behind the
masterpieces. Through the many years Prince has made music, his legacy has
cemented itself into history as being one of the most interesting, eccentric, effervescent
and inspiring journeys one musician has ever taken. Without those vital pieces
of his career; from the innovation of Purple Rain all the way to the rebellious
statement of the “SLAVE” era, it’s clear to see that Prince has made his name
and symbol recognizable and respected. Music history surely would lack substance without Prince’s pieces of the puzzle in it.
In the music lies the most extraordinary scenes and entrancing sounds. It’s the way the intimacy of “In This Bed I Scream” displays his
deeply connected emotional state with who he’s writing about. It’s the way “Condition Of The Heart” brings us, the
listeners, to acknowledge our natural ability to feel sadness and loss. It is
these characteristics that make you fall in love with the music. That’s mainly what
it falls down to, the balance of how the music makes you feel and how the music
affects you as a person. For one
musician to capture your roots and reflect the same beliefs, feelings and common
interests as you do causes a lot of satisfaction, doesn’t it? Most things you
need to understand to truly love, but the things you simply cannot fathom give
you more craving to try and comprehend it. People are like that. I find Prince to
be like that, too. That’s what I find in the core of his music; the idea of pure allure.
Romantically, intellectually and spiritually, whatever you want to take it as.
It’s a broad
spectrum of enlightenment being able to listen to Prince’s music and gain
something from it. The gorgeous concepts he presents through his bodies of work
continue to astonish me, to this very day. I can’t wait to tell my children
that I was a teenager when I first saw Prince live and how euphoric and
honoring the experience was. I also can’t wait to make them Prince fans, too. Thank you, Prince. We love you.
can we just talk about how big their sound is on this album holy shit
the music just feels so filled out and full and there is so much layering and there are little details of sound mixed in and you can literally feel how much effort they put into making sure every millisecond of audio is filled with intricate sound and that every person plays a massive role in it and it feels like they stepped it up ten trillion notches for this album and oh my godi can’t deal they are too talented i shouldn’t even be as stunned as i am but i’m in literal freaking shock