Michael Ballhaus died today. He was one of my storytelling heroes.
From the historic tracking shots in Goodfellas to literally teaching me about camera movement as story device in the highly underrated the color of money, to his world-class camera operating on Jaws… I can’t think of another cinematographer who has taught me more and who I have stolen from more.
take a look at this reel that someone put together.
this weekend, if you haven’t seen it yet, take a look at Martin Scorsese’s the color of money. Some people dismiss it because it came out in the same time in Tom Cruise’s career as cocktail and days of thunder but this is a very ambitious Martin Scorsese movie that’s actually a de facto sequel to the Hustler.
Tom Cruise persona is used better in this movie than in any other movie he’s ever been except for mission impossible. every single moment in that movie has the camera swirling around the pool tables as if a war is about to break out. I must’ve seen it 10 times in the theater. just downloading how the story is being told. Everyone has movies like this. Movies that for whatever reason stop you and make you reconsider everything that you’re doing. It’s never the movie you think it’s going to be. for me, of all the movies, it was the color of money.
Prompt: “Wanna watch Star Wars?” Wally West x Reader (requested by anon)
“What about …” You trailed off inspecting your collection of movies, trying to decided one that would be suitable for both of you to tolerate. “Oh! What about The Avengers?” You asked waving the case in the air.
“Babe.” Wally sighed. “The entire reason for movie night is to forget about being super heroes. No superhero movies.” He said firmly.
“Not even Deadpool? Technically speaking, he’s an antihero.” You pointed out.
“If the movie involves a grown man wearing colorful spandex it’s gonna be a pass from me.” He insisted. You rolled your eyes and bent down to continue your search.
“Titanic?” You asked.
“Too long.” He rejected
“Goddamn it Wally! You’re being impossible! Tell me then: what movie do you want to watch?” You asked crossing your arms over your chest awaiting an answer.
“Well now that you mention it there is a movie that I’m in the mood for …” He trailed off.
“You wanna watch Star Wars don’t you?” You said, not at all surprised at the turn of events.
“I could be up for watching Star Wars.” He shrugged casually. You laughed and shook your head.
“You are so predictable Wally West.” You said as you popped in the blu ray anthology of Star Wars. “Original or prequels?”
“Babe as far as I’m concerned the prequels don’t exist.” He said settling further into the couch. You plopped down on the couch beside him and playfully threw a piece of popcorn at him which he caught skillfully in his mouth.
“Mesa thinks yousa has bad juju against the prequels.” You said painfully imitating Jar Jar Binks’ voice. Wally physically cringed and placed a hand over your mouth to stop the awkward spewing coming out of your mouth.
“Babe, if you love me you won’t ever put me through that horrible impression ever again.” He said. “If I release my hand, will you promise to not ever do that again?” He asked. You nodded against his hand, looking up innocently into his eyes. He released his hand giving you a warning look.
“I stop under the condition I pick the movie next week.” You qualified.
“Sure, we can watch The Force Awakens instead!” He said enthusiastically. You groaned in frustration but secretly you were just as big of a nerd as your boyfriend. You loved Star Wars night even if you wouldn’t admit it.
“i love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. i love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. i love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like Iim nuts. i love that after i spend the day with you, i can still smell your perfume on my clothes. and i love that you are the last person i want to talk to before i go to sleep at night. and it’s not because i’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s new year’s eve. i came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
“you see? that is just like you, harry. you say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you.”
Below the cut are roleplay icons of Eleanor Tomlinson as she appeared in the 2013 film Styria.
90 Icons Total
100x100 in dimension
All made by me.
No credit is needed if you use them. However, please do not repost or claim as your own. If you wish to edit my icons in any way, you must provide an easy-to-find link back to this post with a disclaimer that they are not your own. If you’d like to request icons, please read my RPH page. Thank you, and enjoy!
snippet:“Lucas wanted to look away. He direly needed to focus on the hills around them, or the leaves below them, or the stars above them, but the only thing he could do was stare straight ahead and swim in the blue of her eyes. The problem with that was, when you swim, there’s a chance you could drown.”
As for this movie, I think it’s remarkable how they managed to adapt a book that, by its own nature, is practically impossible to adapt to the big screen. But somehow they did it, and with flying colors I might say.
This might be one of the most beautiful movies I have ever seen in my life. It kept me interested the whole way, at no moment I felt bored or like it was too long. I got really invested in the story of Pi and Richard Parker, and their struggles to survive the ship wreck. Perhaps the only flaw I might take out of the movie is that, sometimes, it focuses way too much in how pretty it looks rather than trying to do more with its simplistic narrative structure. It does a lot with the visual department, but as far as story it doesn’t do so much.
But, really, that’s a nitpick. The movie is definitely worth your time. It’s gorgeous, it’s emotive, it’s interesting, it’s fantastically acted, the music is great, and it has one of the most soul-crushing endings ever written. Give yourself a treat, and check it out.
And now, if you excuse me, I have to figure out a way to take me, my cousin, and this massive Chimera back to land. Where is that darn map anyways?
Full offense but it’s so tiring to see white people constantly make fun of people of color, particularly 18 and under people of color in fandom spaces, who racebend their favorite characters to make them brown or black or East Asian or Latinx or what have you. They will go on and on about the “historical accuracy” of not having people of color in a fantasy world wherein literally impossible things exist anyway.
On the other hand, when there are canon characters of color, they will whitewash them - lighten them in gifs, make them paler or fair-skinned in art, refuse to draw the “ethnic” features that make them visibly not white. They will scream “this is my artistic/creative freedom and you’re being a big mean bully by not letting me draw this black or brown character as pale and blonde!”. Even worse is when movies and tv shows blatantly whitewash people of color or change source material in adaptations to make the character white (think the Avatar movie or Marvel’s Dr. Strange). Or the way The Hunger Games movie franchise completely ignored that Katniss is described as “olive-skinned” in the books. Jennifer Lawrence is not “olive skinned”. It wouldn’t have been difficult to cast a woman of color in her role at all. It would have made sense.
White characters in brownface, yellowface, blackface are all excused as “oh she’s naturally tan” or “oh they had to do this for the plot” or “oh it’s okay it’s not racist because it’s just a show”. It’s sickening to deal with the hypocrisy.
Just a warning also, this part contains zero smut so sorry to disappoint if you were looking forward to more sexy times. REQUEST A PART 3 OR ILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU
It’s been two weeks since I got my tattoo…and had crazy sex with the tattoo artist on his chair. It’s also been that long since I’ve seen Ashton. His number is stuck to my refrigerator door, staring at me every time I walk past it. I broke my promise to see him again, but I can’t get myself to call him up. What would be the point? It’s not like a relationship could sprout from having hot passionate animal sex with a complete stranger in a tattoo parlor. And what would people think? I didn’t look like his type and he definitely did not look like the guys I’m used to dating. Besides, he’s probably forgotten about me by now anyway.
But maybe I’ve been looking for an excuse to see him anyway, because my tattoo seems to be not as dark as I wanted it, so I called in to get a touch up.
I’ve been sitting in my car outside the shop, switching between hoping Ashton’ll be in there and wishing he’s not. What’s worse is if he’s completely moved on. I check my makeup in the mirror, though I know it’s fine, and let out a long sigh. If I put this off any longer, I’ll be late for my appointment. I finally open my car door and approach the shop. The minute the door opens, I can hear the familar rock songs floating from the radio, and it reminds of the songs we fucked to.
I booked my appointment with one of the other artists, Todd, to avoid an awkward conversation with Ash. My heart sinks when I look behind the counter and see only Todd, working on another customer. No Ashton. “Hey, (y/n),” Todd says, looking up for a second. “This one’s running late. You mind waiting for a bit?” I’m about to answer him, but before I can he interjects, “Actually. Ashton’s on his break in the back. I’ll just make him come back early.” And before I can protest, he’s yelling the same name I had yelled over and over and over again as he was pounding into me that one night.
“What’s up, Todd?” I turn to see Ash’s head pop out of the back room, but Todd doesn’t get to reply before Ashton looks around the shop, spotting me. The moment his eyes meet mine, his whole face seems to turn down, in undeniable disappointment. And it hurts. I stand in my spot, awkwardly clutching my purse in my hands. I look down and focus on my chipped nail polish. “What do you need Todd?” Ashton asks again.
“(y/n)’s come in for a touch up and I won’t be done for a while. Get her in your chair.” I can’t help but let my eyes flicker to his, knowing he had to be thinking the same thing as me–how he’s already had me in his chair, in more ways than one.
“On my break. Just make her wait,” Ashton retorts.
“Don’t be an asshole and get her set up,” Todd says with force.
Ashton sighs and practically drags his body to his black leather tattooing chair. He pulls his tray of tools with a clatter. He doesn’t say anything, but just looks at me. I shuffle over before he finds anything else to glare at me for.
As I set down my purse and sit in his chair, he’s completely silent.
“Can you move your strap a little?” Ashton asks, surprisingly lightly. I oblige and slip my arm out of my tank top strap so I can push it down enough to show all of the tattoo. “Am I just touching up the grenade or the flowers or both?” I’m stunned for a second at where all the anger’s gone.
“Uh, both,” I say. In a minute, the familiar buzzing of his needle begins and I feel the hot, sweet pain on my skin. It’s quiet again and I want to say something, but I don’t know how to make anything that comes out of my mouth not sound like a sad excuse. Ashton’s no idiot–though it makes me wonder how many times he’s been stood up, if ever. I don’t get a chance to speak, when my phone buzzes from inside my purse. I glance at it, wishing I could reach it from where it sits on the floor.
“So it does work,” Ashton murmurs, and I barely catch what he says.
“Your phone. It does work." Shit. His needle work continues uninterrupted but by the way his other hand tremors slightly on my shoulder, I can tell he’s pissed, and rightly so.
"I’m sorry, Ash–”
“Save it. I’ve heard them all." So he has been stood up before.
"Listen–” I try again.
“Done,” Ashton says before I can attempt a sincere apologize.
He gets up and walks away into the back room. Todd’s occupied with his other client, so I follow Ash into the back room.
“I was going to call you but–”
“But what? You "lost” my number?“ He takes my silence as a lack of an answer. "What? What was the reason you didn’t call?” His voice tells me he’s angry, but there’s a soft tinge to his face and tone that says he’s truly hurt.
“I’m not like you. I can’t just go out with whoever I like.” He looks confused so I continue. “There’s a social order to things, Ash. We’re completely different kinds of people. It doesn’t work like that.”
“That’s a bullshit answer, (y/n). You don’t know what kind of person I am.” Ashton is angrily pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and opens a door that lets out behind the tattoo shop. I’m on his heels as he’s sticking a cig between his lips. He reaches to light it and I swat it from his mouth, letting it fall to the ground unlit.
“What the fuck, (y/n)?” He reaches for another one from his pack, but I grab that from his hands too.
“You wanna prove to me what kind of person you are?”
“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” Ashton spits. As I won’t give him a chance to light up, he pushes past me back into the back room.
“Take me out to dinner,” I say. He shoves his cigarettes back into his jacket, so I continue. “Or let me take you out. Tell me about your family, your home, your past girlfriends. Tell me about you tattoos,” I say, stepping closer, and reaching my hand out to lightly touch his ink-covered bicep. “What’s your favorite movie? Favorite color?” Ashton doesn’t flinch away from my touch, so I go on. “I want you to tell me all about you. And then I want you make love to me like you mean it.” This next part gets Ashton’s attention. His head turns to look me in the eyes, his own hazels ones impossible to read. They look confused, but intrigued, yet conflicted swirled into one rich color. “And I don’t mean fucking me in the tattoo parlor, on your chair. I want you in bed with me, touching me like it’s the first and last time.”
By now, Ashton has completely turned to face me, giving me his full attention. I’m distracted by how his chest rises and falls beneath his tattered band shirt. But I continue.
“I want free roam on your tattoos, to trace them with my fingers. Like this.” I pause and run my finger slowly from his shoulder all the way own his arm, following the pattern inked into his skin. “I want your hot body above me, as you thrust into me. I want to brush your hair out of your face. Mostly, I want you to take your time with me, because we don’t need to rush.”
Ash finally speaks up. “You can’t just not call me, come back here and demand this from me.” His words fly though me like a poison-tipped arrow. He pulls away from my closeness and my face visibly falls. He goes back out into the shop lobby. I’m left alone in the back, but not ready to give up. This is my fault, after all.
“I really am sorry, Ashton. I know I fucked up,” I try again. Todd looks up briefly as I follow on Ash’s tail.
“Maybe we are just too different, (y/n),” Ashton says.
“Please don’t,” I whisper, but the bell signifies that he’s already left the building.
“Marry me. Let’s spend our nights eating cereal on the floor when there is a perfectly fine table behind us. Marry me. We can go to the movie theatre and sit in the very back row just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time. Marry me. We’ll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than on the walls. Marry me. We can hold hands and go to parties that we end up ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub together. Marry me. Slow dance with me in our bedroom with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand.”
He had thought it all out, he would take her to a nice restaurant, order the best wine. He would take her hand and ask her ‘The Question’. She would say yes and squeal and be all smiles and happy. She wouldn’t be able to wait until they would get home, making innuendos every chance she got, trying to make her point. They would stroll back to her townhouse under the Christmas lights that the city was decorated with. They would hold hands or he would put an arm around her to keep her from getting cold. As soon as the door would be shut behind them she would jump his bones and they would be going at it like bunnies. But, here he was, after a stressful night at a charity gala for a corrupt charity, with Bruce Wayne all over his favorite girl. Luckily, the ended did end with them going at it like bunnies. His jealousy turned out to be a turn on for Felicity. He would use that to his advantage in the future.
He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a navy blue velvet box, obviously the size for a ring. Felicity gasped underneath him and pressed her lips together in anticipation. She had a feeling she knew what was happening. Oliver smiled at her and nodded slowly. She smiled with her lips still pressed together. Her eyes started glazing over and she pressed a hand against her lips. Oliver casually twisted the box around between his fingers, trying to pretend he wasn’t freaking out. He took a deep breath and started on what would be a long declaration of love.
“Before I begin this long, long, long speech, I just want you to know that I did not plan to do this like this. I had a whole plan, but that clearly didn’t work out.”
Felicity couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped her lips and she reached up to cup his cheek. He smiled softly and averted his gaze back to the ring box.
“What I told you after Russia was complete bullshit. I’m sure you remember that stupid speech and I hope you have forgiven me for being such an imbecile. I also hope that you are aware of how much I love you. We haven’t been together that long. Not together together at least. You know what I mean, but I know that there is never going to be anyone else I’m going to want to spend my life with. You’re the one I want to get a dog with, you know, one of those who are impossible to train, but we will love it anyways because it’s our dog. You’re the one I want to watch all the good movies I missed with and you’re the one I want to move in with, decorating our house together, painting the walls ourselves, and disagreeing on the colors. You’re the one I want to have a family with, doesn’t matter how many members it will consist of. You’re the reason I believe in the possibility of all that. You changed me for the better. Your light chased away my darkness and that’s a debt I could never repay, so I’m just going to be incredibly thankful.”
Felicity couldn’t hold it all back anymore, she crushed her lips against Oliver’s. He allowed her to have a short and sweet kiss but quickly pulled back, raising his eyebrows and holding up a finger.
“let me finish.” He said.
“Oh my god. Just hurry up, before I’m going to cry.” She squirmed underneath him and groaned. It created friction in all the right places and Oliver decided to forego the rest of his speech and just get it over with. He opened the box, hearing Felicity gasp softly. A simple golden band with intricate patterned engravings. A single diamond embedded in the top. It wasn’t a very big one but it was very Felicity. Oliver pulled the ring from the box and looked her in the eyes.
“So, Felicity Megan Smoak, I’m asking you, would you please do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”
The first tears of joy slipped out of the corners of her eyes as she started nodding. “Yes.” She croaked out and pulled him in for another shower of kisses.
“Yes. Oliver, Of course I will. I love you so much.” She said in between kisses. They only parted for Oliver to slide the ring onto Felicity’s finger. A perfect fit. He would never truly understand what made him decide to propose to her right there and then, but it was one of the best decisions of his life. The moment currently ranks at the third place of his favorite moments ever, with the birth of their baby girl at the top and their wedding as a close second, a place shared with their Honeymoon.