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My friend owes a sketchy dude money, so he's been asked to "deliver a package" to another sketchy dude 4 hours away. I dont have kids or dependents, so my buddy asks me to help him out. Shit goes side ways and it becomes clear only one of us is gonna make it out alive. He's got a wife and kids, i just have student loans, so i take the gun and hold off the pissed of dudes while he makes a break for it. I take two hits to my right shoulder before giving them the slip. I know I'm not gonna make it to the hospital, so i make my way to the bench on the river walk nearby so that this can be the last thing i see before i die knowing i did at least one good deed.
That's what guys mean when they say that.
Then the craziest thing happened. A golden retriever walked up to me with a stick. He put it in my lap and I faded out in a blinding white light. I woke up with my arm bandaged in a brightly lit, but eerily silent room. I try to move my arm. "Shit." I reach over with my other arm and push the button to tilt up the powered gurney. "The fuck..." as I sit up and look more closely, my arm has actually been converted into a fully mechanical cyborg arm with what appears to be a modified belt fed StG 44 mounted to it and loosely wrapped in bandages. As I wince in pain, the door flies open. Two thugs dressed in black barge in holding a scruffy doctor by the collar. One points his pistol at me. "There's that motherf--" an eruption of gunfire occurs. I look to my left and there's a smoking hole in bed pillow behind me.
After the smoke clears all three men lay on the ground. I drag myself out of bed and kneel at the doctors side. He has a wound in his abdomen. "Your friend.. they have him.... And his family" he says with some effort. "Where?" I demand. He points to one of the slain thugs. A phone protruded from his hip pocket. I unlock it with his thumb print. GPS coordinates. I stand up, the sound of spent shells rolling on the ground and my new arm whirring. Looking at it, I know what I must do now. I pick up the ammo bag next to the bed and sling it over my shoulder and walk out the door.
Yeah I am definitely not eating lead for someone else's kids.
I get it but at the same time I do not. It is a reference to a movie or something?
Many pieces of film/TV have scenes where a guy has been mortally wounded doing something for the greater good and then bleeds out in a scene like this. It's like a melancholic righteous death
Blade Runner 2049 reference maybe?
Maybe don't run around with blades if you don't want to cut yourself and bleed out.
I want to bleed out not on the bench, but just below it, my back propped up by the wood.
It doesn't have to be that way if you just leave John wick the fuck alone.
Raindrops on a lake
A universe of ripples
Center touching all
appropriate username
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Raindrops on a lake
A universe of ripples
Center touching all
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A universe of ripples
Center touching all
The cinematographer in me is wondering how I would go about staging the scene without putting footprints in the snow.
Composite 2 shots maybe? You would have to be sure to map routes in and out of the scene and then make sure the action doesn't cross those routes.
Yeah. That's about the only way that I can figure it could be done optically. Or else just fix it in post.
From a visual standpoint I know it lacks realism if we have a man bleeding out against the bench with no footprints or disturbance to show how he got there. But visually it looks better. I'd also costume the man in very gray colours, with almost the only noticeable color being the pool of red slowly spreading. Frank Miller-ish.
It's starts cloudy and when the fight ends it begins to snow. As the protagonist monolgues he and the cooling corpse of his rival bleed out in the accumulating snow. Bam no footprints, two slowly spreading blood pools, monologue, fade to white.
I'd say no dialogue. Tell the story visually.
This man has been protecting a young kid from afar. The kid's never met him, but this man has spent the last few months keeping the bad people away from him and it's taken a very obvious toll on his body. Finally, in the final confrontation, he's mortally wounded and bleeding out after killing the "main" antagonist. He goes to his grave stoically, with no one ever knowing what he sacrificed.
You are thinking too hard.
Just projectile him into position.
Say fix it in post 3 times. Then shoot clean plates and hope the studio has a vfx budget.
Say fix it in post 3 times
Does that make a computer effects tech appear like Beetlejuice?
Some say that vfx editors and post houses within a 5 mile radius have a fire-department-esque alarm whenever it is muttered 3 times. They’ll show up to grab dailies, curse you for not figuring out a solution in pre-production, then begrudgingly fix the issues.
For the justification for no footprints, you could have it in the script that the one dying fell into place. Fighting atop a crane, in a helicopter, or whatever. Seems appropriate for the kind of film that would end with a nice shot like that anyway. For the practical side, simply catapult the actor into position.
According to one of my brothers, this theme is where Santa got his colors.
Who decides to remove these posts?
Removed my bod
After I bled out in the snow.
I assume a bunch of suicidal ideation re: how cool it would be to bleed out on this bench (it would be so cool)
Modlog shows that I was correct, Ozymandias very poetically talked not just about the concept of dying but also particular methods
well the first comment was just about bleeding out and dying, no suicide involved there.
but thanks for calling my poem very poetic.
then someone else commented about bleeding out suspended by a bungee cord to make a spirograph pattern… i guess you could infer that would be deliberate?
then i went on about how to make a better spirograph pattern… but the “methods” were definitely intended to be humorous….
i can handle having my follow up comments removed, but the original poem was a real original poem, partially inspired by the samurai tradition of writing a Haiku when bleeding out…
that was just wrong to delete.
they also deleted my entire account, maybe all of my other comments… i believe in retribution for other comments (different instance) i made about use of the term “zionists” to criticize the genocidal maniacs in israel… maybe i was wrong? optics-wise at least i think it’s better to criticize the country that to use a new word referring to some israeli’s beliefs.
maybe it’s not hate speech, but i think it hurts the cause to use anything ambiguously similar to a slur.
like, criticize Zionism but don’t shoehorn “fucking zionists!” into every discussion about the genocide.
i was accused of using “Hasbara talking points” but i was calling Israel genocidal… that’s the opposite of hasbara’s talking points purpose. I may have coincidentally agreed with one point, but that’s not how talking points work… it’s a whole collection of points that lead up to a conclusion, in this case it would be that israel is not committing genocide, which obviously they are and i clearly think they are.
then mods nuked all of my comments and posts and my whole account… mods of multiple instances and communities.
fuck this shit i’m moving to piefed.
Maybe we can talk about how a shit load of men fantasize about dying a peaceful and necessary death instead of wanting to live or having to live in reality?
Cuz fuck, that's so bleak.
Is that not normal?
You don't want to detonate the explosives while you're still dangling from the bridge pylon because the enemy army is advancing and there's not enough time to get away safely before they cross?
I think I'd actually like to stand on the bridge and gently play a tune on my flute to distract them long enough for the explosives to go off as they cautiously approach the center where I wait.
Ash, just go to the hospital please...
With what money
The hospital will help anyone at the ER, maybe hand your wallet to a friend so you don't even need to give them any real personal info if you're that afraid of debt.
The hospital will help anyone at the ER,
The hospital near my house has a HORRIBLE track record of letting people die in the waiting room.
As opposed to dying on the steps.
Not Constantinople?
My second home and I didn't recognize it. /blushes
I'd like to do baby footprints with the side of my loosely clinched hand and dab in the toes with my fingers, but whatever.
Cause Allie this the one time men are allowed to get in touch with their feelings with no judgement. It's cinema to go out this way. Way better than dying behind the Arby's dumpster with your pants down. No one wants to die like that.
When you clock out in the snow, have a smoke or swig from a flask or have in your hand a well loved photo of a loved one. Also have no ID, make it a mystery. Go out like a true boss.
Kinda like the Somerton Man although he died having a cigarette on the beach, leaving behind a coded message and a possible illegitimate child.
Picture it, though: You're a bad man and you know that one good deed won't change that, even at the cost of your life - but maybe it's enough to regain your soul. The wound doesn't hurt any more and you know that's a sign the end is coming but for the first time in years you feel at peace. Individual snowflakes are settling on your skin like chilly kisses as your eyelids get heavy.
What you mean by bad man? unless you're committing war/ sex crimes... try therapy, drugs or changing your gender. It's sad that people daydream about that but also kinda delusionally narcissistic, like in a way that could benefit from therapy or just talking to a single other person
I mean that bleeding out in the snow is a cinematic fate usually reserved for hardened killers who are fatally wounded in the process of redeeming themselves. The quiet of the scene reflects the silencing of their inner demons and they accept death with dignity and even a measure of grace.
I dig well-executed tropes.




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