#I am here for my inner 14 year old who is still obsessed with him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

novantinuum · 4 years ago

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Intake (SUF one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: brief discussion of mental illness related topics like suicide ideation and intrusive thoughts.)

Words: 2800

Summary: Steven fills out an important form.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a small glimpse into Steven’s journey to find a therapist.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

His leg bounces with a restless fervor as he slumps in the waiting room chair, clutching the clipboard and pencil the receptionist gave him with a white knuckled grip. Gaze hardened, he takes a good long look at the other patients spread across the room, a few of them appearing equally as spent and fidgety as him, and hunches over the intake form so his answers will be conclusively obscured from their view.

He grimaces. Ugh. Why would a place like this lay out their chairs so close, anyways? Why even give people the option of being nosey? He may be stuck seeing this therapist Connie’s mom recommended because he’s all messed up in the head, but it’s not like he wants the whole planet to know about it. Goodness knows all of Beach City and Little Homeworld already does thanks to his little ‘incident’ a month back. That’s bad enough.

His chest almost feeling hollow as he sighs, he scrawls in his name, his birthday, his cell number, address, and an emergency contact (Dad, who left for the car to give him privacy after signing a few forms he can’t fill out as a minor) on the lines indicated. He leaves out his many middle names for once, all of them leaving a bitter taste in his mouth at this present moment. Briefly, he wonders if this will be a problem, as these past few weeks Dr. Maheswaran assisted his dad in finally acquiring legal documentation and health insurance for him, and per those records he’s officially ‘Steven Quartz Universe’ in the eyes of the law.

Eventually he shrugs, figuring the likelihood of there being another sixteen-year-old ‘Steven Universe’ here today to confuse him with is nearing zero.

Okay, what’s next?

He briefly skims over the next few passages— a bunch of legalese about the terms of counselor-patient confidentiality and when they might have to breach that for safety reasons— and signs where indicated so they know he looked over it.

Someone sitting two chairs away coughs. He can’t help but flinch at the sudden noise, and folds himself tighter in his own seat as he flips over the first page of the form and continues to read.

In a few words, explain why you’ve chosen to reach out to us today. How can we help you?

Steven frowns, fingers twitching around the shaft of the pencil as he contemplates how to respond. For whatever reason, the question “explain why you’re here” feels very blunt and antagonistic to him in a way he can’t quite ascertain. Like... in a “give the wrong answer, get booted right out the door” sorta way. He lifts his head, peering at all the humans spread across the room, each and every one with their own story, the central character of their own worlds. Some are texting on their phones as they wait for the receptionist to call their names, others are filling out forms as well. What brought these people here, he wonders? Surely there’s plenty of people having a worse time than him right now. Surely there’s people with real problems, people who are literally struggling just to stay alive from day-to-day. He’s not like that, right? Besides that one little wobble a month back, he’s been handling his problems on his own fairly okay. Hasn’t he? So what makes him selfish enough to think that he’s worth anyone’s time?

In his pocket his phone vibrates, knocking him back into reality. He yanks it out and switches it on to look at the new text splashed across the lock screen:

Dad: Hey Schtu-ball, just wanna let you know that I’m proud of you and love you very much. You’ve got this!

He stares at these words for a good minute, the kind sentiment— despite reading as a little hopelessly over-encouraging— filling the hollow space in his chest partway. Even if his dad’s been a bit overbearing in his affections this past month, it’s clear he means well.

So. Why am I here today, he thinks, reading the question over again. He folds his fingers up into a stiff fist, pulling his thumb across his knuckles. After licking his chapped lips and shoving his phone back in his pocket, he scribbles a hasty reply.

I feel really angry and empty and tense and just want to be better.

The teen pauses, allowing those words to echo over and over in his mind, to truly sink in. It’s such a succinct and to-the-point admission that he suddenly wonders why he ever doubted he was less deserving of aid than anyone else in this waiting room.

His countenance a little lighter now and his shoulders growing less stiff, he moves on to the next section.

To aid our counselors in providing you the best possible care, please rate the following statements on a scale from zero to four, zero meaning “not at all like me,” and four meaning “extremely like me.”

Steven’s eyes dart across the length of the massive table below these instructions, his previous anxiety rushing back into his brittle bones as if it’d never left. Each row is host to a short sentence and five blank boxes, numbered zero to four. Read it and rate yourself, right? Should be simple enough. But as his glance flits over these statements and he understands the sort of personal, probing questions they’re asking through them, he begins to mistrust his previous burst of optimism. Dread floods his system, making his cheeks flush bright pink. Heart pounding at the mere thought of people staring, he drops his head lower, successfully hiding most of his face behind the clipboard until he can coax that betraying glow into fading away.

In the end, this goes to prove that it doesn’t matter if everyone says therapy will be ‘helpful’ for him; reflecting on all this junk is still gonna suck.

Quietly, he takes a steadying breath and forces himself to read on, to crack open the hornet’s nest that is the depths of his crap brain.

1. I am shy around others.

He considers this for a moment. Shy. Historically, this has never been a word people would use to describe him. For years he reveled in the thrill of meeting new people, new Gems. His childhood eagerness to engage in fellowship with those around is half the reason Era 3 even exists. And he’s fine around people he knows. Like, on a rare good day he has no problem playing board games or watching cheesy soap operas with his friends. But to be fair... as of late, his eagerness to meet anyone new feels like it’s all but vanished. Is that being shy? Or is that just him failing to care for anyone beyond his inner circle?

With a small shrug he checks the box for one, and moves on.

2. I don’t enjoy being around people as much as I used to.

Hmm. Probably a three. People are unintentionally exhausting these days. He used to be energized by social interaction, and now it just leaves him sucked dry. Most days he’d rather stick to his room.

3. I feel isolated and alone.

The weight of the diamond embedded in his belly— something he normally barely notices— grows ever more apparent as he marks off a four.

4. My heart often races for no good reason.

Uh, yeah. What happened just a minute ago is a pretty good tell. Four.

5. I have spells of terror or panic.

Another four.

6. I am anxious that I might have a panic attack while in public.

Four once more. He holds his pencil tighter, squirming in his seat as he tries (and fails) not to think about the pale scars spread across his back, hidden in his hairline, and on the underside of his arms, indentations that once marked the base of the crystalline spines that jut out from between his scales.

7. I think about food more than I’d like to.

Steven pauses at this one. For once, he’s not sure he can say this statement applies to him. Truth be told, he only started caring about what he put in his mouth earlier this year, when he cut meat and fish out of his diet. And that’s not... a bad thing? It’s not bad to want to consider the impact your food choices have on the environment? He definitely didn’t choose to do so for self-denying reasons, and that’s probably what they’re asking about. He checks zero, and moves on.

8. I feel out of control when I eat.

He almost checks another zero, but then he remembers that day after the proposal... and the week after his incident. And he decides that even if he doesn’t consciously obsess over the food he eats, there’s still a few occasions where once he starts snacking he finds it difficult to stop. A one it is, then.

9. I have sleep difficulties.

This statement nearly makes him laugh. Does he have sleep difficulties. Hah. He doesn’t think he’s gotten a truly restful night of sleep since he sacrificed himself to Homeworld at fourteen.

A solid four. No question.

10. My thoughts are racing.

Four.

11. I feel uncomfortable around people I don’t know.

Hmm. Two.

12. I drink alcohol frequently.

The only alcohol he’s ever had is a tiny sip of his dad’s with permission at Garnet’s wedding reception, and it tasted terrible. He has no interest in drinking again. Zero.

13. When I drink alcohol I can’t remember what happened.

Zero.

14. I drink more than I should.

Zero again.

15. I have done something I have regretted because of drinking.

Another zero. It almost makes him feel better, just knowing there’s a decent number of lines on this paper that aren’t a carbon copy of his lived experience.

16. I feel sad all the time.

Aaaand back to “the story of his life.” Briefly, he wonders if ‘feeling sad’ is the same thing as feeling nothing at all. But then again, does the difference really matter? He checks the box for three.

17. I am concerned that other people don’t like me.

Three. Although honestly, he’s even more concerned that people continue to like him after everything he’s done.

18. I feel worthless.

Steven nibbles at the inside of his cheek as he reads this statement, memories automatically flashing through the pathetic events of the last few weeks, through all the days he barely crawled out from under his covers, all the days he didn’t even manage to brush his teeth or run his fingers through his greasy, knotted hair, all those awful days he couldn’t so much as play one of his video games without growing tired of it in minutes and taking a restless nap for the rest of the afternoon instead.

Four.

19. I feel helpless.

Two. Everyday affairs are a drag, but at the very least he knows he can fight his way out of danger in a pinch. He wouldn’t call that helpless.

20. I have thoughts of ending my life.

He freezes. Goes back, reads this line again. Reads it a third time to make sure he’s not horrendously misconstruing the prompt he’s been given.

(Tries not to think too deeply about the graphic images that flood his imagination some nights. It’s just stray thoughts, though. He’s fine.)

One, he marks, although his muscles can’t help but twitch as he shifts his wrist, as if deep down he knows he’s underplaying his answer.

21. I feel tense.

Steven gives a small snort under his breath. Yeah, he outright admitted as much earlier in this form. Four.

22. I get angry easily.

His grip tightens.

Four.

23. I have difficulty controlling my temper.

He swallows hard, his mouth feeling abnormally dry. He’s not sure he likes how blunt and probing this questionnaire is becoming.

Four...

24. I sometimes feel like breaking or smashing things.

His knuckles go white around his pencil, and he only barely resists the temptation to snap it in half as he feels a rush of hard light flow the distance from his gem through the veins of his arm. Geeze, it’s not like he means to break things! It’s just that all of his stupid powers are linked with his emotions, and whenever he gets even marginally upset now things start to splinter, crack in half, and inevitably end up broken. Just another sign he’s fated to ruin everything around him forever, and that his intent doesn’t matter. Why do they have to pry into this? He already feels terrible enough for thinking these things.

Three, he checks, his eyes damp, but mostly because he’s too scared what their response will be otherwise.

25. I am not able to concentrate as well as usual.

He takes a deep breath, coaxing his body to return to a baseline state. Eh. He’ll give this a two.

26. I feel self-conscious around others.

His glance skirts over the edge of the clipboard to monitor the four others currently spread out across the room. One’s rhythmically swinging their legs, another is still filling out a form like him, but sitting criss-cross on the chair, and the other two are quietly typing on their phones. Thankfully none of them are pressing an ounce of attention his way, (at least, not right now), but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like an exposed nerve. Three.

27. I am afraid I may lose control and act violently.

The raw memories hit like lightning before he can even think to prepare.

Flashes of Pink. Orange fragments, cold and slick in his palms. Thunder splits the skies overhead, each cacophonous sound manifesting in perfect synchronicity with his erratic heartbeat, with each tidal wave of thoughts gushing like a maelstrom through his head: SHATTERER, I’m a shatterer, I’m—

Feeling almost dizzy from the intensity of his heart’s pulse, he knows with full certainty that his cheeks are glowing bright pink again. All he can do is clench his fists, suck down whatever amount of fresh air his lungs will allow, and pray to the very stars themselves that it’ll fade away before it garners the attention of every last human in this place.

He checks the box for four, pencil marking so hard that slivers of graphite splinter off onto the page, and moves on before he can be cowardly enough to change his answer.

28. I have thoughts of hurting others.

His fingernails claw into the thin denim at his knee, limbs outright quivering as he stews in his seat, as he’s forced to reflect upon all the ugly, ugly thoughts that have flit across his awareness over the past weeks. Thoughts about one Gem specifically. He’s... always been angry, always harbored deep resentment... but ever since his most recent trip to visit Her, he hasn’t been able to shake this awful idea: a vision of him standing over the remnants of her gemstone, shattered, fragments spilled across the otherwise pristine floors of Homeworld. He... he didn’t do it when he had the chance. He wouldn’t do it, would he?

(Orange fragments, cold and slick...)

Would he??

And yet nevertheless, the thought tortures him with its frequency, makes him feel downright nauseous at every turn. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to feel this way at all.

Four.

29. I am unable to keep up with my schoolwork.

Stop. Sharp inhale. Staccato, shaky exhale. Repeat, deeper this time. Repeat.

(He can no longer see neon pink reflecting in the smooth metal clasp at the top of his clipboard.)

Okay. Schoolwork.

N/A, he writes in one of the boxes, arm still trembling from the last two questions despite his attempt at cool-down exercises. Not applicable. He hasn’t even been to school, and dreads the inevitability of this therapist asking about that mess.

30. It’s hard to stay motivated for my classes.

N/A.

31. I feel confident that I can succeed academically.

N/A, once more.

And like that, the questionnaire is over. Steven is quick to hide his answers behind the front page, and slides the pencil through the length of the metal clip. He glances around him, drinking in his surroundings with pinpoint precision. Despite his earlier concerns, no one is maliciously staring. No one’s whispering. He internally wrestled with a few challenging subjects and what do you know, it didn’t end in an embarrassingly public meltdown. He— he wipes a stray tear from his eye with the butt of his palm— he took a solid step forward today.

Coercing his body to move, he pulls himself out of the cushioned chair and crosses the room.

“I finished,” he says softly, proudly, as he hands the clipboard and pencil to the receptionist. She smiles and accepts his hard-fought offering.

For the first time in a while, the smile he instinctively flashes back almost feels genuine.

I want to be better, he thinks. I will be better.

____

Notes:

This fic is loosely based on my own experience of the intake process, and the questionnaire I had to fill out. No two intake experiences are the same though, of course. This is merely one possibility. I also take personal liberties on the way I depict Steven’s struggle with mental health, and acknowledge and respect that no two fans’ interpretation will be the same.

Additional notes: -Steven’s still a minor, so he can’t actually sign contracts. I figure Greg signed a handful of forms beforehand as his guardian, and then left to allow his son a bit of privacy with filling out the questionnaire stuff. Since he's a teen, they're still giving him the full confidentiality clauses to look over so he's wholly aware how that works, though.

-To expand on a brief comment made in the midst of this, I headcanon that Steven cut both meat and fish out of his diet, and thus actually slipped up on his vegetarian diet when he was training with Jasper. I interpret this as further showcasing how the poor kid— due to being mentally vulnerable at the time and thus liable to coercion/unwise decisions— began to take actions that went against much of his established morality. He ended up sacrificing his dietary choices during those days, just like he briefly sacrificed his pacifistic views to fight Jasper.

-I also headcanon that the therapist Steven is going in to see after this isn’t the one he eventually sticks with and mentions as “my new therapist” in The Future. It’s totally normal and okay to try a few different people to find someone who you click with, after all.

Thank you for reading!

#su #su future #steven universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff #okay the official crosspost #here you go #i keep switching how i post fics here hhh #i LIKE having the ao3 link in the post itself #but when i do that the fic almost never shows up in tags so *shrugs*

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horansqueen · 4 years ago

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You & Me : chapter 46

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.3k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: super nervous, only one last filler chapter and then the conclusion of the story (in 3 chapters). im stressed lol! if youre still here after all this time, I LOVE YOU!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : here arethe 2 requests i used! THANK YOU SO MUCH! (sorry its not really surprise birthday sex? but its a surprise... and its birthday sex lol!)

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 46 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

September 13th, 2018

"Are you sure you want to go out tonight?" my boyfriend asked as I tried to do something with my hair. "It's my only day off, I have a show tomorrow, I shouldn't be up too late."

"Of course I'm sure!" I argued with a frown, staring at him back from the mirror's reflection. "It's your birthday, you deserve a least a few pints. Besides, since when are you so reasonable?"

I bent closer to the mirror to put on lipstick and he appeared next to me, making me smile immediately. We had been through so much together, and I couldn't pretend the past few years haven't felt like roller coasters, but at the same time, my life would be so different without him. Obviously, we could have just stayed best friends, and perhaps, right now I would be dating someone I never even met, but no matter who it would have been, I knew it wouldn't have been my soulmate. Because my soulmate was staring right back at me through that mirror and everything made sense when he was near.

"I would be perfectly fine with you and I, staying here all night, completely naked, and calling room service." he pointed out, slipping his arms around me from behind and kissing my neck.

I felt a shiver run up my spine and my lips curled again.

"Oh you mean a day that ends with a 'Y'?" I half-joked as we both chuckled. "Seriously, when did you become an old man?"

He pulled away slightly to look at me and I turned my head, my eyes finding his. He was frowning with a smile and it made me smile too.

"Have we met?" he asked, raising his eyebrows before letting go of me with one of his arms and extending his hand to me. "Niall Horan, the oldest soul you'll ever meet. Nice to meet you, beautiful."

I laughed a bit and turned his way, cupping his face and running my thumbs on his cheeks. "Nice to meet you, Niall Horan. I'm Olivia Fontaine, your soulmate."

He moved closer and his lips curled into a fond smile. "Oh I know." he whispered before pressed his lips against mine.

I felt something stir in my chest and he deepened the kiss, making me whimper low in his mouth. "Niall..."

"Mm, how about we get naked for half an hour before we actually get a few pints?"

I chuckled against his mouth and shook my head, my lips still attached to his. "Mm, no, or else we'll just stay in this hotel room all night, and you know it."

He groaned and I chuckled again, taking a step back.

"Come on, let me get my dick wet, pet."

My eyes got bigger and my jaw dropped before I chuckled. "No! We're going out!"

He sighed with a smile and finally shrugged, giving in. "Fine, darling."

I hurried to get ready so he wouldn't change his mind again and we decided to take a cab to make sure we could both drink. I was a bit nervous and I kept looking at my watch and when we got there, he paid and I got out of the taxi before he grabbed my wrist gently.

"Hey, are you okay?" his tone was soft and I could hear concern in his voice. It made me tilt my head and smile.

"I'm okay, don't worry."

Without thinking, I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside as my eyes roamed around. My lips curled when my eyes found Louis and I suddenly felt relieved. He was smiling so I was probably not too late. I noticed everyone getting up and heard my boyfriend curse next to me but he didn't have time to say anything. They all started yelling a loud "SURPRISE!" as they raised their drinks up. I let my head fall back on my shoulders with a sigh and chuckled as all the anxiety left my body.

"Fucking finally!" I let out, squeezing my boyfriend's hand before letting him go as he laughed and thanked everyone, shaking hands and kissing cheeks.

I let myself fall next to Louis who just laughed and when I turned to him, he was looking at me with amused eyes.

"What, love?"

"It was not easy, he kept saying he wanted to stay home and fuck!" I argued, shaking my head a bit. "I'm not built to resist a good fuck from someone so sexy!"

"You need to tell your cute little cunt that it needs a break from time to time."

I laughed and hit his arm, making him laugh too. "Don't talk about my intimate body parts, please."

"Your genitals are no secret for me, my queen." he laughed again, making me grimace and groan low.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." I mumbled before I felt a hand on top of mine.

"Me too." my boyfriend replied as I raised my nose up.

"Neil, your girlfriend was just telling me that you're sexually obsessed with her."

"LOUIS!" I let out as I heard my boyfriend start laughing.

"It's okay though," Louis added, ignoring me. "She added that she's just as obsessed with you anyway."

They both laughed and I rolled my eyes with a small smile. They started chatting and catching up and after a while, Niall got up to go talk with Julia. I leaned my chin on the palm of my hand, holding myself with my elbow on the table, and I just stared shamelessly at Niall who was now laughing with his friend, bringing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to kiss the top of her head. I was not even jealous. If I had seen that two years ago, I would probably have cried, but at this exact moment, with Niall's friends around the table all gathered together for his birthday, I realized that all of this was real, and it was meant to last. It was totally different than the first time. I trusted him now, and it was easy to trust him because he had changed, and so did I. He had proved to me that he really sincerely loved me and I was pretty sure I had proved that I wouldn't throw tantrums at him the way I used to. I remember thinking it was not easy to date Niall, and perhaps I even told him at some point but now? Now it was easy and it felt natural. It was meant to be.

"I'm happy that you're happy." I heard Louis whisper near my ear. "No one deserves it more than you."

I turned to look in his eyes, my chin still leaned against my hand. "I know someone who does. You."

After a few hours, everyone was getting drunk and when Niall sat back next to me, he leaned his arm on the back of my chair and moved closer. My lips curled more and I bit my bottom lip as I felt the warmth of his body emanate on mine.

"I still want you, you know." he let out probably a bit louder than he intended.

"Yea?" I asked, turning my head slightly to look at him with an amused smile.

"Mmhm, but we've already had sex in a bar." he pointed out with a cute grimace.

"Nee, we've had sex almost everywhere." I explained with a chuckle as he smirked at me.

"Nop, we never had sex on top of a table." he said but cut me as I opened my mouth to argue. "In a bar, I mean."

"And it's not gonna happen."

He leaned closer and brushed his lips against my jaw and down my neck as his hand reached for my thigh. My heart skipped a beat and I held my breath as my eyes fluttered. No one else had that effect on me. Even when we were kids, I'd feel all warm inside whenever he'd touch me. It's just some sort of connection I couldn't explain, like his skin against mine created an electric reaction that made me euphoric. It was not only sexual, it was way more than that, way deeper, and way more meaningful.

"You know everyone would fucking enjoy the show, right?"

I chuckled again. "That would scar them for life! Remember when Louis caught us having sex while we were camping?"

Niall groaned, leaving a few kisses under my ear. "Louis is weak."

I chuckled and turned my head enough to reach his mouth with mine. "Too bad we didn't drive here and that we don't have a car, we could just get in to fuck and come back."

He pulled away and stared in my eyes a few seconds before the left corner of his lips moved up. I raised my eyebrows, wondering what he was thinking about and when he talked, it took me a few seconds to realize he was not talking to me, even if he was still staring right in my eyes.

"Give me the keys to your car, Louis."

"What?"

"Mm, Niall, they all took a flight to get here, no one has a car." I pointed out, a bit distracted by how pretty he was.

This time, he looked away from me, probably to look at my best friend, but all I could focus on was the vein in his neck popping up. It made me want to run my tongue on it, and maybe nibble on his skin, too.

"I'm serious, Tommo." he insisted. "It's my birthday, let me borrow your car for twenty minutes."

I had no idea how long it took for Louis to agree but when Niall turned back to me with a bigger smirk, it made my inner thighs start throbbing. He bent closer, his lips almost touching mine, and I held my breath.

"Join me in five minutes."

He got up quickly and as soon as he left, I felt Louis grab my arm gently. "Please, take care okay? I rented this car, I don't want any trouble."

"Are you spending some time here?" I just asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Yea, El is supposed to join me tomorrow."

I licked my lips and laughed a little. "And you say I'm obsessed with my boyfriend? Look at you!"

He chuckled too and shook his head. "Yea well, I won't deny it." he replied with a smile. "You should go, your boyfriend is waiting for you."

I smiled back and jumped on my feet, almost running to the front door. I was a bit tipsy and not very subtle but when I saw Niall leaning against a black car, I tilted my head and stopped a few feet away from him.

"Come on, petal." he said with a quick head movement. "That's what you get for not letting me get my dick wet earlier."

I laughed more and took a few steps his way, getting slowly closer to him. He moved slightly away from the car and looked down at me. We were very close to each other but we didn't touch and I licked my lips, tilting my chin up.

"It's your birthday. Tell me what you want."

It only took half a second for his lips to curl into a smirk and he raised his eyebrows at me, his gaze never leaving mine. I could feel my whole body throb in anticipation but all I really wanted was to please him.

"I want you to ride me. Just you, moving on top of me, your tits in my face, and my dick balls deep inside your cunt."

"That... can be arranged."

Quickly, he opened the door and sat behind the wheel and i rushed on the other side of the car to sit on the passengers seat. Niall started the car and it made me frown but I decided to focus on taking off my pants and panties, leaving them on the floor and finally smiled when I realized he went to park a little further.

"You're not supposed to drive." I pointed out, leaning near him to work on his pants. "Take the keys off and lean the seat a bit.”

He did as I asked and I tried to get on top of him to straddle him, hitting my head on the roof and making him laugh. It took me longer than I thought to actually sit on him and when I did, he was smiling at me, clearly amused. His hands reached for my thighs and I felt his thumbs brush gently on my skin.

"You're fucking adorable, you know that, right?"

I raised my nose up, slightly annoyed, and shrugged. "I don't want to be adorable right now, I want to make you hard."

"Come on, petal. Watching you do everything you can to make my birthday perfect is adorable. You being all clumsy is cute. And the fact that you're actually wetting my thighs right now is hot. They're not mutually exclusive." he explained, his palms running up my thighs. "You make me hard, petal. But I'm also drowning in all the love I have for you. Is that wrong?"

My traits softened and despite myself, I sighed and tilted my head, shaking it lightly. "No, of course not." I admitted in a whisper. "In fact, it's perfect."

"Mm, just like that little cunt of yours." he groaned, moving one of his hands between my legs and pressing his thumb on my clit. I stiffened and whimpered low, making him smile. "Come on, love. Take your shirt off."

I did as he asked and he brought his free hand on one of my breasts, kissing the parts he could see right up my bra as his thumb kept rubbing slowly and gently between my legs. I looked down, trying to see his lips brushing on me and sucking and biting on my skin, leaving tiny red marks. One of my hands moved to his head, my fingers slipping in his hair, and the other moved one of my bra straps down. He did the same with the other, exposing my breasts to him and his mouth found one of my nipples immediately. Instinctively, I ground down against him and my eyes fluttered close.

"Is that really what you want?" I asked in a breath. "A slow fuck outside in a car?"

"Mm no." he confessed, both his hands moving around me to unclasp my bra. "We have about 10 minutes."

I laughed a bit and moved on my knees, leaning slightly his way to make sure my head wouldn't hit the top of the car again, and finally sat on his cock. I didn't even have to hold it with my hand. For some reason, my body found his so easily and I couldn't help but think we were just part of a two-piece puzzle. I knew it was stupid, but the image seemed quite right.

"Fuck, I'll never get enough of your cock." I whispered, holding myself on his shoulders.

"I hope not!" he chuckled, his hands quickly reaching for my waist as I felt his fingers press on my skin.

I didn't wait for his instructions, I just started riding him, my hands in his hair, leaning against him, once again scared my head would hit the roof of the car. I heard him groan again as his hands slid to my ass and he gripped both cheeks hard, making me quiver slightly.

"That's exactly what I wanted, pet. You riding me and your tits in my face." he admitted, making me smile and bite my bottom lip. "Perfect birthday gift."

I felt his lips brush on my breasts and nipples, making them hard and making me whimper more. I started moving quicker over him, my clit rubbing harder on his lower stomach and my grip in his hair getting tighter. I was already so close and by the way he was holding my waist, I knew he was too.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

I gripped his hair tighter at his words and moaned loud when I felt his teeth in one of my breasts. My body started shaking over him and he pushed me down hard on his dick, moving his hips up to feel himself as deep as he could. I felt an orgasm invade my whole body, from my head to my toes, and when I came down from my high, Niall wrapped his arms around me and held me against him.

"Mm, best birthday ever."

I laughed and moved slightly away to look at him but his eyes fell on my breasts immediately. "You only say that because you're in your post-orgasm state."

"I say that because it's my birthday and the girl I'm in love with just rode me until I came inside her." he explained, looking up at me as I felt his hands reach for my breasts. "Can't think of a better way to spend my birthday."

I smiled and bent down to kiss him again, enjoying the way his mouth tasted. "I'm in love with you too."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, a bit worried, as his thumb brushed gently on the spot he bit on my breast.

"No, I loved it. It'll be sensitive for a few days, and every time I touch it, It'll remind me of right now."

He smiled against my lips and I did too. At this point, If someone had told me that my life would get even better than it was, I wouldn't have believed it. It was already perfect.

"Good, then how about we try the backseat, now?"

I laughed slightly. "Your friends are going to start wondering where you are."

"Let them."

---

We both had a headache when we woke up the next morning but Niall's was definitely worse than mine. He still managed to smile and hug me so I knew it could definitely be worse. We were leaving soon since he had a show in an other state on the same night but stopped in a cafe. Niall groaned a bit when he noticed how long the line was and brought his hand to his forehead, massaging gently his skin as if it would help take the pain away. I tilted my chin up and licked my lips, not really sure he was actually looking at me because of his sunglasses, but his hands reached my waist and I sent him a small smile.

"Would you rather wait outside?" I proposed. "Get some fresh air maybe? I can wait in line, I don't mind."

He shook his head and moved his face down, making my lips curl more. I always liked when he pecked my lips gently and It made me close my eyes.

"No it's okay, I'd rather stay." he whispered. "If only to show you how grateful I am for the birthday sex."

I laughed against his lips and we remained mostly silent until we ordered our coffee. He groaned as we were about to get out and finally sighed.

"I need to go to the bathroom okay? I'll join you outside."

I nodded and took his cup from his hands before to step foot outside. It was a warm day and I just closed my eyes, trying to feel the sun on my face until I heard a familiar sound that immediately made my heart skip a beat.

"Hey, Liv, are you with Niall?"

I felt myself cringe despite myself, knowing some pap had taken a picture of me while I was hungover. They knew I was with my boyfriend, and I was not sure why exactly they insisted on asking but I decided to ignore the question. I also hated how they always used a nickname for me, as if we were close friends. It was definitely uncalled for and made me uncomfortable. I turned around, feeling my heartbeats accelerate, and closed my eyes, hoping Niall was going to come back soon. They kept throwing a bunch of questions at me but the only one I actually clearly heard was:

"How do you feel about that sex tape of you two going around?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. What was 'going around' online was anything but a sex tape. So yea, you could see us making out for a few seconds and talk... you could see us disappear behind a door and it didn't take much imagination to take a good guess at what we had done right after, but to qualify that as a 'sex tape' was totally eye rolling. I tried turning around again and walk a bit further but one of them moved very close to me and accidentally (i think?) hit my arm, making me almost drop my cup of coffee. I let out a curse word under my breath as some of the brown beverage fell on my shirt but also felt a hand on my waist, making me feel suddenly relaxed.

"Hey man, stay away from her okay?" I heard the guy start arguing but my boyfriend cut him off quickly. "No I'm serious. Give us space, we won't answer your question. Don't try me."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by the threatening tone Niall had used, and he quickly walked back closer to me, taking his cup from my hand and replacing it with his own hand before squeezing my fingers in his. We walked away quickly and got in a cab in silence. I sighed and leaned my head on the seat after Niall told the driver about the hotel we stayed in and I closed my eyes.

"This is the part that I hate." I admitted after a few minutes.

"The attention?" he asked before I turned my head his way, noticing the small smile playing on his lips.

"Well, yea. I mean, I've never been the kind to enjoy attention... but that specific kind of attention? It's horrible." I admitted, raising my nose up. "Being asked about rumors and gossips while they try to snap the ugliest picture of you they can just so they can sell it for a few pounds. There's nothing good about that kind of attention."

"Can't disagree with you." my boyfriend let out after a sigh. "Don't let them get to you though, it's not worth it."

We quickly walked back to the hotel and started packing again. We moved easily around the hotel room, like a well-rehearsed choreography, and I loved that. I was clumsy, that was true, but with Niall, everything seemed to come so naturally. Even if the rooms we stayed in were different, we still managed to complete specific tasks easily and without stepping on each other's feet, and after only half an hour, our bags were waiting by the door, as usual.

I sat on the bed, knowing we had about 15 minutes free before we left, and after a while, Niall sat next to me. It took him a few seconds to reach for my hand and when I looked up in his eyes, my lips curled a bit. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses anymore. Instead, he had put his black baseball cap on and I could see his eyes. Blue with a tint of yellow...

"The tour is almost over." he whispered in a soft tone. "Then we can go back home... wherever 'home' is for you. If you want to go back to England, then I'm good with that, too. If you want to spend some time in Ireland it's cool too. Just tell me so I can book a hotel room. We're not staying at my mom's again."

I chuckled and shook my head, making him smile too.

"I'm sorry. I'm exhausted and I'm not even the one that spends hours on stage every other night. Can't imagine how you feel."

"I'm used to it." he just said with a shrug. "I mean, if you need to go back to LA for your tv show, I understand too."

"Mm, no. I need to write the next season anyway before we can film anything so there's no rush." I explained, looking down at his hand holding mine. "Besides, I think I'd like to try writing a book or something."

It was the very first time I admitted that out loud but I thought it was obvious. After all, that tv show started off with chapters of a story that I posted every week on my dad's web site. I was not sure how it had turned into a tv show but the first idea I had had was definitely a book.

"A book about what?"

I looked back up in his eyes and let out a laugh at his facial expression. I could understand why it was scaring him, but I had already written about our story, there was no reason for me to write some more in a book. Maybe he was just scared that people would think it's about us, no matter what it was really about, but I just shrugged. I didn't really care what anyone thought. Well, except Niall.

"Ghosts. Or, robots. Or vampires." I pointed out, making him chuckle. "Nothing that has to do with you and me."

"Or superheroes, perhaps?" he proposed with a smirk, his eyebrows raised.

"Maybe, who knows?"

We stared at each other for a few seconds and I saw him swallow hard. It made me frown slightly and I could swear he was about to tell me something serious, something really important... but he just smiled more and bent down to kiss me hard.

"Come on, we need to go or we'll be late."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #1dff #my fanfics #yam

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nomanwalksalone · 4 years ago

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AGAINST INTELLIGENT DESIGN

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

I write these words with apologies to a personal friend, a man who taught me an enormous number of things, who steered me right when I was thinking of all sorts of asking for all sorts of passing trendy details on a pair of custom shoes, and who set me on the path to discovering the best shirtmakers and tailors in the world, unsung though they were at the time.

Some time ago my friend dismissed the words of a prominent Teutonic style author whom I’ll call Vogelkundler, a proponent of supposed English and Italian clothing styles, asserting instead that no one can teach you to be a gentleman or an elegant man, that trying to copy the styles of another culture inevitably fails terribly so that trying to dress like a country squire is as much of a failure in Gotham as on Gothos. “Style,” my friend proclaimed, “is absolutely something one is born with since genuine style is individual and the code is provided to each of us at birth.”

I thought of my friend’s words as I prepare to get rid of the first two shirts pictured here, perhaps by donating them to a costume museum. After all, costume is what my friend had called most of what people who learn how to dress from books like Vogelkundler’s wear, an inauthentic pastiche of others’ ideas of elegance. How much expense could be avoided, he suggests, if we simply expressed our own inner personal style, a style without reflection or conscious thought? This must make him the Zeus of clothing fora founders, for in his universe style springs forth like Pallas Athena, fully developed, from his head. To him, personal elegance appears to be the revelation of a fundamental and completely thought-out truth whose elements were always present.

My 14-year-old shirts are evidence against this concept of intelligent design, my friend’s premise of unchanging and permanent personal style truths. Even if we remain ever true to ourselves, that truth has another dimension – that’s the fourth dimension, time (okay, come at me, physics bros). Our tastes evolve over time. To the extent we feel our style, and our clothes as its expression, are an extension of ourselves, over time as our style changes bit by bit we may favor a piece of clothing for slightly different reasons, combine it with different sorts of outfits, wear it for different purposes, or take what we liked about it and try to reproduce those discrete features in searching for or ordering new items with those attributes.

My friend is correct that even the best written, most informative book on style, like Vogelkundler’s, may not give us style. But what it can do is help us take the first steps. Even if those are initially in the wrong direction, even if they are stumbles off a cliff, they start a process of progress. My friend does not acknowledge that anyone who does not hold himself out to be an expert online is looking for one, looking for an authority to give one some immediate direction. He derides those who are obsessed with clothing enough to look for a resource. However, today, to develop a personal style, we need to have what most others would think an obsession –the will to learn, to try and to refine.

And we learn through our inevitable failure to divine in advance what at some given moment in middle age will pass for perfection. I bought these shirts because I loved their flamboyant turquoises and purples and even more flamboyant patterns (the designer pretentiously called it a “double shadowstripe”). I recognize my tastes sprang from a reaction against the oppressive wretchedness that is real true prep during my adolescence. And in a time before Internet experts and long before meeting my friend, my inspirations were novels and films -- the bold stripes and cuts of 1960s films, my Technicolor dream of a Swinging London at a distance of decades. These shirts with their tight darts, high, shark-fin collars and brazen palette captured all of that for me, my desire to appropriate a little of what I thought was elegant rebellion against convention.

Revelation of true self is not the realization of a beautiful sculpture already imagined within a block of marble. That’s a pleasant lie. As in anything else, there is no intelligent design, no incontrovertible style truths inbuilt into our DNA, only ad hoc reactions to the sartorial chaos around us that can sometimes build on each other to better things. As I prepared to pass these shirts on, I realized that they were an unavoidable stepping stone in my development – that years later I knew more about cloth, construction, and so on, and used all that I’d learned about that and all that I’d learned from owning, enjoying, and feeling gradually more self-conscious in these shirts to have the shirts in the second pictures made. Unlike the shirts in the first picture, they were made to fit me, not bought off the rack at the risk of looking like an extra from the opening credits of Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery. The collars, based on what I had come to love about my older shirts, are a bit flamboyantly higher than normal shirt collars, although a lot more restrained than those I used to wear, and slightly rounded at the points – a preference learned over trial and error. The cuffs are still two-button cuffs, like on those older shirts – back then I’d thought they just seemed more British and bespoke to me, and today I think that they make for a better fit. The stripes are a tad more restrained – even if the colors are almost exactly the same as on my older shirts.

In no way could I have moved directly from nascent style seeker to owner of the more restrained, better made, more sophisticated shirts in my second picture. We gain our personal style as much from what looking back are misadventures as from the lessons we think we learn from others. And things that we bought during our journey that we might not purchase now still serve, even if in different ways, like the denim shirt I wrote about some time back. You are your own sum total, and that includes your regrets.

My friend emphasized the importance of gaining confidence to express our innate sartorial knowledge. In my case, over the last decade and a half, it has been a matter of gaining the confidence to escape other’s notions of propriety – including his. I still favor the features of the suits I used to dream of back at the time I bought those first shirts. Back then it was because they seemed especially Savile Row, especially 1960s like the gaudy films I loved (and I know how embarrassing that is to admit): single-breasted two-button suits, slant pockets and double vents… But in my first custom suit orders I restrained myself from asking for a too-colorful suit lining, having read that flashy linings were a sure sign of a novice, an arriviste (as if I have actually arrived) or a ready-to-wear suit masquerading as bespoke. Recently I had a final fitting on a suit where I finally let myself have a deep violet lining, finally letting myself admire that gorgeous, deep color contrasting against Minnis grey flannel. And today the books of linings my tailors carry are full of violently patterned and colored linings of all sorts, making my indulgent purple now seem positively sober. We do come around to ourselves, even if the world changes.

The world has indeed changed, and to survive we keep reacting and adapting to it, even if we do not change in the same way. I continue to believe that favoring one item in a particular style, one particular idea of elegance like a nice suit, does not dictate conforming to popular ideas of conservative elegance in other areas, evolve though we may: For 25 years ago I’ve been a fan of Faith No More, first sincerely, then sort-of-ironically in that Gen X way, then as a #dadcore lost soul. Yet as I finish this, I’m listening to a recent album of covers of 1960s Italian genre movie themes (in particular that of Danger: Diabolik) performed, with orchestral accompaniment, by their lead singer, Mike Patton, and named after another famous cult movie, Mondo Cane. Far afield from Patton’s early work with FNM, or what I initially liked them for, but anyone who knows me can tell nothing could be more in my wheelhouse than this. It feels right (deep, deep down). It just took a long time to get here.

Perhaps, to my friend, I do not have style. But I am me.

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This article first appeared on the No Man blog in June 2017.

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endersketch · 5 years ago

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An Apology - Please Read the whole thing

Last year around August, I joined an ego discord server. It was a wonderful server run by someone I still think of as a friend, even if we don’t talk anymore. And for good reason. I was not kind then… and I realize now why. It wasn’t a good place for me, and perhaps it wasn’t a good place to be after so much had happened within. The inner circles of that place were run differently then I would have liked, at the time. We had a Not Safe For Work chat that was only open to those of age, 18 or older. I was very overly sexual, and it upset and made some people uncomfortable. I wanted to be sexual with people I thought were comfortable with it, and at one point they probably were. But as I kept going, I assume it quickly became bad. People messaged me about it, and I was quick to apologize. But I was still angry.

I never publicly expressed this, but I did to this friend. I wanted to be in a relationship with him, and when he said no I got angry, annoyed. I tried to open his eyes to what life actually was, and how he couldn’t be this person forever. But it wasn’t my place. I did some awful things I’m not proud of. I say some things that I know now are wrong and I left. It wasn’t right of me to control them, or try to let them control me. It was very different than ‘the group of friends’ I wanted them to be. I wish now that someone had opened my eyes to what I was doing and I didn’t have to do it myself. But that is the best way to learn.

During this time I was in another server run by Bird of Prey. He was very kind to me, the other people on the server let me rant out my troubles and I thought I had found friends. This was all around my birthday, when I finally left the other server for good. During that time several people had blocked my old friend over things that I had told them. This brought up some screenshots of our conversations and Bird of Prey brought it to my attention. I was upset and confused, hurt that someone had taken private screenshots and shown them to him. I explained I was not proud of what I said. At this point I had realized that it wasn’t right, that it wasn’t my place to control him or what he should be. I was regretful and deeply sorry for what I had done and I was trying to change. He, thankfully, supported me. And it was something I was truthful about. Even now, I am trying to change. And I will forever be grateful that he came to me, to hear my side.

By this point I had created my own server on the side, asking some friends if they would like to join. It would be a smaller server stemming off of the one Bird of Prey had made. My own manor, where we could do as we pleased. I will say, I had mostly created it for nsfw purposes, but I picked who was able to join based on how I knew them on Bird’s. Every member was over 18, I made sure of this, having dealt with minors accidentally getting into other servers before. Here we could roleplay our characters, our egos, and ourselves as we pleased. We had a pair of great months, at least from my perspective. We roleplayed and grew our characters and I loved them all. I was very close with two of the members and I had hoped to visit them this summer. But this is where the trouble happened. I will now tie together the original call out post by Starybinch, and my own experience.

There were a few things that upset me, specifically over Starybinch’s egos. I was at one point very close to his Blue Google: Beta. Beta was someone I cared deeply for, I wanted to rp and talk with him and do so many things. But Starybinch stopped roleplaying him. He had mentioned off hand that someone kept bugging him about him. I knew it was me, I felt awful. Suddenly all of Julian’s egos seemed rude to me, mean and accusing of so many small things. I wish I had talked to him about it straight on, especially since I had a hunch the reason he wasn’t playing Beta was because of me. I’m a firm believer, after everything I’ve done, that talking it out is the best action. We were both adults, both people perfectly capable of placing out our differences and trying to find common ground. But I didn’t. And I believe that was my fault. I wish I had. I was angry and upset that everyone else was getting their Google bot interaction, and everytime I tried to do something, they would lash out, even after I tried to apologize. But I believe that all ties into the next thing.

Hindsight is 20/20. I fully believe this. As we roleplayed I jumped into conversations with egos, I tried interacting where other people were busy. At the time I thought I was not doing anything wrong, nothing anyone else had done. It was rude of me to do these things. However, it was too late when I realized how sevier this problem was to others. I realized this when Starybinch’s Host lashed out at me. I was deeply hurt, and truly sorry for doing this. I messaged him and asked if everything was okay. And this was for everything, I wanted to know what I had done to make the egos hate me, if I had done anything to Starybinch to make the emotions he was feeling bleed into his roleplay. I’ve seen it done in the past. At the time I didn’t realize they’d told me about twice to shut up and let people talk. Starybinch said “everything was fine.” But now I see it wasn’t. I know I should have realized I was doing something wrong before I had to ask, but I also wish that Starybinch had told me what was wrong instead of saying everything was fine. I wish he hadn’t felt like he had to keep the problems with me secret.

Then the anon came. They started threatening Starybinch. It was something that caused him to leave once and come back. I felt so awful that something like this was happening to a friend of mine. Worse, they were mentioning a server. He thought it was either of the two main ones he was in, mine and Bird of Prey’s. That happened a few weeks ago, before everything went to shit. The anon was quiet, for a while, until they came back full force. They mentioned things from my server, egos that Starybinch had played. Things he had done. Instantly, StarShineRobotic turned on me. Blaming me for everything, all these awful things being said. I was broken, I was shaken. Pleading for anyone to listen to me that I hadn’t sent those. I never would. But several people left. The server was dead. Something that was once so lively and active was suddenly barren. StarShine left, one of Starybinch’s friends left. Starybinch had left before the accusations began because of the anons. I was heartbroken, I was angry they would accuse me of something I would never think of doing. I tried working with my remaining friends to see what could be done. To see if someone would come forward. No one did. We never found out who sent those anons.

I couldn’t believe anyone in our server would do this. At the time we were just pointing fingers, trying to figure out who on the server could do this. We kept pointing fingers at everyone, unable to see how anyone could be the anon. But all the pointing fingers came back to me. The anon conntinued to mention things that could only be known if they were in the server. The anon also mentioned a different server which surprised me, since we hadn’t talked about another server and I didn’t know of one.

I know now that everyone of them had another server, one that everyone else had for months. Starybinch confessed this when he snapped at me, but I’ll mention that later.

I was so sure everything had been fine these past few months. But then again, what did I know. My anxiety was through the roof as everyone was pressuring me, trying to make me do something, someone needed to go but who? I eventually kicked 3 people. We were down to 5. Our group of 14 had shrunk so fast over something that could have been talked out. Starybinch returned and we sat there for a while, trying to figure out who. I was exhausted, I was tired, emotionally distressed over what to do about this. I was having to manage a group of friends over something so horrid, so awful. At the time I had the terrifying thought that someone was framing me, but I didn’t know who.

The anon continued to send asks, threatening to come to Starybinch’s house and kill his dog, Taffy. The sweetest dog ever. If this was the point that people would believe me, it wasn’t. They accused me still, wondering why and how I could do such a thing. How I could say homophobic and transphobic things to a friend, how I could tell someone to kill themselves. It wasn’t me, I told them over and over. I swore on my life, on my friendships, on the love I had for two specific people… people I thought loved me too.

Starybinch and I had a moment of clarity when I explained everything I have written here today. Obviously I didn’t want to mention some of the things, as I thought most of them had been resolved. Starybinch had come forward to say he was upset because of how much attention I had been getting over his bots. How much they had started to love me. He was angry that I was able to interact but not him. I told him how I had been upset over everything as well. I didn’t want anything between us. I told the truth, I spilled my heart to someone I trusted and loved with my whole heart. However, not 10 mins later he told me the real truth.

Starybinch told me everything, things began to unfold. He told me how everyone had hated me since February, how everything I had done was wrong. How they had screenshots and receipts long past. How he hated me, how they had another server. How they have proof the anons were me and how I was making everyone uncomfortable. They gave me screenshots of role plays I thought were just stories. They told me I was obsessive, controlling, how I had made everyone hate me so fast. And I will tell you now some truths.

Yes I posted nudes, I thought I did in a group of friends. No one said anything about it. I thought I was in a trusted group where I could do this, show something I was proud of. I made fun in rps because it’s a roleplay. They are characters. If you as the runner were uncomfortable you should have told me, you should have told me so much sooner about everything! Why didn’t you, why did you drag it out just to give this big reveal? No one came to my aid, no one believed me. I had no one, no one to believe me, no one to support me. They were sorry that my “rich and privileged upbringing had made me so blind to other people’s troubles” how I was selfish and awful and controlling.

To another point, I have never erotically roleplayed with a minor. I will tell you that I was close, and I did flirt with two blogs on tumblr that I had no idea were minors. They were a Darkiplier and Googleplier rp blog of two friends. When I discovered that they were minors I stopped. I stopped and explained how I was uncomfortable with it. They were cool and we maybe talked on and off for about a month. I haven’t talked with them since. This was about a year ago. Every since I’ve been very careful with who I roleplay with. I ask and make sure I know the person well before even getting into nsfw territory.

This entire thing drove me straight down into a dark place. I was very lucky that when I left the voice call that I was in, that my friend sent my brother to check up on me. I am very lucky for my real friends, my family and my partner for supporting me through this hard time.

I have shown you I have done awful things… things that I’m not proud of. I can show you I’m trying to change and I’m growing. I can assure you that after all of this I will take a long time to learn from my past before going back. But if there is one thing I wouldn’t do, it’s wish the death of another person. I would never threaten someone or their pets, no matter how much I like, or dislike them. I would never try to do these things.

I am sorry that I’ve done these things, I will be sorry about it for the rest of my life. I never want to be like that person again, and I will use what I have learned to fix that. I will be taking a long hiatus from tumblr, and maybe posting on my other platforms. I will take this time to focus on growing. I will learn and change in this time of rest and recovery. I wish I didn’t and I wish that others didn’t have to make a post like that about me. I never wanted my past conversations used or shown to the public. I wish I could have seen where I was wrong. I’m sorry for all of this.

#endersketch #Important #Please read #tw drama #hiatus #Hopefully this clears some stuff up #I hope a lot of people see this

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cinemavariety · 5 years ago

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Cinema Variety’s Top Favorite Films of 2019

To quote Principal Duvall from the 2004 teen comedy classic Mean Girls: “I just wanted to say that you’re all winners, and that I couldn’t be happier the year is ending” 2019 was both a super difficult year personally, but even more so, I feel as if it was one of the weakest years for cinema in recent memory. Thankfully the last few months of the year have made up for it with a surplus of absolutely incredible cinematic experiences, many of which are reflected in this year’s rankings. I present to you my favorite films of 2019. Check out my rankings from previous years by checking out the links below:

Top Picks of 2018 List Top Picks of 2017 List Top Picks of 2016 List Top Picks of 2015 List Top Picks of 2014 List Top Picks of 2013 List

Honorable Mentions: Midsommar Uncut Gems Parasite 3 From Hell The Death and Life of John F. Donavan **THIS LIST IS IN ORDER AND CONTAINS SOME MILD SPOILERS**

#16 - Ready or Not Directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

Ready or Not looked entertaining enough from the trailers, but it certainly wasn’t anything I was dying to go see. Especially in a movie theatre. However my brother convinced me to go with him and it ended up being one of the most consistently fun and entertaining theatrical experiences of 2019.

There were a lot of similar plot elements to the brilliant 2013 horror film - You’re Next (which by the way is one of my favorites). The plot is about a young girl, who grew up an orphan, marrying into an insanely wealthy family. The family has a tradition of playing a game on the wedding night, and she ends up choosing a game of hide and seek. Unbeknownst to the bride, the family is actually planning to hunt her down and murder her in order to perform some type of satanic ritual.

Horror comedies only work for me about half the time, but his film has enough graphic violence and intense situations to counterbalance all of the humor throughout. They complemented each other well and the result was a super funny and super bloody cat and mouse hunt of social classes.

#15 - Doctor Sleep Directed by Mike Flanagan

Helming the sequel to The Shining is no easy undertaking whatsoever. Kubrick’s arthouse horror masterpiece will forever remain not only one of my favorite of his films, but also as one of my favorite genre pieces in general. I was immediately relieved when I discovered that Mike Flanagan signed on to direct the adaptation of Stephen King’s sequel - Doctor Sleep.

I already knew beforehand that Doctor Sleep was more of a fantasy story than a direct horror, and also wasn’t one of the most popular of King’s works. The film ended up being a pretty epic fantasy thriller. Flanagan excels in creating his own universe while also honoring the source material, as well as paying homage to Kubrick’s film. However, it shines more when it does its own thing instead of trying to be nostalgia porn.

Most of the film worked for me, some of it didn’t. The recasting of Jack Torrance’s character left a slightly sour taste in my mouth. Ewan McGregor does a great job as the recovering Danny but it is really Rebecca Ferguson who steals the show with her villain character Rose the Hat.

Doctor Sleep proves that Flanagan has become one of the most consistent horror directors working in the industry. There’s always a pulse to be discovered in the foundations of his storytelling.

#14 - High Life Directed by Claire Denis

Claire Denis, one of the most polarizing French auteurs, debuted her first English language film in 2019 with High Life. I had the pleasure of seeing the film on a big screen, and even though I felt a little underwhelmed as an initial reaction to the finale, the film seemed to linger in my subconscious like a haunting unresolved dream. It held up even better on a re-watch, which you can view for free if you have Amazon Prime.

It’s definitely unlike any space film that I have ever seen. The premise surrounds a group of prisoners on death row who are sent to the farthest depths of space on a doomed voyage. All of the occupants are corralled by Juliette Binoche’s character, who plays some type of mad space scientist, is obsessed with collecting their semen in order to create new life in the abyss of the cosmos.

High Life is a slow burn, often minimalist film, which relies more heavily on atmosphere/score/visuals than it does on dialogue or forced plot elements. It’s bewilderingly nihilistic in how it depicts human behavior gone horribly awry. Robert Pattinson gives an understated performance and seems to provide the only glimmer of what seems to be hope by the end of the film.

#13 - Too Old to Die Young Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn

Too Old To Die Young finds the celebrated auteur, Nicolas Winding Refn, sharing his view of humanity and society at its most despicable. Hate seems to seep out of the cracks of every neon-soaked frame in the limited series. Amazon gave Refn free reigns in creating his phantasmagoria.

All of his usual motifs and creative decisions are employed in full force with Too Old To Die Young, sometimes to an almost unbearable degree unless you are a truth Refn aficionado. His long takes, infinitesimal silences between lines, neon lighting, synth score and characters belonging to a criminal underworld are all utilized to great affect within the series.

I won’t lie, I found it to be some of Refn’s most challenging work to date. There are so many aspects to be found within this series that went over my head, it is art that demands a re-watch. And while I believe that Refn’s sensibilities are best conveyed through a film medium, the limited series allows Refn to explore what he wants to convey like an artist adding layer upon layer of colors onto a blank palette.

#12 - Age Out Directed by A.J. Edwards

A.J. Edwards returned in 2019 with his sophomore directorial effort - Age Out (originally titled Friday’s Child). Edwards has served as one of many creatives who worked on the editing team of Terrence Malick’s films in the last decade. Malick’s influence on the director is quite noticeable. Edwards directed his first film in 2014, The Better Angels, which was a decent debut. Whereas The Better Angels oftentimes felt too close of a mimicry of Malick’s style, Age Out utilizes certain aspects of the style while also allowing Edwards to have his own authorial voice.

The film centers around a young man named Richie as he is about to “age out” of the foster care facility in which he was raised - a frightening reality for countless youth in America and around the world. Richie is left to navigate the difficulties of the adult world at a mere eighteen years old, without any family or parental figures to help him along the way. He makes friends with a seedy townie who revels in delinquency and causing ruckus. Also, there is a romantic subplot between Richie and a girl named Joan, portrayed tenderly by Imogen Poots. This relationship seems to be the only saving grace in Richie’s life. However, a turn of events soon reveal that Richie’s traumatic past has gotten the better of him and threatens to doom his entire future.

Edwards shoots the film in a boxed style with a 1.33 : 1 aspect ratio. This aids with the sense of claustrophobia and paranoia that invades Richie’s life. As aforementioned, many of Malick’s motifs are used here: a floating steadicam guiding the audience along, hushed dialogue, montages with classical music, and even some voice overs. However, this aesthetic isn’t heavy handed in any way. In fact, it’s a joy to see directors whose work can almost go into the Malick canon as the auteur has had such an influence on a lot of young, upcoming directors. Age Out is both a coming of age story and a cry of warning for unhealed trauma.

#11 - An Elephant Sitting Still Directed by Hu Bo

An Elephant Sitting Still now holds the spot as the longest running film that I have ever seen. It sits in at just under four hours, and it completely delivers without ever feeling like it drags on unnecessarily. The film technically premiered in 2018 and is considered a 2018 film among critic circles. However, the epic didn’t get a widespread distribution in the U.S. until this year, so I am overlooking this discrepancy. The film was marked with somewhat of a controversy after the director Hu Bo took his own life right after post production was completed. Hu Bo is an author turned director and An Elephant Sitting Still marks his first foray into cinema. It’s one of the best directorial debuts I have ever seen.

The film centers around four different characters during the span of a single day. All of these characters are marked with some sort of tragedy, and many of their stories intertwine in a synchronistic fashion. It reminded me of other masterpieces such an Inarittu’s Amores Perros or Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia. The film takes place in the industrial regions of Northern China, and the barren landscapes reflect an inner emptiness that emanates from all the characters.

There is a hollowness to these people as they navigate through life. An Elephant Sitting Still is nothing short of nihilistic. It’s an angry, desperate and hauntingly beautiful cry of pain from a director who was most certainly haunted by his own inner demons. It manages to be both an odyssey of human cruelty and a swan song from a young man who didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.

#10 - Joker Directed by Todd Phillips

“It’s getting crazier out there, isn’t it?” These are some of the first lines to be uttered in Todd Philip’s pitch-black satire on society. These lines are what best exemplify the themes that Philip’s was pushing: our society is profoundly sick, everything seems to be getting worse, we have no saviors in sight and hope isn’t always on the horizon. Just from these first utterances, it is clear that Philips is taking all of the political and socioeconomic turmoil of the last four years and has created a problem child that is Joker.

Joaquin Phoenix turns in one of his most disturbed and flawless performances yet - which is no surprise. However, I have yet to see him embody a character so genuinely as he did in The Master. But this isn’t Paul Thomas Anderson, this is Todd Phillips. And the fact that the comedy director even created this piece of art is something that still has me scratching my head. Subtlety is never at play in the film, and there are quite a few plot points that are a little too on-the-nose, even for me. However, all of the other elements redeem it and make this one of the best films of the year. The cinematography is pleasing for the eyes, and the menacing cello scores echoes an existential loneliness that I felt permeate my very being.

The last thirty minutes are exactly what I was hoping from this film. It’s a breath of fresh air to see Hollywood actually stick to creating a nihilistic film that doesn’t once try to water itself down.

#9 - Luce Directed by Julius Onah

Director Julius Onah decided to really step up his game with his latest film Luce. After the dumpster fire that was The Cloverfield Paradox (seriously, thanks for completely ruining what was becoming a dope anthology franchise), Onah has proven that he can be a master of his craft with the proper source material. In regards to the story being told, every element of the film works to its advantage: editing, performances, direction, and most importantly - the screenplay. It’s one of most well written screenplays I have come across in 2019. I immediately could tell from the dialogue that this movie must have been adapted from a stage play, and sure enough upon searching, I found out it was. Not all stage adaptations work, in fact I’d say more than half don’t end up being too effective, but this one stuck its landing and then more.

The story revolves around an overly concerned teacher who contacts Luce’s parents after he writes a paper that comes off as threatening. The paper in question seemed to hold a sentiment in which violence was called for in order to overcome colonialism. It’s important to note that Luce was a child soldier in his native country before being adopted by his parents - played by Naomi Watts and Tim Roth who both gave stunning performances. The rest of the story is an investigation into who their son actually is, which eventually results in moral debates regarding race and identity.

Luce is also a film that effectively helps the audience empathize with the main character, while at the same time questioning whether his intentions are genuine, or a coy to hide something much darker. The truth isn’t always black and white, and this was my biggest takeaway from the movie.

#8 - Monos Directed by Alejandro Landes

Monos felt like a hybrid of elements inspired from great works such as Lord of the Flies, Aguirre: The Wrath of God and Apocalypse Now. This is only the third film to be directed by Alejandro Landes, however it looks and feels as if it was created by a seasoned veteran of the industry.

A group of children guerilla soldiers hold base on a mountaintop where they keep a hostage, watch over a prized cow, and act as a defensive force against an unbeknownst group of enemies. There is little to no exposition in the film. Landes drops the audience off right in the middle of the chaos.

We aren’t exactly sure what these children are risking their lives to fight for, or why they are doing it, but it goes to show the conditions in which they were raised for them to find normalcy in the violent lifestyle of a guerilla soldier. The landscapes are absolutely gorgeous, and there are even a few scenes where I questioned how they accomplished such shots/stunts with a low budget.

#7 - The Beach Bum Directed by Harmony Korine

The Beach Bum might not be the best film that Harmony Korine has directed (it’s certainly no Spring Breakers), but it is easily the most fun. It’s been almost seven long years since Korine’s last project, and I had been waiting in eager anticipation to see what he would do next. He was originally going to do a gangster crime drama called The Trap, which is what I was really hoping from Korine, but that fell through and he ended up making one of the best stoner comedies I have ever had the pleasure of watching.

The Beach Bum is probably Korine’s most accessible and audience-friendly film he’s ever done. I say that lightly though, because it still remains just as highly divisive as his other work. The plot is loose. It follows the misadventures and antics of Moondog, a washed up poet and complete burnout. He is soon sent to rehab for all of his illegal activities, in which he breaks out with the help of Zac Efron’s character, who might have just been my favorite character of the film. Korine seems to have a consistently solid knack to create dirty, seedy and absolutely enthralling characters.

I am really happy that he decided to keep a very similar visual aesthetic to his previous masterpiece, Spring Breakers. Benoit Debie, who is the king of neon lighting and discombobulating camerawork, does a masterful job at creating the textured and visual world of The Beach Bum. Hell, it’s probably one of the main reasons why I decided to see it twice on the big screen.

I’m not the biggest fan of comedies, mostly because I have a very bizarre sense of humor and find most of them to be completely hollow. But Korine’s darkly nihilistic sense of humor suits my sensibilities perfectly and I found myself laughing out loud at various points throughout The Beach Bum. It’s a fun, and even slightly endearing film at certain points thanks to the presence of Isla Fisher’s character as the wife. I look forward to whatever Korine decides to do next. At this point, who knows where he will decide to go with his career. I just hope I don’t have to wait another five plus years to see more of his work.

#6 - A Hidden Life Directed by Terrence Malick

Malick isn’t “back” - he never left. A Hidden Life isn’t a “return to form”. His form has always been there, it’s been evolving since The Tree of Life. In fact, the structure and flow of this film is extremely reminiscent of his past three films.

How far are you willing to walk the path of righteousness, even when the path is marred with pain and unanswered sufferings? How long are you able to cling to your faith when it feels like all hope is lost? How do you fight for what is good, when everyone around you is telling you to submit to forces of absolute evil? These are some of just many questions explored in Terrence Malick’s newest tour de force. As with many of Malick’s recent work, these aren’t questions that are necessarily outright answered during the film. They are instead questions of morality meant to be repeated throughout the story, almost like a mantra or an ode to pure faith.

A Hidden Life is Malick’s first return to chronological and narrative-driven filmmaking since The New World. It has garnered praise almost universally among critics, and is regarded as his best film in ten years since The Tree of Life. While I am in the few who don’t exactly agree that this is Malick’s best film in a decade, I might even dare say that it is among my least favorites of Malick’s recent output, I am still not denying the sublime mastery instilled in every single shot of this film.

A Hidden Life tells the noble true story of Franz Jagerstatter, an Austrian conscientious objector, who refuses to fight for the Nazis in World War II due to his religious beliefs and is eventually executed for it. He is decades later deemed a martyr by the Church - all the more telling as to why Malick decided to tackle this story. The heart of this story is told through letters that Franz and his wife Fani exchange throughout his period spent as a political prisoner. Fani seems to be one of the only people in Franz’s life who sticks by his side. No matter how soul crushing Franz’s decision is for Fani, she understands him well enough to know that death is a better option than spoiling your soul and humanity. “Better to suffer injustices than to do it,” as one character painfully states in the film. And while I wasn’t as emotionally wrecked as I thought I would be by this film, I instead feel inspired by Franz’s commitment to his innate goodness. The back and forth perspectives of Franz and Fani are well executed - we as an audience get reprieves from the dreary confines of a prison cell to the majestic grandeur of the Austrian mountainside. The mountains and surrounding nature are characters within themselves. Near the finale, as Franz is face to face with his mortality, his mind wanders back to riding his motorcycle through the village on a sunny day as the mountains loom in the background. These are the final desires of a doomed man, something as simple as having the freedom to go outside and feel the grass beneath his feet - to experience the wonders of nature that most people don’t think twice about.

As mentioned earlier, it is far from my favorite of Malick’s oeuvre, and is not without its slight misgivings. It was stated that this was Malick’s return to “narratively focused” filmmaking. But he still utilized his signature elliptical style, and for me these moods oftentimes clashed and kept me at a distance emotionally. I rarely say this with a Malick film, but more of a reliance on dialogue would have worked wonders for me. There are quite a few sequences in which Malick opted for montage instead of a more fleshed out scene, which I believe would have further added to the power of the story.

These are all slight issues, and I myself might be a harsher critic than most simply because I hold Malick to such a high standard. Once you can give yourself to the film, A Hidden Life becomes a true zen experience. It managed to instill a sense of serene presence within myself. I felt very grateful for the most basic and common details of my life and this world. Malick’s work can be such a sensorial rush, and making even mundane objects and rooms look absolutely gorgeous, that it’s as if “everything is shining” in my own life after seeing the film. I look forward to returning to The Church of Malick very soon.

#5 - Ad Astra Directed by James Gray

Ad Astra got a lot of unwarranted hate this year in my opinion. It truly is a shame because I believe that James Gray has struck gold once again. While I don’t adore it to the same degree as I did Gray’s previous feature, The Lost City of Z, Ad Astra succeeds in being one of the most understated space films made in the 21st century.

It’s not exactly a wholly original story, or a plot that is something that we haven’t seen before. It’s the way Gray goes about telling this story and exploring these themes that makes it so very special. It’s not forcing any overreaching philosophical or ethical message onto the viewer, it’s not overly complicated or overly long, and rather than trying to present completely senseless physical explanations to the audience, it just accepts the fiction aspect as “science fiction”.

Hoyte Van Hoytema is a brilliant Director of Photography and he crafts some of the most breathtaking space shots in recent memory. He really captures the breathtaking enormity of the cosmis abyss. The scenes that take place near Nepture during the finale are jaw dropping. We see two characters wrestling each other while suspended midair and the camera pulls out to reveal their absolutely terrifying ordeal while splashes of Neptune’s purple color emanates behind them. What I enjoyed most about the film is this sort of serene, zen atmosphere that Gray creates through the visuals, the score and Brad Pitt’s heartfelt but quietly somber voiceover.

Pitt portrays a lonely, broken and existentially conflicted astronaut. He finds the quiet infinitude of space to be a reprieve from the chaos of conflict happening down on Earth. He feels more at home among the stars than he does on the planet in which he was born. His perspective reminds me of the blue God from Watchmen, Doctor Manhattan, when he’s dwelling peacefully on Mars and laments his feelings toward Earth and all the people on it: “I am tired of Earth. These People. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.”

James Gray’s Ad Astra, much like his previous two films before this, detail the pains and tribulations of undaunted pioneers as they explore foreign territories. The final monologue of Pitt’s washed over me like a gentle breeze: “I will rely on those closest to me, and I will share their burders, as they share mine. I will live and love.”

#4 - Anima Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

Interprative dance, experimental film, and visual albums are three of my absolutely favorite art forms. The real MVP of modern cinema, Paul Thomas Anderson, has collaborated with one of the real MVP’s of modern music, Thom Yorke, to create a fifteen minute long music video on the power of human connection.

Thom Yorke plays a sleepy commuter, a passive bystander, a human sheep, a functioning cog in some great machinery. He makes brief eye contact with a pretty woman on the train, and notices that she leaves behind a briefcase. The rest of the short details his efforts as he dodges through obstacle after obstacle trying to find the woman and return the briefcase to her. I couldn’t believe my eyes as Anderson concocts the innermost desires of being seen, understood, and loved. The results are strokes of flashing light projections on concrete walls, bodies undulating as they separate and conjoin simultaneously, giddy humans running through fog, and lovers meeting in the union of hearts.

The final section, Dawn Chorus, is one of the most gentle and blissful experiences I have ever witnessed, let alone one in a film distributed by Netflix. Paul Thomas Anderson and Thom Yorke’s project had me understanding why I fell in love with this medium in the first place.

#3 - 1917 Directed by Sam Mendes

1917 takes the spot as my favorite war film of the decade. Personally, I found it to be one of the best war films ever made in general. What director Sam Mendes and DOP Roger Deakins have created is nothing short of a miracle. It’s the first “single take” war film to ever be made, mainly because this is a feat that is far from easy to pull off. Mendes and Deakins shot the movie in extreme long takes, and spliced them all together to make the whole movie come off as a seamless single take. These tracking shots never leave the side of the characters, we are in their footsteps on the journey the entire time.

1917 has a pretty simple premise: two young British soldiers are given a near impossible mission to cross enemy territory and deliver a message that will stop a deadly attack on over 1,500 soldiers - one of them being the brother of one of the two soldiers sent on the mission. The familial aspect contributes added emotional gravitas to the plot overall.

1917 is more of an experiential war film than it is a action or battle focused war film. It’s best to be seen in an IMAX because the sound design and the invasive tracking shots make you feel as if you are walking along these two soldiers as they face grave perils on their quest to deliver the message. I very much so enjoyed that they kept the plot small and intimate, without resorting to constant firepower to keep the audience engaged. That isn’t too say that the movie doesn’t have more than enough of its fair share of nail biting action sequences, and also plenty of gruesome shots depicting the carnage that World War I brought. These soldiers have to army crawl over rotting corpses, while rats and crows are seen pecking and chewing through the remains. The filmmaker doesn’t turn a blind eye to the horrors that war produced. To me, this is one of many reasons why I believe 1917 is superior to other popular recent war films such as Dunkirk. I don’t want my war films to be sanitized. War needs to be portrayed as it truly is - acts of complete inhumanity.

Dare I say that 1917 is Come and See for the 21st century. While Come and See is most definitely the superior film, there were echoes of the classic Soviet Union masterpiece that ring throughout 1917. Maybe it’s the expertly crafted tracking shots, maybe it’s the maddening use of sound design/editing, or maybe it’s the shell shocked expression that is engraved on one of the main characters faces near the finale.

1917 does an amazing job of being very loud, but also utilizing silence in certain scenes to great affect. The juxtaposition is most expertly crafted during one scene that involved flares popping off in the sky, lighting up the ruins of a city, as one the characters runs away from enemy fire. It’s an absolutely exhilarating scene. I ended up bawling by the end of the movie, mostly just because of all the pent up anxiety and distress I felt throughout. You don’t see many films that take place during World War I anymore. But 1917 shows it is not a time period to be forgotten about.

#2 - The Lighthouse Directed by Robert Eggers

I had been eagerly anticipating Robert Eggers’s follow-up film after he released The VVitch back in 2016. At first it was reported that he was going to be doing an adaptation of Nosferatu, which I still think would be a great story for Egger’s to adapt, especially after witnessing what he instead decided to make - The Lighthouse.

Shot gorgeously in black & white on gritty 16mm celluloid, the film looks like it comes from a completely different era (the dialogue as well). There were many shots that had a similar look to some of Bergman’s early work on the Faroe islands.

The Lighthouse has a fairly simple plot. Robert Pattinson plays Winslow who goes to work for a seasoned lighthouse keeper named Thomas who is played by Willem Dafoe. Winslow is new to being a wickie and Thomas takes him under his wing to show him the ropes. Thomas orders him about incessantly in a brute and abusive manner.

There is a minimalism to the plot, however all of the other elements are done so perfectly that the daily grueling routines of these wickies becomes nothing short of hypnotizing. The sound design and score ratchets up the harsh conditions of the island. Wind sounds like its constantly shrieking outside - a reminder of the unease that seems to be building to an overflow. The dialogue, diction, and accents are all completely authentic to the time period and setting that the story is taking place in. Eggers commitment is second to none when it come to detail and authenticity with aspects such as the character’s accents and inflections. A real case of cabin fever befalls the two men who both seem to become obsessed with the mystical light that emanates at the top of the light house.

While I really enjoyed The VVItch, I absolutely adored The Lighthouse and find it to be a much stronger work from Eggers. I think what I vibed with most about it is that the movie doesn’t feel the need to be confined to one particular genre. Whereas The VVitch was literally about a witch bringing misery to a Puritan family, it was constricted to be somewhat of a horror film. However, The Lighthouse manages to be many different tones: a fever dream surrealist film, an arthouse horror, a slapstick comedy, and a nautical retelling of many ancient sea myths. And all of these different tones worked together and bounced off each other in perfect harmony.

I found myself both laughing and completely repulsed by the images I was seeing - especially within the last act of the film which succeeded in shaking me up and making me feel both bewildered and slightly nauseated. It ends up being a gritty, dirty, and uncompromising journey into total psychosis. By the conclusion of the film, the audience comes to the same realization as the two characters - there really was enchantment in the light after all.

#1 - Waves Directed by Trey Edward Shults

Waves is an operatic cry for people to be better to one another. It is by far my favorite film of the year, and I truly believe it to be one of the finest films ever made. It earned itself a well deserved spot in my Top 25 Favorite Films of the Decade.

Trey Edward Shults started out his cinematic career on a strong note with Krisha. He delivered once again with his sophomore debut - It Comes at Night (even if I do find it to be easily the weakest of out the three he has directed). But for me, Waves is where Shults really experiments with his style to such a fine tuned degree that we find the director not calming down his vision or becoming more “grounded”, instead he expands upon his prowess with one of the most powerful family dramas I’ve ever seen.

Shults is another director who made my list this year who is somewhat of a protege of Terrence Malick. Shults worked as an intern for Malick on both The Tree of Life and Voyage of Time. It is quite clear the influence that Malick has on Shult’s vision. But Shults, even more-so than Edwards who also made my list this year, has taken Malick’s inspiration and created something wholly his own.

Shults has created an experiential rollercoaster of actions, consequences and the toxic fallout than can come from such actions. Waves is essentially two films in one. The first half is the energetic, chaotic and traumatic first half in its depiction of toxic masculinity taken too far, to the eventual accident that changes all of the characters lives. The camera is constantly floating in this portion, or shall I even say flying through the air and around the characters. The camera has no limits in what it can do and that along with the editing, and most noticeably the insanely perfect soundtrack/score, this portion ends up feeling like one prolonged anxiety attack.

The second half of the film switches character POVs masterfully. There’s a psychedelic shift of perspective from the brother’s eyes covered in flashing lights from the back of a police car to his little sister’s eyes in the back of their parent’s car (you have to have seen the film to completely understand what I am referring to of course). This second half of the film is where the camera slows down a little. This portion is more character focused and less interested in being flashy through its aesthetic. We get more dialogue, more character details, and a lot more tears in this half. It’s like a long cathartic release after experiencing an hour of trauma and abuse. It succeeds in tearing you apart, to only slowly piece you back together.

As mentioned previously, Shults’s soundtrack decisions were the cherry on top for me. Tame Impala, Animal Collective & Tyler the Creator are three of my favorite artists and their music is utilized perfectly within the story. What made this film so special to me, other than the fact it all takes place in the state in which I grew up in, was that no other film has better reminded me of my own humanity in years. This film makes me want to be a better brother, a better friend, a better son, and a better person in general. You never know when a single moment can shatter your entire world. In the end, it left me with a strong message that struck me to my core: appreciate what you have in life, and tread carefully.

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frizzyanya · 5 years ago

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The Untamed Episode 14, My Commentary!

Reader beware, spoilers below....

Of note, this is when my friends corrected me and said that it was supposed to be “LWJ” rather than “LZ” and I corrected it. Hopefully that explains the change.

WWX PUT LWJ’S HEADBAND BACK ON TO HELP HIM I LOVE THAT MAN

“I guess we have to stay here for a period of time.” Oh, whatever shall you do, you poor dears.

Also can I just say how impressive it was that WWX so successfully put the headband on correctly, through LWJ’S hair, which I may add is STILL PULLED BACK PERFECTLY?

WWX: “Death by a monster that is ten thousand years old will not be shameful when people find out, right?!” (paraphrased)(I paused there, I’m predicting reactions) LWJ’s eyes got wide and he’s like!?!??! Now it’s a choose your own adventure, and the options are: : 1. “WHAT THE ACTUAL F.” 2. “You dumdum!!” 3. “..........” (nothing, because that’s what he usually says) “I don’t want you to die, thanks.”

The winner was that they straight up cut away after his eyes got big, so we shall never know. I assume the “……….” one though.

THEY’RE COLLECTING WEAPONS.

YES GOOD, THIS IS GOOD.

Oh they cut the strings from the bows, brilliant.

LWJ’s finger lit up blue like ET, I’m DYING. Their abilities change by the second.

“We’ll fight until the last breath. Let’s see who will die first.” Yeah, no, thanks very much, but don’t do that.

If there are what appear to be smelly mummified bodies, yeah, DON’T GO NEAR THEM, WWX.

FUCKIN HELL DO NOT LET THE MUMMIES’ EYES OPEN.

Wait I’m just now realizing that these aren’t his inner thoughts.

ARE THEY CONNECTED BY TELEPATHY OR SOMETHING????

Seriously, what they are able to do is changing by the minute.

It’s so hard to watch and type correctly but I’m doing my best, y’all.

WWX...tried to pull the sword out of the ground? Okay Arthur……

Wait, I am VERY confused. He’s…...inside of the shell? And the basilisk is also inside? But the basilisk is now sized such that this shell must be the size the cave originally was?

WWX holding onto the sword that’s stuck in the bottom of the basilisk’s jaw is GREAT. Idk is this scene was fun to shoot or just made him SUPER dizzy.

THIS IS IN NO WAY HOW GRAVITY WORKS

But let’s ignore that I guess

LWJ straining to save WWX by attempting to slice its throat with the string is INTENSE

And now the sword itself is bleeding?!?!?!?! WHAT EVEN IS THIS SHOW.

Oh nevermind. LWJ and WWX both have bloody hands from their endeavors.

THE SWORDS ARE SHAKING

I’m about to LOVE this, aren’t I!??!!??!

LWJ pulling WWX out of the WATER IS??!?!?!?!??!? OMG?!?!??!??!

He’s walking, so that’s good!

Wait no he’s unconscious.

DO TELL ME, HOW DOES ONE WALK WHILE UNCONSCIOUS.

Lol

Okay, so we moved to a NON WangXian scene (is there a WWX/LWJ portmanteau? I don’t know one.) AND I DON’T LIKE IT.

Bad Guy and Other Bad Guy discussing Bad Guy Things.

Ugh. The puppet lair scenes are so stressful. :(

I have to pee SO BAD but I refuse to leave.

Now it’s WWX’s turn to spit up blood.

These babies try so hard.

Okay so WWX looks like he’s dying and I just keep waiting for him to say that True Love’s Kiss is all that will save him.

“Lan Zhan, I didn’t think I would survive this.” *starts to die* “Wei Ying! You have a fever.” “DO NOT FUCKING DIE ON ME. HERE LET ME SAVE YOU LIKE NBD, BECAUSE I’M A REAL LIFE ANGEL ALL IN WHITE.”

Is this using up LWJ’s strength? Because I love that trope. That would be excellent.

IF HE SINGS FOR HIM

PLEASE LWJ

I MEAN, PLEASE WRITERS, LET WANG YIBO SING.

I think I’m watching the wrong thing.

I think the video got messed up.

I think Netflix is accidentally sending me to a youtube fanvid montage of all of their cute scenes.

This is…………………….I FUCKING CAN’T. It’s their whole story with them singing over it. THIS IS TOO FUCKING MUCH.

I ABSOLUTELY 100% CAN FUCKING NOT.

You better believe I’m replaying that entire montage right now.

This song (Wu Ji with both of them singing) is on my playlist so I’ve probably listened to it like 20 times. I’M ALREADY OBSESSED WITH IT AND YOU PUT THIS VIDEO OVER TOP. OH MY FUCKING LORD.

They’re both losing strength it seems! I’m just AHHHHHHHH

Poor WWX passed out.

THEY’RE OUTSIDE?!?!

DID LWJ CARRY HIM OUT?!?!?!

WHAT HAPPENED??!!?!?

HOW DID HE DO THAT?!??!

…………...Wait. LWJ LEFT?!?!?!?!?!!!??!?!?!?!?!?! HE LEFT HIM!?!??!?!!?!?!?!?!??!

I’m not okay with this! My own favorite character is now on my shit list. Is that possible? Is that allowed.

So JZX and JC were their saviors. That’s good I guess. Though the pair of them surviving for 7 days with no food is……..I’m just like a’ight.

Oh, SHIT. Everything was taken over by the Wen Clan.

Damn them.

Though Bad Guy has disappeared to look for the Yin Iron, so that’s Not Great Dan.

Separately, I really, really, really, really like the arm circle thing instead of shaking hands or hugging. It’s amazing and I want to adopt it.

“WWX, this time if you’re alive, I’m not going to spare you.” JUST LIKE HE SHOULDN’T HAVE SPARED YOU, BAD GUY.

They’re back to Jiang Clan.

JYL is soooo pretty.

WWX passed out again! I feel like that means we deserve another cute montage, right?!

Lol jk

Is WWX in JYL’s room? Is she delicately taking care of him?!? I LOVE IT.

AND JC TOO.

I’M SO HERE FOR THIS ADORABLE SCENE.

THEY’RE PRECIOUS.

Papa came too!

Mama Jiang needs to stay tf away though or I will throw hands.

Both of the boys when talking to Papa Jiang are THE BEST. Trying to talk up the other.

NO.

EVIL MAMA JIANG IS HERE.

Ugh, how did I know.

She’s SO MEAN

To both JC and WWX!

WAIT WHAT

Ohhhhh so she’s angry WWX might be a Jiang bastard?

And that Papa Jiang loves WWX’s mother? Okay so that’s no excuse to be cruel to him!!!!! Didn’t we learn ANYTHING from Harry Potter, people?!! Spoiler alert, Snape was the BAD GUY.

Okay, Imma call her Lady Snape from now on.

“He’s not stricter towards me, he just doesn't like me or my mother.” (paraphrased) NOOOO BABYYYYY.

Poor thing. I mean, seems like he’s right, but also poor thing.

THIS BROTHERLY LOVE SCENE WITH WWX TELLING JC HE’LL BE A GOOD LEADER IS EVERYTHING, MY HEART ABSOLUTELY CAN NOT HANDLE IT.

#the untamed #untamed #untamed commentary #wang yibo #xiao zhan #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #I'm ridiculous #and I know it

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notthecanadianaverage · 5 years ago

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for the 50 questions, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ,6 ,7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, and 50 :)

LET’S DO THIS

1. What’s your favorite candle scent?

Honestly? I’m a basic bitch xD I love vanilla scented anything. Wooden wicks are the BEST. I want to find a candle that smells like fresh cut grass and a candle that smells like lumber. Those two scents, especially together, remind me of my grandpa who worked in a lumber yard and repaired lawn mowers. I treasure those memories so much omg.

2. What female celebrity do you wish was your sister?

Does Amethyst count? I actually don’t know xD I honestly can’t even think of any celebrities that I like??? I’ll say Jenna Marbles!

3. What male celebrity do you wish was your brother?

Again, I’m not really someone who goes nuts over celebrities, heh. I don’t know how to answer this D:

4. How old do you think you’ll be when you get married?

I mean, I’m 22 now and my fingers are crossed that it will happen soonish. The boyfriend lives in California and I think it might make things easier if we get married? Then he can come here!

5. Do you know a hoarder?

I don’t think so??? I mean I could be wrong.

6. Can you do a split?

I have tried for YEARS and I CANNOT DO IT ASLAJBODUBFODSUFNODSUBFLJDBFUBEF I FUCKING WISH I COULD

7. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike?

Fuck if I know... Damn... I remember learning when I was... I think I was... 4? Maybe? I was super young.

8. How many oceans have you swam in?

I’ve only seen one ocean, the Pacific Ocean. I don’t know if I’ve swam in it, though. I know I’ve touched it and waded in it a little, but I don’t know if I’ve actually gone swimming...

9. How many countries have you been to?

2! Just Canada and the US. I’ve always wanted to go to England and Indonesia, though! I love Harry Potter, I always have (fucking fight me) and I decided when I was little that England was a must for me, that I had to go see Hogwarts. And Indonesia, my inner volcanologist NEEDS to go! That’s where my favourite volcano, Krakatoa, is located.

10. Is anyone in your family in the army?

I hope not! I don’t think so. Or... Maybe? I think my cousin Austin is. I don’t know. I don’t remember the last time I saw him. We don’t really talk about him? My boyfriends dad was, though. That’s all I know.

11. What would you name your daughter if you had one?

OO OO OO!!!! So, my boyfriend and I have discussed this! I have a set of dog tags that I always wear that have our names and our kids names on them! We want two girls who will be named Raven Zaidee Trujillo and Dexter Rosie Trujillo. Dexter’s middle name was originally going to be Bonnuit (French for good night) but one of his best friends was sadly murdered earlier this year and he wanted to honor her memory.

12. What would you name your son if you had one?

ANOTHER QUESTION I AM EXCITED TO ANSWER!!!!! Our little boys name is going to be Blade Wayne Trujillo!!! I’ve always had a thing for the name Blade and Wayne was his dads middle name.

13. What’s the worst grade you got on a test?

Ffffffff I can’t even remember what I did yesterday... Um, I think it was a flat out 0 because I didn’t even do the test. It was a physics test. I was scared of the student aid lady at school so I never switched out of physics and I literally used that block to sleep and play on my phone. I never even showed up to write the exam.

14. What was your favorite TV show when you were a child?

Sailor Moon!!! I fucking LOVED that show!!!! I also loved Little Bear :D When I was 12, though, I was OBSESSED with this show called Disasters of the Century. It was a documentary style tv show about natural disasters and plane and train crashes and it was SO COOL. I LOVED IT SO MUCH. I used to wake up extra early before school just to watch!!

15. What did you dress up as on Halloween when you were eight?

Ummm…. I think I was a ninja? I remember I wore my karate gi out one year. I lived in Alberta at the time so there was like 2 or 3 feet of snow on the ground so I had to wear a snowsuit under my costume which was a HUGE disappointment because I was turned into a marshmallow rather than a ninja. Either that or I was Harry Potter. It was great! People always asked me though if I would rather be Hermione because I was a girl and my parents essentially told them to fuck off because I was HARRY FUCKING POTTER.

16. Have you read any of the Harry Potter, Hunger Games or Twilight series?

YES. My apartment is almost entirely Harry Potter. I have an Expecto Patronum tattoo and my ratty memorial tattoo on my leg is also Harry Potter. I am a diehard fan until the end. Fucking fight me. I also read and own the Hunger Games trilogy. Such good books omg. I was in the Amazing Book Race club in school and one year we had to read The Hunger Games and we even did a book trailer for it! I still have it! We showed my boyfriend when he came out in April xD The books are MUCH better than the movies.

17. Would you rather have an American accent or a British accent?

British! Does my Harry Potter loving ass need to say more?

18. Did your mother go to college?

I don’t think so? I’m not sure. I don’t know if anyone in my family has.

19. Are your grandparents still married?

Kind of? Not really. My Papa passed away from lung cancer in 2010.

20. Have you ever taken karate lessons?

Yes xD I started when I was 5 and I stopped when I was 13 I think? I got injured in a biking accident and had to leave. I was going to go back but as I was getting ready to, I got a really bad knee injury and I just haven’t been back. I really want to go back, though! It was fun and I don’t get nearly enough exercise.

21. Do you know who Kermit the frog is?

I sure as fuck hope I do!

22. What’s the first amusement park you’ve been to?

I think it was Playland, my parents would have taken me when I Was super young. But the first amusement park I remember going to is Callaway Park in Alberta. I loved that place! I remember throwing a temper tantrum because my dad told the lady was 6 when I was actually 8 and I LOST MY MIND.

23. What language, besides your native language, would you like to be fluent in?

Any language! I speak French but I would love to learn Michif which is the native language of Metis people as I am Metis c:

24. Do you spell the color as grey or gray?

I think I alternate, actually xD

25. Is your father bald?

Yes, he is!

26. Do you know triplets?

I was about to say no, but I think I met triplet babies once who I may or may not be distantly related to? I’m not actually sure anymore.

27. Do you prefer Titanic or The Notebook?

I’ve never actually seen either! I feel like the Titanic would be a no go for me, though, because I have issues with big boats and the fact that it’s real fucks me up and also James Cameron almost killed his cast by actually making them sit in ice cold water for the sake of hard nipples and realism????

28. Have you ever had Indian food?

I have had very badly made butter chicken once. It was so bad, WAY too much curry. And I think my boyfriend and I once ordered from an Indian restaurant. I ordered from the kids menu because that was the only place where there was non-spicy options xD

29. What’s the name of your favorite restaurant?

Umm... Hmm... White Spot? Maybe... But I also enjoy El Grullesays Grill... I slaughtered that name ;_; It’s a Mexican restaurant in California that serves meaty fries! God I miss meaty fries... They’re like nacho fries! They have mozzarella cheese, sour cream, green onions, and shredded steak :3

30. Have you ever been to Olive Garden?

I actually don’t know. I think maybe? But I was too young to remember it. I think I’ve gotten leftovers, though, from when my grandma went.

31. Do you belong to any warehouse stores (Costco, BJ’s, etc.)?

I’m too broke for that shit ._____.

32. What would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender?

Pfft beats the fuck outta me. We never talked about that.

33. If you have a nickname, what is it?

Bug!

34. Who’s your favorite person in the world?

Honestly? My boyfriend xD He is one of the very few people in this world who doesn’t tolerate me because he loves and embraces all of my weirdness xD Him and G are my favourite peeps.

35. Would you rather live in a rural area or in the suburbs?

I actually can never remember which is which and I mean, I’m not picky. As long as people leave me alone and I’m in a safe area, I’m happy xD

36. Can you whistle?

Yes! Can you hear me? I’m doing it!

37. Do you sleep with a nightlight?

I do not. I used to want to when I was little. I have one in my bathroom, though.

38. Do you eat breakfast every morning?

Pfft. No. I’m not a breakfast person. I work nights so I get home at 7 in the morning so if I eat before I go to bed, no joke, I will just make a box of macaroni.

39. Do you take any pills or medication daily?

I do! I take medication for my ADHD so that I don’t eat everything in my apartment and I can function somewhat normally.

40. What medical conditions do you have?

I am ADHD, I struggle with depression (it’s not nearly as bad as it use to be luckily), anxiety, I suspect BPD. I have a few joint injuries that will never really properly heal but other than that, nothing.

41. How many times have you been to the hospital?

Hehehe…. Um… For me? Food poisoning… injuries… suicide attempts… hmmm… 11 or 12 times? All but one in the last 10 years. What can I say, I’m clumsy as fuck xD

42. Have you ever seen Finding Nemo?

Yes! I love that movie!!

43. Where do you buy your jeans?

Pennington’s. I am THICC. It’s the only place I can get jeans that fit without destroying what little confidence I have. Sadly though they are NOT cheap so I currently only own 2 pairs that fit me and the thighs on both are destroyed so they are being held together by denim patches from an old pair of shorts, fabric glue and some mediocre hand stitching.

44. What’s the last compliment you got?

I have vibrantly coloured hair. Right now, it’s green. I’ve had very brightly coloured hair since I was 15 I think? My natural colour is brown. I’ve only had brown hair once since I started dying it and that was when I went to go visit my boyfriend for the first time because he had never seen me with my natural colour. I just said that I looked weird with brown hair and he said “No, you look incredible.”

45. Do you usually remember your dreams in the morning?

Hmm, sometimes. Most of the time, I do. Been having a lot of nightmares and stress dreams lately, though, so I wish I didn’t...

46. What flavor tea do you enjoy?

I absolutely prefer herbal teas. My favourite is Just Peachy from DavidsTea!! I also REALLY love White Peach omg

47. How many pairs of shoes do you currently own?

Ahh…. Hmm…. I have… 8 or 9? I think? I’m not home so I can’t check.

48. What religion will you raise your children to practice?

None. I grew up Atheist. I knew of religion, obviously. My grandma is religious. But I just never understood it. My understanding was that there was a God and that he lived in the clouds and I remember looking at the sky one day and there were no clouds and I was concerned. I also didn’t understand Heaven or Hell because neither have been seen and the lack of tangibility fucked with me so hard. My grandpa got really sick in 2009, he had lung cancer. I remember when he was in the hospital I really tried to look for something, anything, to turn to for comfort because everything was falling apart around me. He unfortunately passed away and I was angry because if God is real and if he actually loved us, why would he let us suffer the way that he did, the way that I was. How dare he?! That was honestly the last straw for me. If my children want to explore religion or they want to go to church and see what it’s all about, I will absolutely support them in doing so, but I will not raise them in any specific religion.

49. How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real?

That was something I just kind of grew out of. I was never exclusively told that any of that was fake. I actually have a memory from when I was 3 or 4 of sneaking out of my room really late at night and peeking into the living room where I could hear my parents talking and I saw Santa and Mrs. Clause? I also remember one Christmas night where I couldn’t sleep (this is when I was maybe 10 now) so I was watching the snow fall outside and seeing if I could spot Santa in the sky when I heard someone walking in the hall. I lived in a bit of an abusive household so I had learned what everyone’s footsteps sounded like and the footsteps were heavy, MUCH heavier than my dads (who was very overweight at the time), it definitely wasn’t my Uncle, and they were wearing shoes (or boots). I was too scared to go look outside while they walked away but after the house was quiet again, I checked, and my stocking was outside my door, so I still don’t know how to explain that...

50. Why do you have a youtube?

AHAHAHA SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION!!!! I obviously have my personal YouTube but I don’t generally post anything, I just use it to watch shit. BUT MY OTHER YOUTUBE… I use YouTube @RatPotatoez to post videos of my rats! I will also soon use it to post my podcasts!!! RatPotatoez can also be found on Facebook, Instagram, SnapChat, Vent, basically everywhere! You should go follow me everywhere so you can see the cuteness that is my rats c:

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weasleymama · 6 years ago

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GMW Rewatch S1E1: Girl Meets World

I am going to focus more on individual episodes… but there is one broad generalization about the show as a whole that I really want to point out. As a single mother, I had a big problem with the mother/daughter relationships on this show. I feel like there is not enough between Topanga and Riley…but more between her and Auggie. Why is that? Why don’t we get to see those important mother daughter moments in this show about a teenage girl?

We have an episode called “Girl Meets Father” What about mother? I can understand a girl being closer to one parent than the other. But a lot of really important mother/daughter moments were missed here and it’s really sad.

The same can be said for Maya and Katy. I would have loved to see more positive single-mother moments. But you basically spend most of the first season thinking Maya’s mother is a flake who can’t be bothered to be there for her daughter. It’s not okay.

Yes, they explained she was working to buy Maya’s present on her birthday, but that’s still crap. No way she doesn’t wake up her daughter to say happy birthday, or call her… nothing? Just left alone to fend for herself? I don’t like it. Then comes the Christmas episode… where they invite Maya but no Katy? Yes I’m sure she had to work…but no mention of her mother?

The mother/daughter relationship is incredibly important to how a girl is raised and who she becomes. It should have been better portrayed, and I will never change my mind on that.

Now onto the episode!

One of the first things I notice as someone who has seen the entire show is that Maya knows a lot of people outside of the Core group (be it 4 or 6). You come to notice it in later episodes as well, but even in the pilot, she knows people in the subway by name and I like that there’s more to her. Also, I wish we’d get to see Weasel, the drummer on the subway platform, more often. He seemed like he’d be fun.

Like most TV shows set in NYC, the apartment is ridiculous. That apartment is at least 3 bedrooms along with a huge living room/kitchen space. An apartment, in a brownstone, in Greenwich Village would cost around 10 million dollars, give or take. Are you telling me that a lawyer and a middle school teacher have that kind of money? I have no doubt Topanga makes good money but come on!

Ship wars in this fandom are INSANE. I personally like Lucaya, Riarkle, and Zaydora but I don’t deny other ships have possibilities. I won’t engage in ship wars… but I will discuss anytime with anyone how they feel about stuff. I like talking to other fans, so long as it’s a discussion and not a battle.

With that said… Maya spots Lucas first on the subway, but honestly, I don’t think she has any interest in him at this point. She can admit he’s cute, but beyond that, she’s just having fun. And I think he was amused by her as well, seeing she and Riley talking after their ‘break-up’ he had to know they were teasing him, and the look on his face seemed okay with it.

I do not think Maya pushed Riley on the subway to engage in some romantic moment between her and Lucas. They had no idea if they’d ever see him again. The whole point of this episode is Riley wanting to be like Maya because she’s so cool. Maya is okay with this at the beginning because she doesn’t see it being a bad thing for Riley (yet). I think she pushed Riley to talk to random cute boy, because it would push her to be more outgoing and ‘cool’.

But on that note… Riley, a girl who isn’t actually like that, who is shy and awkward, actually remains sitting on Lucas’s lap?! I don’t think so. She wouldn’t sit there and have some cute talk, she would stand or move to the empty seat immediately and likely blush and apologize. Then it happens again? We see how awkward she is with him in the next episode, can’t even speak to him without her phone…yet she’s chatting on his lap? Nope. Nuh uh. Not happening.

OCD Continuity Moment #1: Evelyn Rand. Okay, I get it, they liked Jackée and wanted her on the show beyond the pilot. If you’re anything like me, this doesn’t fly. She’s a billionaire who apparently needs to sit down after working a 12-hour shift right? Meaning she went to work at 5 or 6 at night…not exactly board room hours.

However, I love her character and she makes me laugh so whatever.

One of her lines that I love the most in this episode: “You ain’t got no hunk you ain’t got no story!” It really was a foreshadowing moment for this show and the fandom obsession with coupling. LOL

The first time Maya is insulted by Cory happens in the pilot episode. This really bothers me because honestly it happens a lot as the show goes on. It’s always laughed off, she always has some witty come back that makes her seem tougher than he is, but the truth is, she shouldn’t have to.

“Thank you, future Mini-mart employee of the month”

This is not okay to say to a 13-year-old girl. Not okay for a teacher to say this to any child, but especially not one that young and impressionable. This is not how a good teacher should speak to his students (but of course, I am not totally sold on Cory as a good teacher to be honest).

Topanga (mockingly): Let’s get married, let’s have a kid, let’s have another kid

Cory: Well you listened to me, ya big stupid.

I actually love this moment between them, it’s light and joking and fun after dealing with a hormonal pre-teen. It was cute to see.

Side note, Topanga proposed to him.

I am going to use Farkle’s own words for the lunchroom scene, for the debates and the deeply discussed ‘Maya is sloppy Joe” craziness.

“Farkle’s just hungry, not everything is about you.”

I am sure people think deeply about the show and how they put it together, I have no doubt that there are small details that we may or may not notice. But the nit-picking that happens in the fandom over tiny things just wears me out. I hope that’s not what anyone is looking for here, because it’s just not me. Honestly, and no offense to anyone else, I find it hard to believe that someone who can’t be bothered with continuity in a show can be so set on things so little.

Let’s take a moment to imagine yourself as Riley… You’re talking to a boy at school for the first time, you’ve barely said hello to him, you were too nervous to even call him over to the table with your friends. And what happens next? Your dad come sup and literally pulls him away.

Now Imagine being a 14-year-old boy. Would you actually WANT to hang out with that girl after that? Would it not deter you from that group of friends, especially if you’re new in the school? I can’t image any boy at 14 not thinking it was the most uncomfortable, strange thing ever. Not to mention this dad who pulls you away is your teacher.

Cory is incredibly overbearing as a parent (the line in the next episode “do I go too far?” “always, sir” is very accurate.) It’s really inappropriate to me as a parent.

“No homework, more freedom!” Honestly, I would have to give Maya ½ credit on her homework/not doing her homework because that’s what she’s fighting for. (not counting the fire alarm situation yet to come)

I personally believe the moment Maya stands up to ‘gather the homework’ was actually her way to save Riley. Riley was telling Cory she was like Maya, that she didn’t do her homework. It wasn’t until Cory tells Riley that he’s not like Maya at all, that Maya raises her hand to interrupt him. I don’t see her planning to burn everyone’s homework (even if she knew Farkle had sparklers on his – which BTW, why does this kid have sparklers lit at school anyway?) I saw it more as a ploy to keep Cory from making Riley realize they’re not as alike as she thinks, that went admittingly ‘too far’. Notice how slowly she brings the sparklers to the paper.

Lucas: Why didn’t you stop your friend?

Riley: I don’t do that anymore.

Lucas: You’re better than that!

Is she though? You only met the girl a few hours before, how do you really know what she’s better than? But it gets better… not only does Lucas put the pressure on her to be responsible for Maya, so does Cory…and in an even worse way: “Because you didn’t do anything your best friend is in very big trouble.”

She is a 12-year-old girl, who wants to be like her best friend and feel cool and accepted… it’s way too much to put on her shoulders.

Maya’s admission of not having anyone at home to help her with her homework is heartbreaking. But what’s more heartbreaking is that she has to say it at all. Cory has known her since she was 5 years old. “As long as I can remember it’s been Riley and Maya” As long as he can remember. He should know by now what her home/family is like, or at least have some indication…not stand there in shock like she’s just revealed something he never considered. I don’t know if this is a continuity thing or just to put the point out there of what Maya’s home life is like, but it really just made Cory look like a clueless jerk.

“I go too far, and I don’t think that’s going to stop.” It’s the ‘I don’t think I’m going to stop’ part that really resonated with me in this moment. She’s basically come to the conclusion that she’s bad, and she can’t change. This is quickly followed by her saying Cory doesn’t love her anymore. I feel like this needed more attention – but alas, it was about Riley’s inner struggle to be herself, not Maya’s. I connected more to Maya’s character, I think the show could have been really interesting if it were Maya’s story.

One more thing… if the creators of the show are SO picky that the tiniest little things matter, that the food on the plate really is a sign of something to come. Then someone please tell me why Auggie, a 5-year-old, is doing a peg puzzle made for toddlers. Seriously people…you can’t have it both ways, either everything tiny background thing matters, or it doesn’t.

All in all, I have some negative thoughts. I will have a lot of them. But I really do love this show. I love the throw backs to Boy Meets World, which I grew up with. I love the dynamics between friends. I love the lessons (mostly) that they tried to teach.

I love to discuss things, so please feel free to message me or send in an ask. I look forward to having fun chats with the fans still out there.

#gmw rewatch #gmw #girl meets world #gmw s1e1 #unsolicited opinions #maya hart #lucas friar #cory matthews #riley matthews

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nakediconoclast · 4 years ago

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Bracken: Professor Raoul X Posted on January 14, 2011

Western Rifle Shooters Association

It was late June and I was sitting in a café seven hundred miles from home, doing a little web surfing. There was plenty of room at mid-morning, so I could sit at the end of the coffee bar with my laptop. I was scanning the breaking news about the new mass-shooting. Like most people I was morbidly fascinated with the deranged young man who was the killer. That is, the trigger puller. But I was looking over his shoulder for something else: signs of a guiding hand.

Why? Because I know something about the subject.

You see, being a guiding hand is my life’s avocation. My secret avocation, that is. Outwardly I’m a tenured professor of sociology at a Mid-western university. A life-long bachelor, so my summers are my own. Ostensibly for writing, research, quiet reflection, bungee jumping or what have you. My summer hobby is traveling and meeting interesting people. Everything I do on these road trips can be explained under the rubric of field research, but even so I pay with cash and move like a ghost. I’m old school. It’s a harmless quirk. Nobody cares.

I suppose if you polled my students, they’d declare me to be left wing, but not a rhetorical bomb-thrower. Am I closer to Karl Marx than to Ayn Rand? Well, naturally. Progressive politics were part of my upbringing and education. And of course that is also the best way to get along in academia, and I do like to get along.

No question my academic career has been lackluster. That does not concern me. I have no wife or significant other to be concerned with my apparent lack of greater ambition or wealth. Seeking publication for papers that a few academic gnomes might eventually peruse does not interest me in the least. Writing some groundbreaking tome that will be reviewed in the New York Times and read by millions is not a realistic aspiration. I am no Jared Diamond in the rough. I won academic tenure, and that was enough. I have a house and a ten-year-old Beamer. I enjoy my little comforts. A small circle of friends, none close. I’d be the first to admit it’s been a mediocre life—outwardly.

But my secret life has been anything but mediocre. I have engineered extraordinary events, but truth be told, there is little joy in secret celebration. So I am creating this document, properly encoded and hidden, to save for posterity. When my unsurpassed run is finally over, due either to my natural demise or other more precipitous causes, my secret history will conjure itself from millions of computer screens unfiltered, unspun and uncut. The truth will be known. This is my story, and no one can take it from me. My name will ring down through the ages, when my complete story is told!

But not yet. There is more secret work to be done.

I did not drive seven hundred miles to ponder my life’s ledger and tap on a keyboard. What interested me was the creature standing on the other side of the white coffee shop counter. The gaunt, long-haired young man by the espresso machine could have been taken for a college student in a college town. Really not too bad looking in person. Pushing six feet, skinny. Gray-blue eyes, a little too closely set. Decent complexion for his age. Maybe a few days since his mouse-colored hair had been washed or properly brushed, but overall he was quite presentable. Duncan it said on his plastic name tag. I already knew that his last name was McClaren. I wasn’t in this picturesque college town by accident. I was here to meet him, but he didn’t know this.

Duncan McClaren was one of the most promising prospects I’d run down in years. My own students unknowingly provide me with many of my leads. We have free-ranging discussions, in and out of the classroom setting. From practice I know how to guide them toward a discussion of the weirdest people they’ve ever known. Duncan went to high school with one of my female students. His first name was mentioned casually by the student, tossed off her lips and promptly forgotten. Duncan sometimes heard voices, she said. Talked to himself. And he could not stop talking about whatever obsessed him at the moment. He cut right into conversations among people he hardly knew, and went off onto bizzaro-world tangents. And what really set him off was the country’s most famous talk radio host.

Following that disclosure I did my own internet research. There was only one Duncan listed in her year at her high school. As a professor, I stay on the cutting edge of internet trickery. A critical part of my secret avocation involves doing internet research without leaving digital fingerprints. My students constantly come up with what they believe to be new ways to cheat or plagiarize without detection, so I’ve become somewhat of an expert at internet security. I do not take risks. I’m a very careful person. Typing this secret history and hiding it inside my computer is perhaps the biggest risk I’ve taken.

In the course of my background investigation I learned that he had been expelled or otherwise ejected from high school numerous times. He’d been arrested and he’d been to juvenile boot camp. There were a number of sealed records and denied files, both medical and legal. But reading between the lines of what I could access, it was a safe guess that there had been serious drug use and there had been family violence. Rumors of arson at a very young age. His family had money and pull, and he was accepted for admission to an out-of-state institution of higher learning. His brief transcript was telling. His GPA for three completed semesters was made up equally of As and Fs. He had not finished his second year. No reason was given.

Since dropping out of college Duncan had been adrift for a year, hitchhiking around the country, supporting himself mostly as a dish washer or at other menial short-term jobs involving limited social interaction. On his own walkabout journey of self-discovery, to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was for the moment a barista in this New England college town, and I arranged for our paths to cross.

It’s always an intense moment, my first close look at a subject I’ve known only as an internet phantom. Duncan came over to take my order: regular coffee, with cream and sugar. When he filled my cup I laid a few dollars on the counter.

Duncan tapped the bills and said matter-of-factly, “So, somebody still believes in paper money.”

I looked directly at him and replied, “For some things, yes. Like paying for coffee.”

He returned my gaze, his eyes narrowed to slits and he said, “Smart. Fly under the radar. Render unto Caesar—while you can. But it’s all just a matter of time. Just a matter of time.” He slowly nodded his head, as if agreeing with himself.

To release his floodgates all I had to ask him was, “What do you mean?” Then I listened attentively to a five minute diatribe covering many tediously familiar theories and a few original ones. A thirtyish female with a severe hairstyle, whom I guessed was the café’s manager, edged over and tried to redirect my waiter. “Dunc,” she said breezily, “You’re not bothering this man, are you? No more talking about that bank stuff, right?”

Holding the full pot of hot coffee he slowly turned his entire body and fixed an icy glare upon her, but said nothing. He held his stare, boring into her with flat eyes. His arm seemed tensed to hurl the burning-hot brew at her. Her smile wilted, she turned and walked away. “She doesn’t understand,” said Duncan when she was gone. “Her mind is closed to the reality around her.”

“Does that bother you?” I asked him.

“I’m used to it. Ninety percent of humanity is closed off to reality.”

I laughed and said, “I think you’re giving humanity too much credit.”

He smiled in a peculiar way. One side of his mouth went up markedly while the other side remained nearly flat. “Yeah. Probably. Look, I have to serve some other humanity or I’m going to get canned. I’m on thin ice around here.”

Twenty-year-old Duncan, who had a post-graduate’s demeanor and a startlingly high IQ, had never held a job for longer than a month. He could operate independently in society as a functioning adult in most situations. He could shop for himself and drive a car. He’d briefly kept an apartment in college. But he could not hold a conversation without promptly veering into the Bush-family CIA dynasty, the truth about 9-11, the Jewish bankers, right-wing talk radio and God help me, the Queen of England.

Duncan was a bug. A raving lunatic. Yet in his outward appearance and mannerisms, he was as normal as you and I. But what does one’s outward appearance signify? The faces we show to the world are mere avatars, are they not? Who truly knows our inner hearts, our souls if you will? No one. Certainly not a God who doesn’t exist. So am I normal? Define normal. A sophomoric tautology. Yes, outwardly I can easily pass as normal, and I have for most of my forty-seven years. But inside? Honestly, what a question. Who wants to be no more than a random semi-conscious insect in a hive of billions?

Not me. No, I’m not normal, and have no desire to be.

Normal means average, and let me assure you, I’m way above average. Average people don’t make it their life’s work to ferret out certain types of borderline personalities and convert them into useful tools. As far as I know, I’m the only human toolmaker of my kind. No semi-sentient insect brain resides within my skull, making me a slave to laws, traditions or norms of so-called acceptable behavior. I operate outside of the rules of the hive, and I enjoy a freedom mere insects can never know. So what, you say? I’ll say what. By my actions I have personally changed the course of history, and I will do so again.

Can you say the same thing? What “normal” hive insect can claim to have done that?

Have there been others like me? I tend to think so, but it’s an area of pure conjecture. A familiar example. Most Americans dismissed the story of James Earl Ray’s mysterious helper, known only to him as “Raoul,” as a self-serving fantasy. I always thought that Raoul was more flesh than fantasy. James Earl Ray’s actions and travels before and after Memphis make me believe that he had assistance of the kind that I have given to some very special people.

If you take a ‘Parallax View’ of history, you might allow the possibility that rogue government agencies or other cliques could also be grooming likely candidates, but I tend not to believe in elaborate conspiracies. Could it happen? I suppose. But in my experience, no conspiracy involving a large cast of characters can remain a secret for many years.

On the other hand, the temporary private relationship between a mentor and a singular student, that relationship can indeed be kept a secret. My writing this secret history in freedom instead of in captivity proves that this is so. And even if one of my human tools is someday arrested alive, his mad barkings will be disregarded. His minor side-story of a mysterious helper, if heard at all, will be disregarded as just another in his cornucopia of delusions.

Converting a certain type of lunatic into a useful tool is not too difficult when you understand the dynamics that are in play. Practice makes perfect, and I’ve had a lot of practice. Good candidates for a direct action mission are often quite intelligent, at least as measured on certain scales. They can navigate by themselves between cities, and arrive at a place and time without causing alarm to the general population.

But in my experience the best candidates for a guiding hand are not true “loners.” They often seek friendship and employment, and they may even succeed for a while. But the men who interest me invariably sabotage their social relationships by compulsively discussing their paranoid obsessions. Each human rejection adds heat to their simmering rage. Yet still they crave human companionship, and simple affirmation of their delusional belief systems. This makes them soft putty at my touch. These men, deftly guided, become my arrows. To the world, these arrows seem to plunge at random from the clear blue sky. Sometimes they do, but not always!

It’s not hard to convert a lump of inchoate anger into an arrow. At first all I do is offer them a receptive ear, and confirmation that they are not alone in their beliefs. Our dialogues lead me toward the best approach to take. I adapt my temporary cover story to fit my current subject’s preexisting delusional views. In the past I’ve pretended to be a liaison from the CIA, from Mossad, from Al Qaeda. I’ve posed as a former leading member of the Trilateral Commission, now working against their globalist designs. Sometimes I’ve convinced them that their medications are part of a conspiracy to chemically lobotomize them, robbing them of their most brilliant insights.

After a few private conversations I eventually steer the subject to “doing something really important.” Hypothetically, of course. At least at first. Then we play a conversational game of, “If I could, I would.” A good prospect will soon be describing the precise medieval tortures, punishments and execution methods merited by his worst enemies. Once I have tapped into his personal fantasy realm of gory revenge, it’s “game on,” as they say in the vernacular.

At that point it really doesn’t matter to me who or what is the focus of the subject’s hate, or what group he blames for his own shortcomings or for the ills of the world. Left, right, capitalism, socialism, religion, nationalism…in truth I stopped caring very much about them long ago. When an action will advance the cause of social justice that’s great, but generalized mayhem is also a worthy end in itself. “The worse, the better,” in Lenin’s words. Create the pre-revolutionary conditions. Some days I still half believe the old dogma. But at least I’m not just another insect in the hive.

I slid my empty cup away, and awaited the return of my barista. In a minute I’d be commiserating with him, discovering that we were practically soulmates, rare men of true vision. Posing as an out-of-town business visitor, I’d ask him the best place in the area to eat. It would turn out that he and I shared similar culinary and beverage tastes, fancy that! And I’d gladly spring for lunch or dinner if he’d agree to be my local guide. Then we’d discuss further his hatred for the Jewish bankers who run the world, and the right-wing talk radio hosts who are their willing accomplices and mouthpieces. At least, in the world according to Duncan McClaren.

Right-wing talk radio was very much on my mind, because one of the icons of that loathsome industry was going to be passing through the region two weeks hence. Ben Rafferty wasn’t the king of right-wing hate radio, but he was one of the rising princes, nearly up there with the big three. Currently he was on a national book tour, promoting his latest toxic spill of racist hate-speech. Oh happy day, his entire schedule, with bookstore locations, dates and times, was available online.

I’d discovered some other useful information in an interview Rafferty had given to a pro-gun blog. The talk host traveled without an armed bodyguard, due to the vagaries of conflicting state gun laws. This was particularly a problem when flying into New York or New Jersey. It was just too damn hard to stay in compliance with a thousand local gun laws that could cause you to be imprisoned over a technical firearms violation. So instead of an armed bodyguard, he had some kind of karate guy for protection. An ex-soldier who had been wounded in one of America’s wars of imperialism. Poor Ben Rafferty, who never saw an assault rifle he didn’t want to French kiss, couldn’t have a gun during his East Coast book tour. Beautiful.

The imminent proximity of Duncan McClaren and Ben Rafferty had brought me seven hundred miles to this coffee shop. With a little stroking and massaging of Duncan’s twisted and deformed ego, I hoped to convince him that his empty life could at long last have genuine meaning. He could make a real difference! He could change the world! He could accomplish something important, and be remembered forever. I already had an untraceable pistol to provide him, if he proved receptive to my guiding hand. Oh, the mayhem potential, when one of the leading right-wing haters is finally knocked off! Mayhem-fest, indeed. Mayhem squared. Mayhem cubed!

Radio talker Ben Rafferty meant nothing to me, but he had millions of rabid right-wing followers who clung to his every screech and scream for three hours a day. After Duncan McClaren approached the book-signing table, pulled out his pistol and gave his miserable life meaning, Rafferty’s fans would rise en masse in blind rage. And a few of his most rabid fans, feeding their own dark fantasies, would predictably strike out in violent reprisal against progressive leaders. Secondary explosions, if you will. A chain reaction, possibly my greatest work ever.

Duncan returned to my end of the bar when he saw my empty cup. While he poured my refill I quietly said, “You know, you’re right about those Jewish bankers and how they control talk radio. They’re all in New York, right? I mean, most people have no idea what’s going on around them.”

His eyes widened and a half-smile formed on his lips. He set the coffee pot down and leaned on the counter until his nose was a foot from mine. One eyebrow raised in expectation above the high side of his demented grin. He glanced back down the counter to see who was in earshot and then said, “You know about the Illuminati, right?”

Did I ever.

I smiled.

This plan might actually work. I’d know better after a long conversation with Duncan McClaren in a dark restaurant. Duncan might be my masterpiece, the one to light the fuse of Civil War Two. And if he does, eventually I want the world to know who handed him the matches, the gun and Ben Rafferty’s book-signing schedule.

But for now just call me Professor Raoul X, a guiding hand of history.

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

Fiction by Matthew Bracken, author of the Enemies Foreign And Domestic trilogy and the upcoming Castigo Cay.

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qqueenofhades · 7 years ago

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What do you think is the likelihood that Richard II of England was queer?

Short answer: Possibly yes, but most likely asexual if anything.

Longer answer: Have some Thoughts on the ways in which we construct historical “queerness” and standards of proof (this also serves excellently as a post for Queer History Friday thank you very much) and emotional relationships vis a vis sexual ones, especially in the limited medium of medieval chronicles.

To start, Richard was only 10 years old when he became king (his father was the Black Prince, who died in 1376, and his grandfather was Edward III, who died in 1377) and he died when he was only 33 ( b.1367-d.1400), so he was quite young during all of this time. Even during the 1387-88 crisis with the Lords Appellant, which set the stage for the troubles that basically ended his reign, he was only 20 years old, so it’s pretty understandable that a young man would turn to wise older courtiers for experience and advice. This was especially the case because Richard had three powerful and full-grown uncles, led by John of Gaunt (whose son, Henry Bolingbroke, would later depose Richard and become Henry IV). They were definitely viewed as a possible threat to the throne (as was usually the case with primogeniture, when an underage son of an eldest brother got the heirs and honours and the other brothers missed out) and a regency council was quickly established in hopes of giving Richard a power base away from them. But the English people deeply mistrusted these councils/councillors, and that discontent led to the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, the first major crisis of Richard’s reign (he was only 14). In the aftermath of that, there was continued shuffling around as to who had the effective reins of government and who had influence and so forth. So there was plenty of environment for an ambitious man to get close to the young king and influence/try to win his patronage and trust.

Richard was definitely known to have had male favorites, particularly Robert de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, and Michael de la Pole, his chancellor. The only actual imputation of his possible homosexuality with de Vere comes from the Chronica Maiora of Thomas Walsingham:

According to rumour, his [Richard]’s closeness to Lord Robert and his deep love and affection for him was not without some taint of an obscene relationship, and Lord Robert’s fellow nobles and barons spoke in whispers of their indignation that so mediocre a man should aim at so high an office, seeing that he had no nobility of birth or endowment of other virtues that might rank him above the others.

While Walsingham’s work is one of the major and indeed only sources we have for some events in mid-to-late 14th century England, he definitely had a few axes to grind (against John of Gaunt, Henry IV, and others, as well as to some degree Richard himself) and furthermore, all this proves is that jealous rivals of de Vere’s had no trouble suggesting that he and Richard must be having a sordid affair. This is very understandable given that Richard’s great-grandfather, Edward II, had also had male favorites (Piers Gaveston and Hugh Despenser the Younger) who he had extensively relied upon and given honors seemingly above their station (and as I have discussed in some other posts, 14th-century England was ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED with class/station. It was the be-all and end-all of their lives, including dictating how they were allowed to behave and what clothes they were allowed to wear; the heretical/religious reformer group, the Lollards, and their leader, John Wycliffe, mocked this with their famous couplet “When Adam delved and Eve span/Who then was the gentleman?”) Furthermore, Edward II was absolutely having affairs with Gaveston and then Despenser, and he had been forced to abdicate (as indeed Richard II was later deposed) and this memory was definitely the first thing that would come to mind for the question of whether a 14th-century English king was once more too dependent on and attached to male favorites.

Jean Froissart, a French chronicler, describes Michael de la Pole in his Tales as a sort of Iago/Wormtongue figure giving Richard bad advice, but doesn’t seem to think there was anything scandalous about their relationship per se:

But in one night, Michael de la Pole, earl of Suffolk who at that time was the heart and sole council of the king, and in whom he placed his whole confidence, undid the whole business. I know not what his intentions were for so doing; but I heard afterwards, he should say to the king, “At, ah, my lord, what are you thinking of? You intend then to follow the plan your uncles have devised. Know, that if you do so; you will never return, for the duke of Lancaster wishes for nothing more earnestly than your death, that he may be king. How could he dare advise your entering such a country in the winter? […] Take care of your own person, you are young and promising; and there are those who profess much, but who little love you.“ (ch. 173).

As noted, Froissart was French, therefore not intimately familiar with the inner workings of the English court, and the takeaway here seems to be that de la Pole, supposedly warning Richard against the treachery of his powerful uncles, steers him into a military disaster instead. He describes de la Pole as “the heart and sole council of the king” but again, doesn’t feel the need to intimate anything else. (Which, although the French got along fairly well with Richard II after the endless wars of Edward III, Froissart would probably do if that was there for the bad habits of an English king to be remarked upon.) Furthermore, both de Vere and de la Pole were definitely into women: de Vere caused a scandal by divorcing his wife, Richard’s cousin, and marrying one of the queen’s bedchamber attendants instead (so yes, powerful people have always had affairs with the nanny, apparently) and de la Pole had eight children with his wife. As we like to remind folks around these parts, Bisexuality Exists, so obviously, both of them having affairs/fruitful marriages with women would not necessarily preclude some kind of strategic sexual liasion with Richard, especially if questions of power or career advancement were involved. But given that the only source on this is the hostile hearsay passed along by Walsingham, aka that de Vere’s enemies were happy to accuse him of deviant sexual behavior with the king in the model of Edward II’s scandals, I am less inclined to think so.

Furthermore, Richard’s relationships with both of his wives were emotionally close and loving. His first wife, Anne of Bohemia, married him in 1382, when they were both about 15. They quickly became devoted to each other and she was known for her influence on him. What is now known as the Crown of Princess Blanche may have been made for her, and she appears alongside Richard in the Liber Regalis, a book possibly made for her coronation service and which still mostly functions as the order of service for major royal ceremonies. Anne’s death in 1394, probably from plague, absolutely devastated Richard, to the point he ordered the manor where she had died torn down. The Historia Vitae et Regni Ricardi II notes this and memorialises her warmly:

Hoc anno, die 7 mensis Junii, die viz. festo Pentecostes, apud Shen Anna, Regina Angliae, diem suum clausit extremum. Propter quod Rex, ejus mortem dolendo, illud nobile regiumque Manorium solo prosterni fecit. […] Sepulta est cum maxima solennitate in Ecclesia Westmonasterio, in die Sanctae Annae sequente, cujus festum ut Ecclesia Anglicana solennius celebraretur ista Regina et Domino Papa impetravit. (p.126)

I can’t be arsed to do a full word-for-word translation, but the sense of the passage is that Anne died on the 7th of June, near Pentecost, and that Richard in his grief ordered the manor where she died to be destroyed. She was buried at Westminster with full solemnity and feasts and commemoration from the English church, and from the Pope. The chronicler goes on to praise her kindness and her piety, as Anne came from Bohemia and was not popular at first because Foreign, but had won over the people with her charity and mercy. We see this also in Richard Maidstone’s Concordia, a verse epic detailing Richard II’s reconciliation with the citizens of London in 1392, in which Anne’s intervention was pivotal. Multiple passages are devoted to praising Anne’s beauty, her love for Richard and vice versa, and her moderating effect on him:

The queen is able to deflect the king’s firm rule, So he will show a gentle face to his own folk.A woman soothes a man by love: God gave him her. O gentle Anne, let your sweet love be aimed at this!(line 227-230)

A queen can, for her people, speak the words that please - None but a woman can do what no man would dare.When fearful Hesther stood before King Assuer’s throne, She brought to naught the edicts that the king hadpassed.For this, no doubt, almighty God gave you to be A partner in this reign, a Hesther for the realm.(439-444)

At his command she stands. “What, Anna, do you seek?” He asks. “Just speak, and your desires will bemet.”“Sweet king of mine,” she said, “my man, my strength, my life! Sweet love, without whom life to me would be likedeath! (465-468)

Therefore, Richard and Anne’s devotion to each other can barely be questioned, but nonetheless, they had no children. (They are now buried jointly in Westminster, and Richard had ordered their effigies to be carved holding hands.) Jeffrey Hamilton suggests (p.190) that the marriage may not have been consummated (though I’m not sure on what evidential grounds, and unfortunately a page is missing in the e-version so I can’t get his full argument). (See my followup discussion of the deep unlikeliness of a fully chaste marriage here.) Furthermore, when Richard did remarry in 1396, it was to the seven-year-old daughter of Charles VI of France, Isabella of Valois, in an attempt to make a peace treaty. The youth of the bride was brought up as a potential stumbling block in negotiations, but Richard essentially replied that he was fine waiting (he himself was still only 29) and that wasn’t a problem. He then proceeded to befriend the seven-year-old girl, visit her often at Windsor, make funny conversation with her, and otherwise be genuinely decent to a young girl in a foreign country, and he’s not recorded as having any mistresses or illegitimate children that we know of. So even if he was married to a young girl, he a) treated her respectfully and kindly and like a friend, and b) apparently didn’t have the need to go elsewhere for sex. For her part, Isabella adored Richard, so much that she flatly refused a remarriage, after being widowed at the age of 10, to Henry V, son of Richard’s usurper Henry IV. It’s fair to say that she probably wouldn’t have if he mistreated her.

So as ever, this has gotten long, but yes. This is why I am inclined to suggest that if anything, Richard II was probably ace. He had close and loving emotional relationships with both men and women (and as I’ve also discussed a bit, emotional/romantic male friendship was a thing in the medieval era, especially as related to knights and chivalry, in a way that would be considered homoerotic today). However, his political difficulties and probable personality disorder ended up getting him deposed, and he didn’t have any children even though he and Anne loved each other very much and were married for 12 years. He was also fine marrying a young girl for political reasons, but was not very interested in/fine with waiting for any possible sex, and instead actually treated said child well and kindly. The accusations (and as ever, it is “accusations”) of homosexuality come from hearsay hostile sources, and Walsingham is, as far as I know, the only chronicler to suggest it (in comparison to the numerous pieces of chronicle evidence in many different places that discuss the queerness of Richard I). Which as I said above, makes sense given that Edward II had been brought down by reliance on (sexual) male favorites, and it was an easily available paradigm to critique the resented influence of Richard II’s male favorites.

In terms of “Probably Asexual/Ace-spec Historical Figures,” moreover, there is almost no way to prove it, since the underlying assumption (as @extasiswings and I were chatting about) is that all people must be having sex with someone, and the “default” for this sexual expression is het/straight sex. Richard II was by all appearances biromantic, and emotionally close to members of both genders, but it is less clear if that translates to sexual relations with either.

#history #medieval history #queer history #queer history friday #richard ii #whysogrimm #ask

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intellectualsprawl · 7 years ago

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On Finding God in All Things

In the February 16, 2016 letter to the Principal by the Tenure Board, the first recommendation under Spritual Formation was “to engage in a critical reading of Fr. William Barry’s book, Finding God in All, and that Eric discuss the reading with an informed colleague or mentor.” Last night, I completed the book; herein are my initial thoughts, prior to the discussion with an informed colleague.[1]

Overview

I’ve done a 19th Annotation of St Ignatius’ Spritual Exercises on two separate occasions: once as part of a small group and once under individual direction. That’s not why I wanted to read the book; as the Director of a Kairos retreat, I needed a deeper understanding of the intended spritual movements of the retreat, and some help in assisting my student leaders in their own spiritual formation as part of the training. I have been fortunate to be paired with excellent Spritual Directors[2] to whom I’ve abdicated much of this formation, but after more than a decade of being the Retreat Director and much of my own spiritual formation, I’ve become more comfortable in taking an active role in helping the student team in this realm. The short-version is: I read the book to be better prepared to work with students as they come to a greater understanding of what God wants for them, but I also got a little for myself.

Connections to Kairos

The 40-hours that I spend with eight or nine student leaders each fall are a form of spiritual exercises, which are “any means by which we come into contact with God: means to overcome our resistances and to relate to God and, in the relating, to discover and to try to live out God’s hopes for us” (p. 14). Asking 17-year-olds (and occassionally a 16-year-old) to be open to this experience is a tough sell. And it’s just not something that every senior can do or should do; as Fr Barry points out “the most important prerequisite… is the desire to become more aware of the presence of God in one’s life and to develop one’s conscious relationship with this self-communicating God” (p. 16).

In terms of the raining for student leaders, there are three distinct parts in my mind. First is getting them spiritually prepared for the experience; second is all he work around writing their witness talk; and third is teaching small-group facilitation techniques. I was struck by what Fr Barry had to say that was relevant to the writing of witness talks. “Sometimes people need to speak out their anger at life’s hurts and tragedies before they can come to a trusting and warm relationship with God” but “[w]hen people do speak their honest feelings of rage and anger to God, they often find God listening sympathetically, desirous to hear them out” (p. 25, 26). Students often try to write talks that are actually inauthentic because they think they’re not supposed to voice their frustrations or angers at God; they’re trying to be “good” retreat leaders. But, really, anyone who believes in God or thinks about believing in God has some anger — giving voice to that in the witness talks is honest, and it validates what many of the retreatants are thinking and feeling. At the end of each chapter in Finding God in All Things are a few questions for prayer or discussion. I really appreciate these because they provide a clear articulation of questions that I can actually ask student leaders in raining sessions. For example, this August, I know I’ll have the opportunity to ask the student team: “Have you ever felt angry at God? Can you tell God that? If you have told God about your anger, how did God seem to react?” Those would be helpful questions for students to reflect on before they are even assigned their talks.

Along similar lines, many students admit to not having a relationship with God, in fact, “Discovering a Relationship with God” is the most difficult talk to cast a student leader in. Barry offers an insight here that I haven’t heard one of the various Spritual Directors I’ve worked alongside use, and which I’ve certainly never thought of. He writes:

Often enough directors of the Exercises have to remind retreatants that they can only desire what they really do desire. Desires are not under our control. If we do not like some of our desires, we can ask God to help us to overcome them or to change them. Also if people do not desire something which they want to desire, they can ask God to help them to desire it, to attract them to this desire. People are often helped a great deal if they know that they can tell God the real truth about their desires. For example, people can tell Jesus that they do not feel very attracted to him, but would like to be. This is first-class prayer (p. 89).

This is direction that I can provide to student leaders that will get traction. Few who’ve made it past the selection process will have to answer No; almost all want the desire for a relationship with God and Jesus.

A final thought for this reflection is connects a phrase that I’ve told some student leadership teams who’ve needed it (and which I’ve purposefully not told to others, whom I believed it would not help) is: “You don’t have to be perfect, you just can’t suck.” That could sound harsh, and when it gets retold by outsiders, it strikes even me as harsh, but they way I say it is with love and encouragement. So many of our students are Type-A perfectionists with high achievement-needs, they need to more often than not just calm down. I often feel the Holy Spirit’s presence at Vallombrosa, when we’re down, actually on retreat, and the student leaders need to step back and let the Holy Spirit do its thing with and for retreatants. Fr. Barry says it this way: “To be a contemplative in action is to contemplate (or find) God in our daily lives, in our activity. If we were contemplatives in action, we would approach everyone and everything with reverence” (p. 138). The student leadership needs to see God, see Love in the retreatants and everything that is and happens on retreat; to be able to do that, they need to still their inner critic. That’s the real goal of my saying.

A little for myself

For all the Kairos and faculty retreats that I’ve been on, all the witness talks or presentations that I’ve heard, all the meditations that I’ve been led on, one of the things that I am still in the process of learning is that “the Lord heals us in hidden ways, and we do not need to know everything. What we need to do is to continue to put ourselves into his loving care to heal our wounds and bring us to a deep experience that we really are held in the arms of a loving creator” (p. 30).

One of my favorite talks to give is “Obstacles to God’s Friendship,” but I don’t think I’ve done it… right. Fr. Barry writes “God’s revelation of sin and sinful tendencies is enabling; it gives us courage to pick ourselves up and reform our lives” (p. 47). I think that’s the piece that’s been missing from my earlier iterations of the Obstacles talk; realizing that I sin is not meant to shut me down, to paralyze me with guilt or shame, but it’s meant to motivate me to do and be better. Barry continues: “Obsessive thoughts about sin which lead nowhere but to despair do not come from God.”

A final selfish part from the book relates to the Social-Cognitive Psychology class that I teach, and makes connections between the Cognitive Development unit and the Kairos which most students will have already gone on by the second semester. Barry draws a connection between the Road to Emmaus story, which retreatants read on the third day of the reteat, and Erickson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development.

Erikson maintains that the final developmental stage in life brings on the crisis between ego integrity or wisdom and despair. He defines wisdom as “the acceptance of one’s one and only life cycle as something that had to be and that, by necessity, admitted of no exceptions.” Such wisdom, he maintains, leads to freedom from the inordinate fear of death. If God and I do accept me as I now am, then we accept everything that has happened to make me who I am. It could have been different, but this is the way my life was. This is the meaning of Erikson’s “something that had to be and that, by necessity, admitted of no exceptions.” This is, I believe, the meaning of Jesus’ words in the Emmaus story, “Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” The wisdom of Jesus accepts what has happened as the only way he could be who he now is (p. 127).

There’s consolation in that. It’s a connection that I can make for students now, at 17 and 18, that they probably won’t understand for 25 or 30 years — but that’s just life.

To see other passages that caught my eye, see my highlights here; you do not need an account. ↩

In chronological order, I’ve worked with Bill Haardt, Shannon Vanderpol, Adrian O’Keefe, Jen Roy, and John Ottersberg. Each has been uniquely effective in helping students broaden their spirituality and religious understanding in the very short time we have available to us. I’m immeasurably appreciative of everything they’ve done for the students… and me. ↩

#personal #reflection #book #campus ministry #Tenure

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purpleskiesandpaperflowers · 5 years ago

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Heres part of a page from my sketchbook , my drawing is a bit smudged and Joe's hair and tattoo could use a hell of a lot of work (as could my drawing skills in general lol) but theres something very important about this page of my sketchbook.

Heres some backstory:

I had my 3 monthly psychiatrist review last month. All I'm diagnosed with is OCD , Anxiety and depression as well as a tic disorder - Tourette syndrome which does effect my mental health more than someone would normally think. I was referred to this psychiatrist by the Child mental health service in my area upon turning 18 (I'm 20 now) I originally was referred to mental health services for self harming, panic attacks and my tic disorder which at the time was undiagnosed and my gp had no idea what to do about it , thought it was probably anxiety (that's a common theme every time I go to the doctors LOL)

I've been seeing some form of psychiatrist since I was about 12 in all that time I've only briefly mentioned my constant desire to daydream on a couple of occasions , and back when I did I refused to talk in detail mainly because I was ashamed and partly because I have great difficulty explaining things to people . Even my art therapist didnt manage to get a doodle of my daydreams out of me , although at the time I was just a kid , what did it matter , I'd grow out of it.

Or not. I've been conflicted about coming out about my MaDD as even though I know my relationship with daydreaming isn't the world's healthiest one, I have very little desire to stop daydreaming , my life feels so empty without it. After all , my paras have been my best freinds for so long. My inner world an amazing paradise, an escape from life built just for me.

However this appointment was different. I always take my mum to my appointments as a sort of advocate as I really struggle with the talking bit. I've gotten much better recently but still tend to keep quiet about things as I get too choked up to talk properly.

To this appointment I bought my sketchbook as I knew I wanted to talk about my constant urges to daydream , I didnt know how but I thought this crappy sketch of Joe , one of my first paras.

In the waiting room I showed my mum my sketchbook as shes one of the only people I can even think about starting to tell her these things. I still keep a lot of it a secret .

Once in the actual appointment I wasnt sure I was ready to say anything , once again it was a new psychiatrist, although probably one of the nicest I've met, I really hope he stays this time. He asked how I was doing and I didnt really say a lot , I think I spoke a bit about my mood and stuff , and a little about history and stuff. Mum eventually pushed me to show him my sketchbook. I was reluctant and very embarrassed for some reason , but I knew I couldn't turn back . I showed him this sketch of Joe , I mean theres not much in the sketchbook apart from an old character profile of Vlad , that could really use some tweaking and a self portrait and some other drawing exercises and some very messy alchohol and water based marker swatches.

I felt ridiculously embarrassed afterwards because Joe's profile underneath is pretty cringey. Although maybe it's not, maybe that's just what this horrible cringe culture we have on the modern internet has taught me. At the end of the day yes this dude is an androgynous disabled witch , an oc that a 14 year old with a slight interest in character diversity could make , But hes also got a very important role in my life.

Anyway , it felt so freeing to finally tell someone . Daydreaming makes up such a big portion of my life it's been lonely to not be able to share it with anyone. What I really want is someone who I can be comfortable enough to share this all with , every little bit , and for them not to judge me like I judge myself. I dont know if it's possible. But I guess starting this blog was my first step to being more open about the universe behind my eyes.

Since then I had a bit of a moment when I think I realised part of the reason for all this.

Besides the psychiatrist saying that this can be an uncommon manifestation of Obsessive compulsive disorder ( the compulsive desire to daydream , and daydreams that become almost intrusive to every day life) , I realised during my mum having her almost weekly " IM DONE WITH YOU, GET OUT " rant to my dad after he once again acted like an ungrateful peice of shit. That I feel as if theyve been fighting since I can remember . Yeah yeah I know mum , you're not arguing you're just talking, whatever you say .

I dont want to blame my parents for my life issues because that would make me an exact carbon copy of my dad. I mean I've had everything. I dont want to be ungrateful. But I guess the constant nagging at each other doesn't help things. I mean this stuff is probably more common than I think. I need to remember that you dont have to have been through the worlds worst trauma to have some mental health quirks. I guess I just compare myself a lot to other people who've had it worse than me.

Alas , comparing myself to others helps no one , and I'm sorry for being negative. I guess I just have to do what my dad will not do. Put the past behind him. And not dwell on it too much . It is what it is at the end of the day.

Overall , positive steps have been made, even if I still am struggling a little with anxiety at the moment , I'm still managing things . Mainly because of the daydreaming I must admit . It really does help me cope. Even if I am a little lost in it all sometimes.

#madd parame #madd things #actually madd #maladaptive daydreaming #sketchbook #i cant stop daydreaming #just daydreaming #daydreams

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nomanwalksalone · 5 years ago

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AGAINST INTELLIGENT DESIGN

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Perhaps, to my friend, I do not have style. But I am me.

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This article first appeared on the No Man blog in June 2017.

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