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icharchivist · 4 years ago

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hello icha!!!!! learned from my mistakes and typed this out in a separate document. first i have to say im feeling a very deep connection with citron as of late bc i was giving myself a pep talk abt like physics and i told myself "face up and man the music!" and was like "...is that wrong. theres that song called man against the music isnt there... yeah it must be right" and. well i realized later. i also think the phrase "dont cry because it happened, smile because its over" is very good. also I’m halfway thru creating a very eclectic list of like. a Pokémon team for each a3 character which is… something. kinda knew it would happen to me. might take a while for me to finish it tho now that I’m halfway bc I’m suddenly having a crisis like “wait shit I’m only confident on my understanding and characterizing of like 4 characters am I good enough” so… it’s slow going lol. anyways. i finished that damn physics thing I was giving myself a pep talk about and so am treating myself to autumn/winter. happens that watching these events is also like. the only thing which reminds me to actually like. log into a3 lol. i am so bad at gacha games. probably a good thing in the long run. ok starting from the top!

hisoka going "zzz" as his reaction made me immediately go... oh dear, please dont fall asleep in the bath and guess what happened. yeah. good thing homare was there lol. speaking of i fucking adore homare and his poetry. id buy his collection. i also wish there was a collection like if there was a master list of every poem he says in like. at the very least main story. if not i will literally do it myself. i love homare so much im like him in that back when i had to play dodgeball id always be like kufufufu they cant hit me if im friendless enough that no one pays attention to me but like in my case it actually worked out. on the subject of the pillow fight tho, hisoka's crazy strong pillow fight throw... one more mark on the list for suspicious, maybe assassin occupation. this event made me realize how much i missed winter like. i saw the stranger pretty recently (which has caused the effect of be being like "taichi!! thats my boy!!" in my head everytime he shows up lol but anyways i havent gotten to a winter play yet so im VERY hype. especially bc this seems like it stars hisoka and homare??? like oh!! oh!!!! also detective fiction... im swooning. i also just enjoy the hisoka homare dynamic a whole fucking lot i think its nice how homare was like "yeah im ride or die for this funky lil amnesiac, why wouldnt you be?" and its just like. nice. feel like hes always reaching out to hisoka which is like. man homare is so nice.

back to chronology. ofc sakyo goes cheap for the hot springs lol. on brand as ever. was very hype for the azuma sakyo dynamic bc all i remember is like azuma trashing everyone including sakyo at some game or the other in one of the winter chapters and it was very good. or was this a clip in like a stage play? either way it was delightful. at first i misinterpreted taichi going "…" after azuma and sakyo said theyd never been on a field trip bc like. taichi being quiet or noncommunicative... after going thru autumn troupe act 1 it makes me fear for my life a little lol. anyways im glad he was just like planning fun times. speaking of taichi tho we got a tasuku taichi pair for etudes!!!! im not spoiling myself for later events but i hope to GOD tasuku and taichi do like a lead co lead in SOMETHING or at least like some mixed troupe event i want them to talk!!!

also dunno if this is an intentional pun but i enjoy that its called high spirits at the hot spring bc like oh theyre having fun but also bc like. "spirits" is used to refer to a certain type of alcohol i think? which is cool. dunno if its intentional but i liked that. anyways the talent show. taichis moving rendition of single ladies... ok i know it said single fellas but like. we know. wonder if that line was a different song in japanese? its not too old at ALL tho imo. anyways the way banri and juza being themselves Are the entertainment... flashback to when banri slaps juza live on stage instead of doing a stage slap lol. my reaction to azuma essentially went:

azuma: I can offer to bare my soul, and a little more ;)

izumi: what do u mean by that???

me: hey tasuku and omi were shirtless what's ur problem with azuma

anyways i reread and from what i understand they were maybe only flexing and doing a gun show? which like. no wonder it didnt last too long then lol. also explains why they didnt have shirtless sprites i suppose lmao. i am SO curious abt what azuma ended up doing tho that fade to black is so mysterious! did he tap dance? did he pole dance? the world will never know...

oh also im not like super familiar with azuma yet but my read on his personality is definitely like "I am so touch starved All The Time but I will be chill. :) :) this is fine :)" like he just seems to rly like being around people! just like basking in presence whether or not hes rly talking that much.

i enjoyed that juza mentioned pillow fighting with his lil brother... thats nice! i think a lot of this event was just focused on ppl having fun over the drama lol bc it got wrapped up sooo quick. i liked the bit where sakyos worried that izumi was out late searching for him tho it was so sweet. table tennis match was very fun although id argue calling hisoka and juza the two quietest tho lol like... banri exists so juza isnt quiet. just like inevitably. finally, the event cg!!! azumas hair tied up... so nice! thats how I tie my hair up sometimes tho it doesnt look nearly as nice lol. taichi rambling abt his first love for so long tho... lol. ill be honest i have to reread autumn bc i was not aware of this whole situation until it came up in the stranger and i like inferred from there. the end of this event was nice! it was cute. i dont rly have much thoughts on it but im so hype for the winter play

Hello:!!! so good to see you again, freshly learning from your mistakes then :3c

the connection with Citron is a BLAST to read about. I am glad that Citron is there, on your mind, supporting you at every turns of language. It's beautiful.

AND OH THE POKEMON LIST!!! thrilled to hear about it being a wip ongoing! take your time ofc and i hope you'll feel more confident as you go for your characters interpretation! i believe in you!

lmao i'm glad the events help you remember to play a3, i'm sure that by the time you'll be done with the events you will have unlocked so much of act 2 you won't have to worry too much about it. Anyway i'm glad you treat yourself to good things :3c

of course Hisoka fell asleep in the bath. tbh this event was a lot of "Hisoka almost dies in a spring house multiple times if it wasn't for his troupesmates". Between sleeping in the bath and almost swallowing the table tenis ball... where would we be without Winter, and especially Homare, taking care fo him.

I'm SO GLAD you like Homare that much! he's so so good! i'm sure there must be a masterlist somewhere, or well. can be done anytime i guess?? but yeah Homare is fantastic and LDJFDLKFJDF the evil plan to avoid dodgeball from both of you.. this is incredible DLKJFDLKF. But yeah alas he's loved by his own so he gets hit smh.

And yeah Hisoka is just acting sus huh.

BUT YEAH... YEAH... WINTER... BELOVED.... I feel regular and normal feelings for Winter as you know, s o .

(i'm so delighted that you feel that way about Taichi though, as he deserves!! what a good boy!!!)

But yeah Winter play next!!!!! i love the winter plays so much i hope you'll like it as well!! aND YEAH HISOKA AND HOMARE AS A DUO... for a DETECTIVE story?? so good.

I'm sO GLAD you like their dynamic! yeah i adore it too. Homare was so quick to leap into taking care of Hisoka? Like i mean he immediatly called him sleeping beauty when they first met, and immediately decided to be his roommates to watch over him, and then he did everything to take care of him and it's just so sweet. Homare has such a big heart he's so gentle with Hisoka. Homey and comfortable, whenever Hisoka admits it or not ahah.

ahah wouldn't be Sakyo if he didn't need to stay cheap. BUT YEAH the Sakyo/Azuma dynamic is pretty good. oh the event you talk about i think is in some of his very first backstage storyes (that you can read if you have them since they're at this point of the chronology). There's one where they play a mafia game and Sakyo is warry of Azuma because "people like him are those you need to worry about the most" and Azuma is just ":) you wound me :) i would never :)" and then Azuma wins the game and starts to mess with everyone. It was so fun. and yeah i see which clip you mean for the stage play!! it's so so fun they have such a neat dynamic and i loved to see it in this event as well.

and omg worrying about Taichi while he was just there preparing a fun time! this child really would have worried us all back then huh

but AHH YEAH TASUKU TAICHI.... It's such a neat dynamic! ofc i won't say anything but man i love the potential of their stories, as the two ex Godza boys. To see them bond and be comfortable with each other always make me so soft.

OH NICE CATCH FOR THE PUN! i think it must be the reason for it tbh, i love it! thanks for pointing it out!

The talent show was really fun yeah ahah! I wonder what it is in Japanese too but at least the localization was hella fun!

"anyways the way banri and juza being themselves Are the entertainment." THEY'RE SO SILLY I love them so much

AND LMAO YOUR REACTION AT AZUMA I LOVE IT. YEah i think Tasuku and Omi are just flexing (which is Still. SO FUNNY. Just there saying "our talents is.. our muscles...") meanwhile Azuma is like "my talent is that i'm crazy hot :)"

But YEAH Azuma... AZUMA WHAT DID YOU DO....

your read on Azuma's personality feels pretty spot on to me ahah omg. Staying with what you know about him, the fact that with his job and all, he seems like he's starving for connection while also terrified to make himself emotionally vulnerable. He loves staying with people, listening to them, caring for them, and he's touch starved as hell (i mean it's his job) but he doesn't seem to really know how to be on the receiving hand of affection. there's a flair talk, i can't remember where, with Omi at some point, where Azuma compliments him, and Omi is just "mhm.. but you know i think that it's more about you" and ends up complimenting Azuma in depth and it let Azuma dumbfounded because he didn't expect Omi to trick him at his own game, while Omi just genuinely don't get why Azuma is reacting that way. He gives he gives he gives, and he's genuinely happy with that, but he seems to have difficulties to take, or to demand for something, while also starving for it. I have so many emotions for Azuma.

Any mentions of Juza's little bro are the best things. I love this type of mention TwT

And yeah it was such a laid back event. Honestly deserved after the crying fest that was The Stranger imo. It's good to relax once in a while and it was nice to have them have fun. There was the bitterness of both Azuma and Sakyo's past that was always a bit looming but everyone was working so hard for them to enjoy themselves that the joy just overtake any sadness i loved it.

Sakyo worrying about Izumi is always adorable TwT

And yeah the Table Tennis match was so fun and chaotic LMAO. I love the dynamic between Juza and Hisoka. Just two usually quiet boys who like sweets. Except that yeah like you say, as long as Banri is around, Juza cannot be 100% quiet. Rip.

THE CG WAS SO PRETTY i loved seeing it. And omg you can share your hairtips with Azuma how nice :D Azuma manages to make everything look beautiful smh....

Oh yeah Taichi and his first love! if i recall he mentions it quickly at the begining, that Yuki reminds him of his first love, and he says that again at some point - then the fake Portrait he does he mentions his first love again. And since then it's been a reccuring topic so yeh :3c

but yeah! this event was really sweet and laid back, not much to say about it, but it was nice to have it at all!

Hope you'll like the winter play :3c

Take care and thank you again for your thoughts <33 i love reading them!! bless you!!

#ichafantalks a3 #sonnets of beauty #ichareply

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Best Thanksgiving Movies to Watch This Holiday Season

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This year marks a unique Thanksgiving, to be sure. With the pandemic carrying on, families and loved ones across the United States are testing out new ways to celebrate a national holiday that might be best described as food, football, and then, of course, more food. For some that means outdoor gatherings are the order of the day; for others it will mean the first time you might be cutting turkey while wearing a mask.

However you might wish to celebrate the holiday though, gathering with loved ones around a movie never goes out of style. For that reason, we’ve gathered the best Thanksgiving movies to choose from. Some of these films are truly beloved holiday classics, and others might be less obviously about Thanksgiving, even as they wear their affection for the holiday on their sleeves. And yet others still will offer the rare respite: a streak of cynicism for those who think Thanksgiving is for the birds. So pass the potatoes and enjoy a helping of good cinematic cheer below.

Addams Family Values (1991)

Addams Family Values might seem an unusual choice, but then everything about this one is unusual, right down to it being the rare comedy sequel that is superior to its predecessor. That success is in no small part due to the filmmakers realizing Christina Ricci, who made her big break playing the morbid Wednesday Addams, was devastating in her deadpan delivery.

Movies

How 1991’s The Addams Family Nearly Got Derailed

By Simon Brew

Movies

The Addams Family and Their Spooky New Jersey Origins

By Aaron Sagers

Thus Wednesday gets half the film to herself in this one, and we’re thankful for it. With Addams Family Values, she’s forced to endure the dreariness of summer camp and its middle class morality, right down to them holding a Thanksgiving pageant in July. Surrounded by smiling rich white kids who cast Wednesday as Pocahontas (who, it should be said, was not in New England or at the first Thanksgiving), Wednesday takes the opportunity to keep it real about Thanksgiving.

“My people will have pain and degradation,” Wednesday hisses in her last minute rewrite. “Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They say do not trust the Pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller. And for all these reasons I’ve decided to scalp you.”

The chaos that ensues is delightful. Happy Thanksgiving, folks!

Alice’s Restaurant

Alice’s Restaurant is an inadvertent Thanksgiving comedy directed by Arthur Penn, who re-envisioned Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow as counterculture antiheroes in his 1967 gangster classic, Bonnie and Clyde. Penn did the same with Arlo Guthrie, the son of folk hero Woody Guthrie, the committed anti-fascist who wrote “This Land is Our Land.” The film is based on Arlo Guthrie’s 1967 folk song “Alice’s Restaurant Massacree,” which was about Alice and a restaurant. The restaurant wasn’t called “Alice’s Restaurant.”

That’s just the name of the song, which is very talky, like the movie, which is also pretty violent and fairly drug-fueled. The film doesn’t start on Thanksgiving, but at an army recruitment center, where Arlo, playing himself, is trying to avoid the draft. Turns out he’s got no good reason to stay out of the war.

The Thanksgiving setting, however, gives the film its purpose, and main reason to be thankful. The main plot involves getting rid of some trash after a holiday dinner. Arlo and his friends load a couple months’ worth of garbage into their red VW microbus, along with “shovels, and rakes, and other implements of destruction,” and head to the city dump, which is closed for Thanksgiving. They’d never heard of a dump closed on Thanksgiving before, so with tears their eyes, they drive off to find another place to put the garbage.

It takes Arlo 18 minutes and 21 seconds to tell the plot in the song, in intermittent three-part harmony, but the gist is: he gets arrested for littering, and his criminal record keeps him out of the draft. With it, Penn turns Guthrie into one of the most mild-mannered antiheroes in counterculture cinema. He’s not moral enough to join the army, burn women, kids, houses, and villages because he’s a litterbug.

A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

Perhaps not quite as iconic as the legendary A Charlie Brown Christmas or It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, the third Peanuts holiday special (and 10th Peanuts animated special overall) is still just as charming, wholesome, and satisfying as its predecessors. Once again written by Peanuts creator Charles M. Schulz and directed by Bill Melendez, the show has been a November staple on TV for decades since first airing in 1973.

This time out, Charlie Brown (voiced by Todd Barbee) and his sister Sally (Hilary Momberger) are getting ready to go to their grandmother’s house for Thanksgiving when one by one, all their friends invite themselves over to his house—despite the fact that Charlie Brown can only make “cold cereal and maybe toast.” It all gets sorted out in the end, and it’s all the little jokes, the delightful voices, and the unforgettable music by Vince Guaraldi that makes this a perennial favorite.

The Fantastic Mr. Fox

There isn’t so much as a mention of Thanksgiving in Wes Anderson’s stop motion masterpiece. Yet, somehow, it’s impossible to watch The Fantastic Mr. Fox and not have late autumn brought to mind. Is it the carefully chosen fall color palette that’s all sunsets and foliage? Is it the warm familial vibe of the Foxes and their neighbors that makes you miss big get-togethers? Is it the impeccably dressed cast of animal characters, all resplendent in corduroy, flannel, and tweed, quietly shaming you with their perfect sartorial choices? Or perhaps it’s simply their ravenous eating habits that puts you in the right frame of mind.

With little resemblance to the Roald Dahl book it’s based on, The Fantastic Mr. Fox is instead one of the most perfect encapsulations of Anderson’s eye for (some might say obsession with) the little details. And it’s those little details, even more than its fuzzy animal characters, that make this perhaps the coziest of the director’s efforts. Alternately exuberant and melancholy (just like the holiday itself), and with numerous scenes of beautifully plated gluttonous excess, it’s remarkable that this movie hasn’t already been adopted as an unofficial icon of the season. Let’s start that campaign right here, shall we?

Hannah and Her Sisters

The movie that won Michael Caine and Dianne Wiest Oscars, Hannah and Her Sisters is a story about family framed between two Thanksgivings and the year that connects them. With a meticulous insight about the highs and anxieties of upper-middle class life among Manhattan intellectuals, the film is really the travails of Hannah (Mia Farrow) and her sisters Holly (Dianne Wiest) and Lee (Barbara Hershey). There’s also the lust of Hannah’s husband Elliot (Caine), who pursues an affair with Lee, but the film is mostly told from the vantage of three women of varying ages struggling with how they see themselves and their lives in a year of New York living.

Writer-director Woody Allen is here too as a hanger-on in this family, who’s struggling with his own fears of death, but his and Elliot’s roles are ultimately as outside observers who arrive every Thanksgiving to watch the sisters and their parents renew their family ties… and close ranks.

Home for the Holidays

One that feels particularly timely as 2020 adults hole up in their childhood homes for Thanksgiving and beyond, director Jodie Foster’s underrated family gathering comedy wallows in the downsides of going home. The film stars Holly Hunter as a woman who’s lost her job and is growing apart from her teenage daughter (Claire Danes). But all of that pales in comparison to spending Thanksgiving with her parents (Anne Bancroft and Charles Durning), plus younger brother Robert Downey Jr.

The Best Thanksgiving TV Episodes

By Alec Bojalad

Movies

The Long History of Mystery Science Theater 3000 and Thanksgiving

By Gavin Jasper

It’s a familiar setup, but Thanksgiving is a time of being with those you’re familiar with, whether you like it or not. Plus, as a comedy it also has the still vital message of counting your blessings.

The Ice Storm

Based on Rick Moody’s acclaimed 1994 novel, director Ang Lee’s (Brokeback Mountain) masterful adaptation is a scathing portrait of upper middle class suburban life in the early 1970s, when all the experimentation in the world with drugs, alcohol, and sex couldn’t quite stop anyone from feeling like their lives and society were unmoored.

Like other dramas that take place around Thanksgiving, there’s very little to actually be thankful for: the characters (played with flair by Sigourney Weaver, Kevin Kline, Joan Allen, Tobey Maguire, and others) are all trapped in emotional black holes of their own making.

Similarly, all the decadence and crazy fashions/trends of that surreal decade can’t replace the feeling that something has gone dreadfully wrong. Lee–before he became obsessed with the latest camera technology–charts this all with patience, empathy, and precision.

Knives Out

Okay, so Rian Johnson’s brilliant little whodunit isn’t actually set on Thanksgiving, but it sure feels like it is and was released around the holiday on Nov. 27, 2019 (God, that feels like a century ago). So… close enough. And while the family gathering at the center of the story is for a patriarch’s birthday, it certainly resembles the kind of large family assembly many hold at Thanksgiving, right down to feeling like it could end in murder.

Movies

Knives Out and the Villainy of Privilege

By Kayti Burt

Movies

Knives Out: When Murder Makes You a Better Person

By Natalie Zutter

The murder in question, of course, is that of mystery novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer), and it’s up to gentleman detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) to figure out which of his many bickering, backbiting, scheming descendants might have had a hand in it. Perhaps Harlan’s nurse Marta (Ana de Armas) can help since the clan insists “she’s like part of the family.”

All that’s really missing is the turkey. The knives are out, in abundance.

The Last Waltz

Perhaps no title card in cinematic history deserves to be heeded more than the one which opens The Last Waltz: “This film should be played loud.”

Not just the greatest concert film ever made. Not only the greatest rock documentary of all time. The Last Waltz may lay claim to being the only movie of any stature literally filmed on Thanksgiving. Martin Scorsese shot The Band’s farewell concert on Thanksgiving Day, 1976, where the audience of 5,000 was served a literal Thanksgiving dinner in addition to an unforgettable night of music by some of the most legendary performers of the 20th century.

Culture

The Last Waltz: Martin Scorsese’s Ultimate Rock n’ Roll Movie

By Tony Sokol

Culture

New Deep Purple Album Whoosh! Coming in June

By Tony Sokol

But this is no mere concert film. Being treated to a document of such legendary musicians at the height of their powers would make this important enough, but when it’s shot, lit, and edited by Scorsese, and with The Band joined by towering guest stars like Muddy Waters, Eric Clapton, Neil Young, Bob Dylan, and many more, The Last Waltz becomes one of the most powerful musical statements ever committed to film. Scorsese breaks up the performances with members of The Band reflecting on their career, and even in these quieter moments, The Last Waltz radiates the power and danger of a life lived on the road, in seedy dives, and storied ballrooms.

When you’ve had your fill of football and family for the night, pour yourself a glass of something good and do exactly as that opening title card says.

Miracle on 34th Street

Yes, yes, technically speaking Miracle on 34th Street is a Christmas movie. But it is definitely worth noting that the film actually spends more screen time on the actual Thanksgiving holiday than Christmas Day. Indeed, the picture opens with the now legendary Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. In the ultimate stroke of product placement, Macy’s New York City shindig got nationwide attention on the big screen, even as the movie focuses on the department store hiring the wrong Santa Claus for its festivities.

Arriving drunk and disgraceful to Macy’s preparations, an inebriated mall Santa creates an opportunity for a man who calls himself Kris Kringle (Edmund Gwenn) to step in. Kris is passing through, presumably doing some holiday shopping ahead of his own big day in December. But upon seeing his personage so besmirched, he demands to take Santa’s reins and in the process saves Thanksgiving. We also see how this affects the turkey time of the film’s central mother and daughter team, played by Maureen O’Hara and Natalie Wood.

Mistress America

Sometimes Thanksgiving can be quiet and intimate… and desperately needed. That’s the case of the end to Noah Baumbach’s effervescent Mistress America. A mostly successful attempt at emulating 1930s screwball comedy for literary millennials, Mistress America is a clever throwback set during autumn in New York City and, tellingly, a trip to the suburbs of Connecticut. But by movie’s end, protagonists Tracy (Lola Kirke) and Brooke (Greta Gerwig) find themselves alone and isolated in the big city on Thanksgiving. They also thus discover an excuse to reconcile after grievances drove them apart, breaking bread at a restaurant down the street. It’s downbeat, but emotionally cathartic for both the characters and film.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

As the late John Hughes’ masterpiece, Planes, Trains and Automobiles is the quintessential “get home in time for the holiday” tale. Steve Martin is Neal, a stressed-out marketing exec who picks up an accidental travel companion in Del (John Candy), a well-meaning but oafish shower curtain ring salesman. As the two struggle to get back to Chicago in time for Thanksgiving amidst a string of misadventures and transportation issues, an eventual friendship forms, leading to a moving conclusion.

Planes was a step forward for Hughes as he began to move away from teen comedies, and the movie’s balance of humor and heart was perfectly complemented by the dynamic comedic chemistry of Martin and Candy. The latter probably had his best role ever in Del Griffith, and it’s a tribute to both actors and Hughes that each lead character can be annoying yet is never unlikable.

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Christmas Movies on Disney+ Streaming Guide

By David Crow

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Christmas Movies: A Complete Holiday Streaming Guide

By Alec Bojalad

Hilarious and poignant, this mix of buddy picture and road movie is a near-perfect treat for the season—or any time.

Prisoners

We wouldn’t exactly call Prisoners ideal holiday viewing. It’s set at Thanksgiving and immediately afterwards, although there isn’t much cheer during most of the film’s harrowing 153 minutes. The movie opens with a Thanksgiving dinner involving two Pennsylvania families, a pleasant ritual that soon turns nightmarish when two little girls—one from each clan—go missing. From that point onward, the story becomes a downward psychological spiral in which the search for the girls takes a terrible toll on all caught in its wake.

The first Hollywood studio film directed by French-Canadian filmmaker Denis Villeneuve (who has since gifted us with films like Sicario, Arrival, Blade Runner 2049, and next year’s Dune), Prisoners is a brutal, emotionally complex thriller that maintains a high level of suspense and dread over its formidable running time.

Featuring excellent performances from Hugh Jackman, Jake Gyllenhaal, Terrence Howard, and others, it may not be the kind of cheery escapism we often seek out at the holidays. But it will leave you deeply thankful for the good things in your own life.

Rocky and Rocky II

“To you it’s Thanksgiving, to me it’s Thursday,” Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone) tells Adrian Pennino (Talia Shire) as they hit the streets for their first date in Rocky. That date wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for the tougher than tough love of Adrian’s brother Paulie (Burt Young). He gave them no alternative but to go out when he tossed the Thanksgiving turkey his sister slaved over all day out the side door. What followed was one of the best first date scenes in film.

It doesn’t seem like Rocky and Adrian have a lot to be thankful for. She says her daddy told her to develop her brains because she’d never get by on her looks. Rocky says he’s so dumb he couldn’t hope to be anything else but a fighter, which is halfway to being a bum.

While the scenes surrounding the ice skating rink date aren’t only some of the most romantic sequences captured on celluloid, they culminate in one of hottest. This is all before Rocky is even approached to fight the heavyweight champ of the world. The battered underdog Rocky stays on his feet until the final bell, and an almost equally bashed Apollo Creed, who barely held onto his title belt, swears he never wants a rematch.

Culture

Could Rocky Balboa Really Have Gone the Distance?

By Tony Sokol

Movies

The Top 10 Carl Weathers Movie and TV roles

By Wil Jones

Apollo takes that rematch when he defends his title in Rocky II. The fight is set for Thanksgiving Day, and Rocky knocks the stuffing out of that turkey, and laps up the gravy. Many of the Rocky movies, including Creed, opened on Thanksgiving weekends, and are perfect “date movies.” The main bouts may focus on two fighters, but the love stories, starting with the one between Rocky and Adrian, are tenderer than the bird Paulie tossed in the alley.

Spider-Man

The original Spider-Man really is a superhero movie for all seasons. With its romantic and old-fashioned photography of New York City in the spring and autumn, the picture runs the calendar’s gamut in its storytelling of the webslinger’s first year on the job. But it also pivots on a rather eventful Thanksgiving dinner.

Movies

Why Spider-Man 2’s Train Fight is Superhero Cinema’s Greatest Action Scene

By Mark Harrison

Movies

Sam Raimi Spider-Man Trilogy Writer David Koepp Reveals Original Plans

By Joseph Baxter

Fresh off Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire) refusing to team up with the Green Goblin (Willem Dafoe), and after a blow up at a not-Macy’s Day Parade in Times Square, the pair’s alter-egos unwittingly meet up for Thanksgiving in Peter Parker’s apartment. It’s a swanky bachelor pad he shares with Harry Osborn (James Franco). But even with Aunt May (Rosemary Harris) and Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst) there to give it some holiday warmth, things get frosty when Dafoe’s patriarchal Norman realizes the kid passing him the cranberries is his mortal enemy. Awkward.

And yes, nearly 20 years later this strangely does feel like a holiday movie, doesn’t it?

ThanksKilling

This film is terrible. An exploitative C-cheapie horror where a turkey possessed by a demon with a smart mouth hunts and murders coeds. But if that’s your jam… well, it exists.

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regrettablewritings · 8 years ago

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How to Be a Good Catholic, Pt. I (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

AN: “I am a shit Catholic,” I think to myself, continuing to eat my steak burrito on this previous fine Good Friday. “The shittiest Catholic,” I insist, unable to get up to attend Easter Sunday Mass after pulling an all-nighter. This goes out to all the other shit Catholics/Catholics who are trying but not always consistently succeeding. Disclaimer: The examples listed are somewhat inspired by my own experiences. Well, some of them are. I am, in no way, saying that these necessarily apply to everyone. But if these sound eerily familiar, welcome to the sorority/fraternity, we have habits. Literally! (Happy belated Easter!)

@ohbelieveyoume and @xemopeachx (special shoutout to the latter for dealing with my running Catholic things by her!)

PART 2 HERE

As the only son in a household of three girls, Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr. had a few extra expectations placed on him besides being an absolute gentleman of God. Specifically, that he meet, fall in love with, and bring home a good Catholic that would win over his parents and sisters and then marry said good Catholic. It was in Sonny’s hopes that you would be that very person: You were sweet, patient, smart, funny, had a good head on your shoulders, could at least recite the Lord’s prayer . . . Okay, maybe it was the bare minimum, but considering what few people he was able to meet outside of his busy schedule, you were the best. Besides, it helped that you liked him right back. Enough, in fact, to agree to date him and do so quite happily for the last couple months. Maybe it was a short period to become so optimistic, but Sonny couldn’t help it: You were, in a word, wonderful.

This description, among plenty of others, was what ran out of your boyfriend’s mouth when he finally took you home to meet the folks, six months into the relationship.

“ – and then this one over here,” Sonny gently patted your shoulder, proud smile in place, “before I could even do anything, she just books it and tackles the guy after a block’s worth of running!” The rest of the Carisi clan broke out into amazed laughter, causing you to blush and smile. You directed your vision to your hands, neatly folded in your lap so as not to pluck at the cloth placed over the dinner table.

Not to jinx it, you couldn’t help but note, but things are going surprisingly well thus far.

You never wanted to buy into stereotypes, but sometimes the one about Italian mothers being protective of their sons seeped into your thoughts, particularly due to Sonny’s occasional light reference of such.

“She may say bring up what church you go to,” Sonny had warned you before. “And by ‘may’, I mean as certain as Barba is certain to hit the scotch tonight.” Dang. You sincerely hoped that she didn’t have a personal vendetta or anything against Our Lady of Merciful Embrace, then.

Apparently, she did not as she had yet to fling any accusatory glances your way or ask any questions that would put you on the spot. She, alongside Mr. Carisi, Bella, Gina, and Theresa, had been all smiles and hugs the entire evening. Of course, you also had to thank Sonny for hyping you up and continuously highlighting your more interesting features like a good salesperson. Though you initially had some hesitancies about him recounting the story on how, during your second date, you chased down and tackled a purse-snatcher out of pure spite . . .

You mustered up enough confidence to cut through your shyness, allowing you to lift your head up and see the riot attempting to be tamed.

Dominick Sr. wiped his eyes free of laughter-induced tears, coughing out rhetorical queries of how “such a lively woman would go for a scrawny noodle like Sonny.” To which, your blush would only deepen, tightening your face into a coy smile. Sonny, on the other hand, remained quite proud of his father’s apparent approval at the cost of a slight jab at his own person. The evening was going well. Too well.

It had to end sometime.

Mother Carisi began to swallow down a few giggles, having decided that the end of the little retelling would be the perfect time to begin dinner.

“(Y/N), would you like to lead us in grace?” she requested. An innocent enough invitation, albeit one that made you nervous simply out of the principle that you would be under observation. But as you made the sign of the cross and prepared to close your eyes, you saw your beloved boyfriend in your peripheral vision, granting you one last smile of pride in you. You were thankful that Sonny had been blessed with an all-inspiring smile. It was almost as if he truly was emitting light and you were the flower he had graciously decided to give all of his energy to.

The appreciation did not go unnoticed. In fact, it translated itself into confidence, resulting in you delivering grace with finality: “God is grace, God is good. And we thank him for our food. Amen.” You didn’t say it quickly, nor did you stretch it unnecessarily. It wasn’t a long prayer of thanks, and therefore you felt no nerves when you repeated the sign of the cross and lifted your head.

You did, however, feel nerves when you noticed six pairs of eyes focused on you. Some were in heads that were still somewhat bowed but the fact that they were directed at you was undoubtable. The essence of slight confusion held within them was also quite blatant. The cold disconnect in the reception of your recital provided a cold front, removing the warmth and confidence that Sonny had previously instilled in you.

Trying not to visibly close back in upon yourself, you uttered a quiet, “. . . Did . . . Did I do something wrong?”

To which, Mother Carisi’s head rose completely, gently waving her hands to show a negative. “Oh, no! No, sweetheart, you did fine, it’s just . . .”

“It’s just not how we usually do our grace,” Dominick Sr. explained. It wasn’t in a cold way or even accusatory. Just as it was: a matter of fact.

“Oh . . .” You knew you were going to regret asking but – “So then how do you say grace?”

“Bless us, O Lord, and these gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty,” Gina offered. She bit her bottom lip as if unsure as to whether it was in her place to finish it. When nobody objected, she completed, “Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” the Carisi clan murmured in unison. You, too, uttered an amen, though one so incredibly quiet that no-one seemed to take notice that it occurred after their collective one. And even if anyone had, the temptation and richness of the meal Mother Carisi had put together stomped it out of complete acknowledgement. At least, to the others.

You continued to sit prettily, humor stories in your sheepish demeanor. Sonny continued to be proud of you. If Sonny was, indeed, the sun and you were, in fact, a flower, you felt as though you would’ve been the kind that closes up after being exposed.

“That went great. They love ya!” Sonny exclaimed. You hummed a response that suggested being neither here nor there and continued to pinch the foil on the edges of the plates on your lap. Mother Carisi insisted that you take plenty of food home and that if there was a particular dish you liked, to come right over and get the recipe. She was a very nice woman with a very nice family. So why did you feel off?

This became a question worth asking in Sonny’s mind as well, much to your dismay. As much of a goofball as he could be, Sonny was still a detective – he was already used to observing behavior from far more heinous figures; figuring out his girlfriend was bothered by something was child’s play.

“Hey,” he asked, taking his eyes off the road to quickly glance at you. “What’s the matter?”

You had two options: Say that nothing was wrong and potentially ruin the evening by pushing Sonny away; or be honest. Damn your good girl behavior.

“I messed up grace,” you pouted.

“That’s what this is about? C’mon, nobody cared about that. Besides, you didn’t mess anything up, you just . . .” Sonny shrugged, “did . . . something a little differently . . . But it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“My parents never even really taught me the version you guys use . . . They just said that the ‘God is grace’ one was good enough. Heck, I don’t even remember learning that grace in Sunday school!”

“Really?” Sonny questioned. “Huh . . . I remember my folks drilling that into our heads. An’ then Sunday school’d seal the door shut so that there’d be no chance of it ever seeping out. But – ” another shrug “ – everybody’s experience is different. No harm done. What matters is that your heart was in the right place. And that Ma likes you. Almost as much as my dad does.”

“You sure about that?” you questioned. Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone? “Because I may not know your mother very well, but I do know mothers in general: They have a tendency to mark down each and every one of their children’s significant others’ screw-ups. It’s only a matter of time before that little slip with grace comes up in a discussion about how I’m a bad Catholic.”

“Hey,” you heard your boyfriend begin sternly. “Ma isn’t like that, I promise. But seriously, there’s no such thing as a bad Cathhhh – ” He dragged the word to a pause. There was that instance with the sex trafficking members of the Church. And an unfortunate but still widely acknowledged amount of scandal . . . Plus, there were plenty of awful people who professed themselves to follow the Catholic doctrines of faith.

“There’s no such thing,” Sonny repeated carefully, “as being a bad Catholic just because you say your grace a bit differently. That’s just ridiculous.”

“Yeah, to you, maybe!” you whined. “You’re a friggen Level 10 Catholic on a scale that only goes up to 12!”

“I wouldn’t say that – ”

“And I’m still stuck Level 4!”

“(Y/N),” Sonny sighed. He managed a quick look at you before turning back to the road. “Listen: It’s not a matter of being a ‘good Catholic’ or even being Catholic at all! I chose you because you’re a great person and I love a lot of things about you. An’ on top of that, you try. That’s literally the most I could ask for. So please: stop worrying about something that doesn’t even require worrying! Ma giving you her cannolis to take home? That’s a sign of approval!”

You sucked in your bottom lip and worried it between your teeth. For as good of a sales person as Sonny had been earlier, he sure wasn’t making you purchase anything he was insisting upon now.

Not noticing, he went on, “So long as you’re not being the type of gal I arrest, you’re doin’ fine. I swear it.” He threw in that light-causing smile for good measure and you threw a weak one of yours back, even if you knew he couldn’t see it too well when he allowed himself to quickly look towards you. You were thankful that he couldn’t better observe your expression. If he could, he would’ve known that you were still beginning to bubble with worry. But, then again, you had never had the most pristine image of self. Maybe he was right? Maybe you were a good Catholic after all . . .

1. Attend Mass on a regular basis, not just for Christmas, Easter, and Mother’s Day

So the fact of the matter was that, yes, you had been raised Catholic. However, your family was nowhere near as hardcore as Carisi’s. Your family sort of did the basics: go to church as much as possible, make sure you at least practiced the rituals up to First Communion, and try to see how things would play out from then. But for the most part after you got deeper into your teens, most extracurricular stuff depended on you and your increasingly busy schedule. By the time you’d finished college, you’d become what some might call College Catholic: if there wasn’t a near enough Catholic church or one whose commute towards was too ridiculous to complete on a regular basis, you mostly relied on visits home and maybe an occasional dip into the Good Book itself for your spiritual nourishment.

“Besides,” you’d come to argue, “God is everywhere. I shouldn’t need a building just to talk to him.”

You didn’t dislike Mass, but you were definitely amongst the population who understood that it wasn’t always the most entertaining place to be. Of course, the argument for that would’ve been that church wasn’t there to entertain you, it was there for worship and community. Fair enough. But that didn’t mean you were going to pretend to be enthralled by the sermons and the feeling of guilt that was practically thrust upon you with every visit. Add that in with the exhaustion of adult life and how little free time you got, and the deal you’d set up for yourself was that if you woke up an hour before 11 o’clock services at Our Lady and could still feel your feet you would attend services. Unfortunately, with your craptastic sleep schedule and in ability to get up after three alarms, this deal was scarcely followed through with.

You thought you’d be doing yourself and your spirituality a favor by agreeing to go with Sonny to his church the morning after dinner with his folks. You even convinced yourself that attending 9 o’clock service would be good for you, or that it was a deserved punishment for not attending even the later services on a regular schedule.

But then you opened your eyes and, without thinking, released a hiss of displeasure as the morning light enthusiastically groped your eyeballs. And, with equal brightness, your boyfriend knocked on your apartment door, ready to pick you up. You almost wanted to punch him for being so damn pleasant, even as he waited patiently for you to finish getting ready.

“You don’t need to get dolled up,” Sonny insisted. Though he certainly didn’t seem to mind it, looking you up and down as you entered the living room, dressed in a white dress with a blue flower pattern and pearls. You didn’t think it was too much, but it was just classy enough to hopefully avoid getting whispered about.

You clumsily offered a smile. “Well, they call it ‘Sunday best’, don’t they?” You inwardly sighed at the sight of Sonny nodding with agreement. If you could get through this service, you’d be one step closer to being the good girl you could approve of. And who knows? Maybe church with Sonny would be great, simply because he was there with you.

2. Recite the Nicene Creed during Mass

You tried not to jiggle your leg. Tried so hard not to tap your feet against the hard tile floor. But lord almighty (no pun intended), if the droning that had been occurring for the last half hour didn’t make you feel on edge. It was weird how restrictions worked: Normally, you weren’t an excessively mobile person if you could help it. But the moment you were expected to sit still and keep quiet? That was when you were suddenly convinced you needed to run a marathon and monologue Shakespeare.

You looked at your boyfriend to see how he was holding up and immediately regretted it. You should’ve known that Sonny, born and raised in church, would have become skilled in the art of keeping stellar composure. His figure was postured as though he’d receive nourishment with every word that flowed beyond the pulpit, hands folded carefully on the back of the pew before you two without a single finger twitching or tapping from anxiety over being stilled. Beautiful, blue eyes focused intently on the speaker, Sonny didn’t seem tempted to observe his surroundings at all, no desire to find refuge from boredom in the stained glass depicting saints and martyrs.

You were able to snap yourself out of your reverie just in time to hear an aged voice say the particular line that insinuated the next part of Mass: the recitation of the Nicene Creed. You made a pleased smile within yourself upon this acknowledgement: You knew the Nicene Creed like the back of your hand, it was practically Pavlovian at this point.

And so, like the good Catholic Sonny knew you were, you began alongside the rest of the congregation:

“We believe in one God –” you began.

“I believe in one God –” Sonny and the rest of the congregation began.

You froze. I?

“ – of all things seen and unseen –” you continued.

“ – of all things visible and invisible – ” the others continued.

From your peripheral vision, you could just barely make out Sonny returning the gesture: A side eye of interest. But whereas you had complete confusion mixed into your glance, Sonny’s held curiosity. You whipped your eyes back to the jacket-wearing back of the gentleman standing in front of you and creased your brows by a millimeter.

“We (I) believe in one lord Jesus Christ – ”

“ – begotten, not made, one in being with the Father – ”

“ – begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father – ”

Oh, ffffffffffffffflubbernuggets. Was that an okay thing to think in the Lord’s house? Flubbernuggets? Who cares? When the crap did they change the Nicene Creed!? It was then that you realized that you might’ve been off your Holy Game even longer than initially surmised. On top of that, out of all the things the Catholic Church needed revisions on – that was the thing they thought needed to be updated the most!? You tried to keep the confusion and growing frustration about this decision off of your face for the rest of Mass.

Sonny made this particularly hard when, during the exchanging of the sign of peace, he placed a peck on your cheek and whispered, “A traditionalist, I see?” You wondered if St. Lucy would’ve minded it if you threw yourself through the nearby decorated window made in her image. It wasn’t like she looked at it constantly to become attached to it or anything . . .

. . . It was at that moment you realized that could be taken the wrong way and simply wanted to crawl under your pew and die.

3. Go through with Confirmation

“Hey, Counselor, whaddya think?” Sonny beamed, bringing his briefcase into view. Barba barely glanced at it before looking back to the case files he’d just been handed. And he was hoping for a quieter day at the office, too . . .

“. . . What am I looking at here?” came the dull response.

Sonny’s brows creased, though his smile remained ever present. “Whaddya mean? I got it monogrammed! See?” He pointed to the strip of leather upon which the metal clasp was attached. D.O.G.C.

“. . . ‘Dog C’?” Barba questioned after deciding to humor his follower.

“Very funny,” Sonny replied dryly. “Anyway, no, it’s – ”

A gentle knock sounded from behind the office door before opening to reveal you as the source.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait, Mr. Barba,” you offered, ushering yourself in. “The line for Danishes was ridiculous.” You placed a paper bag containing the confectionaries on the edge of his desk away from any files that could be damaged by the sticky oils.

“It’s fine. In fact, you came in just in time: Go distract your boyfriend, he’s going on about this,” Barba waved a hand dismissively, “case.”

“It’s monogrammed, just came in last night!” Sonny stated proudly.

“Oh, neat!” you replied, eager to share his enthusiasm. You observed the lettering: “Dominick Orsino . . . What’s the ‘G’ for?”

“Confirmation name: Genesius. Patron saint of lawyers.” You hummed and nodded.

“And comedians,” you noted.

“How fitting,” Barba threw in, not looking up from his work.

Ignoring Barba’s usual third-party heckling, Sonny inquired how you knew that bit.

“Well, when I was looking at Confirmation names, I took it as an opportunity to memorize weird saints. Like Denis or Agatha.”

“Neat! So what’s yours?” The curiosity glittered in Sonny’s eyes, as if you had a secret to share. It was therefore disheartening for you to feel your stomach bubble at the realization of what he was getting at.

“Pardon?”

“Your confirmation name, what is it?”

Crapolla. You placed your hands together, tapping the tips against one another as if their padding would drown out the similar thumping of your embarrassed heart. It shouldn’t have made you nervous at all, it was just a name. But, considering where you were in your process comparatively, the fact that it was a name you didn’t even have just felt . . . wrong. Particularly in that it was your completionist Catholic boyfriend who was asking for it.

“ Oh, uh . . . I . . . neverwentthroughwithit,” you blurbed.

You watched the curiosity dim. As if it were on one end of a teeter-totter, the other end rose within you: Guilt.

“Pardon?” Sonny asked. It wasn’t harsh or anything of the sort. It was only in a tone that any person would use if they’d misheard something. If only you could convince yourself that this conversation was, in fact, as regular as it probably was.

“I never went through with it,” you mumbled. “Confirmation, I mean. I just . . . I’unno, there was never any real time . . .” Your voice trailed as you came to realize how lame that excuse sounded. No time to advance your spirituality and connection with the church? No time to attempt to exempt yourself from eternal damnation? You made time for that! As you began to rub the back on your arm, you started to wonder if attending drama club and babysitting services were worth it if they meant keeping you from religious extracurriculars.

“Oh,” was all Sonny had said. You noted that there wasn’t any disappointment, giving you temporary space to feel less bad about yourself.

“It’s probably for the better,” stated Barba, who’d taken an opportunity to look up from his work once more. “Giving yourself a Confirmation name just gives your mother one more sign that she’s angry with you. Can’t tell you how many times I had to hear ‘Rafael Iachimo Eduardo.’ You dodged a bullet, (Y/N).”

Before you could even offer a complimentary smile to suggest humor, Sonny snapped his fingers.

“I got it,” he said, “Rose. (Y/N) (M/N) Rose (L/N).”

You and Barba stared at the man incredulously. “Rose?” you questioned. Sonny nodded, quite sure of himself.

“Patron saint of flowers, but was known for her beauty. I think it sounds fittin’ for ya.” He threw in a smile that mingled together pride in his claim, and absolute flirtation. And with that adorable grin of his, the temporary safe haven he’d created closed, dropping you back into the pit of shame. Damn him for being so (and perhaps too) accepting. It made you feel a little less lovely than what he was implying.

You weren’t sure whether Barba’s request that you two “continue your flirting elsewhere” was a good thing or not, being that it broke the moment but also allowed Sonny to ask if you’d join him for lunch. You tried to spend the rest of your hour together feeling like the name he thought would suit you, only to once again feel like a wilting flower.

4. Go to Confession regularly

You had always been a bit iffy about Confession, even as a child. But the reasons had shifted as you grew. When you first started out, you just felt nervous at the idea of telling anyone your sins. Feelings of guilt you’d attempted to bury from stealing your classmate’s cookie during snack time, or lying to your mom about brushing your teeth before bedtime would all arise with every whisper you gave to the listening priest. You didn’t like the feeling of being ashamed.

As you grew older and more skeptical of authority, this unease with the practice became more passionate out of the recognition that these priests were human. This, aside from the acknowledgement that water was wet, became one of your most pointed cases: Humans, no matter what position in life, were all capable of blackmail. Even though you had no desire to commit anything tremendously questionable or heinous, you had even less of a desire to trust someone with such sensitive information.

By the time you’d reached adulthood, it simply became that you didn’t agree with the suggestion that only Catholics were capable of salvation due to their practice of Confession. If God was truly all-loving, then it didn’t make much sense that he would limit his children for their decision to not tell some other bag of flesh about what they’d done when they could simply talk to him about it and ask for his forgiveness.

Sonny, apparently, had never faced the temptation of deterring from the ritual. Or, at the very least, he had never experienced one of the same caliber as you had. The man went to confessional every month as advised. Twice a week alongside frequent visits to services if a case was becoming particularly grueling on his spiritual state. You figured maybe there was something that you, in your adolescent hesitancy, had caused yourself to miss. Maybe Confession was like certain foods: You dislike them as a child but, as you grow, your tastes shift and it becomes more bearable. Only one way to find out.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” Sonny insisted for the umpteenth time that day. You huffed in response, attempting to speed your steps up as the cathedral came into view. Back before all of this Catholic guilt (before you even started dating!), you had voiced your feelings on Confession. It was not in the form of a critique, but more so an admission as to why you had your qualms about it with a conclusion that while it was not for you, you could understand if someone else found comfort in it and commended them for upholding a potentially strenuous ritual.

For this, Sonny was grateful and tried to return the favor by not pushing you to partake. It was therefore somewhat puzzling to the man when that evening you mentioned needing to stop by the church on your way home to do Confession. Well, puzzled and suspicious. After he questioned you sternly as to whether you had committed someone drastic, followed by your insistence that you’d done nothing wrong and simply wanted to give the practice another go, he calmed. Somewhat.

“I mean, if you’re really about this, I won’t hold ya back,” Sonny offered. You wordlessly marched up the stairs. Your mind had been made.

“Why do you sound so against it?” you muttered lowly.

“I’m not against it,” Sonny maintained as he followed you up the cathedral steps. “I just remember how you once said that you didn’ really like Confession or anything. And to be honest, this just seems a lil out of the blue. I figured maybe this might have something to do with the dinner?” Balls. Balls to him and his beautiful, supportive spirit that made him analyze the shit out of you.

It took everything in you not to freeze up and confirm your datemate’s suspicions. Rather, almost everything; there was just enough in you to keep you moving as well as to create a smile that was meant to assure, but contained cracks if one knew where to look.

“Sonny,” you managed to giggle, stopping outside of the doors. “This has nothing to do with the dinner.” Yeah; it has to do with the fact that that dinner made me realize I need to up my God Game. “I’m allowed to change, right? Besides, you always seem so fulfilled after attending Confession, I wanted to see what I was missing. It’s been some time since I’ve done it after all.” Sonny pressed his lips until they flattened into a line of uncertainty. Yours, however, remained curled with attempted spontaneity as you grabbed the door handle and began to pull the heavy wood towards you. “I’ve done some growing; maybe something about it’s changed for me.”

Nope, you thought to yourself. Same old cramped, musty box. You had to remind yourself not to swing your legs in the confession box, convinced that doing such a juvenile thing would be frowned upon in a container symbolic of repentance. That, and if you weren’t mindful enough, your feet would hit the confessional door and make a thud that would surely resonate within the spacious sanctuary. You didn’t need Sonny, standing outside, to become frazzled at a sudden booming. You sheepishly looked at the gated window to your side and tried your best to hold back a scoff. All these years and this was still the highest method of keep anonymity for these situations, huh? Thank God the Church decided that it was the Nicene Creed that needed updating, and not the Medieval equivalent of a witness protection filter that served as a barrier.

You felt a little bad for thinking these thoughts when you took a moment to analyze them. Maybe you could tell Father about them? . . . Oh, crap. What were you going to tell the pastor!? You had been so intent on proving a point by attending Confession that you’d actually failed to really conclude what you were going to confess! It wasn’t like you were sinless, you knew that much. But there was no way in anything that you were able to release the cavalcade of corruptions that you had accumulated over the years. You needed something simple, something that would ease Father in to your sordid life. Something to make you sympathetic enough so that once he got the dirty details, he’d feel too awful to use them as blackmail –

“Good evening, child,” came a warm, elderly voice from behind the gated window. In all your worrying, you failed to recognize that Father Murphy had taken his place in the opposite section of the box.

“U. . . Good evening, Father,” you responded back. Disliking how nervous you sounded, you reminded yourself over and over that he’d heard plenty of nervous voices before and that you were making a mountain out of a mole hill over this entire thing.

“What brings you in this day?” Father Murphy inquired.

But what if making a mountain will help in reaching Heaven!?

“Oh, Father,” you began. You wanted to smack yourself for coming off so dramatically. “I have committed a sin and am taking responsibility to beg for forgiveness.”

“Very good. Might I ask what sin you have committed?” . . . Well, crap.

“I-it’s . . . Uh . . .” It was at that moment that you realized being put on the spot in the House of the Lord was different from being put on the spot at your job. More feelings of damnation if you’d have to place a finger on it.

In the midst of your stammering, you heard the priest offer, “Take your time. These things can come with difficulty, child.”

Dangit, why does he have to be so nice about it!? you wanted to scream. How the heck did Sonny do this every month? Had you ever even seen him commit a crime!?

. . . Wait a second!

“Father, I stole: My boyfriend had saved a cannoli for himself for after work and I couldn’t help myself – I ate it!” Dammit. And it’d sounded so good in the heat of the moment. You were a grown woman; why were you coming in here with a confession children in Sunday School used? Before you could stop yourself, you added in, “I went out and bought a new one for him, though. Walked six blocks in the evening so he’d have a cannoli ready for him as soon as he stepped a toe through the door.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn you heard Father Murphy huffing to supress a chuckle.

“I see . . . Indeed, stealing is a crime. Though, I must commend you for taking responsibility and setting things right – ”

“I also snuck a bag of cherry sours from a bodega into the movies once because I didn’t want to pay the unreasonable concessions price,” you weakly blabbed.

“That, uh . . . It’s against theater protocol but I wouldn’t call that a sin necessarily.”

“Oh.”

As you exited the confession box, you caught sight of Sonny kneeling in a pew. Apparently he figured that so long as you were doing your thing, he could do his own and get a word in. That, or he felt obligated to as the feeling of pulling out your phone in even an empty church was too awkward.

“Hey,” he chirped after performing the sign of the cross. Lifting himself off of the kneeler, he resumed his place by you. “So, how’d it go? Didja get what you were lookin’ for?”

You bit your bottom lip and cast your eyes to the side. “Well . . . Maybe I still need some time trying to figure out where I stand with confession.”

“Ehh, that’s fine,” Sonny shrugged. He placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close with an affectionate nudge. “C’mon, it’s getting late out. Maybe we’ll stop and get Chinese on the way back.”

You smiled. “Sounds good.” A beat as you began to walk towards the sanctuary doors. “. . . I also got a mad craving for cannoli,” you whined.

“We can stop for that, too, then.” Good old Sonny. Sonny, who was apparently nice enough to avoid corrupting the sanctity of confession to ask what you told the priest as his keen hearing picked up the sounds of snickering from the confession box as the two of you walked down the aisle.

#this piece is the longest piece of fail #21 pages you guys #21 pages of this literal self-drag piece #dominick carisi x reader #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi imagines #svu imagine #svu imagines #law & order svu imagine #law & order svu imagines #law and order svu imagine #law and order svu imagines #Regrettablewritings

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lenific · 8 years ago

Text

OUAT - Belle & Emma

Follows First Meetings

MOTHER TO MOTHER (Ao3)

The only fitting description for the Gold's backyard was of a toddler's paradise. The sprawling jungle gym alone would have been the dream of any kindergarten class, along with the wooden fort peeking from the copse of a sturdy oak and the slide under its shade.

Gideon Gold was the luckiest boy in Storybrooke.

"You know you'll never get away from hosting a big birthday party every year, right?" Emma told Belle one afternoon at the beginning of spring, when it was finally warm enough to bring the boys outside.

At the moment it was only Gideon slipping in and out of the plastic tunnels, glancing with hope at the ladders and nets but obediently keeping himself at ground level. Meanwhile Henry slept on, happy to doze in his pram while his uncle did the exploring.

Emma thought of a time when Henry would be old enough to join the adventure. By then Gideon would have friends his age at pre-school, and it wasn't hard to imagine a couple dozen of four-year-olds running around.

After three weeks as the newest resident in Storybrooke, the sheer number of little kids had astounded her. Once they found this private playground, there would be no keeping them away.

"Oh yeah, you won't need to even promise them a show to keep them interested," Emma said, chuckling. "There will already be a line of children at the door every day after school, hoping to be invited."

Sitting at her side on one of the broad benches supplied for supervising adults, Belle gave a little wistful smile. "It's unlikely any kid will resist the lure of an invitation, isn't it?" Then added in a somber tone. "No matter what their parents say."

That hadn't been the first sign that the Golds weren't the most beloved citizens in town, but it was the first time it struck Emma that people's opinion might spread onto the children.

"They don't really hate Gold that much, do they?" Belle raised an eyebrow in silent reproach, but Emma shrugged. "I know. I'm family; I should call him by his first name. But I just can't do that with a straight face. He doesn't look like an 'Aaron' at all!"

Belle considered that, and Emma started to worry she might have given offense, but then Belle started giggling. "It's the suits," she confided. "He's always so formal while he's wearing them."

Emma refused to ask the man's wife whether his attitude shifted when he wasn't. "It doesn't help that no one else seems aware that he can be called in any other way," she said instead, thinking of the aghast reactions she had gathered in her first week in Storybrooke, when she'd explained where she was staying. The inn owner had even offered a hefty discount for when she realized her mistake and fled the Victorian house. No one had even considered that Emma might feel sincerely welcome for the first time in years, or that she had enough experience to know the difference. "Imagine if I used Gold's name in public. I'm afraid I'd break someone's brain!"

Belle's eyes widened with mute laughter. "I've never had that problem," she said, amused.

Emma shook her head. "You married the man. They already know you're unhinged." The expression on Belle's face made her wish she could backpedal. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean... Hit too close home, didn't I?"

"People can be cruel," Belle said, letting out a long sigh. "When it came out that Aaron and I were seeing each other, there were several suggestions that I should return to therapy. Because obviously I wasn't yet over the grief of my mother's death."

Emma gaped.

"They didn't care that he was desperate for news of his son, or that he blamed himself for Bae's disappearance," Belle continued. "He was still in a bad place when we met. In fact, he had just walked away with my father's van that morning. The first time we talked, I was yelling at him for not waiting until the shipment of roses had been unloaded off the van. My father runs the flower shop; it was Valentine's Day. Can you imagine?"

"Sounds romantic."

Belle gave a little laugh. "God, it was anything but. At one point I threatened to destroy his shop, item by item, see how he liked it when his livelihood circled down the drain. He yelled back that he would have me thrown into a dungeon and lose the key if I so much as touched anything."

Emma had seen enough of the two of them to know where the story was going. They made a cute couple, always sure to be caught kissing and holding hands in the privacy of their home. But when their tempers were riled...

"You totally touched something."

"An antique tea set he'd put out on the counter for cleaning." Belle buried her face in her hands for a moment. "I only meant to make a point, prove his word wasn't law and that he could be defied, but then he startled me and..."

"Let me guess. That's why there's a tea set with a chipped cup in the cabinet." Emma smiled. "I was right. This is a romantic story."

"I'm glad someone thinks so. Everyone else caught wind of the argument. Once they heard we were dating, people decided that either Aaron was taking advantage of me or I was too broken to make a good choice, or both."

Emma cringed at the thought.

Raised in several homes across suburban neighborhoods where she'd never even had the chance to meet the people in the block before she was moved away, Emma had always thought of town life as an idyllic place with plenty of caring neighbors to look out for each other. It had been one of the factors that led her to accept Gold's proposal to move to Storybrooke after her unforeseen early release.

Since her arrival, people had been nosy, but everyone seemed too busy falling in love with Neal's child to pay much attention to his mother except to warn her about the heartless Mr. Gold.

Emma decided she liked it that way.

What Belle had just described was the flipside of having people know too much of each other's private affairs.

It sounded like a nightmare, and Emma was doubly incensed in the knowledge that Belle couldn't have deserved it.

"Bastards," she said with feeling. "I'm glad you didn't listen to them. Whatever gave them the right to judge!"

"That would have been my father," Belle told her, lips pulled into a bitter smile. "I'm sure Dr. Hopper would never have gossiped about our sessions."

Emma grimaced. "I'm sorry, but your father sounds awful."

Belle shrugged. "He insists he only had my welfare in mind. We try not to bring that up anymore, and I think he's truly happy for me now."

"Doesn't make him any less of a dick," Emma muttered.

Belle didn't seem to take offense at Emma's opinion. "Often forgiveness is the easiest route to take," she told Emma, then looked at her searchingly. "Maybe one day you'll find that out as well."

Unsaid went the last report from the team of investigators Gold had hired to find his son. If they were truly on the right track, Baelfire - or Neal, as Emma had known him during the months they lived together - might be returning home in the near future.

Forgiveness was the last thing on Emma's mind when she considered coming face to face with her child's father again.

Pursing her lips at the unwelcome thought, she looked away from Belle's hopeful expression. "Doubtful," she said curtly.

Belle didn't press. "Anyway. I'm telling you because sooner or later someone will question you about bringing your son to live with the monster of Storybrooke and his deranged wife."

Emma glanced back. "Seriously? Wow. They do hate Gold."

"They have long memories." Belle seemed to deliberate on what to say next, then let out a little sigh and checked quickly on Gideon to make sure he was out of hearing range. "The truth is, even Aaron will tell you he deserves their hate. It's foolish, of course. Everything happened years ago, and it's not as if he did anything illegal or that he enforced any clause the other party hadn't signed on their own will."

Emma smiled knowingly. "He fucked over the lot of them, didn't he?"

"Without a single regret," Belle confirmed. "Well, for some years at least. As he tells the story, in the beginning he was just trying to prove he could succeed outside his father's shadow; but eventually he lost sight of everything but the power of his position. It got to the point where there was only one person who kept pushing him to change his ways."

"Neal."

Belle nodded. "Baelfire believed his father could afford some leniency, that it wasn't necessary to hold the whole town in terror in order to turn up a profit. Aaron refused to consider the idea."

"And the idiot ran away." Emma snorted. "What a surprise."

Belle eyed her, obviously regretting the turn of their conversation. "He must have thought there was a good reason for it."

"Sure there was," Emma agreed, her eyes narrowing. "His daddy was too mean; his girlfriend was too clingy. Better to vanish into thin air and hell with consequences."

"Emma..."

"Look, it's okay. You don't have to defend him. I've already got the whole town telling me what a terrific boy he was; how sweet and polite and nothing at all like his father." Emma rolled her eyes. "And you know what? That's fine. I'm sure Neal didn't mean for me to get thrown in jail. That was me being stupid. And sure as hell I can't blame him for abandoning Henry when I had no idea I was pregnant. But like I said, consequences happened. And Neal? Nowhere close to deal with them."

Belle sighed. "Can I ask you not to talk like this in front of Aaron?"

"Too late."

On their first phone call, Emma had made sure to inform him that Neal - or whatever his real name was - was an undependable shit, and why should she put herself and an unborn kid into the hands of the man who had raised him?

She remembered his answer word by word: Because I'm also the man who hasn't given up on finding my son so we can be a family again.

Emma had always prided herself of her instinct when it came to detecting lies. When Gold said he valued family above all else, he meant it. Once she was certain of that, her other choices had come more easily.

She had yet to regret accepting his offer.

"Gold is okay," she told Belle, and the older woman nodded in wholehearted agreement, "a little rough around the edges, but his heart is in the right place. That's what matters."

Belle was staring at her with a wide smile. "I'm glad you came to us, Emma."

Physical shows of affection had never been high in Emma's personal list of preferences, but the soft pat of her arm seemed innocuous enough.

"Yeah, well," she said, only a little uncomfortable and not enough to grab Henry and return to the house. "You're not too bad either."

The End 10/02/17

#ch: belle (ouat)#ch: emma swan #fandom: ouat

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nazih-fares · 8 years ago

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From the old Doom titles, F.E.A.R., passing by recently modern Alien: Isolation, very few FPS games in my career really pushed me to wimp out of the game (except the Dead Space series but that’s a third person shooter). Like at the movies, fear can become one of the most effective ways to have your adrenaline pumped, to fully immerse you in the mood of the medium and have you experience the closest thing to reality. And yet, despite its pioneering status in the horror genre, the Resident Evil series has often refused to switch to this “first person” experience, and as the franchise gradually declined and lost its soul after Resident Evil 4, Capcom was forced once to take risks, especially considering the few amount of IPs left with the Japanese publisher. And so, here comes Resident Evil 7, the first numbered game in the series after four years of HD remakes and couple of Resident Evil Revelation side stories; one last chance for Capcom to make a difference and take a big gamble into the world of First person shooters.

After a series of bad “choices”, even if the calamitous Resident Evil 6 sold more than 6.6 million copies, Capcom didn’t hesitate and understood that it was necessary to return to the source. In other words, to put fear and suspense back at the heart of the game, even if it were to draw inspiration from scary movies, TV series, and even games (maybe a certain project called P.T). This is why Resident Evil 7 almost pays homage to numerous cultural sources, opening to doors to morbid and deranged stories of cannibalism and satanic rites in the American swamp lands. The state of Louisiana and the saturated panoramas of the bayou is perfectly painted, almost as if Capcom drew inspiration from a binge watch of the first season of True Detective, retaining this messed up and psychopath filled mood. And that’s where Capcom drops the biggest change in the series: there’s no zombies, abandoned labs, T-virus or a link to the iconic Raccoon City incident, but instead a clean sweep of the franchise’s history.

Resident Evil 7 starts in the middle of the bayou, when Ethan Winters decides to follow new clues that emerge about his beloved Mia, three years after her strange disappearance. The clue was a VHS tape from Mia, urging him not to follow her to Dulvey, a little lost town in the Louisiana swamp lands, yet our hero decide to do so otherwise, and ends up in an abandoned and quite creepy colonial mansion fitting for a season of American Horror Story. And so when ordinary mortals would have run away at the slightest cracking branch, not to mention the doors that close on their own, Ethan Winters decides to brave through the mansion, filled with dead carcasses, the stench of death, maggots all over the walls, in hope to find his lost love. The big issue is that you are Ethan, and you’ll get to feel and see everything as him in this morbid adventure, in an even more intense way with the PlayStation VR on. I mean god, I almost ruined my underwear playing it on the PlayStation VR.

To tell you the truth, I have long refused to plug on the PlayStation VR for this game. From the beginning, Resident Evil 7 has a real sense of discomfort, and the first fright scenes are so hardcore that I advise you all to go through it and not dare watch some Let’s Play video. Even without the helmet, the game drowns you in its detailed scenes of disgust, the crazy personality of the mansion’s “hosts”, straight into an endless nightmares, clinging to your seat as Poor Ethan at the Baker’s table. Even though the game may lack sharpness when compared to current AAA title productions, no doubt some downgrade were made for the Virtual Reality support, but the hyper-saturated lighting work immerses you immediately in the mood, almost unbearable once you put headphones on.

I almost ruined my underwear playing it on the PlayStation VR.

With so many radical changes, I can feel the anxiety of the nostalgic Resident Evil fans comparing this episode to the old ones. It’s normal, but you shouldn’t be that worried, as Resident Evil 7 remains a true episode of the series in its own right, at least in terms of gameplay mechanics…. Hell even recognize that Capcom has a certain mastery in the components that make the series a true survival game (and one of the original ones). Much more action-oriented than the previous releases, Resident Evil 7 returns to the fragile balance between inventory limitations, human-like damage resistance and stingy on ammunition that was at the root of the original episodes. Even the iconic storage boxes are back, and despite the many automatic checkpoints, you can always save manually via tape recorders in the house’s safe rooms. Obviously you will find puzzles to slow you down in the story, even if the degree of reflection induced will never block you really for long. In short, all the good ol’ Resident Evil survival ingredients are back and combined in a new recipe.

But the achievement of Resident Evil 7 certainly is its pace, and the way in which it manages to nest all these game elements to dictate their own tempo. Its narrative structure, which introduce all antagonists one by one as like a new chapter (or zone to be discovered), cleverly reshape the plot as soon as the routine begins to settle. This break in the plot is also found in the VHS mini-stories (those of you who played the demo who know what I mean), and bring different takes to the story. Some might see it as a clever way to reuse designed stages and elements, but developers skillfully escaped from this by playing around certain puzzles. This strategy also helps the player become familiar with the new areas to come, knowing full well that no one will come out safe and sound, and further reinforce discomfort without hurting its hero.

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This rhythm in writing and story pace is supported by the remarkable level design side. Although the map readability can be a bit messy every time you find a new clue or key, the game manages skillfully round trips, shortcuts as well as one-way doors to give a smooth level progression, filled with riddles, rewards and moment of suspense that will keep you alert at all time (or make you fall from your chair). Even when ammunition starts getting scarce, inventory space is low, or enemies gain in resistance, Capcom always finds the means to relieve the player with a box of cartridges, an upgraded backpack, or introduce new safe rooms. All this will be needed even more when collecting the vast amount of collectibles scattered throughout the game. Thankfully, I should note that after the feedback of the closed beta, the game interface is now fairly functional and clear, whether to reorganize its inventory.

While everything I pointed out above pays respect to the traditional Resident Evil formula, this also brings limits to the experience, especially when it comes to the fights. While I understand that Ethan is a not a veteran S.T.A.R.S. agent, which is great in terms of building the tension, but between the restricted field of vision, the aim that lacks a flexibility, awkward melee mechanics, you’ll soon understand that this is not what you’d expect from a dynamic and modern FPS – rather to a transposition of the old Resident Evil rigid gameplay in a game thought mainly for VR capabilities. And when you consider that ammunition is really rare in the game, it will be necessary above all to show a certain control of self to shoot each bullet in the enemies’ weak points. These limits can make some boss fights a bit lame, but if you do get used to the “clunky” or rigid controls, you’ll be surprised how mobile you can be against these foes.

Speaking of enemies, there’s only half a dozen of different one, including at least three variants for the same infected, lacking diversity, especially when one knows the richness of the series from this point of view. Sadly, as much as the Bakers themselves have the proper intelligence to hunt you down, the others creatures have a rather binary attack pattern (which I believe was numbed down for VR); In short, enemies rush straight at you, stop in front of any door, as if the handles would kill them or something. Sadly, from the moment you get used to the enemy behavior, that’s when the feeling of fear evaporates. It was perhaps Capcom’s ambition to gradually transform Ethan from a victim into a survivor, a bit like a rise to power storyline.

As for the links with the series, there is a good chance that the most people will debate whether or not Capcom’s choices on that front was good – or not. You see, Resident Evil 7 is almost lost in its position toward the series, especially once you reach the end of the story (which I will not evoke), filled with so many holes in the plot. The number of outstanding questions exceeds the mere omission, and even if the franchise as a whole is no longer consistent, we would have liked the story to be fairly clear so as not to have to rely on DLCs or CGI film to explain what didn’t make sense in the core game. On top of that, what a pity also to have imposed moral choices “Telltale style” when it does nothing to change your experience, or not much at least, in the course of events or places visited. Some might nevertheless try to replay the game in another difficulty to discover the other ending, but review deadlines took the best of me.

Resident Evil 7 was reviewed using an Xbox One and PlayStation 4 review copy of the game provided by Capcom. The game is also available on PC via digital and retail stores. We don’t discuss review scores with publishers or developers prior to the review being published.

With Resident Evil 7, Capcom finally dares to take a risk-paying venture, dusting at the same time the old elements of the series, giving us a true survival horror experience in a first person view. From the old Doom titles, F.E.A.R., passing by recently modern Alien: Isolation, very few FPS games in my career really pushed me to wimp out of the game (except the Dead Space series but that's a third person shooter).

#Capcom #Featured #First Person Shooter #Horror #Resident Evil #Survival

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