#a pivotal moment for our erik

[operas-phantom]

It’s time.

I have been holding off on this, but it’s 2025 now, and somehow I have.. about 33 Tumblr followers? That may not seem like a lot, but to me it proves that more than one person is interested in me and my ramblings. This is monumental for someone like me. I wanted to do a “year in review” post during which I went over how touching it is that I have friends and even a boyfriend now— in opera form —but I decided against it. Instead, I will be doing a face reveal. Most of you already have a vague idea of what it looks like, and feel free to unfollow me if you see fit; I shall not blame you. I have become more comfortable showing my face a bit at least with Christine— I have censored it in most of my posts where it’s out though —but this time I will not.

This is whom you all have been talking to— under the mask.

This face is a curse, but some people have given me hope about it. I am fully prepared to be turned away, but I cannot keep hiding it and cannot let you all be my friend without knowing what it is that you are friends with.

I’m Erik Destler, and I’m trying to become more comfortable with the face in the mirror.

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Manchester United 2-1 Chelsea

A... a good performance? A good TEAM performance? With this side? Seems sus - start testing piss.

A double dose of Scott McTominay put a disjointed Chelsea to the sword at Old Trafford on Wednesday night as Manchester United overcame Pochettino's Chelsea to claim a much needed three points.

The under pressure home side started the game strongly, and United were rewarded for their early intent with a goal for Scott McTominay inside the box on the 19th minute.

Erik Ten Hag has every right to be pleased and frustrated though, with United having several opportunities on goal that the likes of Antony and Garnacho really should have scored.

Match stats (above) show that Chelsea held more possession, but with a midfield three of Enzo Fernandes, Moises Caicedo, and Cole Palmer it was to be expected that they would have more of the ball when against the trio of Bruno Fernandes, Scott McTominay and Sofian Amrabat.

It was the Moroccan who really surprised United fans last night, putting in a shift that probably deserved Player of the Match. The midfield pivot for the night looked very assured in possession and for once actually fit - a potential season-changer for a United desperate to replicate last season's Casemiro who himself hasn't appeared this season (and is also injured and thus unavailable yet again).

The match was scarily end-to-end at times, reminiscent of a basketball game. The lack of control may have Ten Hag worried, but playing Scott McTominay always encourages such lack of possession. He is not there to shuttle the ball around - Mount, Casemiro, Mainoo and Amrabat are. McSauce is basically another 10 like Bruno, though personally I think his lack of flexibility should mean he takes the CAM spot and Bruno sits deeper - which I think his passing vision suits.

Beyond this it was another quiet night for Rasmus Højlund - but not for a lack of trying. One Twitter user said "I didn't realise it was Ramadan in Manchester because Højlund is starving and all he can do is pray". Garnacho's assist for McTominay's second was lovely wing play, and Højlund also went for that ball, but it's not enough service for the centre-forward. Moreso from Antony too. Both wide men had good games for United and worked hard; tracking back, making runs, playing quick 1-2 passes... but more attempts at crosses and through balls to the striker have to be found. He needs to start scoring, and that confidence will improve his in-game actions too. That snowball effect will buy a few extra percent improvement when it comes to duels, dribbles, and the odd extra goal comes from that. Not just that, but opposition defenders will actually start to fear a United striker again. We saw what Purple Patch Rashford was doing to defenders. It was sheer terrorism. We need more of that.

I don't think it's any coincidence that United put in what was probably the best senior level performance (we don't count Palace in the cup) and it's with Shaw back from injury and Amrabat fit. Ten Hag's style of football requires certain players to activate it, and beyond the first XI there are very few appropriate deputies at the moment.

This is where the issues of behind-the-scenes management come into play. United have the short-term issue of resurrecting their season and the long-term issue of overhauling the squad in the image of one manager. Erik Ten Hag has had his way with transfers, but there have been some failings, and this on top of poor results has got many fans on his back.

Sir Jim Ratcliffe & co. may be able to fix the latter, but we'll see. For now, Ten Hag needs to grind out results to quash the sacking/replacement rumours. Next up is Bournemouth. Another win will keep the confidence up ahead of Bayern, and a Champions League miracle there might upset the apple cart with our scary foray away at Anfield the weekend after.

Time to go Cherry picking.

[verticalmomentum1]

🎙️🌟 Dive into an enlightening conversation on today’s episode of The Vertical Momentum Resiliency Podcast With Host Richard Kaufman Veteran-Keynote speaker-Comeback Coach featuring the inspirational Erik Allen, a man of profound faith and a visionary podcaster!

➡️Watch: https://www.youtube.com/live/X6HhKJz_gp0?si=lr6zT7LdI7CtORnH

➡️Listen: https://anchor.fm/richard-kaufman6/episodes/How-To-Get-Physically--Fiscally-Healthy-With-Erik-Allen-e2fgaoi

🌈✨ In this deeply engaging chat, we unravel topics that touch the core of life, faith, and financial wisdom. 🚀💼

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Did you know that over 500,000 families face the daunting challenge of medical bankruptcy each year due to sickness or death?

Erik sheds light on this critical issue, emphasizing the unexpected turns life can take. 🏥💔

🌟 Discover how Ed Mylett has transformed our lives, offering insights that resonate with both Erik and myself, forging paths of personal and professional growth. 🛤️💡

🤼‍♂️ Relive the excitement as Erik reminisces about "The Show With Erik & Dan Caldwell From TapOut" - a truly remarkable journey into the heart of resilience and ambition. 🌪️🔥

📋 Erik reveals his top 3 priorities, sharing the profound reasons behind his choices.

This segment delves into the essence of what truly matters. 🌱👪

🔄 Unpack the concept of "addition by subtraction" - a life strategy that advocates for growth by letting go. 🍃➖➕

🏥📈 Delve into why health, life insurance, and mortgage insurance are pivotal for safeguarding your family's future, emphasizing the importance of preparation and foresight in facing life's uncertainties. 🛡️❤️

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Erik touches on his personal journey, highlighting the current impact on his family and debunking myths about insurance coverage accessibility and the transformative potential of life insurance for creating a legacy. 🌳💰

💡 The episode is packed with invaluable insights, including how to build a winning team, the indispensable role of your significant other in your entrepreneurial venture, and the life-altering influence of Erik’s podcast course. 🚀👫

🕰️ At 55:03, Erik drops a business-changing nugget you can't afford to miss! 🌟💥

🔊 And as we approach the final moments, the last two minutes promise insights that are not just eye-opening but potentially eternal in their impact. ⏳🌍

Don't let this opportunity slip away!

Listen to this incredible episode, absorb the profound lessons, and then, without hesitation, connect with Erik Allen to embark on a journey of growth, wisdom, and financial empowerment.

Your future self will thank you! 🌟📲

🔗 Visit www.erikallenmedia.com to discover more and transform your life today! 🚀🌈

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[gerec]

Au-gust 2022

Master List of Ficlets Here

14 & 15. Soulmate & Theatre (Jokers)

Pairing(s): Cherik Warnings: None

-----

To say that he's shocked is an understatement, as the house lights go up and the cast comes out for their curtain call. The audience leaps as one for a standing ovation, the actors all beaming as applause fills the packed auditorium. At his side, Charles looks every bit as perplexed as Erik feels in the moment; how surreal it's been for the past two and half hours to watch key moments from their lives - their relationship - being performed for entertainment.

The names have been changed of course, and enough of the details obscured so it's not an exact reenactment, but the play is still very clearly about the lives of mutant leaders Magneto and Professor X. With their notoriety and their decades as senior statesmen to the mutant cause, it's not surprising (or even the first time) that their lives have been subject to dramatization. But it's mostly been documentaries and unauthorized biographies about their political and societal contributions, and never a full-blown theatrical production centred around their love story.

Until now.

They remain in their box seats as the cast take their bows, and even after the crowd starts to file out of the theatre. Neither are interested in being recognized and inadvertently causing a stir; they only agreed to come in the first place at Raven's insistence.

"Well," Charles says finally, after most of the room has emptied, and he can stop using his telepathy to turn attention away from where they're seated. "The actors were quite good, don't you think? I thought the one that played Francis was particularly compelling. And handsome."

Erik hrumphs and rolls his eyes. "You would be enamoured with the man playing you, you ego-maniac," he says, though Charles merely chuckles at his gibe. "Are you telling me you actually enjoyed this drivel?"

Lacing their fingers together, Charles laughs, "I'll admit it was a surprise that they chose to focus so much on our personal history, Erik, but it was kind of...nice, wasn't it? How did they describe it in the program again? 'Friends. Enemies. Lovers. Soulmates. A tale of two mutants who, against all odds, found their equals in love and in war.' How romantic."

"You mean 'how ridiculous'", he argues, looking at the image on the program cover, of 'Max' cradling an injured 'Francis' on the sand. Truthfully, he had been moved by the leads' performances, their intensity and passion pulling him back to those pivotal moments from their shared history. "We have grandchildren, Charles. What will they think? And the kids too?"

Charles smiles at him, expression soft and fond, prompting Erik to kiss his wrist in an - uncharacteristically - public display of devotion. "Only how much we love each other, and how much we went through to be together. That's not such a bad thing, is it?"

Instead of answering, Erik wraps his scarf around Charles' neck and adjusts the blanket on his lap, and tucks both copies of the program inside his coat pocket. "Come on then," he says, "we can argue about it when we get home."

[counterspelling]

5, 8, and 12 for the salty comics asks!

5 Who mischaracterized [x] the worst?

top three writers eternally at the top of my shitlist are bendis for writing the x-men so badly he drove me off comics entirely and he is incapable of writing any established character and just turns them all into ocs (but especially hated what he did to laura), louise simonson for ruining the new mutants after claremont left and for what she did to illyana, and chuck austen who is now a kids tv producer even though he's the reason we all had to read teenage husk fucking adult angel flying naked in the air ABOVE HER MOTHER and the entire team!!!! we had to read that with our own eyes!!! and now he's producing steven universe and she-ra lmao. also i think it was liefeld's x-force run? that had domino kidnapped and tortured for like. a year. and then it was just never dealt with

8 What hero doesn’t deserve their hype?

logan is only interesting to me in his capacity as a mentor for teen girls so it's a good thing he gets at least one new one a decade i guess. but istg if disney doesn't expand from making the movies revolve entirely around him, charles, and erik i will S C R E A M. please, i'm begging, let them read some actual comics and see how many characters there are to choose from, and then actually ADAPT THEM and don't just steal their name and powerset and do fuckall with them. but we already know they're doing a third deadpool and this is marvel so.........

12 Are there any comics you’ve read knowing they’re bad and why?

everybody has! sometimes you just have to read bad runs! that's how comics work lmao. joe quesada is also on my eternal shitlist for one more day and house of m. he erased 30 years of spiderman history and decimated the mutant population and was truly the reason the x-men were on such a downward slope for years bc their own publishers were mad they couldn't make money off the movies. but they're such pivotal moments that... you just have to read them anyway

[ishgardianrose]

FFXIV WRITE - Day Eighteen: Devil’s Advocate

“Lucasta’s certainly been playing devil’s advocate for you,” Gauvain said without any further preamble.

Gareth eyed him warily.

“She keeps telling me you aren’t the complete coward they say you are, and that not all that transpired was your fault,” Gauvain continued.

Gareth’s expression did not relax, but he did turn to face Gauvain fully. With evident reluctance.

“She has been speaking to me about you as well. It seems she wishes for us to treat each other as comrades,” Gareth said.

“If that is the case, let’s just cut to the quick of the matter, shall we?” Gauvain said, uncrossing his arms. “So, what’s your problem with me?”

Gareth narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? You are the one constantly antagonizing me. You are a capable knight. I have no reason to disdain you.”

“Are you really suggesting it’s my fault that we are always at odds? You really have no reason to dislike me?” Gauvain pressed. He refused to accept that their friction was merely one-sided. Your pride again, that’s what Lucasta would say, Gauvain thought, but brushed the notion away rapidly.

Gareth glanced away. “Perhaps there is one.”

“That’s what I thought. So, what it is? Just say what you’re thinking without the “mmm”ing and trailing off you so love doing,” Gauvain said.

Gareth’s expression sank, drifting from anger into something Gauvain had not really expected. The hyur looked remarkably sullen.

“You have heard the rumours. I am tired of questioning my blood,” Gareth said.

“You mean, since we have a strange resemblance? Or so people say.”

Gareth nodded and pushed his hand back through his hair.

With a sigh, Gauvain sat down on the bench. He glanced over at the Cathedral, jutting upwards in the distance. He looked at Gareth, who continued to stand, head lowered, hand resting against his chest. Probably over that crystal pendant he was always wearing, even during training.

“And you hate me for that? For the possibility we are related?” Gauvain said.

“Can you honestly say you do not disdain me for a similar reason?” Gareth said.

Gauvain considered this. “Well, maybe. But mostly I do not feel like you belong here, if you really are the craven they claim you to be. It’s hard to want to work alongside such a liability.”

Gareth glared, turned his face further way.

“I thought one in your position would be used to that by now,” Gauvain said without hostility.

Gareth shot a brief glance towards him. “Even if it is warranted, it is a pain that weighs much. There is only so much a man can bear.”

“I fear I would not know,” Gauvain said with a shrug. He looked towards the Cathedral again. A soft snow was starting to fall. “I have earned myself a great deal of renown.”

“Normally I would admire someone like you,” Gareth said.

The admission surprised Gauvain. “The thought that we could be related really darkens your opinion of me that much, does it?”

“If I am not really Erik’s son, that means he died for nothing.”

Silence. The snow fell down, spinning gently in the light cast from the streetlamps. A woman walked by. Her steps murmured against the stone. Vanished out of hearing.

“Do you think your father really only valued you for carrying on his bloodline? Not for who you are?” Gauvain asked.

Gareth slowly sat down on the opposite end of the bench. He looked down at his hands. Blinked slowly. “He was never proud of me. Nothing I did was ever enough.”

Gauvain’s eyes widened. He could not imagine it: never hearing his father say those words. Lothus reminded him regularly that he was proud of him. He celebrated his achievements with him. He warmly introduced him to other people, his voice swelling with pride, his face adorned with a bright smile.

A terrible pity clutched Gauvain. He stared at Gareth, at the pain clearly impressed upon his face, and felt his disregard—perhaps even outright hatred—peel away from him.

“I hate to tell you this, but you are a Hyland.”

Gareth looked at Gauvain questioningly. Gauvain stared at the Cathedral, dreading what he was about to say, trying to convince himself it was alright to betray his pact to never knowingly lie.

“My father has never been with another woman,” Gauvain stated, with false confidence. “So you cannot be a Marcellin. It’s impossible.”

Gauvain had no idea if it was the truth. He had never asked. He had avoided asking. Because he was afraid this hyuran with his wretched reputation was actually his half-brother. But it was more than that. Gauvain respected his father too much to ask him something that called his very virtues into question.

Gauvain wasn’t sure. He didn’t know. It was not a fact. It was merely what he hoped. Merely what he knew Gareth wanted to hear.

“Truly?” Gareth stared at him, brow deeply furrowed, a sad hope igniting in his eyes.

“My parents never loved each other, but that does not mark my father as an unfaithful man,” Gauvain said, pleaded internally for it to be true.  “My parents rarely enter the same room as each other. In fact, my mother often refuses. Sometimes, when she looks at me, I can see this...look in her eyes. Like she’s looking at my father. This bitterness. There are times she finds it difficult to be around me, because I resemble him so highly.” Gauvain never thought he would admit this to anyone, yet here he was, spilling the truth after uttering a lie, to a man who could be his blood, to whom he had no respect.

And who was now looking at him with the same pity he had felt just a moment ago.

“I cannot imagine what it is like, looking like your father. Despite all you just said...I do envy you that. I have often wished that I…” Gareth’s voice slid into silence.

“There is a possibility we could be related,” Gauvain said after a moment. “Mayhap somewhere in our family lines. We could be cousins, for all I know.”

Gareth smiled sadly. “As if you would wish to be related to me.”

“No, not at all. However, I wouldn’t mind being related to the great Erik Hyland.”

Gareth looked up. “Did you know my father personally?”

Gauvain nodded. “He was a man of great reputation, and I could see why very clearly. He was very brave and virtuous. I had the honour of sparring with him once.”

Gareth pivoted towards Gauvain, eyes wide and bright, clinging to every word Gauvain could give him about his father. Pity overwhelmed Gauvain again.

“When you and I fought the other day, it reminded me of when I sparred with him. The way you move and attack, the look on your face. It brought the memory of Erik back.”

Gareth stared at Gauvain, his shocked expression shifting slowly. His lips became a line and his eyes tightened. Gareth looked away, down towards his hands. He did not shed tears, but his shoulders shook.

[amphibi-crew]

02 - Best Fronds

Writing

“Here’s an interesting bit of trivia: “Best Fronds” is actually an adjusted version of Amphibia’s original pilot.  After establishing that Anne was stuck in this crazy new world with “Anne or Beast,” it was up to “Best Fronds” to establish the core relationship between Anne and Sprig.  Not only that but it teases some pretty cool things to come at the end.  I especially like how naturally Sprig and Anne grow closer in this episode, culminating in a pretty big disagreement.”

- Matt Braly

Amphibia is script driven, meaning that much of a story’s DNA and structure are figured out before the storyboard launch.  Here’s an excerpt of a pivotal scene from Best Fronds:

Storyboards

This episode was boarded by Hannah Ayoubi and Aaron Austin.  Revisions were done by Janine Chang.  The script of this story has always felt a little serious so I’m so grateful that Hannah and Aaron were able to add so much comedy and charm at the storyboard stage.  Director Derek Kirk Kim has always been passionate about this story and added some real magic at the end with Sprig falling into Anne’s arms as he nods off.

The first half was boarded by Hannah and really explored the chemistry between our leads.  She was able to make Anne feel very sympathetic as she laments missing her home: 

The second was boarded by Aaron Austin, who birthed one of the episode’s best moments - when Sprig explains why most other kids don’t get him:

It’s worth noting that the whole concept of “friend punch” was authored by Aaron.  It was not in the script.  

Character Design

The water snake in this episode was designed by Brandon Wu. He brought a naturalistic feel to the monster that actually makes it feel scarier. Anne’s swimsuit was specifically designed to feel athletic and cool. Artwork by Joe Sparrow, Erik Elizarrez, Brandon Wu, Andy Gonsalves, Daniaelle Simonson, and Carol Wyatt:

Background Design

It was important to us that the human world feel relatively drab compared to Amphibia.  It helps to convey that Anne has never felt more alive in her new environment.  Artwork by Ian Worrel, Daniaelle Simonson, Joey McCormick, Sun Jae Lee, Elle Michalka, and Amanda Winterstein.

That should do it for “Best Fronds!” Next up is “Cane Crazy!” Thanks and have a good one. 

Storyboard panel by Derek Kirk Kim

[swindlersstole]

i will not be stopped. it is time for the beauty and wonder that is Mango.

Next in the Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory is Zill, our representative for mangoes diablo! As far as her design is concerned, I’ve noticed a reoccurring character trend for me is “extremely tall extremely skinny older sister”, and that is exactly what Zill is. she’s essentially the Sailor Jupiter of the group, if that puts it into perspective.

Of the four girls, she probably had the least amount of background for the longest time, and there is good reason for that--mostly in that she didn’t really have a concrete name for basically EVER. Before I realized I could use types of the fruit for names, Zill’s name for a long time was just “Manna”, which I was never a fan of but didn’t have any better ideas. Once cultivars came into the mix the game changed, but while that worked great for Chelan right off the bat, the problem with mangoes was: 1) a lot of mangoes are native to India and have Indian names, which would not have fit Zill as she is very not Indian, and 2) while there are a lot of US cultivated mangoes with English women’s names, compared to the rest of the cast those names would have been too plain. I wanted there to at least be a CHANCE someone would get the joke. 

“Zill” was the most unique cultivar name that was (as far as I can discern) US born, so Zill she became! Her permanent name came into place when the girls were getting worked into Nanbaka, so the rest of Zill’s story and character came together after that. 

Dundrasil’s Mango Cult

in DQ11, Zill is an aspiring third-generation chef who gained a love for cooking and bar-tending from her grandfather, Alphonse. She and her family are actually from Dundrasil; Grandpa Alphonse started up the kingdom’s local tavern Manor Diablo as a young man, which was immensely popular to both townfolk and tourist alike, even having done catering for the palace on more than one occasion, and also being a popular date spot for the courting royal family. Alphonse in particular is good friends with Rab, so Rab saw Zill very often when she was a little girl (DQ11S spoiler: In Rab’s chapter, Manor Diablo is the tavern that Rab’s friends in his mindscape invited him to near the end of the dream).

As fate would have it, Zill, her parents, and grandparents were not in Dundrasil the day it fell; they were not too far away in Octagonia visiting relatives when disaster struck. In the course of a night, the family was now refugees, and Zill, who was only a year or two younger than Jade at this point, would suffer a great deal of traumatic stress as a result. However, she does cite this moment as being a pivotal one for her goal of being a chef, for the sake of her grandfather; being a strong-willed Dundrasillian man, he was determined to keep cooking no matter what, but he was still old. Now an adult, it’s Zill’s dream to rebuild the Manor Diablo and continue her family’s legacy.

Refugees that they were, Zill’s family eventually moved to Puerto Valor at the suggestion of her father’s old friend Beaulieu, her father and grandpa being offered jobs as chefs in the casino. Zill would start working there as well when she was old enough, first as a waitress, then bartender, and finally a head chef herself when her grandpa had to retire. She’s good at what she does, and is proud of it, and feeds people like she’s their overbearing grandma trying to put skin on their bones (after their misadventures in helping stop magical blackmailing, Erik and Derk almost left the casino with what could only be described as a barrel-ful of Zill-brand pierogi before Zill was made to cut down on her gift).

She’s much more positive and upbeat than her rough childhood might lead one to think, but she still hasn’t given up on Manor Diablo. Still, because of her past as a refugee, Zill isn’t very forthcoming about this dream of hers, even post-game when Dundrasil is being rebuilt. It takes a lot of prodding from the other girls before she actually manages to ask Eleven for his blessing to remake the tavern, which went a little something like:

Zill: Uhh--Your Highness Prince Eleven Sir? Eleven: I hate everything you just said please just call me Eleven

There was a brief moment in time where after some discord talk, I debated having Zill be one of Eleven’s second cousins (via Rab’s older brothers) and as funny as that was I feel like there might have been too much going on here to really let that slide (like I gave the Mystery Orphans cool parents, I think I only get that one pass). Do still love the idea though.

Regardless, Eleven gives her his full approval for the tavern, and Zill promises she’ll have a special room just for him and Erik when they go on dates. And she DOES, the madwoman, the world is her oyster to shuck.

[ven-archived]

11, nate/EJ!

There’s an insistent knocking on EJ’s door.

It’s been going on for a good, oh - EJ glances at the clock on his nightstand - eight minutes now, on and off, with little sign of actually stopping. Usually tenacity is a quality to be admired in hockey players, especially the members of one’s own team; today, EJ would really just fucking like to sleep. It’s a Saturday. They have practice later, followed by an evening game, and he does not need to be up this early and suffer whatever it is that’s so important.

And it’s definitely not that important. EJ knows that knock. He knows exactly who it is at his front door.

The blankets shift and there’s a muffled grunt next to him - which pretty much draws the line for him, honestly. It’s one thing to wake up EJ; it’s another to disturb whoever he’s brought to bed with him. Anyone would deserve to sleep in after being put through their paces.

That thought is almost enough to make EJ smirk as he tosses back the covers and rolls out of bed, bending carefully to retrieve a pair of sweatpants from the floor as he goes. The knocking still hasn’t stopped - in fact, it’s only gotten more aggressive as the minutes have worn on. EJ snorts as he shuffles down the stairs, across the cool tile in the front hall to the door.

When he throws open the front door, Tyson’s hand is still raised to keep pounding on it.

“Can I help you, Mr. Barrie?” EJ asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tyson scoffs. “Mr. Barrie is my father. Dude. You know why I’m here.”

Oh, EJ knows why Tyson’s here. Doesn’t mean he won’t make him work for it. He leans against the door frame, scratching at the corner of his jaw nonchalantly. “You’re going to have to be more specific there, Tys.”

Tyson’s brow furrows as he frowns, and he puts his hands on his hips. It definitely doesn’t help that he’s a good six inches shorter than EJ. “I saw you leave with him last night, Erik Johnson! And he knows not to break our tradition of pancakes and DQ on gameday Saturdays.” With that, Tyson attempts to look stern - and then changes, his mind, lips twisting into a pout. “I want my best friend back.”

“Kevin is over there,” EJ says without missing a beat, gesturing in the direction of the barn. He has to bite his lip to stop from smiling when Tyson actually does a double-take, mouth pinched as he squints even harder up at EJ in annoyance. Hey, at least EJ exhibited restraint in not serving up a horse pun.

“I swear, EJ, I’m -”

“Are you guys arguing over me again?” Nate says around a yawn, rubbing at one eye as he comes down the stairs and towards the front door. EJ pivots to watch him, appreciatively; there’s a bright hickey blooming on the side of Nate’s neck, and he doesn’t miss the way he’s slightly careful about putting one foot in front of the other. It’ll be gone by the time they’re out the door for practice, but EJ lets himself preen nonetheless - and doesn’t stop himself from grinning, this time, at the sight of Tyson’s face heating.

It doesn’t help that Nate has pulled on a pair of boxers that are barely staying up, and are also definitely EJ’s. The horseshoes are a dead giveaway.

“Blizzards, Nathan,” Tyson demands, very clearly trying not to glancing at the hickey and failing. It’s delightful comedy, watching him try and pretend not to be bothered by evidence of his best friend’s sex life - EJ knows it’s mostly because he is also present, and therefore stays rooted to the spot. “We have a standing arrangement.”

“This early?” Nate asks, clearly still bleary, and Tyson does something complicated with his eyebrows that must be part of their best friend-speak, because it’s only a moment before Nate sighs and rolls his eyes, turning to EJ. “Looks like you’ll have to make pancakes another time - I’m having ice cream for breakfast.”

EJ does not acknowledge Tyson’s fist-pump of victory. “That’s fine, babe. I’m sure you can make it up to me another way.”

And of course Nate’s perfect and recognizes the tone in EJ’s voice, and leans in for the kiss when EJ quirks an eyebrow of his own. It’s a perfect excuse to grab a handful of Nate’s amazing hockey ass - and the cherry on top, of course, it’s Tyson’s indignant squawking in the background.

It’s easy to pay him no mind, with Nate kissing him like this. If he has to wake up early on a weekend, at least he gets to kiss Nate like he wants at his front door.

[darealbellabelleoftheball]

Phantom Rambles

Chapter Twenty Four -  “Barrels! . . . Barrels! . . . Any Barrels to Sell?”

The Persian's narrative continued...

I have said that the room in which M. le Vicomte de Chagny and I were imprisoned was a regular hexagon, lined entirely with mirrors. Plenty of these rooms have been seen since, mainly at exhibitions: they are called “palaces of illusion,” or some such name. But the invention belongs entirely to Erik, who built the first room of this kind under my eyes, at the time of the ‘rosy hours of Mazenderan’. A decorative object, such as a column, for instance, was placed in one of the corners and immediately produced a hall of a thousand columns; for, thanks to the mirrors, the real room was multiplied by six hexagonal rooms, each of which, in its turn, was multiplied indefinitely. But the little sultana soon tired of this infantile illusion, whereupon Erik altered his invention into a “torture-chamber.” For the architectural motive placed in one corner, he substituted an iron tree. This tree, with its painted leaves, was absolutely true to life and was made of iron so as to resist all the attacks of the “patient” who was locked into the torture-chamber. We shall see how the scene thus obtained was twice altered instantaneously into two successive other scenes, by means of the automatic rotation of the drums or rollers in the corners. These were divided into three sections, fitting into the angles of the mirrors and each supporting a decorative scheme that came into sight as the roller revolved upon its axis.

The walls of this strange room gave the patient nothing to lay hold of, because, apart from the solid decorative object, they were simply furnished with mirrors, thick enough to withstand any onslaught of the victim, who was flung into the chamber empty-handed and barefoot.

There was no furniture. The ceiling was capable of being lit up. An ingenious system of electric heating, which has since been imitated, allowed the temperature of the walls and room to be increased at will.

I am giving all these details of a perfectly natural invention, producing, with a few painted branches, the supernatural illusion of an equatorial forest blazing under the tropical sun, so that no one may doubt the present balance of my brain or feel entitled to say that I am mad or lying or that I take him for a fool.

I now return to the facts where I left them. When the ceiling lit up and the forest became visible around us, the viscount’s stupefaction was immense. That impenetrable forest, with its innumerable trunks and branches, threw him into a terrible state of consternation. He passed his hands over his forehead, as though to drive away a dream; his eyes blinked; and, for a moment, he forgot to listen.

(LOL Raoul)

I have already said that the sight of the forest did not surprise me at all; and therefore I listened for the two of us to what was happening next door. Lastly, my attention was especially attracted, not so much to the scene, as to the mirrors that produced it. These mirrors were broken in parts. Yes, they were marked and scratched; they had been “starred,” in spite of their solidity; and this proved to me that the torture-chamber in which we now were HAD ALREADY SERVED A PURPOSE.

(Raoul 😱 The Persian... 😐💅)

Yes, some wretch, whose feet were not bare like those of the victims of the rosy hours of Mazenderan, had certainly fallen into this “mortal illusion” and, mad with rage, had kicked against those mirrors which, nevertheless, continued to reflect his agony. And the branch of the tree on which he had put an end to his own sufferings was arranged in such a way that, before dying, he had seen, for his last consolation, a thousand men writhing in his company. (OOF)

Yes, Joseph Buquet had undoubtedly been through all this! Were we to die as he had done? I did not think so, for I knew that we had a few hours before us and that I could employ them to better purpose than Joseph Buquet was able to do. After all, I was thoroughly acquainted with most of Erik’s “tricks;” and now or never was the time to turn my knowledge to account.

(The Persians like... *Cracks knuckles* “Don’t worry Raoul...I’ve got this” 😎)

To begin with, I gave up every idea of returning to the passage that had brought us to that accursed chamber. I did not trouble about the possibility of working the inside stone that closed the passage; and this for the simple reason that to do so was out of the question. We had dropped from too great a height into the torture-chamber; there was no furniture to help us reach that passage; not even the branch of the iron tree, not even each other’s shoulders were of any avail.

There was only one possible outlet, that opening into the Louis-Philippe room in which Erik and Christine Daae were. But, though this outlet looked like an ordinary door on Christine’s side, it was absolutely invisible to us. We must therefore try to open it without even knowing where it was.

When I was quite sure that there was no hope for us from Christine Daae’s side, when I had heard the monster dragging the poor girl from the Louis-Philippe room LEST SHE SHOULD INTERFERE WITH OUR TORTURES, I resolved to set to work without delay.

But I had first to calm M. de Chagny, who was already walking about like a madman, uttering incoherent cries. (Raoul calm down baby) The snatches of conversation which he had caught between Christine and the monster had contributed not a little to drive him beside himself: add to that the shock of the magic forest and the scorching heat which was beginning to make the perspiration stream down his temples and you will have no difficulty in understanding his state of mind. He shouted Christine’s name, brandished his pistol, knocked his forehead against the glass in his endeavors to run down the glades of the illusive forest. In short, the torture was beginning to work its spell upon a brain unprepared for it.

(I shouldn't have found this as funny as I did... 🤣😅)

I did my best to induce the poor viscount to listen to reason. I made him touch the mirrors and the iron tree and the branches and explained to him, by optical laws, all the luminous imagery by which we were surrounded and of which we need not allow ourselves to be the victims, like ordinary, ignorant people.

“We are in a room, a little room; that is what you must keep saying to yourself. And we shall leave the room as soon as we have found the door.”

And I promised him that, if he let me act, without disturbing me by shouting and walking up and down, I would discover the trick of the door in less than an hour’s time.

Then he lay flat on the floor, as one does in a wood, 

(This is the actions of a broken man. And I know that’s not how he’s lying but just let me have this...)

and declared that he would wait until I found the door of the forest, as there was nothing better to do! And he added that, from where he was, “the view was splendid!” The torture was working, in spite of all that I had said.

Myself, forgetting the forest, I tackled a glass panel and began to finger it in every direction, hunting for the weak point on which to press in order to turn the door in accordance with Erik’s system of pivots. This weak point might be a mere speck on the glass, no larger than a pea, under which the spring lay hidden. I hunted and hunted. I felt as high as my hands could reach. Erik was about the same height as myself and I thought that he would not have placed the spring higher than suited his stature.

While groping over the successive panels with the greatest care, I endeavored not to lose a minute, for I was feeling more and more overcome with the heat and we were literally roasting in that blazing forest.

I had been working like this for half an hour and had finished three panels, when, as ill-luck would have it, I turned round on hearing a muttered exclamation from the viscount.

“I am stifling,” he said. “All those mirrors are sending out an infernal heat! Do you think you will find that spring soon? If you are much longer about it, we shall be roasted alive!”

I was not sorry to hear him talk like this. He had not said a word of the forest and I hoped that my companion’s reason would hold out some time longer against the torture. But he added:

“What consoles me is that the monster has given Christine until eleven to-morrow evening. If we can’t get out of here and go to her assistance, at least we shall be dead before her! Then Erik’s mass can serve for all of us!”

And he gulped down a breath of hot air that nearly made him faint.

As I had not the same desperate reasons as M. le Vicomte for accepting death, I returned, after giving him a word of encouragement, to my panel, but I had made the mistake of taking a few steps while speaking and, in the tangle of the illusive forest, I was no longer able to find my panel for certain! I had to begin all over again, at random, feeling, fumbling, groping.

Now the fever laid hold of me in my turn . . . for I found nothing, absolutely nothing. In the next room, all was silence. We were quite lost in the forest, without an outlet, a compass, a guide or anything. Oh, I knew what awaited us if nobody came to our aid . . . or if I did not find the spring! But, look as I might, I found nothing but branches, beautiful branches that stood straight up before me, or spread gracefully over my head. But they gave no shade. And this was natural enough, as we were in an equatorial forest, with the sun right above our heads, an African forest.

M. de Chagny and I had repeatedly taken off our coats and put them on again, finding at one time that they made us feel still hotter and at another that they protected us against the heat. I was still making a moral resistance, but M. de Chagny seemed to me quite “gone.” He pretended that he had been walking in that forest for three days and nights, without stopping, looking for Christine Daae! From time to time, he thought he saw her behind the trunk of a tree, or gliding between the branches; and he called to her with words of supplication that brought the tears to my eyes. And then, at last:

“Oh, how thirsty I am!” he cried, in delirious accents.

I too was thirsty. My throat was on fire. And, yet, squatting on the floor, I went on hunting, hunting, hunting for the spring of the invisible door . . . especially as it was dangerous to remain in the forest as evening drew nigh. Already the shades of night were beginning to surround us. It had happened very quickly: night falls quickly in tropical countries . . . suddenly, with hardly any twilight.

Now night, in the forests of the equator, is always dangerous, particularly when, like ourselves, one has not the materials for a fire to keep off the beasts of prey. I did indeed try for a moment to break off the branches, which I would have lit with my dark lantern, but I knocked myself also against the mirrors and remembered, in time, that we had only images of branches to do with.

The heat did not go with the daylight; on the contrary, it was now still hotter under the blue rays of the moon. I urged the viscount to hold our weapons ready to fire and not to stray from camp, while I went on looking for my spring.

Suddenly, we heard a lion roaring a few yards away.

(Erik you utter ass Was it really necessary to do lion noises?! They are having enough trouble as is)

“Oh,” whispered the viscount, “he is quite close! . . . Don’t you see him? . . . There . . . through the trees . . . in that thicket! If he roars again, I will fire! . . . ”

And the roaring began again, louder than before. And the viscount fired, but I do not think that he hit the lion; only, he smashed a mirror, as I perceived the next morning, at daybreak. We must have covered a good distance during the night, for we suddenly found ourselves on the edge of the desert, an immense desert of sand, stones and rocks. It was really not worth while leaving the forest to come upon the desert. Tired out, I flung myself down beside the viscount, for I had had enough of looking for springs which I could not find.

I was quite surprised — and I said so to the viscount — that we had encountered no other dangerous animals during the night. Usually, after the lion came the leopard and sometimes the buzz of the tsetse fly. These were easily obtained effects; and I explained to M. de Chagny that Erik imitated the roar of a lion on a long tabour or timbrel, with an ass’s skin at one end. Over this skin he tied a string of catgut, which was fastened at the middle to another similar string passing through the whole length of the tabour. Erik had only to rub this string with a glove smeared with resin and, according to the manner in which he rubbed it, he imitated to perfection the voice of the lion or the leopard, or even the buzzing of the tsetse fly.

The idea that Erik was probably in the room beside us, working his trick, made me suddenly resolve to enter into a parley with him, for we must obviously give up all thought of taking him by surprise. And by this time he must be quite aware who were the occupants of his torture-chamber. I called him: “Erik! Erik!”

I shouted as loudly as I could across the desert, but there was no answer to my voice. All around us lay the silence and the bare immensity of that stony desert. What was to become of us in the midst of that awful solitude?

We were beginning literally to die of heat, hunger and thirst . . . of thirst especially. At last, I saw M. de Chagny raise himself on his elbow and point to a spot on the horizon. He had discovered an oasis!

(Lol this part)

Yes, far in the distance was an oasis . . . an oasis with limpid water, which reflected the iron trees! . . . Tush, it was the scene of the mirage . . . I recognized it at once . . . the worst of the three! . . . No one had been able to fight against it . . . no one . . . I did my utmost to keep my head AND NOT TO HOPE FOR WATER, because I knew that, if a man hoped for water, the water that reflected the iron tree, and if, after hoping for water, he struck against the mirror, then there was only one thing for him to do: to hang himself on the iron tree!

So I cried to M. de Chagny:

“It’s the mirage! . . . It’s the mirage! . . . Don’t believe in the water! . . . It’s another trick of the mirrors! . . . ”

Then he flatly told me to shut up, 

(Fine, burn your tongue you ungrateful child!)

with my tricks of the mirrors, my springs, my revolving doors and my palaces of illusions! He angrily declared that I must be either blind or mad to imagine that all that water flowing over there, among those splendid, numberless trees, was not real water! . . . And the desert was real! . . . And so was the forest! . . . And it was no use trying to take him in . . . he was an old, experienced traveler . . . he had been all over the place!

And he dragged himself along, saying: “Water! Water!”

And his mouth was open, as though he were drinking.

And my mouth was open too, as though I were drinking.

For we not only saw the water, but WE HEARD IT! . . . We heard it flow, we heard it ripple! . . . Do you understand that word “ripple?” . . . IT IS A SOUND WHICH YOU HEAR WITH YOUR TONGUE! . . . You put your tongue out of your mouth to listen to it better!

Lastly — and this was the most pitiless torture of all — we heard the rain and it was not raining! This was an infernal invention . . . Oh, I knew well enough how Erik obtained it! He filled with little stones a very long and narrow box, broken up inside with wooden and metal projections. The stones, in falling, struck against these projections and rebounded from one to another; and the result was a series of pattering sounds that exactly imitated a rainstorm.

Ah, you should have seen us putting out our tongues and dragging ourselves toward the rippling river-bank! Our eyes and ears were full of water, but our tongues were hard and dry as horn!

When we reached the mirror, M. de Chagny licked it . . . and I also licked the glass.

(*PFFFFT* This is my FAV part of the book btw (Followed closely by Crispy going YOU SHALL NOT PASS!))

It was burning hot!

Then we rolled on the floor with a hoarse cry of despair. M. de Chagny put the one pistol that was still loaded to his temple; and I stared at the Punjab lasso at the foot of the iron tree. I knew why the iron tree had returned, in this third change of scene! . . . The iron tree was waiting for me! . . .

But, as I stared at the Punjab lasso, I saw a thing that made me start so violently that M. de Chagny delayed his attempt at suicide. I took his arm. And then I caught the pistol from him . . . and then I dragged myself on my knees toward what I had seen.

I had discovered, near the Punjab lasso, in a groove in the floor, a black-headed nail of which I knew the use. At last I had discovered the spring! I felt the nail . . . I lifted a radiant face to M. de Chagny . . . The black-headed nail yielded to my pressure . . .

And then . . .

And then we saw not a door opened in the wall, but a cellar-flap released in the floor. Cool air came up to us from the black hole below. We stooped over that square of darkness as though over a limpid well. With our chins in the cool shade, we drank it in. And we bent lower and lower over the trap-door. What could there be in that cellar which opened before us? Water? Water to drink?

I thrust my arm into the darkness and came upon a stone and another stone . . . a staircase . . . a dark staircase leading into the cellar. The viscount wanted to fling himself down the hole; but I, fearing a new trick of the monster’s, stopped him, turned on my dark lantern and went down first.

The staircase was a winding one and led down into pitchy darkness. But oh, how deliciously cool were the darkness and the stairs? The lake could not be far away.

We soon reached the bottom. Our eyes were beginning to accustom themselves to the dark, to distinguish shapes around us . . . circular shapes . . . on which I turned the light of my lantern.

Barrels!

We were in Erik’s cellar: it was here that he must keep his wine and perhaps his drinking-water. I knew that Erik was a great lover of good wine. Ah, there was plenty to drink here!

M. de Chagny patted the round shapes and kept on saying:

“Barrels! Barrels! What a lot of barrels! . . . ”

(Precious babys)

Indeed, there was quite a number of them, symmetrically arranged in two rows, one on either side of us. They were small barrels and I thought that Erik must have selected them of that size to facilitate their carriage to the house on the lake.

We examined them successively, to see if one of them had not a funnel, showing that it had been tapped at some time or another. But all the barrels were hermetically closed.

Then, after half lifting one to make sure it was full, we went on our knees and, with the blade of a small knife which I carried, I prepared to stave in the bung-hole.

At that moment, I seemed to hear, coming from very far, a sort of monotonous chant which I knew well, from often hearing it in the streets of Paris:

“Barrels! . . . Barrels! . . . Any barrels to sell?”

My hand desisted from its work. M. de Chagny had also heard. He said:

“That’s funny! It sounds as if the barrel were singing!”

The song was renewed, farther away:

“Barrels! . . . Barrels! . . . Any barrels to sell? . . . ”

“Oh, I swear,” said the viscount, “that the tune dies away in the barrel! . . . ”

We stood up and went to look behind the barrel.

“It’s inside,” said M. de Chagny, “it’s inside!”

But we heard nothing there and were driven to accuse the bad condition of our senses. And we returned to the bung-hole. M. de Chagny put his two hands together underneath it and, with a last effort, I burst the bung.

“What’s this?” cried the viscount. “This isn’t water!”

The viscount put his two full hands close to my lantern . . . I stooped to look . . . and at once threw away the lantern with such violence that it broke and went out, leaving us in utter darkness.

What I had seen in M. de Chagny’s hands . . . was gun-powder!

🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨🧨

(DUN DUN DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Tag

@angelofmusicsuggestions

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@maladypond  

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[moan-zine]

THE MOAN ABC OF FILM |  Life Crisis

The Moan ABC of Film is a delicate selection of must see films curated by  our team.  We present  to you three films connected by a common thread, one topic that ties the bond between them.  

By Florencia Faraone / August 28th, 2019

THE ONE> GIRL, INTERRUPTED(1999, James Mangold) is a drama film based on Susanna Kaysen's 1993 memoir about her stay at a mental institution. In the screen we see a 18-year-old Susanna Kaysen who has a nervous breakdown, overdoses, and is checked into a psychiatric hospital, Claymoore. On the ward, she befriends Polly Clark(Elisabeth Moss ), a childlike schizophrenic; Georgina Tuskin, a pathological liar and Susanna’s roommate; and Daisy Randone (Brittany Murphy)), who self-harms and has obsessive–compulsive disorder. She is drawn to sociopath Lisa Rowe (Jolie), who is rebellious but charismatic and encourages Susanna to stop taking her medication and resist therapy, leading her to question her personality.

THE UNDERRATED> PROZAC NATION(2001, Erik Skjoldbjærg). It's American drama film starring Christina Ricci, Jessica Lange, Jason Biggs and Anne Heche. It is based on an autobiography of the same name by Elizabeth Wurtzel, which describes Wurtzel's experiences with atypical depression. Elizabeth is an enthusiastic writer who begins to fit in Harvard and its alumni, by participating in the Harvard Crimson mostly.Lizzie's article for college manages to catch Rolling Stone Magazine's attention in Lizzie's writing, early into the semester, Lizzie soon finds herself unable to write, stuck in a vicious cycle with substance abuse. The title is a reference to Prozac, the brand name of an antidepressant she was prescribed.

THE "Y" GENERATION ONE> PALO ALTO(2014, Gia Coppola) was the promising debut for director Gia Coppola. Palo Alto features solid performances and beautiful cinematography, making up for a rather drifted plot. The motion picture is tasteful in its imagistic flourishes, flirting with the surreal only at timely, pivotal moments in the characters' misadventures.

Moan ABC of Film es una delicada selección de películas curada por nuestro equipo. Te presentamos tres películas conectadas por un hilo común, un tema que une el vínculo entre ellas.

Life Crisis

THE ONE> GIRL, INTERRUPTED (1999, James Mangold) es una película dramática basada en las memorias de Susanna Kaysen de 1993 sobre su estancia en una institución mental. En la pantalla vemos a Winona Ryder como Susanna Kaysen, de 18 años, quien tiene un ataque de nervios, sobredosis y es ingresada en un hospital psiquiátrico, Claymoore. En la sala, se hace amiga de Polly Clark (Elisabeth Moss), una esquizofrénica infantil; Georgina Tuskin, una mentirosa patológica y compañera de cuarto de Susanna; y Daisy Randone (Brittany Murphy), que se autolesiona y tiene un trastorno obsesivo compulsivo. Ella se siente atraída por la sociópata Lisa Rowe (Jolie), que es rebelde pero carismática y alienta a Susanna a dejar de tomar sus medicamentos y resistir la terapia, lo que la lleva a cuestionar su personalidad.

LA “SUBESTIMADA”> NACIÓN DE PROZAC (2001, Erik Skjoldbjærg). Es una película dramática estadounidense protagonizada por Christina Ricci, Jessica Lange, Jason Biggs y Anne Heche. Se basa en una autobiografía del mismo nombre de Elizabeth Wurtzel, que describe las experiencias de Wurtzel con la depresión atípica. Elizabeth es una escritora entusiasta que comienza a encajar en Harvard y en su alumnado, participando principalmente en el medio institucional impreso llamado "Harvard Crimson". Lizzie comienza escribiendo un artículo/review para el Crimson sobre Lou Reed, y el mismo obtiene gran repercusión. El artículo de la universidad de Lizzie logra captar la atención de la revista Rolling Stone en la escritura de Lizzie y comienza a trabajar para ellos. Sin embargo, al principio del semestre, Lizzie pronto se encuentra incapaz de escribir , atrapada en un círculo vicioso con abuso de sustancias. El título es una referencia a Prozac, la marca de un antidepresivo que le recetaron.

THE "Y" GENERATION ONE> PALO ALTO (2014, Gia Coppola) fue el gran esperado debut de Gia Coppola. Palo Alto presenta actuaciones sólidas y una hermosa cinematografía, compensando una trama bastante desviada. La película es de buen gusto en su florecimiento imaginario, coqueteando con lo surrealista solo en los momentos oportunos y fundamentales en las desventuras de los personajes.

[paradife-loft]

a few more observations* from viewing no. 2 of Black Panther:

*(focused largely as you might expect on our favourite good Sir Villain Couch Resident, because it’s me)

it’s a brief detail just mentioned during the mini-biography session where Ross is introducing him, but, if I heard it right, Erik graduated college when he was 19?? HOT DAMN also I guess being a child genius runs in the family or something?

the parallels between T’Challa’s fights with M’Baku and then Erik later on! one of the things I really enjoy about this movie is how lots of things, from tech to character moments to worldbuilding details, are introduced early and then, when we come back to them later on with more significant stakes, they’re already familiar to us, rather than feeling like “wait what’s that where did that come from?” (i.e. GOOD FUCKING STORYTELLING) - and the two challenge fights are certainly an example of this structure. once T’Challa gets to his fight with Erik, we’re not initially omgterrified for him when it looks like he’s getting a little beat on, because he also had a rough patch in the middle of M’Baku’s fight earlier, but came out on top anyway - and that makes it even rougher to see him actually beaten for real by Erik. another parallel: the rhetorical points that Erik and M’Baku both make after they’ve kicked T’Challa around a bit. they both do a small speech routine along the lines of “is this your king? this is who is supposed to direct Wakanda’s future? this is who’s supposed to (and can’t) protect you?”

sub-point: I also really like how the substance of why M’Baku makes his challenge in the beginning serves to illuminate why he does end up changing his mind and bringing in the cavalry for the big fight at the end

how we see the evolution of T’Challa’s position on Wakandan isolationism through different pivots throughout the film. he and Nakia obviously start out on opposing sides, but then the first step we seem him take is deciding to bring Ross back for medical treatment. which has big implications of course, but in the immediate moment, it’s relatively “simple” as a choice, just, do we save this one person’s life or not? - which we then see become a more personally felt, principled conviction when he finds about T’Chaka abandoning Erik in the US, and especially the harm that caused him, as an individual. Nakia gets to see the effects of Wakanda’s choices up close in specific people’s lives to start out with through her job; whereas the events of the film basically serve to bring these same individual, personalized effects up close for T’Challa himself, not just the secondhand arguments Nakia would have made before.

the scene with Erik and N’Jobu in the ancestral plane :’( on first viewing I wasn’t quite sure what all Erik meant with the one line at the end about how the other Wakandans can’t find them because they are really the ones lost, I think because the metaphor seemed weird to me since the Wakandans weren’t actually looking for Erik and N’Jobu to bring them home? but during this viewing, how I read that line, I take it to mean actually about why their ancestral plane meeting wasn’t out in the field with the other past rulers like T’Chaka’s both were, but rather in a facsimile of their apartment in Oakland. not only are they cut off by virtue of Wakanda’s political policy, but they’re even distinct from the rest of their family in the spiritual realm, too :(

and one last detail, which I noticed the first time but which I like even better with a couple additional connections: the Wakandan royal ship, when seen from the top as far as its basic shapes go, distinctly resembles the same profile as the mask that Erik takes from the British museum. I initially just took this as another cool incorporation of African artistic traditions into the aesthetic of Wakandan tech, but considering the scene where we actually see Erik wear that mask, I think it’s not only providing that artistic connection, but also visually suggesting a bit about Erik’s relationship to Wakanda and the rest of his family. because when Erik puts that mask on, it’s for the scene where he busts into a building to commit violence against the people inside, and spirit one of them away for his own agenda.- which is also a rough description of what happened when T’Chaka arrived in Oakland in his royal ship, from a child!Erik’s point of view.

this is just such an excellent, detailed movie, oh my god.

[seductive-poetry-blog]

The 3 Stages Of Human Evolution

Evolution Stage 1: Existing

 "In the social jungle of human existence, there is no feeling of being alive without a sense of identity.”

Erik Erikson

 We all exist in some form first as a thought, “When I grow up I want to have kids.” At least one if not both of your parents had this thought then they grew up and procreated. Your second stage of existence is conception, when the sperm meets the egg. You are now a physical entity and depending on where you are conceived in this world you are even protected under law. You may not be a person in the traditional sense but you still exist.

 There are some of us that even after birth mentally, for some reason or another, don’t seem to shake this sense of just existing. We feel our existence is less valuable than our peers, we feel less than human. We are the Pace Cars of humanity, we never win or lose the race because we are never in it we just simply make the laps. We are alive in the most literal sense of the word, we breathe, eat, and sleep; we exist. We are alive, but have no feeling of being alive. Our lives are just a series of trained actions, we eat when hungry, we sleep when tired and we work to make money. We exist nothing more nothing less.

 We float through life without realizing what our true purpose really is. We know that we exist, but question why do we exist in the first place. What is our purpose? Where do we fit in the grand scheme of things? Do we fit in at all? It is at this pivotal moment that we do one of two things: either we stay here floating or we decide to change our course of thinking and proactively start doing things to carve ourselves a place amongst our peers. We start a course to find our sense of identity. We don’t just exist, and we don’t yet have a purpose, but we now exist to find said purpose and so we continue to evolve. It’s only when we decide to venture out of the bubble of existence, on hand and knee, do we truly start to change.

Evolution Stage 2: Crawling

 “Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much, but you have to crawl into your wounds to discover where your fears are. Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.”

Tori Amos

 Here you are, you exist, but now what? You are a living breathing organism that eats, sleeps, poops and CRIES. For months and months this is all you do until finally pull our knees up under us and hold our torso up with our arms and start to meander across the floor. We have accomplished a milestone, but with every new win comes the next stage and as we watch others walk we start to become unsure. We doubt we can do anything more than crawl. Then we start convincing ourselves that we don’t need to walk, that crawling is just fine and then we settle in that mindset.

 This mindset can severely hamper social interaction and in turn breed a host of issues such as self-esteem issues, self-worth issues as well as self-image issues. Maybe we should stay crawling? Maybe we’re not good enough to do more? It’s best just to stay here where it is comfortable. We keep on mentally meandering through life doing just enough to keep us afloat, treading water just off the shore.

 We crawl mentally long after we take our first steps as a child. We do just enough to get us through our daily lives. We do just enough to graduate high school even though we probably could’ve made Valedictorian. We learn just enough to land us a job that has potential to be a career, but we never take that opportunity to grow because we are unsure. We have all the potential, gain all the know-how, but without the confidence to throw ourselves out there, so we stay on the back burner, stay crawling and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing it may be crippling to those crawlers that yearn to pull themselves up on flat feet.

Evolution Stage 3: Standing

 “have a confidence about my life that comes from standing tall on my own two feet.”

Jane Fonda

We often take for granted this simple action that we have been doing since we first performed this trick as toddlers. Yet, the standing being referred to is that of the type we do when we back a belief we have or finally give the school bully a piece of our mind or a knuckle sandwich. This type of standing takes way more effort and is way more rewarding. We are slowly but surely standing, taller each day. We owe this impart to our own determination to not necessarily right the wrongs of our past but rather to prevent them from reoccurring in the first place. We all still have some ways to go and we should take it all on one day at a time.

 This type of standing takes a bit of self-control to hold and maintain. Some of us can do this with relative ease and for that they should be commend because for some it is hard to stand, but it’s getting easier by each passing day. Each day brings us closer to where and who we want to be. What used to seem virtually impossible now seems more obtainable.

 Standing after falling is even harder to do and that’s where We are at right now. We fell down pretty hard and it took time, patience and commitment, but here we are standing. We are doing everything within our power to prevent bad things from reoccurring. It’s hard and we are far from perfect, but it’s worth all the struggle. We are now standing tall with confidence and pride. With this new found pride we can now put one foot in front of the other and traverse towards our ultimate goal.

[gnosticgnoob]

Technocultures of Consciousness, Then and Now, with Erik Davis

Consciousness Hacking Meetup: San Francisco, November 2nd, 2016 Cosmic Domes, Getting High, Space Music, and Synchronistic Tech are a random sampling of the hundreds of topics Erik Davis has illuminated in his decades as the de facto voice of the wild world of Consciousness Hacking (before that term was even born).  Don't take our word for it — take a look at his domain-defining novel “Techgnosis," his online writings, and his ever-evolving podcast with guests such as Wired’s Kevin Kelley and CH's own Mikey Siegel.   Erik will examine the choices we face at this pivotal moment in the relationship between consciousness and technology. We’ll examine how heightened states of awareness informed early Buddhist and Christian culture, as well as the experimental psychology and "altered states" discourse of the 1970s. As we come to understand these experiences scientifically and build technologies to make them more accessible, we are steering our own evolution. This opportunity demands a historical perspective, both to ignite our imaginations and to prevent us from repeating the mistakes of the past. Bring an open mind and let Erik's eloquence expand your horizon! Erik Davis is an author, public speaker, and award-winning journalist based in San Francisco. His first book, "TechGnosis: Myth, Magic, and Mysticism in the Age of Information,” has been republished three times and translated into five languages. On his weekly podcast, "Expanding Mind" on the Progressive Radio Network, he explores the “cultures of consciousness.” His work has earned him a PhD in religious studies at Rice University, appearances in numerous documentaries, and has interviews with CNN, NPR, the New York Times, and the BBC. His most recent book is "Nomad Codes: Adventures in Modern Esoterica.”

[aion-rsa]

Vikings Season 6 Episode 20 Review: The Last Act

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This Vikings review contains spoilers.

Vikings Season 6 Episode 20

“I left when the sadness became too much.”

There’s a certain sadness that accompanies the moment we must say goodbye to the beloved characters of a television series that captivates so much of our emotional capital and also demands we examine our own spirituality and moral principles. Vikings has reached the end of its run, and while some may find the conclusion somewhat dissatisfying, the acknowledgement that the past must be left behind resonates powerfully not only throughout the series finale, but the entire back half of the season as well. 

Some fans of the series left after the death of Ragnar Lothbrok arguing that the writing suffered and the remaining characters lacked the ability to carry the narrative. I am not among them. As a reviewer, I tried to judge each episode on its merits within the context of the overall series, not against the historical accuracy it may or may not have achieved. That said, like many series’ finales, “The Last Act” brings with it a bittersweet close to the glimpse we’ve had into the gradual transformation of the Vikings during the latter stages of the first millennium. Nevertheless, Vikings creator and writer Michael Hirst leaves viewers with three story arcs that reach natural and compelling closures.

Even though viewers have much more investment in the exploits of the sons of Ragnar, the situation in Kattegat bears examination and a bit of praise. With Harald, Ivar, and Erik now dead, Queen Ingrid’s rise to power is now complete, and if the cries of “Long live the queen” are a true indicator of the people’s feelings towards their new leader, we can only speculate what changes lie ahead in Kattegat. We have no doubt that Gunnhild would have successfully led the village into the future, but the question we’re left with is whether the witch Ingrid not only deserves to wear the crown but possesses the wherewithal to carry out the duties the people deserve. Will she rule through fear or love? Have her experiences and those of her freed slave partner given them the insight and compassion to rule for the good of the people? I guess we’ll never know.

We don’t really need to go to the history books to know how the battle in Wessex is going to turn out, but this chapter of the Vikings saga is as much about the growth of King Alfred as it is about Ivar the Boneless and his brother Hvitserk. When Ivar requests a parley with Alfred and admits “we are still fighting like our fathers did,” there’s a brief moment when we think this might turn out differently than expected. Interestingly, before giving his answer to Ivar, Alfred looks to Elsewith as if he’s not certain how to respond. She’s made plain her feelings about her husband’s apparent weaknesses, and whether her steely stare buoys his spirits or not, his refusal reminds us that this is the man who eventually carries the label “the Great” along with his name. 

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A good portion of the episode is devoted to the battle with Alfred’s Saxon army, and while there’s nothing new here, Hirst, once again, delivers a solid action sequence that makes judicious use of slow motion and quick flashbacks that provide a call back to pivotal moments in the characters’ lives. However, it’s the moments of doubt both Alfred and Ivar struggle with that stand out as they question whether their god is truly with them in this life and death encounter. Ivar remembers the pain of Hvitserk’s desertion to Ubbe only to have his older brother jump ship at the last moment to stay with him in Kattegat. Though he fears the All Father has abandoned him here, we see he still holds out hope that the tide of the battle will change with Divine intervention.

The Lothbrok brothers have enjoyed a tenuous relationship, but as both sense death just around the corner, we’re given a moving exchange when Ivar tells Hvitserk to leave the battle and save himself. This simple gesture is likely the catalyst that propels Hvitserk onto his new path, but it also appears to give Ivar the strength to make his last stand. As he cries out “I will live forever,” it’s difficult to forget the similar ravings of Prince Oleg just before his death at the hands of his nephew. And even though we really don’t need the explanation, it’s a nice touch to have Hvitserk recount that “one day everyone will know of Ivar the Boneless.”

Entering this battle we are fairly certain King Harald doesn’t plan to return alive to Kattegat, and while Ivar’s death doesn’t come as a complete surprise, it’s narrative execution does. We see his leg and will give way several times during the battle, but it’s his final stand that’s a bit puzzling as he allows a young Saxon soldier free rein to kill him. “Don’t be afraid,” Ivar tells the man, but the complexity of this brief scene also includes Alfred who witnesses the event from mere yards away. Despite viewing the Vikings as savages, Alfred watches the tender scene as Hvitserk holds his dying brother in his arms. “Just leave me here with my brother for a moment,” he tells the now kneeling king, who is so moved by what he sees that he immediately crosses himself.  As the camera zooms out to an aerial shot looking down on the three men and Alfred’s burning cross, we can’t help but view this as the Christian God and the Norse gods looking down on these brave soldiers.

However, the larger twist to come out of the Wessex battle occurs when Hvitserk talks to Ivar’s grave and tells him to “enjoy Valhalla, brother, while it still exists.” While leaving the old ways behind has clearly been a central theme of the episode, this statement acknowledges that even their religious beliefs may need to be re-examined. We get our first hint that something’s afoot with Hvitserk when we see him brought to Wessex on a cart after his wounds have clearly been carefully dressed by Alfred’s surgeons. The flash forward to his decision to embrace Christianity and leave the Norse gods behind fits nicely with his father’s curiosity of faith. And how perfect that Alfred tells Hvitserk that from now on he’ll be known as “Athelstan, our brother in Christ.” The call back to Ragnar’s relationship with his Christian friend just works.

And while matters in Wessex and Kattegat get settled, at least for the time being, it’s Ubbe’s new world that holds the most promise moving forward and ends up as the most compelling aspect of the saga. We finally learn Floki’s fate, and while there were likely logistical reasons for Gustaf Skarsgård’s (Floki) absence during the last season, Hirst comes through with a perfectly acceptable explanation while at the same time giving Ubbe a hand in learning to live with the Native American tribe that welcomes them. However, it’s once again the tie-in to Ragnar that can’t be overlooked. “This is what he [Ragnar] was searching for,” and Ubbe understands that they cannot continue in the old ways. 

Nevertheless, when Naad asks about gold, we know where this is headed, and Ubbe’s response to the murder of the young tribe member is sure and unambiguous. What’s left to ponder is how the leader Pekitaulet (Carmen Moore) will react to this violent act. There seems to be no question the punishment will be swift and severe, but the initial choice of the Blood Eagle contradicts Ubbe’s desire to move forward rather than look to the past. Had he carried out the punishment, its savage brutality and cruelty may have had the opposite effect Ubbe intends. Fortunately, he changes tact and slits Naad’s throat instead, calling on the “eye for an eye” system of justice. It’s a wise decision.

With Ubbe and Torvi at the helm, it seems likely that the two groups will not only peacefully coexist but actually thrive as they openly share their collective knowledge. Still, it’s wise that Pekitaulet explains her stance in no uncertain terms. “When we said you were welcome to this place, we did not mean you were welcome to possess it.” Even so it’s what happens next that shows the untapped potential inherent in this land. So moved by her words, Torvi hugs Pekitaulet with such emotion that it’s clear, not only do the two women understand each other, they’re in total agreement. It’s a truly beautiful moment.

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We knew Vikings would eventually bring an end to its various story arcs, and has typically been the case, “The Last Act” seamlessly blends the three Viking tales into a coherent whole. Perhaps Floki’s advice to Ubbe says it best: “Let the past go.” And so we shall. 

The post Vikings Season 6 Episode 20 Review: The Last Act appeared first on Den of Geek.

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Support from Dell for Small Business: Uplifting Your People & Maximizing Resources

Erik Day from Dell spoke about small business technology at the Survive and Thrive Summit, hosted and produced by Ramon Ray of Smart Hustle Media. The first two Summits were held virtually in April and August 2020. The next one will be in the spring of 2021. Stay tuned!

Erik has been at Dell for 21 years, so he knows that technology plays a very important role in everything that’s happening in today’s world, including the pandemic. Dell is trying to focus on being able to ensure they are there for the small business community during this difficult time. Erik said he and his team, as well as other departments, have been working very long days — sometimes even weekends — but he feels blessed to be doing work that is supporting and helping people and their businesses.

If you're a small business owner, then you know first-hand how hard the pandemic has affected the small business niche. Read on to learn how Dell technology might be able to support you and your business as you shift to manage COVID-19.

From the Small Business Customer Standpoint 

Erik and his team want customers to feel that they can provide end-to-end solutions during this time, especially as customers might need things they hadn’t expected. He explained that some small businesses are very busy right now.

They need:

Technology for their teams to work from home

To keep up with growing demand

Need to be efficient in this new normal.

Dell has worked to get them what they need quickly, as the goal is to not have any downtime. 

For the businesses that are not thriving right now, Erik admits that it’s not always an easy conversation when trying to offer them technology since they have so many concerns right now, including how they will pay for any new or added tools. 

Small businesses that want to survive and thrive have had to turn themselves into digital masterpieces.

Advice on Pivoting in a Small Business

A lot of things are moving and changing quickly, so it’s no doubt frustrating and overwhelming for business owners to figure out the right moves for their individual business and team. 

Erik gave us some advice on where to shift:

Focus on yourself and your teams. Focus on keeping them safe, being mindful of how you talk to them and stay connected. Ensuring there is a human connection between team members and supervisors will keep the hard and stressful days a bit lighter. Always ask people how they are doing, and do your own assessment of how your team is doing. 

Customer communication. Conversations are different now and the focus has shifted from the best price to support options and financing. The price tag matters, but how you ensure the customer can afford the product is important too.

Offering leniency. If possible, create financing options for products and services. That way customers can have the technology they need without paying for it all upfront. 

Partnering with Microsoft

Dell has partnered with Microsoft to offer its business customers more tools and products to maintain efficiency, especially when working from home. Having the most up-to-date technology in your arsenal means everything can run smoothly, even when your team is remote. 

Microsoft Teams is truly about collaboration. Groups or teams can update presentations and documents virtually and see the changes in real-time. It’s basically like working together without having to be in the same physical space. And with working from home, security features are key right now. M365 packages have a very secure operating system to keep hackers away when your team working from home, and their personal networks might not be as secure as your offices. Overall, Microsoft and Dell have tools for budgeting, productivity and security.

Final Words of Advice

“Invest in your business even during hard times if you can,” Erik suggested. This isn’t to say that you should spend money you don’t have, but if possible, keep investing in the tools that will keep you ahead of the curve and prepared for the future. 

He also suggests making sure you can lean on people who can mentor you both professionally and also personally. Working from home means constant communication, all the time, but it’s not all critical in each moment, so try to just focus on the critical few. If the stress is too much or overwhelming, think about what you have accomplished instead and start your day with that in mind.

SmartHustle Podcast with Ramon Ray · Support from Dell for Small Business: Uplifting Your People & Maximizing Resources

Listen to more interviews from the Survive and Thrive Summit or from other top entrepreneurs.

Get more small business inspiration and insight from top entrepreneurs and experts on our podcast!

Listen to the Podcast

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