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mywingsareonwheels · 2 years ago

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Yet more thoughts about Thursday in “Endeavour” 9.3

Here be spoilers

I don’t - I really don’t want - to excuse Thursday’s worst behaviour in the final episode. Not, ultimately, do I think he would want any of us to.

But I do just want to talk a bit about the mitigating circumstances, because there are lots. He’s always been a glorious mixture of selflessness, stubbornness, compassion, anger, single-mindedness, generosity, open-mindedness, unreasonableness, vulnerability. And the times that have brought the most extreme side of him out are when a) he thinks that he’s going to die soon so has nothing let to lose, b) when child abuse has happened, c) above all, when one of the four people he loves most (his immediate family + Morse) are in danger.

In 9.3, we see Fred:-

- having a severe dizzy spell which clearly indicates potential serious heart problems; he shrugs it off to Morse but there’s no way he doesn’t recognise that he’s ill. He doesn’t look well, either, throughout the episode.

- having his life threatened.

- recognising that his sergeant for two years had been abused as a child and he’d had no idea.

- being forced to stop the investigation into Blenheim Vale and let down Jakes and the others because...

- his life, Joan’s life, and Morse’s life have all been directly threatened by Lott (who has outright attempted to kill his brother) and this time he can’t find any way to save them without giving in and getting Morse to give in, and in any case he’s so tired.

- discovering that his brother has profoundly betrayed him, and that the act of foolish generosity and trust that nearly cost him his marriage and certainly did cost him retirement when he mentally and physically needed it was a trap all along (NB: I suspect this might have temporarily damaged his ability to trust anyone, at all, including Morse).

- realising that Sam has become an addict and a dealer and is far gone enough to have been stealing from him and Win (and to punch him, though that comes later); realising too that the young man is in serious danger as a result.

All within a very, very short space of time. And when he’s already exhausted, ill, burned out, absolutely past ready to retire and rest.

And then he sees a stranger, a gang member, trying to kill his son. And he is not to know - not in the least - that the stranger was a past victim of child abuse whose friendship once gave comfort to the young Peter Jakes.

I just... Thursday’s not perfect, and he’s never been perfect, and we see some of the worst of him here. Morse’s heartbreak over the murder is profound and desperately sad and completely relatable.

But it’s not an unforced error. I think Morse is more than halfway to forgiving him before they part, and I find that relatable too. Not least because Thursday’s reaction to being given the money back is that shocked sob. He’d utterly lost his faith in people, and here is Morse doing everything to restore it. I can keep going on about the symbolism of him giving up his service revolver to the truest friend (the true brother now, perhaps, rather than the true eldest son?) he’s ever had. He knows what he’s losing in Morse. He knows the sheer epic quantity of grace Morse is extending him. And I think he sees, in that moment, that he can use that grace to become closer to the man Morse wants him to be, even with them parted for good.

I think we’ve all had the moment (several, most likely) of being under extreme stress and obsessing about helping one person we love, at the cost of our own integrity, and the cost of pain to other loved ones. And then that moment when you realise what you’ve done.

I hate that Thursday commits a murder. I hate that he tries to justify himself. But holy crap, is it hard to entirely blame him for that murder, or that self-justification, at that time.

He’s not perfect, but he’s also not remotely a villain. He’s a mostly decent, mostly warm and compassionate, flawed, big-hearted, highly traumatised man who needs a fricking break and instead gets... all that. His love for Morse is real, and the times (oh Gods, the so many times) he’s saved Morse aren’t taken away by the events of one episode, even if those events end their active relationship. Endeavour has always been a show I think that encourages us to crack our hearts open that bit wider. To have compassion for a murderous gang member because we know something of what he went through as a kid, and what his friendship meant to another character we love. To have a compassion for the gang member’s murderer because we know exactly what kind of man he is, and what kind of horrors he was going through.

Gah, this show. Never runs out of layers.

Also I say again: someone give Roger Allam an award for his performance as Fred, it’s truly, truly extraordinary.

#itv endeavour #fred thursday #endeavour s9 #endeavour spoilers

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variousqueerthings · 2 years ago

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Some Margaret in s1

as described by Hawkeye in Dear Dad -- apt, but also a strong indicator of how little he respects her, even while sort of acknowledging where she’s coming from:

Margaret in Sticky Wicket putting aside their animosity for the good of the patient and Hawkeye initially not having it/letting his stress affect his treatment of her:

And then later on he does go to her immediately to open up the patient again, after which we get this lovely exchange:

And the exchange - “You know something Major?” - “What?” - “You’re beautiful when you sweat” - which is different to a lot of the non-consensual objectification/flirting, in that 1. he calls her “Major,” for once respecting her wishes/personhood, and 2. they’re both on the same page about what they just went through/relieved/wanting a good joke

(also Margaret when she’s smiling -- even behind a mask -- is just !!!!!!)

The episode after this (Major Fred C Dobbs) is when Hawkeye and Trapper acknowledge that they’ve “gone too far” in humiliating her by letting the recording of Frank saying goodbye to her go out over the whole camp. She’s kind of incredibly forgiving in that episode, even urging Frank to accept their apologies at the end, feel like there ought to be a missing scene done there where she gets her own back, because she really deserves it!

And then this shot in Showtime, when Trapper’s patient seemingly won’t come through, in which Margaret is as included and invested in the proceedings as the others:

Obviously a lot of s1 Margaret is in support of Frank/upset about being an affair or as a joke about promiscuity or a stand-in for “the army as overly obsessive about arbitrary rules,” but there’s a lot of depth to her already and there is within what I just mentioned too. After all some of the best later Margaret episodes have to do with deconstructing her relationships with men -- including men with power over her, like Generals, and of course respecting that her history has always been in relation to the army in some way, that’s where she’s been able to find some self-worth despite it all

But she also gets to be shown as a competent, highly professional nurse who cares about patients, and -- when she’s allowed in on it -- enjoys a good joke (the problem is that most of the jokes are at her expense). Sticky Wicket is one of my favourite episodes mainly because of the glimpse we get of what she’ll become (although I’m also a sucker for a sad-Hawkeye-is-being-obsessive/mentally-ill-about-things)

#margaret houlihan #im rewatching MASH #MASH season 1 #MASH #im gonna try and be specific about seasons im writing about unless it's a cross-seasons type thing #MASH meta

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johns-prince · 4 years ago

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Let's play the speculation game and say McLennon was real. Going with the common idea that Paul dumped John in India, wasn't the "let's all be friends, write together and go on double dates with our wives" angle Paul seemed to hope for completely delusional? Why would someone with John's issues stick around and celebrate Paul's happiness with someone else after being downgraded?

I have great respect for Paul's decision of not being John's nanny/handler for the rest of his life. But I've always been annoyed by his inability to let the man go for good. Paul, you've made your choice, my friend. Enough with the sad songs about not being called back or turning up on John's doorstep with a guitar when the he was spending time with his own family. People hate that but some things in the world really are black or white. You can't have it both ways.

Why speculate when we know it was and is real

Alright so, let me try to unpack my thoughts cohesively get ya tinfoil hats on y’all;

If we go with the theory that during 1967, when Paul and John were practically living together and conjoined at the hip, taking LSD together and sharing those intense and intimate experiences that even Pau’s girlfriend Jane had become envious of— John had come to the realization of what he wanted, finally acknowledged it and came to accept it.

So in India, John tried to confront Paul about their relationship and their “relationship,” and openly admit to Paul that he wanted more, that he was now willing to leave Cynthia and Julian for a life he truly wanted or desired, and that included Paul (but to what extent is what we debate I guess)

And now that I’m thinking about it, we also know John was sort of beginning to spiral downward in 1968. It was obvious his marriage with Cynthia was at it’s end, and he didn’t want to work on it anymore. He was surrounding himself more with druggies, an unsavory crowd that Cynthia really didn’t approve of (Yoko was part of this crowd) and he was actively pulling away.

I think John was realizing that, he just wasn’t happy. That, putting everything he had into becoming one of the most successful musicians in the world, to become bigger then Elvis Presley, didn’t make him happy. It didn’t fix what needed fixing in him, what needed addressing. He was still drowning despite it all.

So you’ve got the trip to India, the boys going in hopes that perhaps the Maharishi Mahesh Yog and his spiritual teachings would somehow give a new perspective on things, produce the answer that would save the band (save John and Paul) from what appeared to be an inevitable downfall. But as we know, that isn’t what was needed.

John and Paul needed to talk. The lack of consistent communication between them for years and years, and the fact John needed a therapist, he needed rehab. So did Paul, during the White Album era.

I don’t believe Paul dumped John, but I do think John could have easily misconstrued Paul taking a step back and not willing to just go blindly, impulsively jumping off a theoretical cliff with him, as being rejected. We know Paul had to sort of take the position of ‘think before you leap’, to be more conscious of the actions and decisions he and the others decide to take, and how it would effect them as individuals, and especially them as a band (because frankly the others wouldn’t) and we know that John could be incredibly impulsive, only thought of the consequences after the fact. That, and who’s to say such a proposition and confrontation from John hadn’t scared Paul? Got him feeling those insecurities of his own crawling up.

Paul wanted a traditional family, he wanted to have a wife and children. But Paul also wanted John, he wanted and loved Lennon-McCartney, and he didn’t think (or he’d hoped) him getting married and having a family would really change anything between them (because John got married and had a kid and they were still able to do go and do whatever they wanted together, so what was the difference—) that he could still keep what he had with John, that they could still stay together after The Beatles split. Get around to writing that musical, and grow old together still writing and making music, still creating together.

How I see it, is that Paul wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

Paul, being fine with keeping the status quo between them, it was safe and enough (right?), but John vehemently wasn’t fine with it anymore, and it wasn’t enough for him. Nothing was enough for him, as we know; John was a very all-or-nothing individual, and expected complete devotion and love from someone, because receiving less felt like rejection and abandonment was only around the corner. This way of feeling and thinking for John was only exasperated by the drugs, his alcoholism, and his spiraling mental health.

Paul could have tried compromising with John, and John still could have taken that as a complete rejection of his feelings and what he wanted, and what he had hoped and thought Paul also wanted.

I believe Paul probably didn’t even know himself what he had done wrong, or that he did anything wrong. I don’t think Paul believed he was downgrading John to anything either.

If only they had talked.

Then they returned from India, and the rest as we know it...

“To me, a summary is something like: “gifted, disturbed boy with tremendous amount of drive to outrun a bad childhood discovers love for music and creative soulmate(s) and gives everything he has to become the most famous musician in the world, hoping it will make him happy. He does, but it doesn’t, and people who don’t have his best interests separate him from his friends, his creation and creative spark, and ultimately himself. He’s too screwed up by addiction, mental illness, and unaddressed traumas to change things, so he retreats further into addiction and mental illness, wishing he could somehow regain his lost spark. He makes a few halfway steps toward doing so, but they’re not enough, and ultimately he is killed in front of his apartment building where, 24 hours later, his wife installs the man she had been sleeping with behind his back.”"

— Michael Bleicher, The Artist as a Dissipated Man: Fred Seaman’s “The Last Days of John Lennon.”

Right, so both John and Paul made their choices in life. Some choices and decisions that we as fans and outside observers might never be able to understand, or agree with.

But who’s to say Paul (and John), couldn’t, didn’t, or don’t regret those choices and decisions?

I get what you’re saying, I understand. Why can’t Paul move on? He made his choices, why is it 40, 50 years later, that Paul can’t just let John go? Let sleeping dogs lie, all that.

Because Paul loved John, still loves John, to this day.

Because, clearly Paul has some regrets. He regrets how things were handled during the Divorce. He regrets not hugging John enough. He regrets not telling John, when he had the chance and time, that he loved him (and without the help of alcohol) When you love someone so deeply, and suddenly, without warning, they’re taken from you and the world, you regret a lot, and you miss what could have been, the ‘What if’s.’

Paul said that what he and John were, were soulmates. I don’t know how it feels to lose a soulmate. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to know how it feels to get the opportunity to love and be around them.

How awful do you think it is to meet your soulmate, but you cannot freely love them? Can’t just, be, with them? Not in just one way, bestmates, legendary partners, but, as everything that the word Soulmate brings along and includes with it?

That God decided to have them be of the same sex, during a time where it was illegal to love and be with someone of the same sex, and could even be a potential death sentence to be assumed or thought of as a ‘queer.’

So, you take whatever you can with them.

Then that isn’t enough. One grows restless, desperate for more. It can’t happen, not realistically, not without consequences of varying degrees.

Strain, miscommunication to none. They communicate through a musical, artistic language which just isn’t enough. Drugs, alcohol, mental illness and emotional turmoil, it’s all too much. It breaks. Soulmates are still flawed human beings.

You have people who work to purposefully pin them against each other. Parasites and piggybackers.

A nasty divorce and breakup between two lovers that never were.

And then, after ten years, it’s happening. You two are talking again, things are tense and awkward still sometimes, but something’s changed. You’ve planned on reuniting, couldn’t do it this year, because the studio you wanted was booked. So you plan for after the New Year.

Then, your soulmate is killed. Just, taken away from you, like nothing. Violently and suddenly. And all the possibilities... The time... Gone. Ripped away from both of you.

I can’t blame Paul for not letting go. I can’t say I’d ever be able to understand the sort of pain and heartbreak he experienced. He still goes through it! It’s still there. He’s just learned how to manage it a bit better.

I’d say it’s more pathetic then it is annoying— and I don’t mean it in a way to insult Paul. I really don’t. Because John was just as pathetic when it came to his obvious obsession, desire, and love for Paul, too.

Love, that kind of soul-deep love, it can make you pathetic and hopeless. And it’s not something you can just... let go for good.

Wanting, or expecting Paul to let go of John for good... Firstly would be impossible, and secondly, how do you let go of a soulmate? John is a part of Paul, whether some like it or not. Can’t really have one without the other.

Can’t have Lennon without McCartney, and vice-or-versa. Forever intertwined, are they.

#questionsquestionsquestions #mclennon #beatles discussion/discourse #I think all I did was ramble again I'm sorry #this isn't even that good

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spectrumed · 3 years ago

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4. body

Do I have body issues? Well... yeah. Who doesn’t? I absolutely do not like being fat, that’s something I’d change about me. And I probably should bulk up a little, go to the gym. My diet isn’t terrible, I don’t eat any fast food, but I could still always eat healthier. More greens, less beans. But most of all, my biggest body issue is that I don’t really associate myself with my body. My mind feels disconnected from my body. The day scientists invent a way for us all to live as brains in jars on wheels, I’m there standing in line for a chance to become all cerebral. Being physical, it’s just so messy, so awkward, so uncomfortable. You feel pain, you feel embarrassment, you feel horny. Nothing good comes from having a body. If you were just a brain, you could go on thinking and calculating and just generally having a good mental time. Or you’d start feeling suffocated and trapped trying to move your limbs and realising that they have been all chopped off. Hmm… Maybe it’s more complicated than I initially thought.

I don’t understand people who enjoy physical activities. Let it be clear before we delve into this long rant of mine complaining about all things gymnastic, this is not particularly an autistic trait. In fact, there are plenty of autistic people who may excel as athletes, their drive and obsessive personality traits becoming quite useful in developing that discipline that is required to fully commit to becoming an all-star jock. Not all autistic people are reprehensible nerds. Some autistic people are actually quite sexy. Some even have abs. But that’s not me. That’s not my clan of autistic people. I like drawing maps. I like thinking about things. I like making cocktails. The only part of my physical body that I like to put strain on is my liver. Don’t make me go on a run. There isn’t an armchair in this world that I wouldn’t want to sit down in, even the ones that used to be owned by old chain-smokers that have that awful aroma that sneaks into your nostrils and makes you worry about second-hand lung cancer. Sitting is great. I like sitting. Also lying down. Lying down is good.

Am I lazy? No, I don’t think so. Maybe a little, but here’s the thing. I can’t control the things I obsess over. There’s a great deal of overlap between autism spectrum disorder and attention deficit disorder. If you’re reading this and you’re a fellow friend on the spectrum, you may have gotten diagnosed with both. One of those rare times in my life I have attended group therapy, more than half the group were diagnosed with both. I, however, am not. But seeing as the two conditions are so intertwined, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a facet of autism involves difficulties in trying to focus on something, or even trying not to focus on something too hard. If you were to judge my tenacity, my ability to keep going, based solely on how I perform during physical tasks, you’d think I was the least resolute person on the planet. But then you’ll find me, some time later, staying up until four in the morning drawing another map. A map that’s really just a different take on another map that I drew earlier, that itself was a reworked version of a previous map that I drew but didn’t like, that actually began as a second iteration of one map I drew that was actually wholly different, that was based on a map of Europe but if Denmark never existed. How many maps have you drawn Fred? Why don’t you go mind your own business, you nosy ferret.

The DSM-5 (the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. You can think of it as something akin to a bible of psychology, which is definitely an inflammatory way to refer to it, but I’m gonna go with it! Because I’m a wildcard, and that’s just how I roll,) includes this section as part of its diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder.

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

Now, I personally don’t relate to that at all. There’s nothing abnormal in my intense love for maps. The fact that maps aren’t as widely cherished as they ought to be is a fault of others, and I refuse to acknowledge that this may be a part of my character that could be perceived as quirky, or out of the ordinary. But, still, for the sake of argument, let’s presume that I can get, at times, excessively circumscribed. I’d like to say that I’ve only ever engaged in excessive circumscribing in my privacy away from onlookers, but I am afraid that I may have allowed some of my excessive circumscribing to happen in public. I definitely do apologise for that. I will try to do better in the future. But you never know when you’re about to experience some excessive circumscribing. The best you can do is keep it limited.

I don’t know how neurotypicals work. So, you don’t feel these kinds of obsessions? These moments of intense focus? These fixations? Then, you lack passion? Are you heartless? Soulless? Or are you just weak? Are you too feeble to hold steadfast working on a project all night long? To lose touch with your sense of hunger, your need for sleep, and all contact with any other human person? My fixations may come across as strange, but to me, your lack of fixations come across as bizarre. The world is endlessly fascinating. Have you never felt that compulsion to just fully immerse yourself in a topic that allows you to forget about your physical body for just that moment in time? The body cannot hold me. I wish to absorb as much information as I can. If I could astral project, by gods, I would astral project. To decouple your consciousness from your mushy brain for just that little bit, to go soaring across the landscapes, to explore the cosmos, just free of all things corporeal, that would be swell. How terrible isn’t it, when you’re deep in research, learning all about the mystical religious practices of the long-dead hierophants of the ancient world, to be drawn back into the present by the sudden need to urinate? There is something so dreadfully mundane about possessing a human body. If only we could all be celestial beings allowed to just be without the biological needs associated with having flesh and blood and bone and bladders.

I am not religious, nor am I spiritual. I do not believe that there is an immaterial world that lies above the material. I do not believe there is an astral plane. I think that one of the terrifying things about living is knowing that we do not possess such a thing as an eternal soul, that all things are temporal, and that ultimately, we have to come to terms with that. It’s not so terrible. In some ways, the temporal nature of life can be its biggest blessing. All things must pass. Sure, that does include the good times, like that vacation you spent as a child wishing that it would never end. But it also includes the bad times. The heartbreak you feel from a failed relationship. The grief you feel after the passing of a parent. The depression some of us are burdened with. Some days are worse than others. But they too will pass. One of the remarkable things about the human body is its ability to bounce back from injury. To change and evolve in ways we sometimes find unthinkable. The brain, likewise, is transformational, capable of incredible developments. We’re not fixed in stone. We’re not eternal. Which is a good thing. It is what allows recuperation and progress. I should be thankful to my body for being there, even when I’m not. After all, isn’t your body your temple?

I am able-bodied. Am I disabled? There’s naturally a lot of questions that surround how we ought to understand mental illness or neurodiversity in regards to disability. Does autism spectrum disorder count as a disability? Well, yes, it can be considered a learning disability. It is certainly something of a handicap, you are experiencing struggles that most people don’t experience. But to your average layperson, your typical dullard who spends their time watching reality TV, drinking beer, and being happy, what counts as a disability to them? Would they see me and think I was disabled? I’m not in a wheelchair. I don’t walk with a cane. Though I will occasionally “stim,” make small repetitive moments with my hands or legs, I do not exhibit any kind of physical symptoms. If I told them that I was disabled, they’d scoff and tell me that I’m just making it up for attention. They’d say I’m probably just trying to mooch off the government, scoring welfare checks while doing nothing to contribute to society. I’ve got all my limbs. I am not sickly. I am actually quite strong, due to being a big and tall man, I am able to carry quite the load. So, I have no reason to not be a fully productive member of society, right? And yet, here I am, feeling at most times utterly perplexed by anything physical. Probably because I am just lazy, right?

I don’t think laziness is a thing. What is laziness supposed to actually be? Tiredness? If a person is perpetually tired, then they’ve likely got a sleep disorder. To call them lazy would be callous. There are plenty of overworked people that get called lazy, especially by tyrannical overseers who think of their charges as mere workhorses whose only purpose in life is to toil away in the factory until the day they die. Intolerable parents who see their terminally sullen child and instead of wondering what is making them so upset decide to deride them for their lack of ambition. Are you lazy when you are procrastinating? No you are just being a tad irresponsible, maybe, deciding to skip out on chores in order to play video games or masturbate. But you’re not just doing nothing. People generally don’t enjoy doing nothing. We need something to occupy ourselves, to fill that vacuum we all feel whenever we’re just sitting still. I am someone who appears to be comfortable just sitting still, but that’s because I’ve learned, since a very young age, to entertain myself with my own thoughts. To fantasise, to daydream, to do anything I can to escape from the void that is doing absolutely nothing. Boredom, that’s terrible. Boredom is existential dread. Of all the motivations that drive humans, love, spite, jealousy, or pride, I think the need to evade boredom is one of the most prevalent. Humans would rather experience electric shocks than sit alone in a room being bored.

I am not lazy, I am merely… excessively circumscribed. For as much as this may be a specific diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder, I think it is also a common trait amongst all humans. There will always be within us a pull to do something other than the thing that we’re really supposed to be doing, that does not make us lazy, that just makes us terrified of boredom. Sure, you know that you’re supposed to mow the lawn, but that's just so dreadfully tedious, you just would rather be working on perfecting your new stand-up comedy routine. Thinking up jokes to tell on stage is so much more stimulating than cutting grass. And who cares if your lawn grows a little wild? Lawns are a scam, imposed by fascists to make us think grass in its natural state is ugly. All grass is beautiful, whether it is cut short or it is allowed to grow long. Do the thing that fulfils you. Allow yourself to become immersed in passion, to forget about those things that hold you back, the little silly things we’ve convinced ourselves is important. Stay up late, if you wish. You’re gonna kill it on open mic night, bud!

Yes, it is a problem when your obsessions grow so singular that you forget to feed yourself. When you forget personal hygiene, when you become trapped in your own apartment looking like some feral rodent caught in a cage. Like always, the key is moderation, and I know that from time to time, you may have to entertain a boring task or two. Clean your room, brush your teeth, trim your pubic hair, try to give an impression that you are taking care of yourself. If for anyone, do it for your mother. She will be happy seeing you looking like a civilised individual, wearing clean clothes and not looking malnourished. But don’t ever chastise yourself for being lazy. Laziness is a sin that we’re all guilty of, and if we’re all guilty of it, is it really a sin? Or is it just part of what it means to be a human? To be a messy creature made out of flesh and blood and bone and the occasional bladder. In the end, I’m more happy than displeased at having a body. It’d be much harder to type on a keyboard if I didn’t have fingers.

Still, I wish I wasn’t fat.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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be11atrixthestrange · 4 years ago

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Step 5: Establishing a Relationship

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Establishing a Relationship

Now that your relationship has begun, you must learn how to truly become a partner. Establishing and maintaining the relationship will require constant work, as both parties will change and evolve through life. However, committing to a growth mindset and learning how to compromise will make the relationship extremely rewarding.

_____________________________

There was a scratching at their bedroom door. Ron looked up from the fifth chapter, Establishing a Relationship, to see an orange paw gently prodding the door open. Crookshanks bounced across the room and hopped into the bed, assertively nudging Ron's hand away from the book.

Five years ago, Ron probably would have pushed the cat off of the bed. Heck, if Hermione was awake right now, he would have done the same. Instead, with a sideways glance beside him to make sure Hermione was soundly sleeping, he moved the book off of his lap so Crookshanks could curl up there instead.

The purring cat melted into Ron's hand as he scratched him behind his ears. "Hey, buddy," said Ron affectionately, as Crookshanks began kneading his shirt with his claws. He rubbed his face against Ron's hand, and Ron moved down the cat's spine, until he stuck his rump straight up in the hair. Cats are weird, he thought.

It had become their little routine. Every time Hermione fell asleep before him, Crookshanks would find his way to Ron to soak up every ounce of affection Ron would give. In the early days of their relationship, Crookshanks didn't want anything to do with him, hissing and swatting when Ron became the focus of Hermione's attention, his competition. When Ron was alone with the cat, or Hermione was asleep, limiting the cat's affection options, Crookshanks slowly warmed up, allowing Ron to pet him for a few minutes at a time. Over time, they had become best friends by night, but played each other's enemy by day. Ron hated to admit how much the creature had grown on him since third year.

Reluctantly becoming a cat dad wasn't the only indicator of their status as boyfriend and girlfriend. Eventually, introducing Hermione as his girlfriend stopped feeling awkward, and he no longer felt the need to casually mention her at work parties, simply so he could practice using the new term. He knew the shift had been made when Hermione received a wedding invitation addressed to both of them by name, rather than the former "Hermione Granger and Guest", and when his mom knit them matching Christmas jumpers one year.

There were simple things he had mastered by becoming involved with a Muggle-born witch. Learning to order food with the telephone, and to pay for it with the correct amount of muggle money was a larger project that he had anticipated- a project fit for a boyfriend-, and nowadays he insisted they order out at least twice a week, because using the phone was so much fun. Although he thought her obsession with true crime shows was mental, he learned how to record them on their television, and he now understood how to navigate the train system that connected their flat with the airport, so he could pick up Hermione's parents when they flew into London for holiday visits.

There were more complicated things too. When he became adept at using the internet and researched the symptoms of a panic attack, he learned that he was supposed to stay calm and promised himself he'd never raise his voice in fear if it ever happened again, and even though he knew it hurt her, she understood that he would never want to celebrate their anniversary because it fell on the same day that Fred died. He learned that they would occasionally screw up, and say the wrong thing, and that sometimes being Ron and Hermione meant that they wouldn't always feel like best friends. But most importantly, he learned that he couldn't push her away during difficult times, especially if he ever expected her to lean on him in return.

******

The morning after the battle, Ron and Hermione, along with Harry and the rest of the Weasleys went back to the Burrow. Even though there were more people than usual at home, the old house still felt unsettlingly empty. At first the only one who reacted to Ron and Hermione's new relationship was Crookshanks, who suddenly had to compete with another man for affection. Otherwise, they did their best not to draw attention to their new status, and Hermione seemed to fade into the background with Harry, while they tried to make themselves helpful guests so the family could grieve and make preparations for the funeral. So as thrilling as it could have been, becoming Ron and Hermione happened at a bad time to assure a smooth transition. Unfortunately, there was no chapter in 12 Fail Safe Ways To Charm Witches about navigating a new relationship while mourning your dead brother.

He didn't feel charming at Fred's funeral, when he sobbed into Hermione's arms, dripping tears and Merlin knows what else into her hair. He had hardly spoken to her or touched her in days. When they managed to find some solitude in his attic bedroom, and he tried to get lost in kissing her, he often became overwhelmed with guilt. He didn't feel charming when he pushed her away, turning his back to her so she didn't see him crying mid-snog, because all he could think about was how his brother would never get to kiss a girl again. He avoided her every time he felt like he was going to cry, because Hermione would try to make him feel better with a hug, and she deserved someone who didn't respond to her touch with anger, grief, and tears. He couldn't avoid her seeing him cry at Fred's funeral, so he sobbed violently against her as she stroked his back, and tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his head that told him he was asking too much from her.

After the ceremony he sat on the dock by the pond, because he couldn't bother to hear anyone's condolences again. She found him there, and nestled up against him, dangling her feet into the water, and didn't say anything. Then he cried again, because she didn't say anything, and that was exactly what he needed.

He never returned to the house that night. He stayed on the dock, Hermione brought him a plate of food, and they ate in silence. The sun set, and she reached into her bag, and pulled out the bottle of firewhiskey that she'd smuggled from the alcohol cabinet in the living room.

He raised his eyebrows when she unscrewed the cap, and took a long sip. She winced as it went down, then handed the bottle to Ron, who did the same. They passed it back and forth wordlessly, until it was dark, and the world was blurry, and his eyes were tapped out of tears. Then he finally talked. Without inhibitions, he told her how guilty he had felt being with her that whole week. He said he'd give anything to go back to the day before Fred died, even though it was before Voldemort was killed, and before they had even kissed. He told her he wasn't sure if he'd ever truly feel happy or complete again. She cried with him, and he was grateful he had someone who was willing to share in his burden. She cast a cushioning charm on the dock, and pulled blankets out of her bag, and they settled into a comfortable embrace before Ron drifted off to sleep, thinking that if he was doomed to a life of unhappiness, at least it would be with Hermione.

He woke the next morning to the blinding sun, a raging headache, and Hermione in his arms. She was awake, and she smiled gently at him when he turned to her.

"Morning," she said softly.

"Morning," he grumbled back. He attempted a smile but it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Do you feel ill?" she asked.

Ron nodded.

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial. "This might help."

He uncorked the vial and dumped the pepper up potion into his mouth. It helped immediately. He looked back at Hermione who grinned again, before lovingly tucking his hair behind his ear, the same way he did to her.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He couldn't help himself asking the question, as he'd been ignoring her, shutting her out for days.

She looked momentarily hurt. "Because I'm your girlfriend," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Aren't I?"

He felt stinging tears and he tugged her close. "Of course you are." She hugged him back, the tears spilled from his eyes, and they felt like Ron and Hermione again. He allowed himself both to cry with her and kiss her, because maybe he could grieve and love at the same time.

No one came looking for them that morning, and for that Ron was thankful. Something about the closure of the funeral, and echo of the word Hermione had used to describe herself, girlfriend, made today feel like the start of a new chapter.

"When are we going to Australia? To find your parents?" he asked her, to be met with a smile and an embrace that he returned with genuine enthusiasm.

******

They took a portkey to Melbourne less than a fortnight later. As a token of thanks for all they'd done to end the war, and his promise of a pardon for any illegal magic performed defensively, Kingsley had arranged for a team of Australian Aurors to help locate her parents. They had done so rather quickly, as there weren't too many recent British expats practicing dentistry in Victoria. Nearly as soon as they arrived, they were given a folder containing the address of their home and dental practice. After renting a hotel room near their St. Kilda residence, the only thing left to do was reverse the memory spell. Ron assumed it would happen the next day, but it didn't.

He was surprised, yet somewhat pleased, at her suggestion to explore the city first. They'd never traveled together for fun so he wasn't going to turn down an opportunity to eat kangaroo burgers by the beach or take a romantic stroll through the botanic gardens. It was actually quite nice to practice acting like a couple in a different country, where no one knew who they were, what they've done, or that they weren't together just a few weeks ago. He could hold her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, or pull her in for a kiss on the pier without worrying about a wolf-whistle from a brother, or worse, a talk about safety from his dad. They spent an entire week ignoring their agenda, and Ron started to wonder if she was avoiding the task ahead. He knew she was when she suggested they ride the wooden death trap that muggles called roller coasters at Luna Park.

"What if, instead of that," said Ron, gesturing toward the roller coaster with his rapidly melting ice cream cone, "We go find your parents."

Hermione continued to stare straight ahead from their place on the bench. She shook her head.

"What's going on, Hermione."

"What do you mean?" she asked unconvincingly.

"The museums, the restaurants, the dates," he attempted in a casual tone, as he took another slurp of his ice cream. "I'm having a great time, don't get me wrong. But you know we'll eventually have to see them."

He looked over at her, but she was still staring blankly ahead, He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to react. To say something.

"We can't avoid it forever, you know."

After a few moments of tense silence, her breathing became shallower, her face deepened in color, and the ice cream cone fell from her hand and landed in a splat on the concrete between them.

"Hermione, are you ok?" asked Ron.

She shook her head as she lowered her face into her hands, as her breathing picked up it's pace. "No….," she exhaled, but couldn't get any more words out before she was overtaken by full bodied sobs.

"Hermione?" he said hurriedly. "What's wrong?"

He tried to reach an arm around her shoulders, but she shoved him away, the adrenaline providing much more force than necessary. She continued to sob and shudder, before placing her hands on her throat, remindnig Ron of a fish out of water.

"Hermione, you're worrying me. Please tell me what's going on."

Ron's words didn't seem to register with her. He looked around him to check if they had drawn the attention of anyone, but the deafening sounds of laughter, carnival music, and screams from the roller coaster muffled them from anyone who might have stepped in to help.

"C'mon Hermione, answer me," he said a little more forcefully, now feeling panicked. Logically he knew she would answer him if she could, and that thought made him want to hyperventilate too. "Just breath, Hermione! Please-"

Her sobs suddenly became raspier, and her body continued to heave as if trying unsuccessfully to pull in more air. Her face was turning redder every moment, and then without warning, she leaned forward and threw up on the concrete before them. Ron stared at her wide-eyed, as she gasped for air and returned back to her sobs, but this time they sounded deeper and more nourishing. He tentatively reached his hand to her again, and this time she didn't flinch when he pulled her closer, so her head rested on his shoulder, smearing tears, and sick, and Merlin knows what else onto his shirt, but he didn't care. He was just glad she seemed to be breathing.

They didn't talk about it. When she finally came around, she hurried off into the nearest public loo, and Ron waited there as his unfinished ice cream cone dripped down his hand. When she returned, there seemed to be a mutual understanding that it was time to return to their hotel. So they did.

When they arrived, Hermione, still looking embarrassed, immediately opted for a shower, and Ron thought it would be a good time to try ordering room service. After all, he was part of Hermione's life now, and if he couldn't protect her from whatever just happened at Luna Park, he should at least learn how to use a telephone.

******

A few days later, Hermione finally agreed to find her parents. Fittingly, it was raining on the day they knocked on her parent's front door. They gave each other a quick glance, and before the door opened, Hermione slipped her hand into his. He heard her take a deep breath before they saw the doorknob turn, and they were suddenly face to face with the greying features of Mr. Hugo Granger.

"Can I help you?"

They had planned this moment, but like many things in their recent experience, it didn't go as expected. They didn't plan for Hermione to freeze, caught up in the emotion of seeing her father for the first time since the war. Neither were prepared for the lack of recognition in his face.

"Hi Dad," said Hermione softly, as Ron grimaced at her giveaway.

"Excuse me?" said Hugo Granger in confusion. "Dad?" Before Hermione could backtrack, the tension was broken by a large golden retriever that came bounding up to Ron.

"Hey buddy!" said Ron, as he leaned down to scratch the dog's ears.

"Herman! No!" shoulder another voice. "Hugo grab him!" Jean Granger appeared behind her husband, reaching for the dog..

"Right," said Hugo, with a lingering look of confusion at Hermione before he turned his attention to the dog.

"Hermione, now," whispered Ron. She nodded, and while her parents were looking down, she withdrew her wand and aimed it right at them.

"I'm sorry, he's still a puppy and doesn't know how big-," Jean paused mid sentence, before slowly returning upright as Hermione's counter charm took effect.. "Hermione?"

"Mom," whispered Hermione.

The expression on Jean's face turned from affection, to confusion, to anger, before landing back on affection. She opened her arms, and Hermione collapsed into her embrace.

Ron looked at Hugo, who had also risen to his feet, but his eyes were focused on Ron, not on the two women embracing beside him. Ron was unsettled by the fact that he couldn't read his expression at all.

"Ron Weasley, if I remember correctly," he said curtly.

Ron nodded.

"I'm sure there's a very good explanation."

Even though it wasn't a question, Ron nodded again.

Hugo then broke their eye contact and turned toward his daughter, reaching his hand out to embrace her too.

Ron simply stood back with his hands in his pockets and observed the moment Hermione had been worrying about for the past few weeks. She was sobbing again, but this time it didn't concern Ron at all. He felt a cold, wet nose brush against his leg, and looked down to see Herman wagging his tail. For something to do with his hands, and because Herman was pretty cute, he crouched down to pet him.

"Also… Herman?" he heard Hermione ask once she had broken free of her parents' embrace. "Sounds a lot like Hermione."

"I guess our memories were just a little too strong. They pushed through," said Hugo stiffly.

"I'm so sorry," wavered Hermione. "Will you let me explain?"

"Of course, honey," said Jean, embracing her daughter again.

Ron, who was still busy petting Herman, suddenly felt Hugo Granger's eyes on him again. "The dog sure seems to like you."

Ron anxiously looked up, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Hugo was grinning at him. "Yeah, well," shrugged Ron. "I really like Herman."

Hugo chuckled. "How about a drink?"

"Oh, I'm fine," said Ron quickly, but a quick look from Hermione made him backtrack. "Er, actually, a drink sounds good."

Hugo was already pouring him one. "Well come on in. We've got a lot to catch up on."

An explanation was due soon, but the Grangers took that night to reconnect with their daughter. To Ron's pleasant surprise, he was welcomed into their home like he was family too.

He was even more surprised when he sat on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance from Hugo Granger's daughter, and she simply inched closer to him so that they were knee to knee. She smiled brightly at him, and gratefully patted his knee in a way that she never had when they were just friends, and he smiled back before taking a sip of the stiff drink that Hugo had poured for him.

It could have been that smile, or the fact that he was suddenly thinking of Hermione as Mr. Granger's daughter. Or it could have been Hugo's suspicious eyes and Jean's excited grin when he tentatively slipped his arm around her shoulders, but that day, he truly felt like Hermione's boyfriend, and he knew they would figure everything else out later.

#ROMIONE #hpromione #hp fanfic #hp ficlet #hp fandom #romione fanfic #ronweasley #ron weasley #Hermione Granger #ron x hermione #ron and hermione

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comradesummers · 5 years ago

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I’m curious about 1. Top 5 TV shows, 11. Top 5 female characters and 20. Top 5 overrated characters

Hi, thanks for asking!

Top 5 TV shows

(This list is based on my current mood, and will probably change tomorrow)

1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Yeah, I know, what a shocker. It may be flawed, and old, and a little corny, but well, there’s a reason I dedicated a blog to it. No show means more to me than Buffy, and no show probably ever will.

2. Legends of Tomorrow

You know what, more shows need to be as batshit fucking crazy as Legends of Tomorrow is. More shows need to save the day via our main characters joining together to create a giant stuffed animal that hugs the bad guy to death. More shows need to give us killer unicorns, and sentient nipples, and hot girls with weapons who make out with each other.

Fuck the golden age of television, fuck everyone taking everything so goddamn seriously. Give me a pure, unadulterated, chaotic, drug-addled (I can only assume), queer, joyful, wonderful mess, and I will love and treasure it forever.

3. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Look, it’s just really good. I don’t really have much to say, beyond just like, it’s great, and it has great songs, and great comedy, and great drama, and great acting, and great writing, etc. It’s not perfect, because nothing is, but I do genuinely believe that it’s one of the best uses of the medium of television that I’ve ever seen. If any show could make me buy into the golden age of television bullshit, it’s probably Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

4. One Day at a Time

So there’s this interview with Gloria Calderón Kellett and Mike Royce, where they talk about how the basic structure of any episode of the show, is that there is a topic at hand, whatever it may be, and then we hear the conservative argument (Lydia), the progressive argument (Elena), and the mediator (Penelope). And like, yeah, that’s it, that’s the show. In that sense it’s super reminiscent of Norman Lear’s work in the 70′s - All in the Family was also basically just one big argument.

So, in addition to everything that’s obviously incredible about the show (funny, well written, loving, the representation, Rita Moreno’s very existence being a gift to us all, etc.), there’s just something so brilliant about the simplicity of the basic premise, the argument about traditionalism vs. progress, which is made far more poignant and interesting because the characters are Cuban American. Lydia isn’t Archie Bunker, because her desire to preserve her traditions isn’t rooted in bigotry, it’s rooted in the culture that she was forced to leave behind. And Elena, as admirable as her quest for progress is, often fails to see the importance of preserving that culture (illustrated most obviously by the fact that she doesn’t speak Spanish). And although Penelope represents the middle ground, she isn’t always right either.

Everyone has a point, and that’s what makes each new conflict so fun to watch.

5. Queer Eye

Queer Eye makes me happy. It really is as simple as that. It has perfected the formula of bringing joy to the world, and I think that is a truly impressive feat.

Top 5 female characters

(I’m going to keep it to one character per show, because otherwise I'd be here all day. Also, again, this list is based on my current mood. It could change tomorrow.)

1. Buffy Summers

Again, what a shocker. I don’t think I need to explain this one.

2. Elena Alvarez

I really had to struggle to choose between Lydia, Penelope, and Elena, because I love all three of them so so much. But I went with Elena because she’s the person I aspire to be. She’s awkward, and weird, and struggles socially, and she’s not always right, but she also fights for what she believes in, actively. It’s not just about arguing with her grandmother, it’s about taking action, even if that action can be a little awkward and Elena-y. And well, seeing a character like her, who isn’t just the regular armchair activist young person that’s so common on TV, is really important and inspiring and I love her.

3. Rebecca Bunch

She’s just kind of one of those characters that was iconic right out of the gate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a character like Rebecca before, ever. And I haven’t seen any since honestly. It’s small stuff, like the fact that a character with Rachel Bloom’s body type is allowed to be aggressively sexual without being seen as disgusting or villainous for it. And it’s big stuff, like the portrayal of her mental illness, the fact that she was never written to be “likable” or whatever the fuck that means, but we loved her so much anyway. The show may have occasionally faltered, but Rebecca Bunch was always its center and its greatest achievement, and I will forever be grateful for her.

4. Regina Mills and Santana Lopez

Yeah, I’m cheating, this one’s a tie. My justification for the cheating is that these two are in the same category for me, in terms of characters that I love, but I’m kind of ashamed of choosing because of their garbage source material. So yeah, it would probably be more accurate to say that I’ve chosen the fanfiction versions of both of these characters, but in my defense, the fics are a lot better than the shows they’re based on. Also, kudos to both of these actresses for somehow making these characters interesting in spite of the writing they had to work with.

5. Petra Solano

Look, if it wasn’t already evident that I like type A control freaks, bonus points if they’re super fucked up, and extra bonus points if they’re into women, well it should be clear now. Petra in particular manages to walk the fine line of being easily the most tragic character of the show, and also easily one of the funniest, while also having one of the best redemption arcs I’ve ever seen. Idk how Grobglas and the writers managed to do all that, but it was really incredible to behold.

(I would like to extend my sincerest apologies to Veronica Mars, Amy Santiago, Rosa Diaz, Sara Lance, Zari Tomaz, and a bunch of other characters who have probably slipped my mind, all of whom would have made the list if I was in a different mood, or was currently obsessed with them. I love them all.)

Top 5 overrated characters

1. Wesley Wyndam Pryce

So, full disclosure, I’m just really not a fan of broody men who’s character development involves them being violent towards women and then brooding about it.

Wesley in particular, I get why people like him, he is a very well written and well acted example of this kind of character. But I’ve seen multiple people suggest that he’s the best character in the Buffyverse, and that drives me a little crazy. Like, no. Wesley becoming a broody asshole doesn’t make him a better character than Buffy or Willow or Cordelia or Gunn or Faith or anyone else, and I am so sick of that kind of broody man story being prioritized over every other kind of story.

2. Logan Echolls (please don’t kill me)

I actually like Logan, I think he’s a good character. I just wish the show, and subsequently the fandom, hadn’t prioritized his character over pretty much everyone else not named Veronica. But I do like him, to be clear.

3. Illyria (I’m so sorry)

Like really, I wish I liked her more. I guess it’s just because I was pissed they had to kill off Fred for Illyria, and she spent all of her time with Wesley, which didn’t do much to endear me to her. I guess maybe if she’d spent time with anyone else, I’d get why people like her, beyond Amy Acker being really good at her job. But she didn’t, and I just don’t get it.

I couldn’t think of a fourth and fifth one. As it turns out, I’m not a fan of the concept of something being overrated. All of the characters I named just aren’t necessarily my cup of tea, but that doesn’t mean I think they’re bad, they’re just not for me. And I don’t really like saying that people are wrong to like things. Plus, I just really couldn’t come up with anybody, and I really tried, I’m sorry.

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #legends of tomorrow #crazy ex girlfriend #one day at a time #odaat #queer eye #buffy summers #elena alvarez #rebecca bunch #regina mills #santana lopez #petra solano

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thirdeyecomics · 7 years ago

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NEW COMIC DAY TODAY, OUR PICKS: GIDEON FALLS #3 -- We are absolutely hooked on GIDEON FALLS, and so amped to see the third issue hitting this week! In issue #3, Norton gets closer to the secrets of the Black Barn as Fred discovers a grizzly new crime in Gideon Falls. What’s the scoop on GIDEON FALLS? In GIDEON FALLS, the lives of a reclusive young man obsessed with a conspiracy in the city’s trash, and a washed-up Catholic priest arriving in a small town full of dark secrets, become intertwined around the mysterious legend of The Black Barn, an otherworldly building that is alleged to have appeared in both the city and the small town, throughout history, bringing death and madness in its wake. Rural mystery and urban horror collide in this character-driven meditation on obsession, mental illness, and faith. Wanna get caught up? We’ve got issues 1 & 2 in stock to get you current!

#THIRD EYE COMICS #COMICS #COMIC BOOKS #MODERN AGE COMICS #GIDEON FALLS

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Why The Woman in the Window Fails to Channel Alfred Hitchcock

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This article contains The Woman in the Window spoilers.

Joe Wright’s The Woman in the Window is not shy about its Hitchcockian influence. It’s there in both subtle and overt ways from the very first scene. During one of the film’s opening shots, the camera pans around Amy Adams’ ridiculously spacious New York City brownstone and passes a television screen that is inexplicably playing the ending to Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window (1954) in slow-motion, with Jimmy Stewart wrestling against the grip of an out-of-frame Raymond Burr.

With a very similar premise to Rear Window—a slightly deranged New Yorker pries into the hidden lives of her neighbors—The Woman in the Window freely owns up to its influences and aspirations. Sadly, Rear Window, this is not. Which may explain why 20th Century Studios (back when it was called 20th Century Fox) delayed the movie for reshoots, and then Disney ended up selling this otherwise incredibly polished and stylish thriller to the industry’s algorithm farm upstate: Netflix.

Admittedly, The Woman in the Window is not intended to be a direct remake of Rear Window or any other Hitchcock picture. The talent involved is too smart for that. Rather the film is taking a plethora of inspirations from various Hitch joints, and marrying that Master of Suspense ethos with a modern sensibility created by author A. J. Finn, who wrote the novel the film is based on. I have not read the book, but the bestseller clearly benefited from the boom of “grip lit” novels��thrillers often centered around the unreliable perspective of flawed female protagonists—in the 2010s.

So it is that The Woman in the Window’s Dr. Anna Fox (Adams) is an exceedingly troubled individual, suffering from a trauma we only learn late in the story was caused by the tragic death of her husband and child. Those deaths were in turn precipitated by Anna’s own infidelities, which left her distracted while driving on an icy road. Hence the audience is asked to question everything we see in The Woman in the Window, including whether Anna really met the woman she thinks is Jane Russell (Julianne Moore) and if Jane was then actually murdered across the street.

In essence, it’s the same setup of Rear Window where Anna thinks her neighbor (Gary Oldman in the newer movie’s case) murdered his wife, but the accusation is clouded in doubt for even the audience since Anna is such an unreliable narrator that for two-thirds of her movie, she convinces us that she’s going through a divorce instead of grief.

And yet, none of these added elements distract from the fact that this movie wants to be Hitchcock, or at least the heir to what many consider to be his masterpiece. It’s there every time Anna spies on her neighbors through the long lens of her old school camera, which unsubtly harkens back to Stewart’s Jeff doing the same in Rear Window. And it’s woven into the silver mane of hair on Oldman’s head, which intentionally echoes Burr’s sinister everyman who lives in the apartment across from Jeff’s.

Even the film’s opening shot more covertly recalls another Hitchcock classic starring James Stewart: Vertigo (1958). With its slowly spiraling image of snow drops drifting in a circle through the air—an image we later learn is the last thing Anna saw before her family died—we’re retroactively reminded of the spirals that consumed the mind of Stewart’s Scottie in that film. The zoom-in, pullback dolly shot Hitch also made famous in that movie of nerve-inducing stairwells is likewise visually referenced in The Woman in the Window, with the stairwell in Anna’s home recreating the same high anxiety composition as a set of stairs in one of Hitchcock’s earliest films, the silent British production, Blackmail (1929). I’m also fairly convinced that the shot of Adams opening her eye in the second image of The Woman in the Window is a visual recreation of Janet Leigh’s frozen death stare in Psycho (1960).

Right down to its plot about wives causing a case of mistaken identities, the Hitchcockian overtones are heavy in The Woman in the Window. So why doesn’t it work?

For all of Hitchcock’s innovative understanding of the filmmaking craft, and panache for droll showmanship as the “Master of Suspense,” his own passions and fixations (particularly at their most perverse) colored his work with an eerie madness. Or at least the best ones. Sure, he is one of the first directors to make himself a household name via attention-grabbing cameos and almost car dealership-like theatrics in the rollout of new movies’ marketing. And when Tippi Hedren asked him why her character in The Birds (1963) would open a door if there are menacing noises on the other side, he replied, “Because I said so.”

But then, despite its popularity, The Birds is hardly one of Hitchcock’s best films. And the hypnotic effect he created with the better ones often spoke to something truer, and frankly uglier, than the glossy veneer of his star-studded casts. Ironically, this is probably truest about the two Hitch films Woman in the Window most desperately emulates: Rear Window and Vertigo.

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In both films, one could sense the devious pleasure Hitchcock took in casting Jimmy Stewart—the all-American face of Frank Capra classics like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) and It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)—as his on screen avatar.

In the case of Rear Window, Stewart still plays an ostensibly heroic individual. Jeff is a man’s man and a photojournalist who goes into warzones, vacations on safaris, and breaks his leg while covering a high performance car race from a dangerous vantage point. But there is something more unsettling beneath all that machismo which is what won the attention of a much younger high society girl, Lisa (Grace Kelly).

There’s a gnawing suspicion about the awfulness of his fellow man, and a peculiar desire to revel in it. When Jeff can’t do that from behind enemy lines, he’ll settle for studying it in his own backyard—it’s a view he shares with a slew of neighbors overlooking a lower Manhattan courtyard. He doesn’t start spying on them though because he heard a scream and fears for a woman he just met. He does it out of boredom while his leg is bandaged up. Well that, plus a perverse curiosity, be it in the form of lust for the dancer across the way, Miss Torso, or a voyeuristic fascination with the despair of a woman he nicknames Miss Lonelyhearts. That he discovers a man murdered his wife is entirely happenstance.

Only after he seduces Lisa into sharing his obsessions—to the point where she’ll break into the neighbor’s home—does he realize she’s the perfect girl for him. And after she’s been fully indoctrinated, she shares his “ghoulish” disappointment (her word) when they’re falsely made to believe for a moment that Lars Thorwald’s wife is alive and out of town. That of course turns out to be a misdirection. Lars (Burr) is having an affair and has his mistress pose as his dead wife for a train ride.

Mistaken identity becomes even more pivotal in Vertigo, Hitch’s most revealing cinematic manifesto for how he sees himself. In that film, Stewart appears again but as someone who is hardly depicted as an alpha male. The only hero in this story dies at the beginning when Stewart’s Scottie is so crippled by terror that he cannot save himself as he dangles from a rooftop. The police partner who comes back for him to lift him up ends up taking the literal fall.

Afterward, Scottie (like Anna Fox) is seen as damaged goods by himself and everyone who knows him. Particularly in the 1950s, being diagnosed as suffering from acrophobia or any form of mental illness was treated as an inherent form of weakness and a deficiency of character. An onscreen judge spells this out after Scottie again appears to let his vertigo ruin him, causing him to fail to save the woman he thinks is Madeleine Elster (Kim Novak). He can’t find the wherewithal to follow her up a bellow tower, and is then treated to the horror of seeing a woman fall to her death outside.

Of course the twist of the movie is that Novak is not playing Madeleine; she’s Judy Barton, the woman whom Madeleine’s husband Gavin (Tom Helmore) has hired to impersonate his wife and seduce Scottie before running up a high stairwell. At the top, Gavin waited to throw his actual wife to her doom. Unfortunately for Judy, Scottie’s broken mind wouldn’t stop looking for her until one day he found the woman he thought he loved still walking the streets of San Francisco.

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The Woman in the Window blends these narrative elements. Once again, a protagonist with a phobia (agoraphobia here) mistakes a blonde woman—Julianne Moore’s Katie—for another character’s wife. When Jennifer Jason Leigh barges into Anna’s brownstone, it’s meant to be as bewildering as when Scottie sees Novak still walking around, now as a brunette, in Vertigo. Of course Woman in the Window plays with the convention by making it the biological mother of Oldman and Leigh’s adopted son whom is murdered, as opposed to the actual wife. Indeed, Moore’s Katie just enjoys playing into Anna’s misconception that she’s the wife of Oldman’s Alistair Russell.

But these reliances on miscommunication and unreliable narrators aren’t really in service of anything other than the twist. The thrill, such as it is, amounts to little more than Anna’s epiphany of staring into a photograph and realizing thanks to a reflection that a blonde woman played by Moore really was inside her home. The rug is then even further pulled when it’s revealed that (SURPRISE!) it wasn’t Alistair who murdered Katie, but Katie’s actual biological son, Ethan (Fred Hechinger).

However, the twist is as empty as Anna’s painfully quiet home. It’s intended to be a “gotcha” reveal, but it never really gets under the skin.

By contrast, the idea that Madeleine is really Judy in Vertigo is a gateway to explore Hitchcock’s vices: blondes and the desire to control them. It’s why Stewart’s Scottie becomes as manipulative as an auteur with a fetish, and as possessive of his new paramour as the filmmaker who’s still trying to replace his greatest leading lady collaborator after she’s retired from acting to be the Princess of Monaco. Scottie maniacally remaking Judy into Madeleine, and Jimmy Stewart remaking Kim Novak into Grace Kelly, is some bizarre but intoxicating allegory about Hitchcock and his own self-image of his obsession.

Notably, Vertigo wasn’t a hit in 1958. In fact, it flopped at the box office and was only reevaluated as a masterpiece in the 1980s, after Hitch’s death. It was too weird and, intentionally or not, introspective for the ‘50s. And personally, I still prefer Rear Window for better balancing the director’s eccentricities with his commercial instincts to make a top notch thriller which can be revealing about the darker side of human nature yet still remain addictively entertaining and playful.

Woman in the Window attempts to wear the style of both, but has no controlling idea to add to those affectations other than a subversion of their twists: it’s the son who murders the other woman instead of the husband who kills the wife. The meaninglessness of this mangled reversal is why it feels so cheap when the movie devolves into a slasher flick, with Ethan chasing Anna to the rooftop as if he were attempting to star in “Scream 5” instead of “Rear Window 2.”The Woman in the Window is a loving impersonation of Hitch, but be it a thriller or a comedy, an impersonation is never going to carry a movie.

The post Why The Woman in the Window Fails to Channel Alfred Hitchcock appeared first on Den of Geek.

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burkeandharesworld · 4 years ago

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Directed by Fred Durst and starring John Travolta The Fanatic (2019) is a psychological thriller. The main character only known as Moose played by Travolta is a rabid movie fan who's obsessed with his favourite celebrity action hero, Hunter Dunbar. When cheated out of his opportunity to meet Hunter, Moose gets help from a photographer who knows how to find celebrity homes. When Moose's actions begin to take a darker turn, Dunbar soon finds himself at the mercy of his increasingly dangerous stalker. This movie is noted to be more of a thriller, but the experience in watching this film was horrifying. Infamously known for only making less than $4,000 in the box office, The fanatic becomes a new low and loss of opportunity for Travolta as an actor. With a cringe worthy, and disturbing performance lead by Travolta its difficult to understand how, he was directed, and satisfied with the finished product. The character he plays most certainly has a mental illness but how it is portrayed on screen, it becomes insulting, but yet humouress, mainly due to belief that a film like this exists, or was ever released, or a character was written in such a careless manner. No disrespect for John Travolta as an actor, but he's known to be drawn into particular roles, that unfortunately have a damaging effect. Maybe on paper, he was engaged with the character and the script and purhaps believed, this could have been a comeback role. And if directed, and written well then perhaps, this film could have been more of psychological horror, engaging and disturbing in seeing how a fan becomes deranged to persue his idol. But all discesions on this movie, takes all the wrong turn, down the road and ends up falling off a cliff. The Fanatic is wonderess to behold but only due to its very existence. A miss opportunity to Travolta, in what could have been a challenging and rewarding experience. But unfortunately this stain will not be so easily removed. The Fanatic is a 2/10 ~Mr Myers #thefanatic #johntravolta #horror #horrorfans #horrorfansworldwide #modernhorror #thriller #boxofficebomb #badfilms #stalker #psychologicalhorror https://www.instagram.com/p/CDgDeMplIiU/?igshid=161is69s6sq47

#thefanatic #johntravolta #horror #horrorfans #horrorfansworldwide #modernhorror #thriller #boxofficebomb #badfilms #stalker #psychologicalhorror

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zahraajaffar · 3 years ago

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Project 1, FA222, Detailed coverage of the lecture.

DR. Ehab Juma

I want to welcome you, first of all to the cmu school of designs lecture series we are super excited to have deb lee

here with us today um deb is terrific and I'm a huge huge fan of her work um.

I just want to give everyone a quick reminder that our final lecture series of the semester is next Monday the time is going to be 4 30 pm um instead of noon it's with James Todd of jd type foundry more information is on the website and um I just really quickly want to thank um Darlene Scalise joe Lyons Whitney Friedman and Bruce Hannigan for all that they do to make the lecture series happen I also want to thank um fellow committee members molly Steenson Diana chum Megan urban and Jacqueline psych for all the great work that they do Jacqueline also designs our posters and all the social media that we have for the lecture series and today she's going to introduce deb as well so Jacqueline take it away thanks fred um dubli is a Korean American freelance illustrator and graphic novelist deb graduated from the school of design in 2018 where they then shifted their focus into editorial and publishing illustration they have worked with clients such as the new yorker npr pbs Washington post HarperCollins books procreate app and more and they're set to publish their debut graphic novel in limbo in spring 2022. we were particularly excited about deb's focus on the nuances of trauma mental illness and the diaspora dev I've been personally a longtime admirer and we are so honored to have you here thank you so much Jacqueline okay um should I start sharing my screen now okay let's see all right is everyone we're good okay cool let's.

get started okay hi um I just want to say like really quickly thank you so much for having me um as somebody who was in the school of design, I was also a part like I was in the audience of these lecture series like 99 of the time so to be able to speak to the audience now is kind of wild and it's like it's such an honor to be here so thank

you again for having me so to reintroduce myself um I am an illustrator based in Oakland I’m moving to Brooklyn literally next week so wish me luck it's going to be a wild ride um I work mostly in editorial and publishing so what that means is editorial would be like articles that you would see online or on print and these are usually like one-time stories about like current events or like science it can literally be anything but it's starting to range from like medium now is becoming really popular scientific American npr and others being like the new York times the new yorker publishing would be work that is um like I would I like to compare it to like programming how there's like the front end and the back end of it like the back end is like what you don't see so like that's like character design or world building um front end would be like whatever you split like whatever like is shown to the consumers so book covers um like the interior pages of like a picture book etc. but that is me in 2021 so let's go back to 2020 2014. so in 2014, I was in high school and I was working I was like so obsessed with drawing like I would draw when like my teachers weren't looking um they probably saw me, uh and I wanted to go to be like an animator or an illustrator but when you have Asian parents like they don't let you do that most of the time so they were like we need you to you know make money we need you to participate in capitalism and like do something that is like that like actually like gives you an income so we like talked it out and we're like okay we should go to a school I should go to a school that is more like academic and has a like a very strong design program within like an academic space so we decide so I enrolled in carney melon and it was a really good choice for me because there was like a separate design and art school and I was able to take classes that are outside of the design program if I would.

@uob-funoon

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openprojectblogz-blog · 7 years ago

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Romanticisation- 29.12.17- Eithne Keogh

Definition: 'to deal with or describe in an idealized or unrealistic fashion; make (something) seem better or more appealing than it really is'

Romanticisation has become a heavy theme within the piece. It's something that fascinates me and I have been researching it further in order to tie it in with what we are creating.

'Smooth Criminal' is one of Michael Jacksons most popular songs, one which people dance to, sing along to and associate with parties, glamour and pop. The music video was inspired by 'Girl Hunt Ballet', one of the songs from 'The Band Wagon' staring Fred Astaire. From watching videos and reading articles which comment on the inspiration Jackson took from this video, we have learned that it was the 1950's dress, the gangster theme and the beautiful women that he wished to put into his own music video. Therefor, the glamorous and beautifully choreographed video has absolutely nothing to do with the lyrics of the song, which literally describe the murder of a girl named Annie. So then we realized that it was not just one source we were working with, but two- the text and the video. At first, we thought we would have to decide which one to work with, but as the piece has progressed, it has made more and more sense to play with both of them and allow them to rub up against each other.

This is where the idea of romanticisation came back around. When we originally discussed using 'Smooth Criminal' as a starting point for this performance, myself and Emmanuel discussed the falsity of the world of pop culture, and how we could play withy this using the fact that the lyrics to the song are about a shooting. I didn't realize how much romanticisation plays a part in the modern world, especially on social media. There are many Tumblr and Instagram accounts created by people who suffer from mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety who post pictures of quotes, scars, naked bodies and write about these issues as if their vulnerability is something that should be seen as beautiful. The underlying assumption in mainstream television shows and films such as the James Bond series, True Romance and Titanic is that violence is an ace of selflessness, a way of protecting somebody you love- even if this means killing another individual. We do not feel sad about the death of the 'bad guy', because the plot makes it seem like a justifiable act. Similarly, dysfunctional relationships are often romanticized or eroticized in films and ask the viewer to buy into the same idea by making out that anybody who has someone willing to go to these lengths for them should feel lucky. Examples of these films include The Breakfast Club, Fifty Shades of Grey, Philadelphia Story and, perhaps most interestingly, Twilight. In Twilight, where male lead is depicted as a romantic hero- even though he stalks and obsesses over a woman, watching through her bedroom window and deciding who she can and cannot spend time with- yet he is admired and swooned over by millions of teenage girls worldwide.

These are some of the ideas that I have been researching and thinking about over the last few weeks and, following a meeting with Prof. Robin Nelson before the Christmas break, ones which have come in extremely useful when considering practice as research.

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years ago

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Chapter 25 Words and Pictures

Morning came far too early for the exhausted young man keenly feeling the loss of his friend, as well as for the young man who offered his couch to the boy who saw him as his hero and protector. It was a role for which Stiles Stilinski thought himself preposterously ill-equipped. His father had already come and gone and was back at the sheriff station doing the best he could by doing his job. Stiles found that while he couldn’t make omelettes or whip up a batch of pancakes as proficiently as his dad, he was an expert at pouring a bowl of cereal. For that job, he was more than qualified. Stiles held up a box bearing a brightly-colored logo above a touched-up photo of a large bowl of sumptuous glazed oats and miniature marshmallows under a cascade of milk. A chipper cartoon mascot pointed happily to the image in case you missed it.

“This alright?”

It took Freddie a moment to register the question, before offering a quick, “Sure.” Freddie had been in something of a daze since he got up. Physically he was there in the Stilinski kitchen, but mentally he was back on the highway still under attack by the monster.

“Thinking about last night?”, Stiles asked, already knowing the answer.

Freddie nodded. “Thinking about Erin, mostly. I hadn’t even known her that long, really. But we were close. We kind of bonded, our group.” Stiles knew what he meant. Freddie rubbed his forehead. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

“My mom had a saying she used to tell me”, Stiles said. “Don’t be sad that it’s over, be glad that it happened.”

Freddie thought about that for a moment, taking it in. It did help a little. Then he tilted his head to one side, thinking. “Who said that? Dr. Seuss?”

Stiles gave Freddie a look and answered, “No. My mom did. What did I just say?” With that, he gave his new friend a playful slap on the shoulder and poured the cereal.

They sat across from each other, Stiles and Freddie, both of them keeping quiet. Stiles preoccupied himself by reading the back of the cereal box, pretending he hadn’t already solved the kids’ maze and word search 20 times before today. Freddie kept glancing around the kitchen, as if he were trying to memorize the layout, or perhaps search for some unusual item like a deerstalker cap or an oversized magnifying glass. He could only do that for so long before he focused his eyes on where he had wanted to be looking since he sat down. At Stiles.

Freddie stared at Stiles, grinning, until Stiles couldn’t stand it anymore. “What?”, he said. “Do I have a booger dangling from my nose or something?”

Freddie laughed at that and said, “Sorry. It’s just, I still can’t get over how different you look from how I pictured you.” Stiles crinkled his brow, prompting Freddie to hold up his phone, tap out a password, and reveal page after page of scrolling text. “From the stories.”

Stiles nodded in understanding and occupied himself with clearing the breakfast dishes. Freddie, now having started, kept talking. “From Kaitlyn’s descriptions that we worked from, you seemed like…originally when she talked about you, she said you were this really cool, goofy guy. Her words.”

“Yeah, some of us have a history of disappointing others. It’s our cross to bear.”

“No, no, it’s not that”, Freddie said quickly. “It’s like, you’re Scott’s best friend, right?”

“Since we were like four, yeah.”

“So that makes you the hero’s best friend. And the hero’s best friend is always kind of a caricature so he doesn’t outshine the hero. I’m used to the best friend being short, and clumsy, or having Coke bottle glasses, or really bad hair—“

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly very self-conscious. “My hair isn’t that bad—“

“No, not at all!”, Freddie interjected. “For another thing, you’re taller than I imagined. Your hair is awesome—“

“Hey, thanks. That’s nice of you to say—“

“And you are incredibly attractive.”

Stiles stopped short. Had he just heard that right? He leaned forward a little. “Sorry, but would you mind repeating that?”

“You are incredibly attractive”, Freddie said again. This time he was blushing. “I mean like, really, really attractive.”

Stiles sat back down. That’s what I thought he said. He pointed a finger at the freckle-faced Freddie. “And you’re gay, right?” Freddie nodded. Stiles turned his pointing finger back towards himself. “And you find me attractive.” Freddie nodded again, faster.

Then Freddie worried this might cause some tension with his new friend, and he said quickly, “I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomforta—“

Stiles cut him off. “NO. Not at all.” He gave his new pal a friendly pat on the shoulder. “We’re good.” This time, there was no hesitation in saying that.

Freddie smiled brightly. And Stiles’ face split into a beautiful, broad grin of satisfaction, even though he wasn’t aware he was doing it.

* * *

“Goooood morning”, Stiles chirped as he and Freddie entered the McCall house.

“You’re awfully chipper”, Scott observed. “What are you so happy about?”

“Not that much, really”, Stiles countered.

“Dude, you’re grinning like an idiot.”

Stiles reached up and felt his face, as if to confirm what his best friend was saying. “Am I?”

Kira rounded the corner, having just arrived, and paused as she spotted Stiles, or rather, his expression. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“People keep saying that”, said Stiles.

Kira walked up to Scott and gave her boyfriend a light kiss. “Hey.

Scott smiled back, placing an affectionate arm around her. “Hey.”

Malia entered through the side door. The pack’s entrances often felt like they were cast members of a sitcom, who often walked in precisely when they were supposed to. In Malia’s case, the pack was now accustomed to her showing up out of nowhere and coming and going unannounced. No one could figure out if she was even spending that much time at home or huddled in a cave somewhere in the woods, and they had long since stopped trying. Malia eyed her boyfriend suspiciously.

“Why the smile?” Stiles just shrugged. Malia approached him. “You have no reason to smile, that I know of.” Stiles made an expression of puzzlement, indicating he was at a loss to explain it. He was about to voice the same when Malia pulled him forward and brought him into a long, deep kiss. Stiles moaned a little under the sudden onslaught of affection, but quickly surrendered to it. After several seconds, Malia pulled back, allowing the stunned Stiles to catch his breath. He inhaled a sharp gasp just in time for Malia to draw him close again. This time, her kiss lasted considerably longer. Scott and Kira watched with wide eyes. Freddie looked on with considerably awe and a tinge of jealousy. Aadesh and Kaitlyn came in from the kitchen and stopped in their tracks. Aadesh let out a soft “Whoaaaa.”

Malia finally disengaged from Stiles, using one powerful arm to brace his shoulder, holding him up until his body recovered from being limp as a rag doll. “Now you have a reason to smile.” As Stiles collected himself, Malia quickly ran her fingers through his gelled hair and stepped away.

Scott smiled wider at Kira. “My turn?”

Kira swatted him playfully on the chest and rolled her eyes.

“Stiles?”, Scott said.

Stiles looked back with glazed eyes. “Mm?”

“You texted that you had something to show us.”

Stiles blinked twice, trying to get his neurons to fire. Then, “Yes. Right! I did. And I do.” He gave Freddie a signal, pointing back towards the kitchen and said, “Robin, see to our guests.” Everyone repaired to the kitchen, where Aadesh and Kaitlyn sat down on stool around the center island. “Freddie here has become a grand master at serving breakfast cereal”, Stiles announced, opening cupboards to reveal bowls and colorful cardboard boxes adorned with cartoon characters. He yanked open a silverware drawer to reveal an assortment of spoons and gestured to the refrigerator to indicate where the milk would be found.

“He’s never been over here before, has he?”, Kira mumbled to Scott ironically.

“No, never.”

Stiles patted Freddie on the back and said, “I taught him everything he knows. Fred, take it from here.”

Freddie started grabbing bowls to lay before his two friends. “Step right up, you who would break your fast!”

Stiles curled a finger inward to indicate the others should follow him. He led them up the stairs to Scott’s room.

“What is it you wanted to show us?”, Scott asked. “Is it any new insight into the monster?”

“Nope, but it’s a goodly chunk of insight on the ones who brought it here.”

Inside Scott’s room, the door securely locked for privacy, the group was trying to digest Stiles’ announcement.

“We have a fandom? With only four people.”, Kira asked, incredulous. “How does that work?”

“Well, when obsessed little fanboys—and girls”, Stiles said, correcting himself, “take it upon themselves to start reviewing our lives like their favorite soap opera and playing RPGs and writing fan fiction about us.”

Kira gave him a look but opted to ignore his sarcasm. “So it was too much to hope they were exaggerating about really writing down stories about us. They were serious about that?”

“You have no idea how serious. You got your phone on you?”

Kira handed her cell phone over to Stiles, who deftly accessed the internet and called up a certain web site, and punched in a password.

“Feast your eyes”, he said. “But don’t say you weren’t warned.”

Kira stared wide-eyed and then began swiping the screen. “Oh my God, this is crazy. And anyone can access this? Our lives are out there for anyone to read about?”

“Oh no”, Stiles assured her. “Members only. You need a password. And they have a very exclusive membership policy.”

“How many members?”, Scott asked.

Stiles held up one hand, palm forward, fingers spread. “Five.”

Kira nodded. “Right. The one kid from somewhere else they didn’t bring with them.”

“So how’d you get in?”, Scott asked.

“I was gifted with a special all-access password. As someone with celebrity status.” Scott snickered and Kira covered her mouth to hide the grin. It was so difficult to imagine their adorkable Stiles as having any kind of status, much less celebrity. “Hey, you’re eligible too, I imagine. If you’re really interested in literarily torturing yourself.”

“Scott, look at this!”, Kira said, holding the phone out to him. “An All-Original Tale of Love and Loss: A Fox Among Wolves.”

Scott was taken aback. “Does it really say that?”

Kira swiped through the text and picked a random passage. “‘But NO, the beautiful young Warrior cried’,” she read melodramatically. “‘Her hand unconsciously moving to her chest, as if to clutch her heart in an attempt to slow its frantic beating’.”

“No way”, Scott said, stepping beside Kira to read along with her.

Kira continued, “You cannot go out there and face the”, she paused, pointing at the screen. “What’s that word?”

Scott leaned forward, squinting. “Billgy…no, Bilge. Bilgesnipe. What’s a Bilgesnipe?”

“I have no idea, but apparently you can’t go out there and face one.”

“Well, I guess not”, Scott grinned.

Kira continued her dramatic reading. “‘You cannot go out there and face the Bilgesnipe alone! My fox’s heart cannot bear it!!’…with two exclamation points.” She pointed at the screen, snickering, indicating that Scott should take the next line.

“Oh, you want me to--? Okay.” He cleared his throat and assumed what he thought was a heroic tone of voice. “’But I must, my darling kitsune”, the Champion declared. “For no amount of mystical swordplay can protect you from its deadly spikes! It is up to me, and me alone, to face this ravening monster for the good of Lighthouse Knoll, and take it down with my fearsome fangs and my unstoppable claws of justice!’” Kira was about to wet herself with laughter when Scott pondered, “How come I only get one exclamation point?”

“I may throw up”, Stiles said. “I may just bend over and hurl at this very moment.”

Malia looked over at him with an expression of solidarity. “After I do.”

“I thought they were just jotting down little scenes and e-mailing them to each other”, Kira admitted. “And the rest would all be chat room stuff. But this--!”

“Stiles”, I thought this was going to be something bad”, Scott said, laughing along with Kira.

“You think that’s good?? Twilight slash fiction is better than that.”

Malia looked sideways at Stiles. “You read Twilight slash fiction?”

Stiles shrugged. “I’m assuming that’d be better.”

“But for real, Stiles”, Scott said, catching his breath. “I thought you were about to tell us they were posting some kind of blog about who we are, where we live, who are loved ones are—you know, exposing us. I really don’t think this is anything to get worried about.”

“If this is all there is”, Kira said, wiping away a tear, “I’d say we’re pretty safe.”

“Oh, there’s more”, Stiles said in a cautionary tone. He walked over and pointed to a selection on the site’s menu.

“Gallery?”, Kira said, touching the tab. A flood of pictures filled the screen, appearing as a grid and rushing forth in what seemed a never-ending downward stream. “This is a whole lot more than a few sketchbook doodles by Freddie. There’s fan art?!”

“Really? Let me see!” Scott pushed Stiles out of the way to get a better look.

“Well”, Kira smiled, “if it’s half as bad as the writing, then it—hey. This stuff is really good. Like professional good. There’s computer art, sketches, comics…wow.”

“Five people did all this?”, Scott questioned aloud.

“Look at the dates, you can see they’ve been posting for a while now”, Kira pointed out. “Well, um, I can’t actually shoot lightning bolts out of the tip of my sword”, she remarked, looking at one piece of art.

“It does look cool, though”, Scott observed.

“It does”, Kira agreed. “Oh, Malia!”

“What?”, Malia looked over at her, curious.

“It’s a portrait. It’s all done in colored pencil...and it’s beautiful!”

“Seriously, come here, check this out”, Scott urged, waving her over.

Malia stepped over to them, looked down at the screen to see a rather detailed portrait, lovingly rendered. It bore similarities to Malia’s hair, her expression, and the shape of her face. Malia pursed her lips as she scrutinized it. “That looks nothing like me.” She walked away, unimpressed.

“None of them are very good likenesses”, Scott commented.

Kira considered that. “Probably because they were all just working from Kaitlyn’s descriptions.” Stiles was about to confirm Kira’s assumption when she jumped in again. “Hey, Stiles!” Scott’s eyes widened and he smiled open-mouthed at what he saw. “Did you see this cartoon?”, she asked. “It’s of you and Der—“ she got no further, as Stiles was over to her in an instant snatching away the phone.

“Yes, I am aware”, he said, with an edge in his voice. “I am very much aware of the Stiles and Derek cartoon, thank-you.” Stiles gave the offending cartoon a cursory glance and then hurriedly swiped it away. “I believe I’ve seen all the cartoons, and portraits, and caricatures, and the comic book action panels, and—“ he stopped, something on the screen catching his gaze and holding it. “Except that.”

Scott could feel a change in the room and saw Stiles’ face go slack. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing important”, Stiles said, his thumb moving swiftly on the touch screen. “We shouldn’t be wasting time with this stuff anyway. Let me just log out of here—“

As Stiles was going for the logout option, Scott crossed the room. With his enhanced speed, he was at his best friend’s side instantly, the phone in his hand.

“Scott, let it go”, Stiles warned. “You’re not gonna want to—“

Scott had already hit the back button to bring up the previous selection. He wanted to know what Stiles had seen. “Just let me see what you were looking at. If it’s something that could potentially hurt us, or even one of us—“ Scott stopped right there. He stared silently at the artwork displayed on the tiny screen. It stood out among all the playful cartoons, anime-styled renditions, and dramatic images of fierce monsters and action scenes of the heroes fighting them. This image was somber and dark. The palette used was mostly black and grays. A slim shaft of light made up of subdued blues and violet shone down from the top border onto two characters huddled near the bottom of the page. The light revealed a teenage boy, down on his knees. Clutched in his lap was a fallen, beautiful girl with long raven hair. An ebony sword protruded from her chest. The teenage boy wept over her at the agonizing final moment when the light left her eyes. Hidden in the shadows around them were hovering black ghosts, bodies like wisps of smoke, their faces the leering, grinning masks of the devil. The likenesses were completely off. Although the depicted figures bore no resemblance to anyone, it was painfully clear what the drawn scene was meant to represent.

A heavy silence hung in the room. Only Scott and Stiles knew what was on that screen, but everyone felt uncomfortable. Malia did not like feeling uncomfortable.

“What?”, she asked. Stiles shot her a look that would stop a train, but she persisted. “What??” Stiles locked eyes with her and after pausing to register his expression, she understood. There were some things that were not to be discussed. This must have been one of them. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. Despite wanting to persist in her questions, she refrained, but still bore an expression so that all present knew she was not happy about it. It was progress.

Kira took one step forward. “Scott?”

Stiles looked over at her and shook his head. No. Don’t ask. So she didn’t.

The silence continued, filling the room like a humid fog, broken only when Scott spoke. “Stiles is right. We shouldn’t be wasting time with this stuff.” He thumbed his way out of the web site and shut off the phone. He handed it brusquely to Kira, who almost dropped it.

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rswoan · 7 years ago

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Seattle International Film Festival 2017 Films Ranked

SIFF 2017 Feature Films listed from best to worst with special emphasis on editing and structure along with content (especially with documentaries):

The Farthest - history and legacy of the NASA Voyager project. Maybe best talking heads documentary in history of SIFF...

Ethel & Ernest - fantastic animation of the lives of the parents of a graphic artist set against World War 2 in London.

The Net - fascinating story of a North Korean who inadvertently crosses into South Korea.

Becoming Who I was - interesting look at the reincarnation of a Buddhist leader growing up. Stunning filmmaking over course of 8 years.

Secret 1

Dirtbag: The Legend of Fred Beckey - fascinating look at life of legendary climber Fred Beckey.

This Is Our Land - dramatization of how populism can take hold in France or any Western country.

Food Evolution- well edited documentary on GMOs and science.

The Last Animals - trying to save rhinos and elephants from extinction.

American Folk - best of the road trip movies this year as two people thrown together to drive cross country following 9/11.

God of War - well made genre movie. China defends against Japanese incursion against great odds.

Wind River - fantastic murder mystery set on Indian reservation.

At the End of the Tunnel - suspenseful crime caper drama.

Kills on Wheels - assassin in a wheelchair and his helpers.

The Journey - drama of what might have happened to end Irish Civil War.

Take Every Wave: The Life of Laird Hamilton - well made documentary on Laird Hamilton’s contribution to big wave surfing.

Ivan - former helicopter pilot turned ambulance driver works through personal issues while taking care of young girl.

Better Watch Out - fun horror take on Home Alone theme of kid left alone with his babysitter near Christmas.

The Smuggler and Her Charges - filmmaker’s father’s past as a Jewish child on the run during WW 2 and a woman who helped him. Well made and educational.

Angry Inuk - commercial seal skin commercial trade bans threaten Inuk way of life.

The Odyssey - fascinating story of the life of Jacques-Yves Cousteau.

Mr Long - aspects of various Asian movie styles and themes blended in a cohesive movie.

I, Daniel Blake - drama of people caught up in UK support system bureaucracy.

Ingrid Goes West - social media obsessed woman moves to CA after death of her mother in attempt to reboot her life.

The Oath - doctor tries to rescue his daughter from a life of drug use with her boyfriend dealer.

Secret 3

Kalushi - story of a young man drawn into the ANC militant wing during apartheid.

The Unknown Girl - a doctor tracks down death of an unknown girl who she could have saved.

A Date for Mad Mary - young woman released from prison needs to find date for best friend’s wedding.

Handsome Devil - well executed coming of age as an outsider in high school.

Soul on a String - epic Tibet “western” chase movie.

Chasing Coral - bleaching of the world’s coral and climate change.

Quest - decade in the lives of a North Philly black family.

Finding Kukan - in search of a lost Academy Award winning documentary and the story of the woman behind it.

Afterimage - historical drama about life of a prominent artist swept up by socialist takeover of Poland.

Nowhere To Hide - 5 years in the life of a nurse and his family in central Iraq starting from being outside to becoming engrossed by war.

Cook Up a Storm - fun Chinese cooking competition movie.

Lady Macbeth - solid period drama focusing on indentured wife taking back her life.

Columbus - relationship between man dealing with ill father and young lady dealing with issues with her mother and future.

Gook - a pair of Korean-American brothers selling shoes in LA against backdrop of crime and Rodney King riots.

Entanglement - interesting look at a man dealing with mental illness after suicide attempt.

Feather - Italian teens dealing with pregnancy and life.

Mellow Mud - an orphan brother and sister struggle to make it on their own after guardian dies.

The Wedding Plan - woman gives herself and God 30 days to find a husband after breaking up with fiance.

I Was a Dreamer - unscripted drama based on life of non-actor lead.

Trouble - dysfunctional brother-sister relationship revisits past and changes future.

Wulu - solid crime drama set against the backdrop of turmoil in Africa.

The Midwife - a woman is reunited with her father’s ex during an inflection point in her life.

The Nile Hilton Incident - murder mystery against backdrop of Arab Spring and police corruption.

The Man - artist reunites with estranged street artist son.

The Truth About Love Is… - light hearted comedy regarding family relationships.

New Chefs On the Block - breezy documentary on two first time restaurant owners opening up in Washington DC.

Borders - Murphy's law for 4 women who meet on a cross West Africa journey spanning multiple countries.

Dara Ju - drug addiction and family secrets set against Wall Street and immigration.

Small Town Killers - dysfunctional couples find themselves after hiring assassins.

Napping Princess - enjoyable anime with contemporary themes, fantasy and reality.

Secret 3

The Feels - dialogue improvised, bachelorette party exposes many truths.

Hero - aging actor tries to come to grips with legacy.

The Reagan Show - documentary on importance of PR at beginning of television age.

Bad Influence - coming of age set against conflict between Chile government with native people.

Zip & Zap and the Captain’s Island - fun kids romp mystery movie. Far better than original movie.

Chavela- portrait of an iconic Mexican singer. Great subject but talking heads format is mind numbing during non-performance period of her life.

Moka - mother seeks justice for hit and run death of her son.

Two Irenes - 2 girls with the same name with a shared secret and curious of each other's lives.

A Ghost Story - time and sentimentality.

In the Radiant City - dysfunctional family torn apart by childhood disaster years later.

Whose Streets? - Birth of Black Lives Matter from Ferguson killing and return of citizen activism in a modern age.

Weirdos - coming of age in the face of family secrets.

8 Borders, 8 Days - first hand look at the journey of a Syrian refugee family to Germany.

Tea Pets - animated feature, life of tea pets when people aren’t around.

Death in Sarajevo - scattered look of tragic history of the city through interactions of individuals tied together by a hotel.

What Lies Upstream - water quality in US.

City of Ghosts - poorly edited documentary on incredible citizen journalism of Raqqa Syria.

500 Years - documentary on government genocide against indigenous peoples.

Roberto Bolle - The Art of Dance - ballet equivalent of a concert film.

After the Storm - father attempts to connect with divorced wife and son while dealing with personal demons.

Hedi - life of a Tunisian man getting cold feet before his wedding.

The Winter - life of Argentina sheep ranch foreman.

Searchers - classic western remake set in Arctic with Inuit people.

Goldstone - missing girl mystery in Australian outback.

Paradise - unique way of telling a WW 2 story from perspectives of persecutor and persecuted.

Godspeed - roadtrip drug smuggling story.

The Door - sliding doors what if look at life of a man as a mechanic and successful businessman.

The Landing - what if Apollo 18 wasn’t scrubbed?

Susanne Bartsch: On Top - life and times of a pre-eminent NYC party/club host.

Person to Person - a day in lives of different folks tied together only by NYC.

Manifesto - modern performance art answering question of what art is.

Heal the Living - lives of the families of an organ donor and recipient.

The Girl Without Hands - minimal charcoal like animated Grimm tale.

Come Together - Korean family drama set aside societal norms.

Landline - yet another dysfunctional family drama.

The Beautiful Kokonor Lake - awkward Chinese soap opera of love lost for duty in Communist China.

The Paris Opera - scatter shot look at a year of the Opera. No real narrative, just brief look ins.

Backpack Full of Cash - documentary of how charter schools are destroying public education. Too repetitive.

Rocketmen - campy episodic Seattle based serial.

Gholam - a immigrant/refugee taxi driver affected by a mysterious past that never quite emerges.

Have A Nice Day - animated mobster drama starting with foot soldier stealing money.

A Dragon Arrives! - Iranian mystery, bizarre, unrelatable characters.

Divine Divas - well made documentary of lives of Brazilian transvestite performers. Good if you have connection with subject. I just didn't care.

Footnotes - musical of struggles of shoe factory workers trying to prevent offshoring.

Vampire Cleanup Department - campy movie of team battling strange vampires in HK.

Pyromaniac- character study of a pyromaniac. No real insight just hints never tied together.

The Bloom of Yesterday - grandchildren of those involved in Holocaust still wrapped up in it’s aftermath. Unrelatable damaged characters. Who cares?

Zoology - middle-aged woman deals with having a tail.

It's Only the End of the World - day in life of dysfunctional family with return of prodigal son.

God’s Own Country - gay son finds romance on a rural farm in the UK.

Yourself and Yours - want to be amusing romcom really feels like making fun of mental illness.

Lane 1974 - coming of age set against hippie culture, feels long and sleepy.

The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson - cold case investigation into death of LGBT activist icon.

Anishoara - mind numbing year in the life of a girl in a Moldovan village.

Secret 2

Santa and Andres - a dissident and his government minder develop relationship in Cuba.

Without Name - pointless horror movie.

Terror 5 - a bunch of over the top stories of zombies, snuff films, and partying loosely connected.

Knife In The Clearwater - best described as contemplative meditation on lives of rural Muslim family in China, aka mind numbing days in the life.

Devil’s Freedom - mind numbing talking heads documentary on the Mexican drug wars.

Pendular - pointless character study with gratuitous sex and nudity.

Black Code - important topic feels more like a vanity piece for organization.

Lives With Flavor - this year's chef ego movie. Don't learn much about food or his life really. Lots of food porn though without much explanation.

Lemon - pointless not funny comedy.

Struggle for Life - not funny French slapstick.

Hello Destroyer - predictable character study of a hockey player whose life is destroyed by a dirty play.

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exhilaratingx · 8 years ago

Text

I normally don't share. But this is worth a read and think about what really matters to us, and commit. Also highlighted some of the key points http://www.macleans.ca/education/university/david-brooks-to-have-a-fulfilling-life-you-have-to-make-promises/ "...You will wander about in the indeterminacy of your own passing feelings and your own changeable heart. Life will be a series of temporary moments, not an accumulating flow of accomplishment. You will never be all-in for anyone or any path, because your eyes will always be wandering to some other possibility. You will lay waste to your powers, scattering them in all directions. To have a fulfilling life you have to make promises. You have to surrender some freedom of choice to taste a higher freedom, the freedom that comes after you’ve settled on a direction, chained yourself to a cause and enlarged your capacities. It is precisely our restraints that liberate us for that higher freedom. You have to chain yourself to years of piano practice to have the freedom to really play. To lead a fulfilling life, most of us make four big commitments: to a spouse and family, to a vocation, to a faith or philosophy and to a community. The measure of our lives depends on how well we choose these four enduring commitments and how well we execute on our promises to them. Of these four commitments, only the marriage decision involves an arranged ceremony at an altar, but all forms of commitment require a vow of dedication, an investment of time, and act of faith and a willingness to leap headlong down a ski run that is steeper and rockier than it appears... ...So how do you choose what to promise your life to? How do you choose a career or vocation, who to marry or what cause or community you should dedicate yourself to? You can’t analyze your way through these problems. You don’t have enough data about who you will be in 20 years. You don’t know how the experience of say becoming a parent or going to med school will turn you into a different person. You can only make long commitments if you understand the permanent loves that are latent within your own heart. One thing you have to do is to try to figure out what you really desire, which is a surprisingly hard thing to know. You can start by observing your own behavior: List the three or four things you have enjoyed doing most in life. Do they line up in a row or point in a single direction? Did they all involve the developing world or gathering people for conversation? If so, you probably should continue along one of those lines. Another thing you can do is keep a journal. If you write only for yourself then eventually honesty will come out and you become more articulate about your own latent desires. Or you can ask yourself a set of sneaky questions question designed to get glimpses at your hidden self. For example, you can ask yourself: - What is the opposite of boring? - What subject do I read about for fun and seems endlessly fascinating to me? - A marriage is a 50-year conversation. Have I met a person who I can talk to for that length of time? - Or you can ask, What would I do if I weren’t afraid? Fear is a surprisingly good GPS system. It signals that you really want something, even if that something is on the other side of social disapproval. - Or you can ask, What pains am I will to tolerate? If you’re willing to tolerate the pains of boot camp, then you probably really want to be a soldier. Along side the phase of questioning and reflection there’s the phase of experimentation–trying on different jobs or people or places to see which ones fit. If your going to commit to something for decades or life it should have, as Martin Luther King once put it, three qualities. First, length. You should be able to flourish in it for a long time. Second, breadth. You should touch a lot of people. Third, height. It should pull your gaze upward and put you in contact with transcendent truth. As my friend Fred Swaniker put it, the problem you dedicate your life to should be a big problem. ...It should be something your life history has made you uniquely qualified to address. You should care enough that you wake up in the middle of night worrying and obsessing about this thing. Most of all, the things you commit yourself to should satisfy your yearning for righteousness. We all long for a lot of things. We like affirmation, status, maybe a little money, fun and sex. But though we don’t talk about it as much, and don’t even have a word for it, we are also all born with a spiritual hunger to lead a life of meaning. Religious or not, we all hunger for moral fullness, for purpose and inner joy. If we don’t get it, we end up dry, unsatisfied, twisted and self-loathing... ...Some people have no answers and have given those questions no thought. They die knowing that and maybe trying to suppress that awful knowledge... ...The people who look at life through a moral lens inverse the normal logic of life. Normally when we’re making the big decisions we try to follow a straightforward cost-benefit logic. Does this meet my needs? Does this work for me? Am I getting more out of this than I put in? But people who adopt the moral lens are looking for ways to forget themselves, surrender themselves, to throw themselves into something without counting the cost. They understand, if only by instinct, that their true joy is found on the distant side of unselfishness, not on this side. People who use the moral lens don’t ask, what do I want from life. They ask: What is life asking of me? What problems are out there in my specific circumstances that I am well positioned to address. People who see through a moral lens don’t ask: How big is my impact? They ask, can I do this work the way it should be done. Dorothy Sayers once wrote that if you try to serve the community with your work you will end up distorting your work. You’ll be angling for applause. You’ll be thinking the world owes you something. But if you just try to serve the work—if you just do your specific craft the way it should be done–you’ll end up serving the community even more. People who see through a moral lens have a different view of marriage. They don’t just ask, Is this person right for me? They ask, does this person bring out my loveliness and can I love her in a way that brings out her loveliness? Can we together take our private passion and direct it outward? Can our morning snuggles spread outward and include our children? Can our sideways glances warm a dinner party, a barbecue, a neighborhood and a home? People who see through a moral lens see their own self-centeredness as the main problem in any relationship. As Tim Keller puts it, we all have a tendency to regard the other person’s self-centeredness as the problem in a relationship. But selfishness in you prompts selfishness in them and if a relationship is going to succeed somebody has to break the pattern and make a sacrifice play. We have all, as I said earlier, been raised in an individualistic culture. That culture subtly encourages us to bargain with life, to stand halfway out and protect our interests at all times. It encourages a subtle pattern of putting everything at arms length, or of looking over somebody’s shoulder to see if something better may be around. This arms length pattern leads to private loneliness and public fragmentation. One of the chief challenges of your generation is to heal the social isolation we see all around us, which leads to rising suicide rates, rising mental illness, greater inequality, falling social trust, strained family bonds and a loss of national cohesion... ...I should close by noting that people who are good at keeping promises are not living life as a chore or an ordeal. They’re like: “I have the greatest job!” “I have the greatest kids!” or “I love this town!” They’re not anxious about their promises. They are living out their promises. They are making the school lunches. They’re debating the research findings in a lab... ...Life in such moments is lived eyeball to eyeball, hand to hand and heart to heart. People in such moments are not thinking about how hard it is to keep promises. They are not thinking about themselves at all. The guards are down, the arms are open, and a leopard lies content, full and peaceful by their side."

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