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wistfulrat · 3 years

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a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[ for my fellow fledgling drarry stans! the drama list is here and, well. like i didn’t initially intend to go off in the mini-reviews beneath every rec but it’s just that you can't nOT yell about drarry as classic literary foils!! also it’s my dumb sideblog so i decided there are no rules and i get to be annoying about good writing.

but rly, the whole premise of the drarry pairing is shaped by this genre and if the ~serious world of serious published writers~ weren’t absolute cowards, they would admit that drama fic authors have contributed more to the genre than the average shit you can find at your local chain bookstore. so that's that on thAT. & if you love a fic here, don't forget to follow the authors, leave kudos & comments on their work, send them nice msgs bc they do all this shit for free xoxo ]

part 2: dramas

mood: for when I need emotional catharsis and maybe 7 hours to sob/brood about loneliness, the cost of love, & the perpetual fear of being truly known

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, reconciliation fics. it’s cruelty o’clock folks and someone is about to say/do something Fucked Up that they can’t take back. but don’t worry!! there will be a Reckoning feat. hamlet-worthy monologues, ugly truths, unbridled rage, trauma, insecurity, and just a fuck ton of tears!! but maybe even tender apologies and mended things.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil - 36k - E | Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected. | --- can a fic be tender and unflinching at the same time? bc this story strikes that balance rly well and for a piece about unwantedness, it is incredibly humanizing. ginny holding her own, draco being gentle but not letting harry play victim, hermione calling harry “hazzah” and just the way this friendship insists on the validity of found families even when harry is spiraling?? and you’re forced to consider that no one has the monopoly on fucked-upness and that doesn’t absolve us of the ways we hurt each other but it means that everyone has the same potential to be better after being broken. goD JUST READ IT, OKAY.

Blood Magic, the series by @houseofhebrideanblacks and @thestralsofspinnersend 335k - E “Later that night. . .Draco wondered at the depths of magic, its breadth and scope. The ways in which life pervades and eludes death, the ways in which they endure all manners of small and large deaths within their lives.” -- if you don't read any other fic on this list, i hope you read this series bc holy shit it’s breathtaking. harry’s a recovering addict, draco’s recovering from abuse, and in a cottage within the forbidden forest begins an unlikely partnership as the boys take up the tedious work of healing. there are thestrals and everyone's in therapy. there are whole chapters of cottagecore drarry. it's a beautiful exploration of how we bare the immensity of loss against the miracles of birth and regrowth.

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia - 18k - T “A ship in a full sail, a ship in a state of decay, a ship that had been rebuilt, slightly different. A repeating cycle. “What makes the ship the same?” asked Harry. “I don’t know. There must be something in it that lasts across the changes.” -- DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS QUOTE LIVES RENT FREE IN MY SAD, SAD BRAIN. DO YOU KNOW HOW I LOSE SLEEP THINKING ABOUT THE FUCKING SHIP OF THESEUS. it’s a memory loss fic and everything is so unFAIR. you want to murder harry sometimes bc he’s such a shiT and you suffer through the ways he questions desire, penance, redemption, true love. and by the end, you want to believe in those golden slumber lyrics: “once, there was a way to get back home”

Yours to Keep by @dracoismytrashson - 135k - E i love the university setting, i love getting to see harry and draco’s first forays into a real LGBTQ community, the class and race structures outside of the wizarding world. i love that this is the context in which they’re allowed to confront the shittiness of PTSD, anxiety, depression etc. as they come together and fall apart against each other’s traumas. it makes the ending feel earned af. “Baby, we’ve been easing into it for a decade.” -- my god this line

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered - 153k - T this fic is devastating. like, completely forget whatever reticence you might have towards a de-aging fic and read this. the de-aging premise allows the author to cut through the ways harry and draco hold each other at a distance and you end up with these stunning moments of clarity where they’re truly seeing each other for the first time. and suddenly everything makes sense. i won't spoil it here but there’s a scene towards the end where harry is talking to hermione and ron about realizing the first time he felt what its like to be loved and I fucking SOBBED. an all-time fave fic about learning how to belong.

Had To Be You by @lettersbyelise - 59k - E a genuinely excellent slow burn about absolute fucking morons who refuse to express their mutual love over the course of literal years?? HOW MANY TENDER MEET-CUTES DO 2 GAY IDIOTS EVEN NEED. a car ride a bookshop a street corner -- when harry met sally is my enemy. but you know what? this fic is masterfully written, it’s an epic tale of unexpected friendships and the inability to say the things we feel. also its very much also a soft boi fic if not for the Major Fuck Up that pushes it into drama territory for me. so worth the turmoil tbh.

Hurricane by phrynne - 120k - E auror partners terrified of love. it’s a fic about walls - where the emotional landscape of this fic is occluded by dishonest words so you feel the tension play out in hollow voices, shuttered looks, emptied eyes. it’s like watching two ppl get flayed alive in slow motion and everything is SHIT for a little. it’s mean, it’s ugly, it doesn’t let you give the characters an out when they’re being cruel - to each other and to themselves. but harry and draco are two violent forces hurling toward each other’s walls and the inevitable reckoning comes and it’s so very worth the ending. the hospital bed scene to rule all hospital bed scenes.

Returning Tides by @zigster-ao3 - E “Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives” --those fuCKing ian curtis lyrics in the summary!! p a i n. why do i put myself through getting-back-together fics knowing full well i’m gonna be Sad As Hell during the not-together portion of the story?? we are all unfortunately hoes for heartache. anyway this fic is beautiful. draco’s a dad and recently widowed, harry has a thestral reserve, the settings here are stunning. a story about grief and love that lingers.

A Piercing Comfort by @talithan - 44k - T “There is no objective scorecard. There isn’t anything that a person does that tips the balance from ‘deserving’ to ‘undeserving’, or vice versa. A ‘deserving’ person will not run out of worthiness after a set time of happiness and have to then go about working to deserve it again. And an ‘undeserving’ person does not have to suffer at length before having the opportunity to be ‘deserving’.” -- the heart of this fic. harry’s in therapy, facing depression, and learning how to accept love he doesn’t think he deserves. (also draco is harry’s therapist but yes, that power dynamic is handled ethically-well imo and addressed in the author notes I promise!!).

Borrowing Courage by @xx-thedarklord-xx - 70k - E |After years of being a Magical Artist and painting for other people, Draco decides it’s time to paint for himself for once. The secrets pile up as he tries to unravel the mystery of his relatives but the only thing he didn’t count on was having to go to Potter of all people for approval.| --god i love this fic. the thing about drarry here is that they never mean to hurt each other but they do. they do and draco’s trying to do the right thing and he wants so badly for good family but harry’s never rly stopped grieving sirius and it’s this whole unintended mess of festering wounds forced to heal. everyone needs a hug. also ron/blaise pairing and ron+draco’s friendship here is everything!!

Reparations and the sequel, Foundations by Saras_Girl - 320k - E | Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.| -- incredible. harry and draco’s dynamic as healers, the cast of original characters, the boys learning what it means to trust each other, draco building a rehabilitation center, harry falling in love with him, and “meus fabula est mei ut dico: my story is mine to tell.” i cry

The Ties that Bind by phoenix_writing (not on ao3) - 61k - T | Upon Andromeda’s death, Harry and Draco are given custody of Teddy. Their lives will never be the same.| -- harry’s got major abandonment issues and he’s just trying to be a good co-parent with draco but everyone is being the woRST and you want to murder them on behalf of harry. but then, the boys learn to listen to each other and god it all becomes so tender. also harry has a gay panic. things are awful but it all works out. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry dramas #im so sorry if this got long but also #I have too many Thoughts #all I do is cry over two sad gays #its pain o'clock sweeties #time to Sob about the mortifying ordeal of being Known

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anakinsbugs · 3 years

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Call the Midwife Trixie (BBC)

New Post has been published on https://walrusvideo.com/call-the-midwife-trixie-bbc/

Call the Midwife Trixie (BBC)

When it comes to “Call the Midwife’s” Trixie, there’s something unique in the way the British drama does it. It can make us feel so warm and fuzzy inside with its characters’ familiar maternal presence, but at the same time leave us gutted by the harsh realities of London’s East End in the 1960s. Who wouldn’t want to have a baby delivered by the bubbly blonde nurse Trixie Franklin (Helen George)? She heralds her still-in-pin-curls arrival—to both a birth and a new season—by chirping, “magic-carpet midwifery services at your disposal!” but by the end of the episode, not even Trixie’s happy engagement news to her curate boyfriend Tom Hereward (Jack Ashton) can scrub away the agony we’ve just witnessed over the past hour.

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Trixie from Call The Midwife

Trixie Franklin – Helen George

Trixie – Helen George

More on “Call the Midwife”

“Are we going to close after all?” Nurse Trixie asked but she was assured Nonnatus house would be safe. Sister Julienne divulged: “No. We are going to expand. Early next year I will be revealing further details”.

Characters from Call the Midwife

Helen was pregnant during the filming of series 7 of call the midwife. Her character nurse Trixie Franklin made an emotional exit from the show after Helen’s baby bump began to show and couldn’t be hidden. To create a plausible exit for her, nurse Trixie was seen seeking help after spiralling back into alcoholism.

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Helen George was born on June 19, 1984, in Birmingham, West Midlands, England as Helen Elizabeth George. She is an actress, known for the three musketeers (2011), call the midwife (2012) and the monster (2015). She was previously married to Oliver Boot.

Nurse Trixie has been the life and soul of Nonnatus house since the very first episode of call the midwife in 2012. Trixie loves nothing more than to gossip with her fellow nuns and nurses and enjoys poking her nose into other people’s business.

Helen George stars as nurse Trixie Franklin

Between biking around poplar, working late nights, and dealing with lots of crying babies (and mothers), the midwives of Nonnatus House don’t often get the chance to dazzle with their hair and makeup, but for the real-life actresses who play them, walking the red carpet is just another day in the life. In preparation for the show’s upcoming ninth season, here’s a look at what the characters call the midwife really look like.

The entire episode of call the midwife has me broken. Trixie deserves better honestly she’s just so selfless and it makes me so emotional.

All about Call the Midwife

Set in the 1950s and 60s in the East End of London, “Call the Midwife” is a period drama television series that centres around a group of midwives and nuns of Nonnatus house. They are trying to do the best they can for the community, given the medical issues and lack of facilities. Created by Heidi Thomas, the show first released in the UK on January 15, 2012, on BBC !.

Call the midwife sadly will not be back on TV screens in December 2020 as the filming of the new episodes was pushed back due to the pandemic. The BBC has confirmed the official date when Series 10 will return, however fans have been treated to a behind-the-scenes image of one iconic character.

Where is Trixie on “Call the Midwife” Season 7? We can understand the episode picking up tonight and there are many out there who are asking said question almost immediately. So, where is she? It’s a pretty simple question with a fairly simple answer: Trixie is off getting some time away from Nonnatus, presumably to recover from her recent struggles with alcohol abuse. She allowed her addiction to get the best of her and, as a result of that, put herself in a position where she could harm some other people with her habits.

“Call the Midwife” fans were in tears after Sunday night’s finale (23 February), which featured a devastating death and a powerful moment for Trixie Franklin. The season 9 finale was hailed for its sensitive handling of Ann Mitchell’s character Elsie Dyer battling against Oesophagus cancer while being cared for by her distraught niece, Jennifer Kirby’s nurse Valerie.

One of the things that we’ve come to learn with call the midwife over time is that effectively, nobody is spared from a medical emergency. That includes Shelagh and Dr Turner’s au pair Magda, who found herself at the centre of some controversy over an illness. For more “Call the Midwife” article-talk we think that you will enjoy a visit to the Totally Pregnant website here: Totalypregnant.com

The Article Call the Midwife Trixie (BBC) First Appeared ON : https://gqcentral.co.uk

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beneaththetangles · 5 years

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Guest Post: Mononoke and a Chance Ungiven

Today’s post is a guest piece from Tyler Burnette, a great supporter of Beneath the Tangles and admin on our Discord server. We’re proud to present this sensitive and spirit-filled take on a topic that has become a battle now more than it has in many years—the unborn child.

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Can you recall moments for in which you have wanted a second chance at something? You may have made an easily correctable mistake or perhaps a more significant moral one because your priorities were out of alignment. Everyone has regrets, and God is always willing and able to forgive us of them because of his immense love for us. He does not have a limit on the number of mistakes he can forgive. We are called to be like God, and while we do not have to acquiesce to all demands or become gullible to repeated offenders, we must offer forgiveness and chances at redemption as God has done for us.

However, what about those who are given no chance at all? Have you ever been in a situation where no matter how hard you worked, no one would grant you an opportunity? Perhaps you developed a desire to become a singer as you grew up, but you simply weren’t gifted with the natural talent of a singing voice. Maybe you were discriminated against in a career because of your appearance, associations, or ideology, and were rejected. Thankfully, most of us still have opportunities in life to pursue what is good in the world and to use our talents to benefit others. Unfortunately, there is one group group of people for whom there is no chance given for them ever in life, and their stories are the most tragic of all.

Mononoke is an anime about a medicine man doubling as an exorcist who travels through medieval Japan, offering his goods for sale and resolving mysterious hauntings by finding out the shape, truth, and reason for the them. It is highly stylized and heavily steeped in Japanese mythology and artwork. A majority of its imagery and style appear to come straight out of the Ashikaga period of artwork. Alas, I am not as well versed in medieval Japanese culture or iconography as the show’s creators, so many of the references and choice of language are lost on me. It has visually pleasing colors and line work, and the characters are well colored and animated. On the flip side, the story, especially for the first two episodes, is anything from pretty.

The first episode begins with a the Medicine Man making his way to an inn soon followed by a woman who is very far along in her pregnancy and clearly in a great deal of distress. The innkeeper, in a scenario not dissimilar to the virgin Mary’s predicament in Bethlehem, is initially turned away due to them having no open rooms in the inn by the front desk clerk. She claims she is being chased down, and she will die if they do not give her shelter. She is even willing sleep on the floor of the inn so long as she does not have to stay outside during the night. The proprietress condescends to her but proposes an idea that she stay in one of their unused storage rooms. Along the way, we notice oddly shaped Japanese baby nesting dolls randomly position throughout the staircase and hallways as well as spirit ward stickers placed upon the walls that the proprietress does not recognize.

Things quickly turn spooky for the young pregnant woman when she arrives in the room and begins to hear voices of children that the desk worker and proprietress cannot hear. During the night, a henchman breaks into the young lady’s room and tells her he has been sent by her lord to kill her baby as it was the result of an affair with master and that he would not be pleased to learn of the child. In medieval Japanese society, as with medieval western society, an illegitimate child could result in inheritance disputes as well as cause shame upon the father and his family. The pregnant woman pleads with the henchman to spare her life as she greatly desires to have the child and care for it. The henchman disregards her plea, but just before he is able to impale her with his sword, he is grasped by an unknown force, hauled into the air, constrained by ribbons of cloth, strangled to death, and dumped back onto the floor. When the proprietress, clerk, and the medicine man come to see what the noise is, they experience the haunting first hand, and the spirits lock them into the room. The medicine man interrogates the proprietress, and we find out that the inn used to be a brothel, and this room they are in is actually the room in which abortions were performed when her girls became pregnant. The room is being haunted by Zashiki Warashi, childlike yokai who are the spiritual remnants of the aborted children. The young woman flees the room in fear, and upon entering another room, she receives a vision of her past showing her and her master beneath the covers. He tells her that he loves her, but she protests claiming she is just a servant. The lord asks her to marry him. Trusting him, she tells her that she is pregnant with his child. This shatters her dream and her vision changes into the man sent to kill her saying, “You don’t care as long as he’s rich right?” This emotionally breaks the young woman, and she collapses crying onto a table.

Every person’s story is unique and specific to them. While I cannot presume to understand or perfectly relate to women who struggle with deciding between birthing a child or having an abortion, many commonalities exist in some circumstances. Like the young woman in Mononoke, there can likely be much shame and regret that plays into decisions to abort a child. The emotional pressures placed on a woman are immense. The father may not be present, and the child may have been conceived in rape or incest, and telling her family could result in significant reprisal or rejection. It certainly takes a village to raise a child, and without that emotional and physical support, abortion becomes an increasingly viable option. We as a society—but also as individuals—must support struggling expectant mothers in any ways we can, even if it means sacrificing some of ourselves so they don’t have to sacrifice their own.

At a point early in the episode, the inn owner voices skepticism at the woman’s capacity as a single mother, commenting that having the baby won’t bring her any money. The financial burden is more significant today than ever before. A study from CNN indicates it costs around $13,000 per year to raise a child. For women considering abortion, this is a significant issue. Support from the government, work, and family may not add up to enough money to meet the costs of living for two people, and the woman might not be able to see a way through. Self-value and self-doubt in one’s own strength and capability, I suspect, is also important in decisions like this. The significance of the decision and the lack of visibly immediate alternatives puts a woman in an unpleasant vice, squeezed by societal expectations and economic hardship. Most often, people listen to the ones who have the most influence or control over them, and woe to those who have nowhere else to go than a person like the proprietress who values money over human life.

In another scene from Mononoke, we then see a vision of the proprietress in her youth as a beautiful lady, but one with minimal compassion for the circumstances of her girls. She informs the Medicine Man of the nature of their abortion room and that the walls with the diamond patterns are effectively a mortuary for the aborted children. She relates the abortions she performed to an act of kindness, a rationalization to ease the anxiety of ending a life. While she tries to frame in this way, in reality it’s simply an excuse to perpetuate her brothel’s business saying that the children are worthless to her and she won’t let them eat as the girls were sold to her to pay a debt. The imagery at this point is rather gruesome, even if only displayed in metaphor, and I would blame no one for not wanting to continue watch. The proprietress begins pulling on a red cord with bloody hands, and a pool of water at her feet turns to red as some of the dolls are shown floating in the pool. My spine shivered a bit next when the owner shreds the cloth she was pulling on as a baby screams, and we then see drops of blood sprinkled over one of the dolls as the red cloth is laid over the doll’s face. The owner makes her way over to the table the young woman is on and makes the pantomime of stabbing the young woman as she screams, “Stop killing babies!” as the room cuts to normal again with the group sitting in the room.

This does not last long as the Zashiki Warashi manifest as a mass of red ribbons which burst from the walls and form a sentient orb. The Medicine Man tries to find the way to vanquish the spirits, but to his surprise, the young girl realizes that they just wanted to be born into the world. All along they just wanted to be given an opportunity at life and with single a word, she accepts them to be birthed spiritually through her with her child. She rips off the spirit ward that had been placed on her stomach, and blood begins to splatter beneath her. The scene cuts away, showing her as the mother of one child but spiritually the mother of the others who had been aborted. A child in the form of a yokai shows appreciation for her love and affection. She admits she cannot physically raise them all, but with her gesture, the spirits are at peace and allow themselves to be dispelled or released by the Medicine Man. It is unclear what future the woman has with her child, but thanks to her compassion, we can presume that she can live her life without the regret or sorrow potentially experienced by the many other women of the proprietress, her child having been given the chance that so many others were denied.

Having a child is a costly decision in life and should absolutely not be endeavored into lightly. Sadly, many women may not have that opportunity or foreknowledge and consider ending the pregnancy through abortion. It is tragic, as contrary to some people’s perceptions, there are absolutely resources available for any woman struggling with costs of raising a child. If one’s family is unwilling to assist with raising a child, local churches and church members, even of a parish one may not attend or share faith with, may be assist in some way if they know about the circumstances. Additionally, adoption is a wonderful option to consider, and there are numerous resources available for it online and in the real world such as the National Council for Adoption, American Adoptions, Lifetime Adoptions, the Department of Health and Human Services, and many other organizations. Adoption and foster care may not be the ideal circumstances for a child in many situations, but abortion is always the worst option from the baby’s perspective. One might recommend an abortion to a woman whose father may not present by the time of birth, is severely impoverished, and may not have family support. However, as an adopted child, myself, from one of these circumstances, I absolutely advocate for adoption and believe abortion is the worst choice for both the mother and the child. It can appear as the easiest solution immediately, but in the long term there can be no joy in the quickest decision that must be wrestled with for the rest of one’s life.

As birth rates decline in our country and babies are seen as more of a burden than a blessing, as less of a baby and more as a bundle of cells, as less of a tot and more of a tumor, the prospects can be very grim, as demonstrated in the first arc of Mononoke. Stigmatizing women who have had or consider abortions is the wrong way to proceed. We must sympathize with them, and we must wholeheartedly and compassionately point them to a God who offers forgiveness and love in all things. If we wish to see abortions or the cited reasons for them eliminated in our world, we need to endure hardships and sacrifice on the behalf of the struggling young mothers to give them a chance so they might in turn bestow a chance at life upon their child.

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Mononoke can be stream on Tubi.

Tyler Burnette has been anime fan since his youth in the late 90s where he developed an affinity for science fiction shows like Cowboy Bebop, Gundam Wing, and Crest of the Stars shown on platforms such as Toonami, Adult Swim, and Anime Unleashed. Presently his favorite anime is Trinity Blood as it ties in his interests in politics, anime, and theology. He grew up in a non-denominational church which he still attends regularly and graduated from King College with a degree in Political Science and History with an interest in economics and is an avid strategy gamer.

#Anime #Christianity #Mononoke #Abortion #Adoption #Pro Life #Articles #Guest Post #Author: Tyler Burnette

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maevefiction · 6 years

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 34

We spent the remainder of our summer and early fall in London living like normal people and doing normal things. I’d get up and head into work each morning, my main focus having shifted to overseeing Trudy’s progress on the app and delving into creating pages on the Prosper site for all our clients, while Tom kept his social media activity at the level we’d agreed upon, in conjunction with working out, running lines for Skull Island, meeting with BFI and UNICEF, as well as reading the rest of the Vampire Chronicles.

Each night, we’d either eat in or go out to one of Tom’s favorite spots for dinner, and each weekend he’d take me to what he considered a ‘cannot be missed’ landmark or locale. Sundays were usually cinema day, my personal favorites we viewed being The Man From U. N. C. L. E. and American Ultra. Tom was fond of Before We Go, but I pointed out that he had to like it otherwise Captain America would kick his sorry ass, because he already had it out for him over the whole Loki wearing his suit thing. Interestingly, other than a random pap here and there in the heart of the city, we were essentially left to our own devices. No one seemed to care that we were walking around Regent’s Park drinking tea and coffee, having pizza, or grocery shopping. There were fans on occasion, and Tom was always gracious, stopping for a selfie and/or a chat, with me waiting in the wings or taking pictures. I had known it was possible to maintain some degree of anonymity no matter the level of fame involved, and now I’d come to the conclusion that it had a lot to do with the behavior of the celebrity themselves and directly proportional to the size of their entourage. Which we didn’t have, nor wished to have. Granted, Tom had yet to achieve rock god status, but still…if we smiled, waved, and moved on, so did everyone else. People being people.

Two weeks after his sisters had been informed of their father’s infidelity and misdirected their anger at Tom, Emma came over to our flat and they Skyped Sarah, talking through tears and shouts for two hours before apologizing to each other and realizing that the blame lay with no one other than Diana and James themselves. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, and it allowed us to move forward, both of us having dealt with our pasts as well as we could for the time being. Healing, learning, and discovering more and more of each other with every day that passed. Mundane things, like what kind of toothpaste either of us preferred, when we’d learned out times tables…the feeling that I’d always known him becoming increasingly prevalent and so very welcome. While I’d recognized that we were not only lovers but friends as well that night when I willingly shared my Ben and Jerry’s with him at the beach house in Hawaii, I couldn’t have imagined how deep that friendship would become. We lived, we loved, we laughed, and it was astounding to me that I could feel such…peace.

In mid-September the insanity began, both of us going on the road for the promotion of not one, not two, but THREE projects, High-Rise, I Saw the Light and Crimson Peak. The San Sebastian Film Festival, Toronto International Film Festival (where we ran into Norman, there promoting Sky, whose premier he invited us to and we attended), the BFI London Film Festival…it seemed endless, the screenings, Tom doing interview after interview, photoshoots and photo calls, Q & A sessions. How he managed to keep which project he was promoting at which event was a mystery to me, and I found myself asking him ‘dude, what’s this one for again’ more than once, and I spent nearly every moment behind the lens of a camera.

Nights were when I edited what I’d gathered and emailed it to Tom, who’d then post it all across his social media accounts. Then came updating the website, followed by fast and furious fucking, then sleep. At some point in all the chaos he‘d dragged me into a coatroom and fucked me from behind, but the when and where wasn’t the slightest bit important at the time so determining its actual geographical occurrence is now impossible…but other than that, we behaved ourselves, acting like grown-up professionals with jobs. I enjoyed just fading into the background and watching him shine. His performance in all three films blew me away, but High Rise was my favorite story. The abortion scene in I Saw the Light made me cringe, especially when I considered how he must have felt filming it, so soon after what he’d been through in his personal life. As soon as it was over, he’d leaned over and kissed my cheek, his hand in mine, both of us squeezing gently.

October twelfth found us in New York City, staying at my apartment, me packing up boxes to be shipped to London that week. My books, the rest of my clothes, and my computer. The rest would remain for when we visited, and while I knew I’d never sell the place, I also knew London had, in an obscenely short period of time, become home. The New Orleans house had been completely cleaned out, the August estate sale netting upwards of one hundred thousand dollars, and Tom made good on his promise to donate a matching amount to the women’s shelter while the actual proceeds were delivered to Will’s wife anonymously. I wasn’t sure what to do about renovations, but was hoping to stop in at some point during the holiday season and think it through.

The fourteenth was the NYC premiere of Crimson Peak, and we’d agreed that while I’d attend, I wouldn’t walk the carpet. He’d balked, at first, but I’d convinced him that doing so would allow everyone to focus on him and his co-stars, which was exactly where the focus BELONGED. I wore the black version of the red dress I’d worn to Daniel, and spent the entire limo ride back to the apartment following the after-party with his face buried in my breasts.

We flew to Nashville on the seventeenth to prepare for the premiere of I Saw the Light…Tom’s anxiety level ratcheted up to a nine, dreading the possibility of an appearance by Claudia. I steeled myself as best as I could, but, thankfully, it was completely unnecessary. The director wanted the venue to be small and down-home, so only bare-bones cast invites had been extended. Meeting his co-star Lizzie was a blast…she was friendly, funny, dorky and gorgeous. The two of us hung out in front of the stage as Tom performed for the crowd, dancing like a couple of idiots and singing along. He was incredible, those damn hips distracting me to no end, and his SMILE, my lord. He’d tried to teach me some guitar chords while we were on the road, but, as expected, I sucked in a way that no one had probably ever sucked before and decided once and for all that being able to sing was enough musical talent for one human being.

Principal photography for Skull Island was slated to start on the nineteenth on Oahu, but Tom wasn’t needed on set until November second so we decided to take a holiday the two weeks prior on Kauai. He’d even managed to sweet talk the reservations gal into giving us the same room…the one I’d been staying in when we met, number 203. As soon as we arrived, we both changed and headed out to put our toes in the sand, which is how we spent most of our time for the next ten days. At long last, my ass was on the fucking beach and it was pure, unadulterated bliss. The nights…that’s when we made up for lost time, screwing each other senseless until we passed out from exhaustion.

Luke and Simon joined us on the twenty-ninth, a short birthday celebration jaunt for the latter. On the thirtieth we all went out to Nawiliwili Tavern to celebrate him turning thirty-eight, and I karaoked so much my throat hurt the next day. And really, it was just from singing. Really.

On the morning of my birthday, I left Tom snoring in our bed to watch the Halloween sunrise from the balcony, a knee-length tropical print satin robe wrapped around me. I’d become a fan of robes…easy to slip on, even easier to rip off. Both of us slept naked, and with all the hotels, room service and sex whenever we could squeeze it in while traveling, it was an excellent way to prevent me from answering the door in the buff. I leaned on the railing, listening to the waves crashing, watching the three joggers heading down the beach leaving sand flying in their wake. Thirty-eight. I wasn’t sure how the fuck this had happened, yet here I was, two years away from forty, the biological clock that had been silent before meeting Tom now ticking away loudly. We both baby goggled, and while we were still back in London we’d had lunch with Ben and his wife, each taking turns holding their baby. I’d caught Tom staring at me, his expression making me want toss my birth control pills in the garbage…full of adoration, love, want and so much more. And him holding such a tiny being in his huge hands…too precious for words.

Last year on this day I’d been working, giving a seminar in Chicago, and my celebration had consisted of six donuts at eleven-thirty PM in my hotel room while I watched the Matrix. This year…other than a costume party at Rob’s Good Times Grill in the evening, I had no clue what was in store for me. I reflected on how much my life had changed, and how I was so incredibly blessed, realizing that I’d be perfectly content to spend the entire day in our room, talking, laughing, dancing…all those simple things that made me genuinely happy. Me. Happy. Something I never thought I’d be, yet here I was. Standing on the balcony of the room where we’d first been intimate, on the island where we’d fallen in love. Grateful tears welled up, spilling over and running down my cheeks, and as I wiped them away I felt hands on my shoulders, followed by a kiss on my neck.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” I turned to face him, and he immediately noticed that I’d been crying. “You okay, love?”

“I’m amazing. Happy tears. Actually, grateful tears. Just thinking about how different things are from last year, and…”

He pulled me to his chest, smoothing my hair as he placed a kiss on top of my head. “I love you, my Maude.” He let me go, hands sliding around and down to grasp my forearms, grinning. “So, ready for your present?”

I poked his chest with my index finger. “Dude, you PROMISED me, NO PRESENTS. The time we’re getting to spend together here before you start filming is my present, and every day with you is a gift ANYWAY so…”

Several beats of uncharacteristic silence followed. “Well look at you, leaving me at a loss for words.”

Wrangling free of his grip, I clapped excitedly. “That’s like a whole ‘NOTHER present, man. WOO HOO!”

He laughed, a drawn out ‘ehehehehehe’, ceasing only when we thought we heard someone yell for us to shut up. We ran back inside and closed the balcony doors behind us, sat on the bed and perused the breakfast menu. I opted for scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon, and Tom decided upon an egg and cheese omelet. After eating quickly, we showered together, and as we dried off in the main area of the room he cleared his throat nervously.

“So, um…I was wondering if maybe you’d like to take a ride out to Talk Story today? I thought perhaps you’d want to pick up some new reading material for while I’m shooting?”

The man knew the only time I had to read these days was when I was on the toilet, but I went with it because, BOOKS. And I’d wanted to go there before we moved on to Oahu anyway, even if it was just to look around. The origin of us. A huge grin spread across my face.

“That sounds fucking epic, babe. What time is it now, like eight-thirty? They open at ten, and the trip there is an hour…”

“Shall we see if Luke and Simon want to join us?”

I snorted. “Ha, if Simon’s even awake yet it would be a bona-fide fucking miracle…but sure, why not? It’d be cool for them to see where we met. God, I’m such a romantic saphead asshat. Gross.”

He laughed, wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed his phone off the desk. I returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. After hanging up, he joined me, eyes on my reflection, and the memory of him fucking me right there four months ago made me shiver, goosebumps pebbling my flesh.

“Believe it or not, they’re not only awake, they’ve had breakfast. Or at least Luke has. Simon appears to be on a liquid diet so far today.”

I spit a final time then spun around, brows raised, and he chuckled.

“What I MEANT was he’s too hung over for food, little miss filthy dirty mind.”

I slapped his ass as I walked out of the bathroom to get dressed. “You fucking love it.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.”

Black bra and panties, grey hiking shorts…but I figured I should ask what he was wearing before I picked out a shirt.

“Babe, what are you....” I’d turned around so my voice would carry better to the bathroom only to find him right THERE, his cock at half-mast. I coughed, then continued. “Wearing. What are you wearing? Fuck, the naked sneak up is NOT COOL, Hiddleston.”

He smirked. “My khaki shorts and a white V-neck, I think.”

“Good. Then I can wear a black one.” I finished dressing while he began, then went to stand before the mirror so I could put my hair back in a ponytail. I’d had it cut and styled before we left London, the ends brushing just below my collar bones. For some reason, even just a few inches and a tiny bit of layering made it much easier to manage. As I was strapping on my Birkenstocks, a quiet rapping on the door began. Tom opened it, and when I saw Simon was wearing giant Kardashian-style mirrored aviator sunglasses indoors, I shouted. Loudly. Even though it hurt my throat to do so.

“Good morning, Mr. Ahlberg. How are we feeling today? Looks like you may have had too much birthday, am I right?”

His voice was raspy as he pulled the Panama hat he was sporting further down his forehead. “Fuck off, bitch.” He was wearing a dark green Polo shirt, white shorts and white loafers.

I rose as he and Luke entered the room, and Luke grinned as he embraced me briefly.

“Happy Birthday, Maude.”

“Thank you, Luke. You look none the worse for wear.” He’d paired khaki shorts with a medium-blue faded T-shirt and Teva sandals, also khaki with blue stripes.

He snorted. “One of us had to behave responsibly. He was up half the night with his head in the bowl…”

Simon shoved him out of the way, wrapping his arms around me to support himself after placing a quick kiss on my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Please kill me. I know it’s your birthday, but it IS Halloween so it’s sort of apropos and I really need to die. I beg you. Put me out of my misery.”

I squeezed him tightly and whispered back. “Not a chance, asshole. I enjoy your snark entirely too much to let it slip from my grasp so easily.”

He sighed, releasing me. “Fine, fine. On with the hour long car ride then. Followed by staring at some books. Then an hour long car ride back. All during which I could have been resting up for tonight.”

We used their rental car, as I’d demanded to have a Jeep Wrangler again and thought Simon might puke if we took that instead. Much like Luke had thought he’d do when we’d gone to our Hula class. Ah, life’s fun parallels that arise from excessive alcohol consumption. Tom had gone back up to the room to retrieve his forgotten phone, and when he came back we were off. Luke and Simon sat in the back, Simon resting his head on Luke’s shoulder, moaning from time to time when Tom took a turn too fast.

He parked us a block down, and we jumped out of the vehicle, excited to be back, and he picked me up and spun me around as we waited for Simon’s slow-ass self.

I rolled my eyes as Tom set me down. “Christ, Simon…you’re like a little old man. Fucking move it along, won’t you?”

I got the bird in return, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. The ibuprofen I’d given him in the car must have started to kick in. Why he hadn’t thought of it on his own…no clue. As we reached the red doors, Tom took my hand, smiling as he opened the door for me. It was exactly the same, which wasn’t really a surprise as only four months had passed, but a feeling washed over me at the sight of it anyway, one of pure joy. His hand squeezed mine as we walked inside, and behind the counter was Roger Marshal, still bearded, same glasses, different Hawaiian shirt, this time red with green leaves. He grinned widely and came around to shake our hands.

“Aloha, Mr. Hiddleston, Ms. Gallagher. Welcome back. I see you brought friends with you on this glorious Halloween day in paradise.”

Tom introduced him to Simon and Luke while I wandered down to the stacks where we’d met. The place was relatively empty…I didn’t see anyone, but assumed customers were just quietly browsing elsewhere. Music was playing, something by 10,000 Maniacs, the name of which always escaped me. Almost instinctually, I went right for the ‘K’s, looking for my white whale…and…THERE IT FUCKING WAS. Not three feet away from me, the spine of the dust jacket unmistakable, silver-grey with a long black tower and yellow text. I stood, frozen in place, listening to footsteps approaching just as I had on that day back in June. Tom’s hand touched my shoulder gently.

“You okay? You didn’t move a muscle while we walked down here.”

I pointed. “It’s there. Do you see it? Tell me you see it.”

He looked. “See what?”

“THE BOOK. THE GUNSLINGER. Yellow text. Black tower. TELL ME YOU SEE IT.”

“Oh, okay…yes…I see it. Wait, isn’t that…”

I nodded, still using my indoor voice but enunciating so strongly they sounded out in all caps. “YES. MY WHITE WHALE. THAT IS A FIRST EDITION COPY OF THE GUNSLINGER.”

He laughed, squeezing my shoulder. “And you’re not over there pulling it off the shelf and holding on to it for dear life, why, exactly?”

Reaching up, I patted his hand gently as I whispered. “Because I’m afraid that if I move or even if I blink it will disappear, having only been the cruelest of mirages.”

“If I can see, it, it MUST be real, yes?” His other hand patted my ass. “Best grab it before someone else does, don’t you think?”

I turned to him briefly, eyes wide. “YES. Excellent idea.”

One step, two steps, both very slow, and I noticed that the song had changed. Tilting my head to make sure I wasn’t hearing things in addition to possibly seeing things, I listened closely, turning back around to face Tom.

“Is it me or…is that Tigerlily by La Roux?”

His own head tilted, and he nodded, smiling. “You’re right, it is. What a fantastic coincidence!”

I nodded again, then turned back to my prey. Another two steps and I was there, reaching out my hand to touch the spine gingerly, then quickly pulling back as if I’d been burned.

“Oh my god it’s REAL. And not only is it REAL I think it’s in, like, MINT FUCKING CONDITION this is…I just…” I carefully slid it off the shelf, turning it over in my hands, then back again, opening the cover ever so gently. Much to my horror, there was something written on the flyleaf. I was about to stomp my foot when I noticed my name.

Happy Birthday, Maude.

You hold in your hands not only a first edition, but one from my personal collection…and out of the first box the publisher sent to me. The God of Mischief asked me to do him a solid, and I figured it might be a good idea to go the extra mile. Thanks for being a Constant Reader all these years, and may the wheel of Ka always move forward for you.

With love,

Steve

PS - CONGRATULATIONS!

Tigerlily was still playing, and I re-read the text again, realizing that Tom had planned all of this, for ME, for MY birthday, and I nearly burst into tears but the last bit of what Steve…STEPHEN FUCKING KING… had written confused me and I focused on that in an attempt to keep my shit together. I began speaking, still staring at the word as I turned around.

“Tom, why did he write congra…” I looked up from my precious treasure but didn’t see him, just Luke and Simon, their phones held up and pointing at me. “…ulations?” My gaze moved lower, and there he was. Tom. Down on one knee. Right arm extended. And in his hand was a small black box.

I’d like to say the world around me grew silent and time stopped and the angels began to sing, but that would be lying and, if nothing else, I’m an honest woman.

What really happened is that I blurted out “Ohmygodthefuckareyoudoing?” followed by my right hand flying up to cover my mouth, trying to shove what had just come out back in.

His eyes met mine, peering up from under his brows, lashes so long and soft and glistening with tears, his smile shy and kind and beautiful and I could see his hand shaking just the tiniest bit and my knees got weak and I had to uncover my mouth so I could breathe otherwise my big ass was going to hit the fucking floor.

He cleared his throat, then began to speak. “One hundred and twenty-five days. That’s how long it’s been since I walked through those red doors, down these stacks and saw you, my light in the mist. All of those days that came and went before…they all appear in shades of grey in my mind now, as if I never truly saw the world around me in color until the moment my eyes met yours for the first time. And however many more days we’re blessed with on this earth, I want to spend each and every one of them with you. I know I’ve said this bit already, when we first arrived in New York, but…I’m going to say it again, because it’s the truth, the only truth I know, the only truth that matters. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. Maude Gallagher, will you do me the honor…the most extraordinary honor that could ever be bestowed upon me…of becoming my wife?”

I’d stopped breathing at some point, inhaling with an audible gasp at his conclusion, then answering.

“Absofuckingloutely. Yes. Yes yes yes yes YES!”

I threw myself at him, and he rose to catch me just in time, both of us laughing and crying, his forehead resting against mine, Simon and Luke whistling and shouting as we kissed, murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over when we came up for air. Tom pulled back, grinning holding up the black box and shaking it back and forth.

“Aren’t you curious to see your ring?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “I guess so. Whip it out.”

He opened the lid, and what I saw nested inside the black velvet made me feel faint for the second time in mere minutes. The ring was sterling silver, with an oval cut and polished black stone set in raised parenthesis shaped sterling silver bars, one to each side, perfectly mimicking of the style of the necklace given to me by my father. My voice eluded me, and he mistook my silence for displeasure.

“It’s not traditional, I know, and if you’d rather have a diamond we can…”

My head shook back and forth as I reached out and touched it with my right index finger in disbelief, then met his gaze.

“That’s black tourmaline.” He nodded, and I recalled the conspiratorial glance Luke’s mother and Tom’s sister had shared after I’d tried on a ring back at the Cube gallery. “Phaedra made this.”

He nodded again, eyes questioning. I bit my lip, then inhaled sharply before speaking again. “Will you put it on me please?”

His voice was timid, soft. “You like it, then?”

“No, Tom. I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. Put. It. On. Me.” I grinned. “Please.”

As Simon sidled over and took the Gunslinger away from me, Tom slipped the ring out of its slot, put the box in his pocket, then took my left hand in his right and slid the first tangible symbol of our commitment to one another home with the other, a huge, beautiful smile spreading across his face as I brought both our hands up to stare at my latest jewelry acquisition. He watched me, silently, and all the other moments that I’d pushed aside over the past four months formed a slideshow in my mind’s eye. Ben smirking at us as we looked through his wedding album, nudging his wife in the ribs as she giggled…what I’d overheard at Diana’s house, that he wanted something to be ‘perfect’…and, finally, the afternoon at Greenwood Cemetery back in New Orleans when I’d said goodbye to my father. Tom had gone to the crypt, introduced himself and told my father how much he loved me, then asked him a question, cupping his hand to his mouth and whispering against the stone, waiting for an answer, then nodding as he said ‘thank you, sir’. When I’d asked what his question had been he’d refused to tell me, though when I inquired as to whether my father had answered, he’d replied ‘I’d like to think he did.’

Gasping, my hand again flew to my mouth as my breath hitched and the tears flowed. “Tom…my god…how long…when did you decide…was it back in…Tom, that day in the cemetery…my dad…is that what you…”

He nodded, weeping as well. “Yes. I asked him for your hand in marriage.”

Choking back sobs, I reached out and placed my right hand on his shoulder. “But…when did you…when…”

His fingers grazed my temple, then my cheek, coming to rest on my jaw. “When did I know that I wanted to marry you?” I nodded. “That moment in the hotel in New Orleans when you said that if you really, truly love someone you accept them just as they are…and that you accepted me, all of me, every bit. As I took you in my arms, it hit me…I wasn’t just holding the woman I’d fallen in love with any longer. I was holding my wife.”

My sobs broke free, and I wrapped myself around him and buried my face in his chest. He rocked me, smoothing my hair, his chin on the top of my head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to ask. I just…I wanted it to be…perfect.”

Pulling away, I snorted. “Mission accomplished, you glorious bastard. This was over the top, ridiculously romantic, Clint Eastwood and Rob Reiner co-directing a love story PERFECT.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. The ring…there’s an inscription…”

I yanked it off and held it up to my face. Around the solid portion of the band, flanked on either side by two tiny books was written in a teeny, tiny font, two lines, one on top of the other:

Talk Story - 6/29/15 - Our Story

My Light in the Mist

“Thomas William Hiddleston, I hope you realize that now we have to get MARRIED here. Like, right here. In this very spot. Bridezilla has come ashore and she won’t have it any other way.” I turned my attention from the ring to his face. “I’m serious. Can we? Is that cool with you? Getting married here? I mean, I guess we need to ask…” His smirk resulted in an epic eye roll and heavy sigh from me as I slipped the ring back on my finger. “Aaaaand…you already asked, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Roger’s fine with it. We just need to let him know a few weeks in advance so he can arrange to close the shop.”

For some reason, that solidified what had just occurred. Tom had asked me to marry him. I’d said yes. I was now his fiancé, the future Mrs. Thomas Hiddleston. And there was now a wedding to plan. Which was exciting and amazing but I had no idea what to do next so I just stood, like a deer caught in headlights. He leaned in, nose touching mine.

“You okay?”

I nodded hard, attempting to clear my head, letting the euphoria take over. “My god, we’re getting MARRIED. Maude Hiddleston. I’m going to need to start practicing that. Gotta say, it sounds pretty fucking great. Nice ring to it. Maude Hiddleston. Yep. Sold.”

His jaw had dropped open, then closed again, eyes full of surprise. “I…you…you want to change your name?”

“Uhhh…yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, if you don’t want…”

He took my hands in his. “Oh, no, no…I…I’d love for you to take my name. See, that sounds awful. Archaic. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to or that I expected you to because, I mean, you’re known a certain way professionally and…”

My lips found his, tongue pushing into his mouth, silencing him the best way I knew how. And, other than pushing his head down between my thighs, my favorite way. As we broke the kiss, he grinned, and so did I.

“Tom. I know some women are very much against changing their names or like to hyphenate, and that’s totally cool, but I’m not one of them. To me, it’s part of joining with someone. Being a family. If that makes me old-fashioned, too fucking bad. Plus, what happens when your kid with the hyphenated name marries another kid with a hyphenated name? Chaos, I say. Chaos.”

His expression was so earnest, so thankful that it caused me to take pause, during which I become cognizant of all I had to be thankful for as well. And that I hadn’t even said thank you, for anything he’d done, which resulted in waterworks yet again as I let go of his hands to place mine on the sides of his beautifully chiseled countenance.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t say thank you, for any of this…but I’m telling you now. Thank you, Tom. Thank you. I’m going to remember this forever and tell it over and over and our kids and grandkids will be like SHUT UP WE HEARD THAT STORY A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY and it’s just…I love you, so much, and I’m so blessed to have you in my life and my god, I can’t believe you want to MARRY me because I mean I’m ME and…”

It was his turn to cut things off with a kiss, and as he pulled back I heard Simon’s voice, realizing I had completely forgotten that we weren’t alone and wondering exactly how much they’d filmed.

“Yay, yay, you’re engaged, that’s super, who isn’t though, you know? Anyway. I’m going to create a diversion because if Maude cries again I’m going to lose all respect for her and, frankly, I don’t have that much left TO lose so…” He wrenched me from Tom’s grasp and turned me to face him. “SO, I assume that I’ll be your maid of honor? Because honey, you are REALLY going to need my help…”

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, you’ll wind up being my MATRON of honor because you’ll probably be MARRIED by then, you big fucking dumbass. And…and…” I started to sniffle, tears welling up again.

He covered his eyes with his right hand, having taken the shades off to film, and groaned. “Oh. My. God. Are you going to cry from now until whenever it is you get hitched? Because if that’s the case feel free to go before Luke and I do.”

When I didn’t reply, he uncovered his eyes, saw the look on my face and placed both hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, gorgeous…talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of one hand, then attempted to speak. “Will you…I…my…I don’t have a…my dad…isn’t…will…will you walk me down the aisle?”

He, Tom and Luke burst into tears at that, Simon’s hand over his mouth as he nodded repeatedly and pulled me to his chest. His voice was deep but soft in my ear when he was able to talk again. “Of course I will, honey. Of course I will. I’m so sorry your father won’t be there. And you know I’m, like, SO not religious so I’m not going to give you the watching over you nonsense, though I guess who the fuck really knows, but in a way he WILL be there, because he’s part of you. And we need to talk about something else now because crying is making my headache IN-FUCKING-TOLERABLE…”

He released me and Luke took his place immediately, warmly embracing me for the second time that day. His quiet authority was what I saw most of…it wasn’t until we were off the clock that he became himself, and even at that we were only moderately affectionate. Drunk Luke, though…that was an entirely different story. After a few pats to the back, we let each other go, and I pointed at Tom.

“This is some stunt you pulled here, young man. I hope you realize that.”

He grinned from ear to ear, tongue peeking out from between his teeth. “Oh, I do.” His brows rose. “Were you truly surprised?”

“Um, YEAH. No clue. Well, not exactly NO clue. I mean, I picked up on a few things along the way that I seemed odd but I just pushed them aside because…” My eyes turned skyward as I thought of the best way to phrase what came next. “Because as much as I wanted it to be what I thought it was, I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t want to be disappointed if it never happened, I guess. But. Yeah. So, do we need to fill anyone in on the news or am I totally the last one to know?”

“If it never happened. You’re a silly, silly girl.” His lips grazed my cheek. “And yes, there are still plenty of people to tell. Anyone who was privy to my plan was purely essential.”

My left eyebrow shot up. “Oh, how did Ben and Sophie factor in? Do tell.”

He blushed adorably. “I may have tattled to Chris and Elsa too. But…Anne’s still in the dark, so maybe start there?”

Simon had set the Gunslinger on the nearest table, and I started at it and sighed happily. “I cannot BELIEVE you not only managed to find me a first edition copy of the Gunslinger, but you got Stephen King to sign it, and it’s ONE FROM HIS PERSONAL COLLECTION. You are such a complete dork, and I am the luckiest woman alive, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

He walked to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “So, should we take a photo to post online? Or would you rather do something more formal?”

I snorted. “Fuck formal. Picture, please.”

I held up my left hand at face level between us, the back of it towards Tom’s phone, which Luke was holding, then pointed at the ring with my right and posed with my mouth stretched wide open in a gleeful grin. Tom pointed at it as well, and three clicks later we were good to go.

Taking the phone back from Luke, he typed, then stopped. “Do you want to call Anne before I post this?”

“Nah. I’ll wait for her to call. It’s more fun this way…and honestly, I have no idea how to tell people without sounding like an asshole, so…yeah. Post it.”

He clicked, then turned the screen so I could see it. There we were, his expression mimicking mine, his Twitter message short and sweet.

She said YES!!!!!!!!!! #thefuturemrshiddleston, #iamsoveryblessed, #luckiestmanintheuniverse

Chuckling, I passed the phone back to him. “Um, actually what I said was ‘absofuckingloutely’. Shit. That’s like, filmed and recorded as my official reaction to being proposed to in the most beautiful and perfect way possible. Nice one, me.”

Luke cleared his throat. “So, not to be a killjoy…” Simon snorted. “Do we have a date in mind for the blessed event? Tom’s schedule is…”

I raised my hand. “Oh, oh…I know what Tom’s schedule is…it’s an insane MESS. Gee, wish there was an app for that or something. HA! Anyhow, you’ll have to double check, but I’m pretty sure that there is zero room for it to happen until late April or early May.”

Scrolling through his phone, Luke nodded. “You’re right. After the I Saw the Light press tour and premiere he’s got Night Manager promo until it airs in the states on April nineteenth. Really, the best month seems to be June.”

Tom spread his hands wide. “Well, that makes it simple. Let’s do it on the first anniversary of the day we met. June twenty-ninth. I think I can even squeeze in time for a honeymoon before heading to Australia to start in on Ragnarock.” He turned to me, brows raised, questioning. “Okay with you?”

My eyes met his, then roamed up and down over his form. This breathtakingly beautiful, kind, compassionate, intelligent, gifted, hilarious being…he was going to be my husband. I felt the tears creeping up on me again, but shook them off, breaking myself of the habit lest I, as Simon feared, kept crying every time I thought about marrying the man for the next eight months.

“Oh yeah. Totally okay with me. And shall I assume you had that planned all along as well?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, one hand on his abdomen, smirking adorably when he’d managed to compose himself. “No, actually…that one was totally off the cuff.”

“Sure it was.”

Laughing again, he grabbed my shoulders. “It was. I swear it.”

I sighed. “Well, if you swear it, I guess I should believe you. So…I know this will come as a shock, but …I’m STARVING. Birthday girl needs lunch. Feed birthday girl NOW.”

Tom pulled me close and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “How’s Kauai Pasta sound?”

“It sounds like you made reservations for four is how it sounds.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Which is awesome, because I am such a slut for Alfredo…”

Simon’s face appeared over Tom’s shoulder. “Oh, oh…can we please go over the list of things you’re a slut for? THERE ARE SO MANY…”

I flipped him off. “Please. Your list is so long it wouldn’t fit on my 32 gig USB drive.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “My, my. She becomes some hot guy’s fiancé and her rudeness trebles. Unacceptable.”

Grinning, I turned my gaze back to Tom. “So, are we, like, done with surprises for the day? Because I’m not sure my heart can take another one. Though I do have a surprise of my own for YOU…”

“You do, do you? And what would that be?”

I patted his chest. “That would be my Halloween costume, babe. I fear you may not survive.”

He placed his hand over mine, leaning in so his face was inches from mine. “You do realize that you have not the slightest inkling as to what I’m wearing, don’t you?”

I didn’t. I’d been so focused on keeping mine under wraps I hadn’t considered HIS. And I was afraid to imagine, because the party now seemed an eternity away and if I let my mind wander…my mouth dropped open, then closed, opened, then closed again. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I am so, so fucked.”

A whisper in my ear. “Oh, you are indeed, my darling. You are indeed.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 34

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nightmareonfilmstreet · 6 years

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Review: BLACK MIRROR Season 4 (Part I - Episodes 1 & 2)

New Post has been published on https://nofspodcast.com/review-black-mirror-season-4-part-episodes-1-2/

Review: BLACK MIRROR Season 4 (Part I - Episodes 1 & 2)

Black Mirror Season 4 dropped on December 29th, on Netflix.

SPOILER-FREE REVIEW:

Watch it. Oh my God, watch it. Now, then; Spoilers ahead.

EPISODE 1: USS CALLISTER

The aspect ratio of the opening sequence matches the aspect ratio of the old Star Trek television show. It’s little things like that keep my coffee hot and get me up in the morning.

“USS Callister” really tells two stories: the first is the tale of a loser computer programmer named Robert Daly, who’s created a groundbreaking Virtual-Reality-based game that lets people fly around the universe in spaceships, explore planets, battle each other trade, etcetera. The guy he started the company with is a dick who doesn’t appreciate his contributions to the company. His coworkers think he’s weird and awkward and kinda creepy sometimes.

The second story is that of a sadistic and cruel God named Robert Daly. Daly has created a parallel Virtual Reality that allows him to play out his fantasies of being a Hero in Charge, based on a retro science-fiction television show he loves. (Think Star Trek.)

The twist of the knife is that he has peopled this game with digital copies of coworkers he dislikes, generated by stolen samples of their DNA. They have all their memories and personalities from the real world. They are sentient, thinking and feeling as their real-world selves.

What “USS Callister” asks us is (among many other things), are they alive?

Not that episode one is all scowling and torment. Brooker mentioned that Black Mirror would ‘explore a little more comedy in this season’, and there is certainly a strong heartbeat of humor here. It’s the best kind of laughter, too, for the series: black humor. Hangman’s jokes. The dry British chuckle in the face of the abyss.

Watching the tortured, terrified digital clones of the USS Callister unwind while Daly is logged out of the game reminds one of London in the Blitz. Sure, there are bombs and blood and rubble everywhere, and things are pretty awful, but at least the bottles behind the bar survived.

When the newest digital clone, Cristin (played by Nanette Cole) finds out that nobody has genitals in Daly’s digital world, her battle cry is priceless:

Okay. Stealing my pussy is a red. Fucking. Line.

“USS Callister” is like a great Doctor Who episode that just happens to be Rated R.

When the trailers for Season 4 dropped, the teaser for “USS Callister” left out the real world entirely. It was a move of twofold genius. First, it saves the surprise of our first, bleak glimpse of the real world. Our introduction to neurotic weirdo Daly (an absolutely stunning performance by Jesse Plemons) feels like a nihilistic sigh of relief. It doesn’t have to be full dark 24/7, but there’s something in the uncompromising, unblinking hardness of Black Mirror that has always set it apart. A certain bleak jouissance that no other show delivers.

Second, it works as a commentary on the episode itself. In our little taste of “USS Callister,” the real world isn’t there at all. The trailer promises pure sci-fi. Pure escapism. Fun. Adventure. There’s no trace of the sinister sadism of Daly, or the suffering of his comrades. There’s no sense of true tragedy or actual stakes.

Just like the immersive, next-gen VR in the episode.

“Callister” examines the more disturbing elements of the AI and VR booms we’re seeing right now. Ten years from now, if we have a bad day, put on our VR headsets, and kill a hundred digital people in Call of Duty online, what will that mean? In a world where code is ever-improving, at what point is a program as nuanced and multifaceted as us? We don’t feel anything drowning Sims or making them wet themselves…but should we? If not today, when? At what point does simulated suffering cease to be Catharsis and become Sadism?

With the advent of technology like CRISPR, perhaps we aren’t so far from Daly’s nightmare after all.

EPISODE 2: ARKANGEL

The obvious big-gun episode of the season is “Arkangel.” There’re no scrubs in the directorial talent of Black Mirror, but Jodie Foster (four Oscar nominations, two wins, Silence of the Lambs, ‘nuff said) is clearly the Heavy Hitter.

She swung for the fences.

She knocked it out of the park.

I don’t even like baseball.

“Arkangel” tells the story of a mother and daughter. When her daughter Sara (Aniya Hodge, Sara Abbot, and Brenna Harding) goes missing, Marie (Rosemarie DeWitt, Cinderella Man, Mad Men) has a monitoring system implanted in Sara’s head. It’s called “Arkangel,” and gives Marie access to Sara’s location, biological vitals, and even a direct feed from her optic nerve. Marie can see what Sara sees.

But “Arkangel” isn’t really about the creepy sci-fi stuff. None of the best episodes of Black Mirror are, and this is one of the best in the series. No. “Arkangel” is about what happens as Sara grows up. It’s about the Helicopter Parents of the future. About how far Marie will go to keep her safe, and how much of herself she’ll compromise to do it.

And the inevitable price to be paid.

The brilliance of Foster’s episode is (to borrow from Blake), its fearful symmetry. Its balance. Each element dances with another, each character reflected darkly in the actions of others. Sara and the all-seeing eye in her head are like a weight in the center of the episode. On one side is Marie and her Orwellian baby monitor. On the other is Trick (a superb performance by Own Teague), the Cute Drug Dealer from the Wrong Side of the Tracks, and all the rebellion and danger he represents.

Every line, every interaction in the episode shifts that weight, tilts the precarious position of the scale. Structurally, it’s breathtakingly beautiful. There is no wasted moment.

I don’t know whether to give the nod to Brooker (who has sole writing credit on the episode) or Foster for the delicate dance of these threads. The interplay between the writing and directing style is an elegant pas de deux, each word and element circling the others, and pulling the weave ever tighter.

Brooker understands Irony in a way that few shows do, and utilizes it like the keen, heartrending edge that it can be. And he knows Tragedy. The Capital-T kind that the Greeks told us so much about, all those years ago. He knows it intimately. Knows that the key to Tragedy is Hamaratia: the Fatal Flaw.

There are several Fatal Flaws in “Arkangel.” They run (appropriately) in arcs through the episode. Tracing those threads back reveals the subtlety and nuance Foster and Brooker actually manage.

Almost everything Marie does throughout the episode is countered or echoed elsewhere: when she reactivates the Arkangel unit in Sara’s teens, she sees her having sex with Trick, the “Dangerous Bad Boy.” Yet, that same night, she met up with one of her patients from physical therapy: a devil-may-care biker who injured himself driving his motorcycle recklessly, and shows no signs of slowing down.

Marie sees Sara experimenting with cocaine in Trick’s van. The effect of the drug is that it raises Sara’s heart rate. A few days later, Marie grinds some drugs into Sara’s morning smoothie. The effect of drugging her daughter is the spontaneous abortion of a pregnancy Sara didn’t even know about.

It’s ironic that Marie should confront Trick, condemning him as “a junkie.” Throughout the episode, Marie treats the Arkangel parent unit as a junkie treats drugs. She hides the unit upstairs, laments over whether to use it or not. Okay, just this one more time. Uses it just a little. Just a few functions. Starts carrying it with her. It’s clear that she’s addicted to it.

There’s even a brilliant reversal of the classic “Parent finds drugs in the kid’s room” scene, where Sara rifles her mother’s room and discovers that she’s still using the Arkangel parent unit. Sara is horrified and tosses it down, the perfect picture of a parent discovering their child’s dangerous addiction.

Marie is the first victim of Arkangel, and in her victimhood, she stands for all of us. I don’t mean the program itself. I’m talking about the sentiment behind it. Beneath the eerie veneer of the invasive surveillance of tomorrow, “Arkangel” is quietly commenting on something we’re experiencing today.

Safety. In excess. In extremis.

The opening scene of the episode doesn’t just establish the characters and set the stage. It holds up a mirror. Marie is giving birth: after complications during natural birth, the doctor is performing a C-section. “Arkangel” opens with Marie looking away from the things that frighten her: the doctors, the nurse, the procedure she’s undergoing. When Sara is finally born, the doctors whisk her away to a table nearby. There is no sound. No cry. Other doctors gather, and Marie becomes afraid: afraid her baby is dead, that she’s lost her little girl, and is powerless to help.

“Tell me she’s alright,” she says.

The nurse holds her hand, tells her to calm down. Comforts her. Then Sara cries and is brought over, and she’s fine, and everything is fine. We get the sort of close-up maternal scene we’re accustomed to seeing when babies are born on television. Lots of nuzzling and happy tears and lifelong bonds being wound between mother and child.

And then, brilliantly, brutally, honestly, Foster shows us what we seldom see these days, too busy cooing over the microcosm and the close-up.

She shows us the big picture.

On one side of the curtain, Marie is bonding with her little girl. Her daughter is alive and well. Everything is fine. Nurses smile and nod and congratulate her. And on the other side of the curtain, her body is open and bloody. Doctors work quietly to stop the bleeding and make her whole again. Though a routine procedure, Marie has experienced massive trauma, could conceivably die if things go wrong…but she’ll never know. The sheet protects her. She doesn’t feel a thing: the doctors have numbed her to the trauma she’s experiencing. All that’s left is bliss.

(By the by, I’m not suggesting we force new mothers to watch surgeries performed on them without anesthetic. I’m not a monster. I am an observer of metaphors.)

The “parental control” of the Arkangel unit is obviously the darkest, most troubling of the sci-fi elements of the episode, but it raises some interesting questions about what safety might mean, in the long-term.

When Sara’s grandfather has a heart attack, she can’t see what’s happening to him, and can’t hear his pleas for her to get help. She’s shielded from the trauma by the unit. But there’s a parallel in our world, here: if we crumble in the face of fear and trauma, shutting down and closing it out, refusing to look, what are the consequences of that willful blind eye?

Later, as Marie grieves over her father’s grave, Sara can’t see her mother’s face. Grief is uncomfortable. It has been censored out.

Again, there are real considerations for us in the real world. If we turn our backs on grief and powerful, negative human emotions because they make us uncomfortable, what does that mean? The end of empathy? A society that must grieve alone and uncomforted, with no community to feel and grieve with us, no strength to be lent to us because we are, in our sadness, upsetting?

Just something to think about.

Sara’s grandfather speaks for some us, after Marie has the Arkangel implanted in Sara’s head:

“I remember when we used to open up the door and let the kids be.”

It provokes an interesting thought. The difference between opening a door and a locked one can be the difference between a home and a prison. Between a conversation and a censure is the difference between a parent and a warden.

And once you’ve escaped a prison, why would you ever go back?

Overall

There’s a common thread between “USS Callister” and “Arkangel.”

Hope.

When Cristin and company break out of Daly’s digital world, they have a whole new universe to explore. They’re in charge of their own destinies again. They have free will, and the will to live.

Once Sara escapes her mother’s smothering safety, she has a whole world to explore. She’s free, finally, with her whole life ahead of her.

Watching these two episodes, I noticed something for the first time. In the opening credits of Black Mirror, just before the screen goes dark, and we stare into the black possibilities of the onrushing technological age…

The Black Mirror always cracks. The mirror Brooker holds up is not impervious. We can escape.

There’s always hope.

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remembertae · 7 years

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Brockmire “Road Trip”

(Photo: IFC)

S1 E6, May 3, 2017

WRITTEN BY: Amanda Sitko

SYNOPSIS

Minor League baseball team owner Jules James and her not-so-serious boyfriend/ballpark announcer Jim Brockmire are hanging out at the small town bar she owns. She can’t believe that after so many years of taking great care to not get pregnant, she is now knocked up. Fetus father Brockmire is ready to fork over cash for an abortion, but Jules isn’t sure that’s what she wants He fully acknowledges the choice is hers, but asks for some odds. She says she’s 60/40 in favor of having the baby, which surprises him. She asks him to seriously consider whether or not he could be a dad.

While playing a game of catch with his teenage assistant Charles, Brockmire asks the young man, “You think I’d be a good father?” Charles quickly responds, “You would be a terrible father, don’t do that.” Meanwhile at the bar, Jules quietly asks the (unnamed) bartender if she’s ever had an abortion. The young lady responds that she has, and relates a rather frank and disturbing story about having to travel long-distance to Pittsburgh for the procedure, where she encountered violent protesters; however, she asserts that she regrets nothing. Jules reveals she is pregnant, but when she starts getting into personal details, the bartender encourages her to call a friend instead.

Jules later visits her friend Diana, a mother of three. Diana is excited for Jules’s pregnancy, telling her this is her “sign” that she’s ready to let go of the past and settle down. When Diana’s youngest wakes up crying, mom encourages an uncomfortable Jules to hold the baby.

We then see Brockmire seeking more advice from baseball player/father-of-thirteen Pedro Uribe, who speaks glowingly of fatherhood. When Brockmire sees Jules later, he’s excited about the prospect of raising a kid. But when Jules tells him she definitely wants an abortion, he heaves a sigh of relief and thanks God. The two make plans to visit a clinic in Pittsburgh.

Jules and Brockmire meet with an abortion provider, who is put off by their relentless snarky joking. When the doctor explains that Jules qualifies for a medical abortion, she bristles at the thought of swallowing a pill and asks if she can snort it instead. The doctor tells her to please refrain from making cocaine references in his presence. He asks her to ingest the mifepristone right away and the misoprostol later. When she takes the first pill, much slapstick-y gagging ensues, but she does eventually swallow it.

Later at the hotel, Jules and Brockmire are ready to “pre-game” her abortion. While she mixes drinks in the bathroom, he snorts a couple lines of what he assumes to be coke but, alas, he has unwittingly snorted her misoprostol. They meet with the frustrated doctor again. He imagines Brockmire might experience some of the same symptoms Jules will experience when she aborts, but can’t say for sure since this hasn’t happened before. He gives Jules another pill, and again she gags multiple times before actually swallowing it.

The next morning, Brockmire and Jules lie in bed, both wrecked from a rough night of medical abortion symptoms but otherwise relieved. She thanks him for being so thoroughly supportive throughout her brief pregnancy. She says she wants something positive to come out of this situation. Later we see that they’ve invited all thirteen of Uribe’s children to town so they can see their father during baseball season.

KEEPING IT REAL QUOTIENT

I don’t care much for this show, but there’s a lot to love about this abortion episode. For starters, I really dig Jules and Brockmire’s dynamic throughout the story. This is how I imagine pro-choice grown-ups dealing with an unplanned yet not entirely unwelcome pregnancy. Though not necessarily a maternal figure, it makes sense that Jules — an entrepreneur who’s aggressively promoting this sleepy small town’s baseball team — could see herself tackling motherhood with that same gusto. But in the end, even after holding her friend’s “cute little fat angel baby,” she just didn’t feel it. Brockmire does everything he can to support her, and in just the right way. When she tells him she’s leaning toward keeping the baby, he replies in his typical, colorful fashion, “I understand. I gave up my vote at ejaculation.” He doesn’t blab about her situation to anyone, even when he’s seeking advice from friends. Other than accidentally snorting her abortion pill (which mainly upsets her because he’d greedily snorted both lines), he puts her desire and comfort first. His going through the abortion symptoms with her perfectly symbolizes his surprising capacity for empathy.

The way they deal with this problem together makes for a funny and surprisingly sweet episode, but it’s also refreshing to see this depiction of a fetus father type who isn’t quite so rare in real life as TV would have us believe. I’ve watched a lot of abortion episodes and there is this tendency to create drama by placing the fetus father at odds with the pregnant woman and whatever choice she is making. Way less often do we see the guy say to her, “I’ll support whatever you want,” which is exactly what my boyfriend said to me when I was getting ready to terminate an unplanned pregnancy. Of course this is not everyone’s real life experience, but it seems underrepresented on TV.

But my favorite thing about this abortion tale is that magnificent scene with Jules and the bartender. The young woman begins her tale by explaining how difficult it was for her to get an abortion. Unable to visit her local Planned Parenthood, which had recently been firebombed, she had to pay for a round-trip bus ticket to Pittsburgh, plus the cost of the surgery, plus the cost of three nights at a hotel. These are the sort of real life barriers that prevent people who live in small towns from accessing abortion, and that is something TV shows almost never discuss when they talk about termination. I’m extremely pleased that so many shows in the past few years have embraced the once-taboo topic of abortion and that we’ve see many pregnant protagonists — from Scandal’s Olivia Pope to Bojack Horseman’s Diane — choose termination without the tiniest bit of shame. But most TV shows feature middle and upper class characters who live in or around major cities where abortion is still pretty accessible. I live in a mid-sized southern city where you cannot get a legal abortion. If I needed to terminate, I’d have to travel two hours to a larger city, where I’d have to wait 48 hours for the pill or procedure itself. For people who work low wage jobs and/or don’t have a car, abortion becomes an expensive, time-consuming, potentially job-threatening endeavor. How pleasing to see a young, working class woman character on a TV show lay this all out for viewers who may not understand how hard it is to get an abortion here in flyover country.*

I also love the bartender’s story because it includes the funniest dark joke of the whole episode. Describing what happened when she got to the abortion clinic, she says, “The protesters screamed the worst things humanly possible in my face. But it was fine because I was listening to ‘Shake It Off’.” She smiles, then adds, “And then somebody threw a diaper full of rocks at me… That I couldn’t shake off.” As horrifying as this is, the casual, almost gossipy way she relates the story makes it so funny.

Indeed, her nonchalance about sharing her experience (“I tell everyone that story! It’s the first thing on my dating profile”) honestly reminded me of some of my millennial friends. I’ve always run with a pretty liberal and open-minded crowd, but I don’t remember me or my girlfriends talking so casually about abortion when I was in my early twenties. Even in the very church-going, abortion-unfriendly town where I currently reside, I’m regularly delighted to witness the open and unapologetic way some of my younger friends talk about termination. This bartender reminded me a bit of one young activist I know, who posted on Facebook the day after Tennessee’s anti-choice Amendment One passed, “Someone needs to knock me up so I can have a spite abortion.” I still laugh out loud every time I think about that.

Alas, this scene is not perfect. A couple small details bugged me. At one point Dale, one of the redneck yokel bar flies, brags about being the person who firebombed the Planned Parenthood (which the bartender shrugs off with an eye roll). Look, I know some enemies of abortion access could best be described as “redneck” but this is a cheap shot. The writers of this show seem to have so much contempt for small-town people, but I suspect most of them probably don’t know any. It makes for some pretty hollow satire, especially because firebombin-rednecks aren’t the main reason rural women can’t get abortions (Republican legislators and anti-choice organizations are).

And then there’s this other detail, about which I have mixed feelings. After telling Jules that the procedure itself was easy, the bartender says, “Sure, when I woke up I felt like shit and I had a black eye from the rock diaper. But would I do it again?” With a slightly embarrassed look, she says, “Yeah, I did.” Ah, now here’s a major taboo, both on TV** and IRL - the woman who seeks multiple abortions. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it until we fully obliterate termination stigma, THERE IS NO CORRECT NUMBER OF ABORTIONS A PERSON CAN HAVE. If you call yourself pro-choice but catch yourself saying things like, “abortion shouldn’t be used as birth control,” or, “abortion should be safe, legal, and rare,” you are hurting the movement. As long as you believe that more-than-one-abortion is tacky or yucky, you are keeping stigma alive. Please stop.

So yes, I look forward to the day when “I had two abortions” isn’t a punchline. Nevertheless, I still appreciate seeing a character say that she did, especially one who is this funny and cool.

GRADE

A- Based on previous episodes, I had no expectation of loving this story as much as I did. The grievances listed above would usually result in a lower grade, but that just shows how great the rest of the episode is.

* While the bartender’s timeline implies that there was a waiting period for her procedure (consistent with Pennsylvania law), this is not something Jules encounters when she meets with the physician. I imagine this detail was omitted for the purpose of moving the story along, but it is an oversight.

** The only other character I’ve seen who talks about having had more than one abortion is Mimi-Rose from Girls.

- by Tara

UPDATE: A reader correctly noted that Samantha from Sex and the City also talked about having had two abortions. Good catch!

#abortion #abortion episode #brockmire

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monikakrasnorada · 7 years

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This was my fault.

Since S4 aired, I’ve had Mycroft on the brain. I’m not sure why but there has been something about him and his role in the wonkiness of the series that I can’t shake. I’ve made some passing, rather rambly remarks about him in the past few months, but hadn’t taken the time to go back and watch to really see if I was perhaps onto something. I’m still not certain I am, but by re-watching and paying close attention, it feels as if my misgivings about him and his part in it all may not have been unfounded.

Naive as it is to admit, I was- all the way up to the airing of T6T- staunchly in the pro-Mycroft / over-protective big brother / means well / isn’t a baddie camp. Wellllll, yeah. I’m not so sure of that reading any longer. Something’s rotten in Denmark and I think that something occupies a minor position in the British government. This is my incoherent attempt to work through some of what is bothering me about Mycroft and hope that by the end, something of it all makes a bit of sense.

*I’m sure a lot of this has been brought up / discussed before by many others. This is in no way an attempt to claim these ideas as my own. Just trying to work through the thoughts as they come. Apologies in advance.*

Loads of pics and rambling word-vomit below the cut.

Mycroft

Living in a world of goldfish can’t be easy for the arch enemy of Sherlock Holmes.

I love Mycroft. I’ve been a staunch advocate of his since the beginning. Naively touting that he really does have Sherlock’s best interests at heart. That his machinations couldn’t possibly be nefarious. Just a meddling, overbearing, too-deeply invested big brother that wants to be the hero of his baby bro. I still believe that to some degree. I don’t know why? I just can’t find it in my heart to accept he knowingly / wittingly played Moriarty’s game. Or, worse yet- that the game was all him and Moriarty happened to be a pawn as well.

I think a lot of my misgivings and willingness to excuse Mycroft’s actions up until now had a bit of a personal aspect for me. I have the kind of older brother that would (and has) done terrible awful things to me in order to make himself look good or to win the attention of other memebers of the family and make it a me vs him sort of deal. That’s not fun. It’s super harmful and I just wasn’t willing to accept the show I loved as my ‘get away’ from the nastiness that can be rl, would be the show that could kind of (if I squint my eyes just right) resemble a bit of my own family dynamic.

But, I digress.

What was his fault?

MYCROFT: This was my fault

SHERLOCK: This had nothing to do with you.

MYCROFT: A week in a prison cell and I should have realised.

SHERLOCK: Realised what?

MYCROFT: That in your case, solitary confinement is locking you up with your worst enemy.

This exchange from TAB was interesting. At the time it aired, it seemed only relevant to what had happened in that ep. Sherlock had used again to either figure out the reason Moriarty had returned via the Ricoletti case or he intended to die before his exile could begin.

S4 changed all that. To me, this seemed to become a much bigger admission of guilt on Mycroft’s part. But, what of it?

MYCROFT: Nobody deceives like an addict.

Throughout the entirety of the series, we’ve never witnessed Sherlock ‘the addict’. I think he may have been using off and on-

But only for the reasons he said:

SHERLOCK: I’m not an addict. I’m a user. I alleviate boredom and occasionally heighten my thought processes.

(though, I would add alleviating a broken heart to that list as well. Poor lamb.)

A disguise is always a self-portrait

Mycroft calling Sherlock out on his addiction in TAB, for me, is a bit of a pot / kettle situation. Sherlock isn’t ‘technically’ an addict, but there does seem to be a Holmes brother with an addiction problem- . Mycroft and his addiction to power and need to control every aspect of Sherlock’s life.

MYCROFT: I was there for you before.

SHERLOCK: Before what?

MYCROFT: I’ll be there for you again. I’ll always be there for you.

Mycroft admits in TAB, that it was his fault. They- he and Sherlock- have an agreement. Ever since that day. Which we are then led to believe was some random moment in the past that Sherlock had ODed and Mycroft had come to the rescue. None of which correlates to the true reason Sherlock is the man he is if any of TFP is to be taken at face-value.

If Mycroft’s vow was that he would always be there for him. (Oh, that sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before?)

Then where was Mycroft when Sherlock needed him after Mary’s death? As Sherlock spiralled out of control and went straight to hell??

More to the point, where was the infamous list in TLD? Mycroft was miffed to have been called out of a meeting with the Prime Minister but it was clearly evident he was aware of Sherlock’s using during the intervening time since Mary’s ‘death’ but didn’t do anything about it. Didn’t demand the ‘list’. Just brought his spooks in when Sherlock was practically dead to find out what ‘triggered’ his time ‘back on the sauce’. Hmmm.

Wow, so much for being the smart one there, Myc.

So, what exactly was Mycroft admitting fault to? The levels of that admission in TAB are staggering: Sherlock’s isolation in solitary confinement, his drug use, the reason for his drug use.

However, in TFP we get the real reason™ for Mycroft’s confession of guilt: the re-writing of Sherlock’s memories. The list of Mycroft’s misdeeds regarding his brother (nevermind Eurus at the mo, that’s a whole other can of worms) now seems endless and a little much to swallow from a normal human being. I’m sorry but Mycroft is no Svengali in any literal sense of the word. If he were capable of all of this- to be responsible for all of Sherlock’s trials and tribulations- then Mycroft’s influence is beyond compare.

Oh, but wait- No it isn’t.

That is one hell of a family trait!

I’ll be mother.

@gosherlocked wrote an interesting post about the Holmes family recently. In it she points out this line from the show:

“Every choice you ever made; every path you’ve ever taken – the man you are today … is your memory of Eurus.”

Which she then refutes beautifully with this comment:

Sorry, but no, Mycroft. This is not true. Sherlock may have been influenced by a lot of things but he cannot have become the man he is today just because of a non-existent memory. If he did not remember Eurus for decades, it is not possible that she has completely shaped his life.

Can you hear me screaming “THIS!” in response as I read that. Because that’s it right there in a nutshell, isn’t it? The whole reason nothing of this series makes a lick of sense because it completely edits and erases what came before it in the show.

And- HA! Isn’t that fucking hilarious because it’s exactly what Mycroft tells us at the beginning of T6T:

So, everything is up to Mycroft’s discretion. Interesting. Stick a pin in that thought because we will come back to it in a bit.

Alternatively

There are two instances where this word comes into play and is the main reason I am now compelled to write all this down (and hope that much smarter minds than mine can make the connection a lot clearer). It feels as if this word is pivotal to what has happened in the show since HLV.

Immediately following TAB, during the convos that brought @gosherlocked and @the-7-percent-solution and I together in order to birth EMP theory, I made a random post about this word appearing in the opening sequence of TAB:

noun:

1.a choice limited to one of two or more possibilities, as of things,propositions, or courses of action, the selection of which precludes any other possibility

adjective:

1.(of two things, propositions, or courses) mutually exclusive so that if one is chosen the other must be rejected

2.employing or following nontraditional or unconventional ideas,methods, etc.; existing outside the establishment

At that time, I merely found the word intriguing, in relation to what we were shown in TAB. The opening montage of what came before in the show up until the airing of TAB was a bit mind boggling. Not only was the timeline questionable, but the things which they decidedly omitted was a head-scratcher.

What happens once the alternative is introduced?

Immediately following his exchange with Lady S and Sir Edwin, where the alternative was first discussed:

MYCROFT: In any event, there is no prison in which we could incarcerate Sherlock without causing a riot on a daily basis. The alternative, however ... would require your approval.

LADY SMALLWOOD: Hardly merciful, Mr Holmes.

Which really, Mycroft? Really?

We are meant to believe the only alternative for Sherlock having killed CAM was a six-month suicide mission? When Sherrinford exists for the ‘uncontainables’?

The alternative is a turning point.

Nothing is ever the same in this show once that word is introduced. It immediately cuts to the tarmac scene and what do we get?

The first inkling that something is fishy with Mary’s characterisation:

No one expected this turnaround, did they? What’s a little fatal shooting between besties, right?

Then we have this painful exchange. The last words between two men that have thought the sun rose and set on one another. The best and wisest and bravest man the other has ever known and they have nothing of importance to say to each other as Sherlock goes off (if not to John’s knowledge of certain death, clearly you would think Sherlock having killed a man to save his family) John could nut up and say THANK YOU, AT LEAST????

AN ABORTED LOVE CONFESSION FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!!!!

But (and here I’m shootting myself in my own EMP foot) isn’t this how all of this might have played out through the lens of an emotionally-constipated, not-good-with-humans person?

Perhaps this is Mycroft’s alternative tale. Editing. TD 12. Eurus’ influence. There’s no surprise that something has changed in the way this story is told. Maybe it’s the narrator. Maybe it’s simply Sherlock imagining the alternative because he knows Mycroft is at the heart of the problem, so he has put him front and center. I don’t know and I’m not sure any of us can really know until we get more (please, let us get more and answers to all of this)

What I am saying is that I don’t believe alternative was an accident.

Previously

In both TAB and T6T, we get this sort of thing at the beginning ^^. A montage of highlights to get us back up to speed. Again, something is fuuuuucky, because in neither one is there ever a callback to Mary shooting Sherlock.

From the moment we get the alternative, we get the retcon of Mary Morstan. Why? They solidly built her character to be the most amazing villain of the show. I daresay, capable of surpassing Moriarty in good old-fashioned nastiness.

And, it isn’t just Mary that is re-worked. No one since before the tarmac has been in character. I had previously stated my belief that S4 was merely a continuation of TAB- the Victorian personifications brought into the 21st century. It was John’s hair, of all things, that made me realise this as a possibility because it explains the why of John’s hair and Sherlock never bothering to mention it. But, looking at S4 in that vein, really did explain a lot- and make sense of the nonsensical- in a way nothing else had until that point.

I’m not saying I don’t still believe this isn’t all in Sherlock’s head- I do!- I just think that Mycroft has influenced it all much more than anyone originally thought.

Mycroft sees Sherlock as the child he still has to protect and I believe Sherlock subconsciously knows that, hence the exuberant andchild-like actions Sherlock has at the beginning of T6T. All of S4′s characterisations so wrong as to be laughable. Perhaps it’s howSherlock imagines Mycroft imagines them all to be?

Mycroft lied to us.

He told Sherlock and John about Redbeard. He apparently helped arrange their stunt to get onto Sherrinford, so why did he perpetuate the lie? He knew Sherlock was confronting Eurus and she would tell him the truth. Or, no, as a matter of fact, she never said a word about Victor.

Just that they never had a dog. The Victor bit was Sherlock’s own idea. But we saw the dog bowl. If Eurus brought Sherlock to Sherrinford to get emotional context to get to the truth of his repressed memories, why did she perpetuate the Redbeard story? She wanted him to remember “you don’t know about Redbeard”. She had him at Musgrave to reveal the story, but she kept the dog dish. Is this because it is really Mycroft’s mind and he still wanted to keep Sherlock from remembering?

No repercussions for Mycroft after Sherrinford.

All of that planning, plotting, scheming, disguises, setting up an asylum as your own version of Saw- for what? Emotional context? Her oldest brother lied to her parents about her death, kept her locked away and isolated for years. Exploited her abilities for his own gain and she did nothing to him when she had the chance? This woman, who as a 6 year old, killed her brothers best friend because he wouldn’t play with her?

Is Eurus some manifestation of Mycroft? There seems to be a theme here, and I can’t make the connections, so I want to add it and see if anyone else can connect the dots.

Cross-dressing Uncle Rudy and Lady Bracknell. Is Uncle Rudy a ‘codename’ for Mycroft? An invention, like Eurus, to keep Sherlock in line somehow? The East Wind?

Eurus’ song

As I wind down here with this whacked-out non-sense, I just want to leave this here. The last stanza of Eurus’ song and a reference we have seen made by Mycroft many times before:

Without your love he’ll be gone before Save pity for strangers, show love the door My soul seek the shade of my willow’s bloom Inside, brother mine Let Death make a room.

I have loads more about Mycroft I want to share, but I think this is already too long as it is, so I’ll say, if you’ve stuck around this far: stay tuned for part 2.

@loveismyrevolution @gosherlocked @ebaeschnbliah @isitandwonder @tjlcisthenewsexy @the-7-percent-solution @tendergingergirl @yan-yae @impossibleleaf @shadow3214 @shawleyleres @fvkingstraightculture @themanandthemachine @may-shepard @sarahthecoat

#sherlock #mycroft #this was my fault #emp #mk

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briteboy · 7 years

Photo

MORE ASKS I’VE BEEN IGNORING!!!!!!!

GET ‘EM WHILE THEY’RE HOT

P.S. ALL OF U WHO SENT ME THE CHAIN THINGY ILYSOMUCH

Why is her step-douche such a foken piece of shit? omg i hate him

some mysteries are never meant to be explained tbh. why is he so ugly and evil? who wronged him? but also who cares he’s in jail forever now good riddance ugly

I know this is probably really bad, but after I saw the newest molly posts, I thought of that video where the little girl is yelling "MISS KEISHA, MISS KEISHA, oh my fukin gosh she fukin dead"

OMFGFD I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THAT VIDEO WAS SO I JUST WATCHED IT AND I’M LAUGHIN

i don’t blame u i bet when it happens i’m gonna be like “u know she ded”

(To the previous anon) i agree with you so, so much! In Poland, these dumbass politicians are letting shooting pregnant bisons (?? Im not sure how they're called) become legal. Like BITCH WHAT. Can you imagine??? A fucking pregnant lil' cow getting shot????? I feel Molly's pain on an emotional level rn (sorry if this is too nsfw, just needed to get that outta my system...)

i think this was in response to someone saying that hurting pregnant women is one of the worst crimes but um WTF shooting animals at all makes me itchy but pregnant ones..............nah that’s......nah

it’s ok get it outta ur system i’m here 4 u

the first thing I check in the morning is your account.... you have me whipped! ;|

OMG WHA LMAO REALLY that’s wild. i feel like i’m the only one who looks at my page which is dumb but like idk i still feel like a little kid that no one cares about lmao. but then you guys exist and amaze me with your responsiveness every day and i just ;____________; ily all

hi Sunny. first of all i'm gonna say i love your story and your editing style so much! your blog is goals like literally. i need an advice if you don't mind. you always find such amazing angles for your pictures while mine are so boring. any tips or tricks you can share?

HI thank you so much ;-; sooooo i’ve been thinking about this question the past couple of times i went in game, trying to figure out how to describe how i take pictures. for one thing i live in tab mode lmao. meaning you press the tab button on your keyboard to go into camera mode and get all these sexy angles and super zoom and stufffff. i almost always zoom in super far idk why. so there’s one tip. i honestly just play around with going up and down with the q and e keys (i think?) until i find angles i like. i take a lottttt of pictures with so many different angles just so i have a lot to choose from. basically i try to focus on different things in each picture in order to get a mix of the most diverse and dynamic shots possible. you just need to experiment and get creative. i know that’s the most vague advice ever but really just try a new angle that you’ve never considered before and i bet you’ll get cool results. an interesting setting is also the biggest factor, because certain objects and their placements will give you interesting results.

i honestly want to print out your reaction pic to that one post and just hang it on my wall, put it in my heart locket necklace, stamp it on people's faces, start an email thread with it. i love it.

an add on to the last ask i sent about your reaction pic. i've been looking at it religiously since it was posted, and i dont regret a minute of it. LMAO I'LL STOP NOW.

SAKJDLJKGKSDAF STOPPPP LMAOOO i looked so ugly but that was my pure unadulterated reaction to that question and i trust you all to not judge my ugliness and instead share this reaction with me. i’m glad u liked it that much, i just printed it out and i’m cutting it into a small heart to put inside ur locket ok

everytime i hear cigarette daydreams by cage the elephant i think of a serious case of the novembers like its so fitting and then i get all emo when i listen to it lmao rip

OMMMMGGGGGGG YESSSSS how have i never made that connection before honestly. cage the elephant is one of my faves and i’ve seen them perform twice actually!! i’m watching the music vid for that song now and even that reminds me of my story ;-; i cry

thank you for sending this, and also i cry @ the fact that you used the actual title *dies* now this song is gonna make me emo til the end of time thx

i might sound like some crazy stalker fan but i just want to say you are so freakin awesome and nice and funny and cute and (i can go on forever) so caring! i love your blog so much and all the hard work and care you put into all your posts and followers. thanks for making my day and making me smile so much. you have no clue how much i look forward to seeing your posts and your hilarious hashtags and answers from asks and AMAZING story posts. im sorry i just wanted to let you know ur awesome ily

OFMG WHAT!!!!!! I AM ONLY AN EEL!!!!!! but no you don’t sound like a crazy stalker, i actually love this, you’re too sweet, thank you ;-; i’m just blushin so much reading this omg. YOU EVEN LIKE MY TAGS WOW that’s true love. ily ;-; <333

how do you get your sims' facial expressions to line up with your scenes? I feel like my sims' faces are never right :(

tbh i just use a lot of the same neutral poses...my go-to’s are @helgatisha‘s poses lol. they’re the easiest to work with when i do just plain talking scenes, and often i tweak my sims’ eyebrows and mouths with the liquify tool if i want them to look a bit more concerned, sad, mad, happy, etc., it works like a charm!! i also tend to play around with angles, you’d be surprised how much a different angle can enhance a scene.

Hey smol bean, I'm sent you an ask and now I feel bad that it probably made you feel anxious because you didn't answer it. It was the one about you not liking my posts, I have anxiety too so I'm sorry If I made you feel sad. I think I'm just looking for validation from people I look upto you get me? Anyway sorry again, don't worry about it! Love you!

hiya bb, i know you saw my answer to your original post (and i’m sorry it got some negative attention, i didn’t mean for that to happen by any means) anyway don’t sweat it, and i really appreciate this follow-up message. you didn’t make me feel sad, i just wanna know what i can do. it’s just a hard question y’know. i understand what you mean, i think everyone wants validation to some degree. tbh you can just come off anon and message me, i promise it’s not as nerve-wracking as it seems! ily

How did you make Santi's tattoos? I want some like that for my Sims but idk how to do it

boop

I HAVE A FEELING THAT MOLLY IS GOING TO DIE DURING THE BIRTH OF THE BEAN OR IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH HER STEPFATHER FINDING OUT ABOUT THE BEAN

WELP U WERE RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING

how did you make your characters page on your blog like that?

uoohhh like what?? i used this theme (monolog) if that’s what you mean aheh. here’s a guide on how to use custom page themes

okay so THIS IS MY THEORY: they might keep the baby and molly might actually carry it to full term, but then the kid dies in childbirth and either molly also dies or maybe kills herself or gets killed later? or maybe she's still alive but just won't speak to santi anymore cause she like can't look him in the eye after all of that or idk?? since ppl were sending theories i wanted to add mine lmao. another possible theory is that the stepdad finds out and kills her but thats TOO DARK omg

TOO DARK U SAY...WELL!!! it’s not AS dark as you guessed but only marginally

If Molly turns out to be alive and raising their kid alone (though from what I'm seeing in response to most questions I think that may not be the route) am I allowed to slap Santi (unless Molly didn't give him the option to help) because raising a child alone is not easy I've watched my mom do it for years.

YEAH i would give you permission to slap him lmao he would be a grade A piece o’ shit if that were the case. i would never ever write that tho because santi does own up to his actions if they’re that detrimental. his altruistic nature, no matter how backwards, would never allow him to do that.

There will be complication with the abortion so she will not be able to carry a baby anymore and she's going to kill herself OR her step dad is going to find out and he'll beat her to death. And in both situation Santi his blaming himself because he wasn't there at the right time... Okay I really really hope I'm wrong now !

I don't even follow your story very closely but every time I see your posts my heart hurts.

OMFG...that’s how u know the pain is real

but like wow my stuff is really so visceral that even my apathetic followers can feel the hurt...that’s real...that’s real my guy

omg!! you should 100% play or at least watch a playthrough of life is strange! legit the best game ever made, its so beautiful. the storyline kills you a thousand times over (much like your beautiful story) <3333

yaaaa i’ve heard lots of good things about it!! my bf played it actually, maybe he’ll revisit it again someday and i’ll watch him do it (i’m only a fan of video games if i can watch them like a movie lmao) thank you btw <3

I am shook and I worship you and your story and you are amazing WOW BYE

WORSHIP LMAO WHAT!!! PLS I AM UNDESERVING...ily tho don’t worship false gods

Do you let Molly and the younger versions of your characters frolic around your main save or do they have a separate one?

UM YES LMAO because i didn’t even know you could have separate saves until after i started the flashbacks lmao i’m...a noob. i don’t want separate saves anyway because 1) it’s too much of a hassle switching back and forth and 2) it gets too confusing for me and i’d be afraid of overwriting one save with another and NOPE too much anxiety for that soooo yeah there’s three santis in my game: child, teen and adult lmfao (fun fact: teen santi’s name is literally just Lil Santi)

I made it to my senior year with 6 A's and 1 B ... Be proud of me too? 😂 Lmao I told this to people and some of them were just like .. okay cool?! LMAO it's so funny but also kinda sad

I AM PROUD OF YOU TOO!!!!!!!!! my smart childrens

“okay cool” UM PLEASE that’s a feat...at my school if you got an A in a class in senior year you were allowed to be exempt from the final. so yeah that rules. ily

#nonsims #saviorhide #anonymous #THEY ARE DONE #FINALLY #EXCEPT WCIFS LOL DON'T...don't hate me #i try

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seozahid · 4 years

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Meet Kiarostami’s Nephew, L.A.-Based Filmmaker Sohrab Mirmont

Sohrab Mirmont is an award-winning director, writer and producer, and a member of the 100+ Million-View Club on YouTube. He comes from a family of famous filmmakers: He is the nephew of Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami, and the cousin of producer Ahmad Kiarostami.

Mirmont is the founder and CEO of Mirmont Pictures, a producer of everything from short films to feature films, documentaries, commercials, and music videos. He is also the president of Lurkin (TM), a venture studio that creates companies (including Mirmont’s own production company).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z08ojhYvmhQ&feature=emb_title

Kayhan Life recently spoke to Sohrab Mirmont about his childhood in Iran, his film career, and his celebrated uncle.

Your documentary for the BBC — “The Twins That Were Cut In Half” — has had more than 60 million views to date. Tell us about it.

“The Twins That Were Cut In Half” is a short film I directed and produced that follows the lives of Kendra and Maliyah Herrin, twins who were born conjoined at their abdomens. They each controlled one leg, but shared a pelvis, kidney, and liver. When the twins were four years old, six surgeons and a team of 25 medical support staff undertook a groundbreaking 26-hour surgery to separate them.

The separation surgery was a success, and now Kendra and Maliyah are able to live their lives separately, unattached to each other. The documentary follows their story from birth to post-separation, and how they have impacted and inspired the people around them.

Why did you make this movie?

I had heard about the twins since I had lived in Utah — and they had also appeared on Oprah. When the BBC contacted me, and after seeing the tremendous bravery the twins exhibited and the diversity they had overcome, I knew I needed to share their story.

Kendra and Maliyah are an inspiration to anyone who knows them, and it is wonderful to see that their story has touched hundreds of millions of people, too. I am honored to have been able to capture and share their story, and it is an ongoing process. As they grow up, their story gets even more interesting and inspiring.

I understand there will be a sequel?

The sequel is about another family with conjoined twins who are in a similar situation, and are about to go through a surgery comparable to the one that Kendra and Maliyah went through. It shows the new family and their interactions with the Herrin twins, pre- and post-surgery. It will be released later this year — the exact date is not yet known.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfyMRx2nNJ8&feature=youtu.be

You come from a very notable family of Iranian moviemakers. Your uncle Abbas Kiarostami and his son Ahmad are well known internationally. Did you ever work with your uncle or cousin?

My uncle Abbas was always a mentor for me. Even though I saw him sporadically, we corresponded via email and phone calls. The last time I saw him was at the master filmmaking workshop he had invited me to in Syracuse, New York in 2014. While in Abbas’ workshop, I created a short film called “God’s Workshop,” which he was very fond of. He even joked, “I think I’m going to steal this idea.”

During the few days it took to make my film, Abbas was always present, giving advice, but also holding himself back from [giving] advice once he realized I was already doing what he was about to tell me. The two weeks I spent with my uncle Abbas both in the workshop and outside of it are memories and experiences I will always treasure and hold close to my heart.

My cousin Ahmad — Abbas’s son — is an exceptional person, and we stay in touch. He and I collaborated on a documentary pilot he was producing in 2019. We haven’t collaborated beyond that, but I am sure the future will bring us together on other projects.

Is being part of a famous family a plus or a minus to get started in the movie industry?

It hasn’t been a plus or a minus. I don’t really publicize the fact that Abbas is my uncle, and my last name is different, so most people don’t know. Sometimes, when I am in a circle of cultured filmmakers, it comes up, and everyone is enthralled. But as my father has always said: ”Make your own name.”

I suppose if my last name was Kiarostami, paired with my current film resume, advancing would be easier, but I would rather create meaningful content and let that speak for itself. I believe it’s the same ideology Abbas had… let the work speak for itself.

You’ve been involved in every aspect of filmmaking. Which do you prefer?

When I was a young boy, I dreamed of being an actor — mainly because my uncle was a renowned film director, and I would watch his work and be in awe. At the time, I really only knew about acting, and even though my uncle was a successful director, I never saw him in action. I only saw what he created, and it was always filled with actors on screen.

It wasn’t until I moved to America that I found that my true passion was behind the camera, as a director. When I was 14, I recall wanting to make a short film for a film competition. I wrote the script and planned to act in it. I asked my brother to do the camerawork. After a couple of scenes, it was very apparent that I was extremely particular in how I wanted the frames to look, so I switched roles and ended up being behind the camera.

In those first few moments behind the camera, I felt so alive, fell in love, and haven’t looked back since. I still do cameos in my projects from time to time, but directing and all that comes with it — creating a vision, telling a story, working with actors and crew, is my true love and calling.

Where did you grow up, and what led you to filmmaking?

I was born in Tehran during the Iran-Iraq war and after the 1979 Iranian Revolution. It was a tumultuous time to be born, and my mother had many reservations about giving birth to me during that time (I was twice on the abortion table). She decided to go through with having me, and I’m so thankful she did.

I lived in Iran until I was 6, which is when my father moved my siblings and myself to the United States as a result of a chance visa lottery, which my grandmother won. Pre-revolution, my father was very wealthy, having owned a chain of jewelry stores, and later a manufacturing company. There, he spoke with his partners against the new Iranian regime, and they turned him in to the authorities so as to take full control of the company. All of his assets were permanently frozen; he was thrown in jail, and nearly executed.

When my father arrived in the United States, he had three children and $5,000 to his name, and was led to believe that his wife, our mother, would be a week or two behind. In the end, my mother was denied a visa for more than six years, and was not able to join us in the United States until I was 12.

Even in her absence, she gave me the greatest gift in life: of allowing me to be whoever I wanted to be, and when she rejoined us six years later, she was still my biggest supporter, always encouraging me, driving me to acting auditions, and flying me to visit my uncle Abbas.

What made you want to be an actor?

When I was 7 years old in America, I was watching the TV show “Home Improvement,” and when the credit reel rolled with the blooper outtakes, I realized that the people on screen were playing make-believe. It was the first time that I realized that everyone on TV was an actor, and I thought to myself, “There is no better job in the world than that.”

Acting is where I got my feet wet, before becoming aware of the vast world that filmmaking is. Now, I can’t imagine anything other than directing. In my family, they call me “The Dictator,” and I accept it. It describes me as a director perfectly. As a result of my experience, I know how to work with people to get exactly what I want.

Do you have plans to go back to Iran?

I have not been back to Iran since I moved to America. I have always wanted to go back to Iran, but with the current political and civil tensions, I plan to stay put for now. I do stay in touch with young Iranian filmmakers, most of them living in LA currently. I look forward to collaborations and connections here and abroad.

What is your next project? Can you give us some details?

At the time of this interview, I have a few projects in development ranging from a comedic family Christmas film to an original series for YouTube. What my next big project will be, well, maybe it will be a collaboration with one of your readers. The future is bright, and with more connections, it grows brighter!

youtube

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live4thelord · 4 years

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Wife and Mother of Four Describes Experience of Possession, Exorcism

Posted by Bree A. Dail on Wednesday Dec 11th, 2019 at 9:09 PM

Teresa Piccola’s harrowing experience of possession and liberation through the solemn rite of exorcism is a cautionary tale that ends with great hope.

Article main image

Terese Piccola suffered under so many secrets.

“On the outside, I was the perfect mother, the perfect wife,” she said. “Inside, however, I was broken — and what is worse, I thought I deserved it.”

Speaking exclusively with the Register over the last three months, Piccola related details of her life growing up in an Italian-American home in the suburbs of New York, her marriage and motherhood raising four children, and her activism in the pro-life movement and in her parish — all while quietly enduring years of psychological and emotional torture and unexplained physical ailments.

Her world was turned upside down when extraordinary diabolical phenomena began to manifest themselves as attacks not directly on her, but initially on her children. Her plight ended only after an excruciating year and a half-long battle under the guidance of a clinical psychologist — an expert in possession cases — and through the solemn rite of exorcism.

Open Doors

Piccola related that sexual abuse was the entry point for what would later manifest as demonic possession.

“When I was 6 or 7 years old I was sexually abused on two different occasions,” she said. “I was so ashamed and scared of getting in trouble so I never told my parents. When I was 13, I was raped repeatedly. I would [later] find out the man who raped me had molested a young boy.”

Like many abuse victims, Piccola sought out ways to escape from the reality of her abuse. Encouraged by friends, she began to dabble in the occult.

“I participated in séances and hypnotisms with friends, but I believe the most defining activity happened with the Ouija board when I was 18 years old,” she said. “My sisters and I used it late one night in the house, and something seemed to interfere with the movement of the dial. After that event many strange occurrences happened in the house — water turning on and off, footsteps on the stairs and furniture moved while no one was home.”

“Later, my curiosity for the occult expanded to reading horoscopes, going to fortunetellers, and [having] tarot cards read to me,” Piccola said. “Even when coming back to the Church before getting married, I never confessed these things. I suppose I didn’t realize they were sinful and certainly didn’t think they were portals to evil.”

Abortion was another “open door” for Piccola.

“I had an abortion when I was 17 years old,” she told the Register. “I was a senior in high school and never told my parents. After carrying so much shame with me from childhood, I couldn’t bear to tell them that I was sexually active and pregnant. After my abortion, I became bulimic, sexually promiscuous, depressed, more obsessed with the occult.”

Years later, after marrying and giving birth to her four children, Piccola said she still often felt entirely alone and isolated. Seeking to “atone” for her abortion, she volunteered in pro-life activism and at her church.

Things began to turn for the worse, however, when her youngest son began having violent, unexplainable nightmares. Piccola and her husband asked their parish priest to bless their home. The dreams subsided for a time, but would again revisit her son — so much so, their priest advised them to connect with the diocesan exorcist. It was through this exorcist, during a healing Mass, that Piccola discovered she was the conduit of the demonic oppressions of her family.

Possession

“First of all, I can only speak to my experience,” Piccola said, “but Hollywood loves to depict a possessed person in a very dramatic way. I think this is not good as the enemy loves to be in the spotlight and glamorized. We give way too much attention to him. I can assure you that my eyes never bled, my head never spun around and I didn’t look like I was in a state of psychosis.”

“Quite frankly, outside of the extreme exhaustion — which made my face look drawn — no one would have known I was under such terrible bondage,” she said.

She continued, “Much of what happened for me was internal. I was always in a state of unrest and loneliness. I would sometimes manifest during Mass when my body would shake and tremble terribly, but not to the extent where it caused a large scene.”

Piccola would undergo the solemn rite of exorcism once per week for more than 18 months, in sessions lasting up to three hours. On those days, she and the deliverance team (which included the clinical psychologist and a group of laymen who were there to pray and support — at times, physically — the exorcist in his work) would always begin by going to Mass. After Mass, they would pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Piccola said she was unable to pray this prayer, and the inability to do this would grate on her — the demonic seeking to drive her to despair before the rite of exorcism would even begin.

After additional prayers of protection for the group, the exorcist would lead them in the Litany of the Saints. It was here, Terese said, that the demons that possessed her would begin to manifest themselves. Later, they were to learn that such manifestations would indicate which saint would come to assist her during the rite.

“When sessions first started, I was in and out of awareness,” Piccola continued. “It’s hard to explain, but I was not actually unconscious. I think the closest thing to compare it to is when you take a medication before a surgical procedure and it puts you in a twilight state.”

“During sessions, when the demons would manifest, I exhibited strength beyond my capabilities, my eyes rolled back, my voice changed — these are all accurate depictions in the movies,” she said. “I would often feel or hear these things happening, but the demons would have control over my body and I couldn’t stop things from happening.”

“I felt trapped inside myself, and that was terrifying,” Piccola said. “In the very beginning, I was frightened by it, but then I realized nothing was happening that God didn’t allow, so this gave me peace. I learned how to keep my thoughts hidden so I could pray to Jesus, Mary and the saints during my sessions.”

Piccola said God allowed her to participate in the spiritual battle in a limited way.

“I only remember bits and pieces of the first few sessions,” she said. “Then it shifted, and I noticed I had much more awareness of things. Once prayers began, I had no ability to move or respond except when father spoke directly to me, but I could hear and see things. As my relationship with the Lord grew, and I surrendered more intentionally, I had more control over my movements and words, even exposing things that I could sense with the demons.”

Piccola described, again, how helpless she felt at times, when her body was no longer under her control.

“The demons would seize my body and voice to manifest,” she said. “No matter how hard I tried to regain control, I would just exhaust myself. My voice would change as certain demons manifested, and I could feel it change in my vocal chords.”

“Sometimes it was so painful as the force to expel sound was great,” she said. “I often knew when some major movement was about to happen. I could somehow sense it and would try so hard to fight against it, but then suddenly I would thrust up or my head would shake back and forth aggressively. There were times when I thought my body would just break apart.”

Piccola told the Register she was never physically injured during the often-violent sessions.

“God is so good and never allowed anything that I couldn’t handle,” she said. “By his grace, I was never severely injured. Once I got over the shock of what was happening, I would try to focus on looking at the crucifix, and if my eyes were closed, I would imagine it in my mind. As things were happening on the outside, I prayed and cooperated as much as I could on the inside.”

Liberation

Piccola told the Register that because of the spiritual, mental and physical wounds she had experienced in her life, taking control of what she could was her survival technique. An attitude of control and unforgiveness was a hindrance to her liberation. She had to come to realize she had to relinquish control in her life to God.

“Ultimately,” she said, “I had to accept that this was not my fight. I had to cooperate with Jesus, letting him take control. It was very hard. It is a daily, sometimes hourly commitment to not give up, to surrender, to trust.”

“The real challenge of possession was to reject all the things that had separated me from God,” Piccola said. “Liberation happens when and if there is a willingness to change. The person must want to be liberated. The movies lack this very important piece. It’s not some magic trick where a priest enters dramatically and scares the demons away. It takes full rejection of evil and desire for good. God wants us fully restored.”

Piccola spoke with the Register of having been assisted by saints and angels during her spiritual warfare — bringing in the full understanding of the Church teaching that those who dwell in heaven intercede for the faithful on earth.

Piccola experienced this firsthand.

“I only saw (with my eyes) one saint — St. Michael the Archangel — and only once,” she said. “He appeared as a tall red and white light. He did come to other sessions, but I could only feel his presence, based on the reaction of the demons. There was a terrible fear when he was there. I think the Blessed Mother was the first saint who ever appeared, however. Normally when a saint appeared, I first felt it in my heart and somehow it translated into an image, and then the revelation of the saint. Other times the demons would call out the saint before I even knew. They did this with St. Padre Pio. They feared and despised him.”

“On two different occasions, St. John Paul II came — once as a young pope, and another time as he looked right before he died,” Piccola said. “When he appeared the second time, he was wearing his mitre and had his hand over me praying the prayers with father. He only remained briefly.”

“St. Gemma Galgani came as well. I never knew her before these sessions, but she was insistent on being friends,” Piccola said. “The demons hated her and would spit at pictures of her, as well as [those of] St. Gabriel Possenti. She became a spiritual sister to me, remaining with me to the very end, always prompting me in small ways.”

“Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko was another frequent visitor,” she said. “I had never heard of him prior to my sessions. Others came briefly. The Blessed Mother came several more times after the first visit. One time as I was being tormented, I felt her extend her arms out to me, drawing my heart into her embrace.”

A Message of Mercy

Piccola was fully liberated from demonic possession last year, with what she said is a special mission entrusted to her by God to pray for priests. When asked what message she had for Catholics, she responded, “Jesus himself tells us that some demons may only be expelled through prayer and fasting (Mark 9:29). I experienced that, daily. As my relationship with God grew, I learned that I had a part to play in this — God expected me to cooperate, do my part and fight.”

“This is the same, for the Church. Humility is the key,” Piccola said. “When we are broken — such as I was wounded and broken — we must learn how to forgive and not just others, but ourselves. We likewise must look to the Church as the wounded Body of Christ. We have the power to pray, and through that prayer to heal and repair. In doing so, however, there has to be an acceptance of responsibility — especially when scandal has occurred. No one is beyond God’s Mercy. Everyone has a unique purpose. We bind God’s hands, however, through rejection of his mercy.”

http://m.ncregister.com/blog/breedail/piccola

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therightnewsnetwork · 7 years

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Is an Unborn Baby a Human Being? Planned Parenthood: “It’s Up to Each Individual to Decide”

To: Dawn Laguens, Executive Vice President and Chief Brand Officer for Planned Parenthood

Ms. Laguens,

You don’t know me and there’s very little chance you’ve ever heard of me, but in any case, I want to make a public appeal to you.

It’s my sincere hope and ambition to make this plea without a hint of rancor or irony, but rather, from a place of genuine brokenness and an assured hope that the God who made all things is well capable of changing your heart and willing to do just that.

As my wife and I watched your recent interview with Tucker Carlson together last night, I found myself fascinated at just how intent you were to avoid his main question—on the moral value of a human being in her mother’s womb—and return to your main messaging. You want the world to know and believe, as I’m convinced you do (at least to a very high degree) that Planned Parenthood stands for choice and women’s reproductive health care.

When Carlson pressed you to tell him your moral judgment of what, exactly, a preborn human being is, you were on point: “I think that’s up to each individual to decide what they believe, but one in three women in this country have an abortion during their lifetime, and obviously, they are making their own choice. What I’m here to talk about today is that the [GOP healthcare plan] will take away millions of cancer screenings and birth control for women in this country.”

Now, before going further, I need to stop and point out (though I’m certain you already know this) that even the pro-abortion fact-checkers at the Washington Post have debunked the claim that one in three U.S. women get an abortion as a 4-Pinocchio lie—the most dishonest rating they have at their disposal.

The Post was slightly more lenient on the claim that Planned Parenthood offers cancer screenings, tagging it as worthy of 3 Pinocchios just days before your president, Cecile Richards, admitted to Congress that your organization doesn’t do any mammograms at all. Further research has debunked your company’s claims that you offer prenatal care—with one of your site representatives even telling a pregnant woman that your brand name itself is “deceptive” since you’re not really in the business of enabling parenthood.

A tried-and-true adage in public relations is, when you’re going into an interview, you need to proverbially ask the interviewer, “Do you have questions for my answers?” In that sense, Ms. Laguens, your answers were admirable. You stuck to the script far better than I would’ve been able to, I can tell you that much.Now to the Plea

There are at least two problems with sticking to the script, however. The first is in doing so, you’re dodging the basic moral question: Is what we’re doing right, and if so, how do we know it’s right? Your conviction is that “choice” is the ultimate truth in every pregnancy—namely, the “choice” of whether or not a woman carries or destroys her unborn child. There’s no other way to say this, except to say you’re imperiling your own soul by dodging this question, Ms. Laguens.

If that little human being has been lovingly crafted in the image of God—even, before the point of viability—your participation in destroying this life makes you accountable before the God of Heaven, whether you acknowledge that reality or not.

The second problem with sticking to your script is you know it’s riddled with lies. As we’ve pointed out before, even the most ardent supporters of abortion and Planned Parenthood—not the least of which is your own president—are forced to admit your claims sound far more like the words of Pinocchio than, say, Honest Abe.

I’m not going to lie, Ms. Laguens, there was a part of me that found this interview with Tucker Carlson downright cathartic. In fact, I avoided watching the interview for a day or so because I assumed that catharsis would be all I’d feel and take away from the experience, and I couldn’t rationalize watching it just to pat myself on the back and cheer for Tucker Carlson.

But that’s not my main takeaway, and that’s why I’m writing this letter to you, Ms. Laguens. In truth, as I watched your interview, the scene that came to my mind was that of the Great White Throne.

I pictured you standing before God—“from whose presence earth and sky fled away, and there was no place found for them.” Then I pictured you trotting out your prepared talking points before the God who made you and every one of those 320,000-plus babies your organization killed through abortion in the last calendar year.

I pictured your vain attempt to change the subject before the King of Kings, and I have to tell you, even as I write this, I do it with tears filling my eyes. He’s not going to talk over you like Tucker Carlson, Ms. Laguens. No, the God who made you will call you to account for what you’ve done, and he won’t be interested in the slightest in your pie charts and 1-in-3 mythology.

It won’t matter to the God who spoke the world into existence that 70 percent—or 100 percent—of Americans favor Roe v. Wade. That defense will be meaningless before his throne. He will judge you “according to what [you] have done,” Ms. Laguens. Nothing more, nothing less. Your talking points will be null and void, and daylight will expose your lies.

So I want to plead with you, Ms. Laguens, and anyone else within earshot: Turn from this wickedness at once and receive the grace that God is offering you in his one and only Son.

A Place at the Table

I don’t know your heart, but I know you’re like me. You’ve been made in God’s image and created to bring him glory, yet, like me, you’ve failed to live up to his creative design for you and now find yourself far off from him. You’ve gone your own way, attempted to define your own truth, and become “darkened in [your] understanding and separated from the life of God.”

So have I, Ms. Laguens. I’ve been where you are, ensnared by the devil to do his will. What God is offering to you is freedom from this bondage. More than that, God is offering to reconcile you to himself and include you in his family, giving you a seat at his table.

Notice, I’m not asking you to become a pro-life advocate. I’m begging you to turn from this grave sin of slaughtering the innocent. I’m pleading with you to look to the innocent One who was slain in your place and in mine. Cast yourself on his mercy. Then, reach out for help to those who’ve walked before you as you embark upon a new path as God’s child

Ms. Laguens, God has so loved you and me that he paid in full the debt we owe by offering his Son for us. He isn’t just full of love and mercy, he is love, and he is willing that none should perish, but that all should come to the knowledge of the truth.

Won’t you come home, Ms. Laguens? Won’t you embrace this free gift of God? Won’t you lay down your arms, disown your lies and call upon Christ as Lord?

Today, if you hear his voice, please do not harden your heart. Today is the day of salvation.

LifeNews Note: Jay Hobbs writes for PregnancyHelpNews, where this originally appeared.

from http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/is-an-unborn-baby-a-human-being-planned-parenthood-its-up-to-each-individual-to-decide/

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patriotnewsblogger-blog · 7 years

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Is an Unborn Baby a Human Being? Planned Parenthood: “It’s Up to Each Individual to Decide”

New Post has been published on http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/is-an-unborn-baby-a-human-being-planned-parenthood-its-up-to-each-individual-to-decide/

Is an Unborn Baby a Human Being? Planned Parenthood: “It’s Up to Each Individual to Decide”

To: Dawn Laguens, Executive Vice President and Chief Brand Officer for Planned Parenthood

Ms. Laguens,

You don’t know me and there’s very little chance you’ve ever heard of me, but in any case, I want to make a public appeal to you.

So I want to plead with you, Ms. Laguens, and anyone else within earshot: Turn from this wickedness at once and receive the grace that God is offering you in his one and only Son.

A Place at the Table

Won’t you come home, Ms. Laguens? Won’t you embrace this free gift of God? Won’t you lay down your arms, disown your lies and call upon Christ as Lord?

Today, if you hear his voice, please do not harden your heart. Today is the day of salvation.

LifeNews Note: Jay Hobbs writes for PregnancyHelpNews, where this originally appeared.

http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/is-an-unborn-baby-a-human-being-planned-parenthood-its-up-to-each-individual-to-decide/ %cats%

#abortion #conservative #life #right to life

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