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the-bloody-sadist · 1 year

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If you don't mind, can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

Thank you for asking! I had one person who sent me an ask related to this and then deleted it before I could answer (I think I scared them away yelling at other people in my asks 😂).

So here we go, a compiled overview of my TOP TEN FAVORITE MEDIA!! Some will be current that could change (like songs, ever changing) and others will be permanent (like shows).

NBC's Hannibal [Show]: It shouldn't come as a surprise that this is my top favorite piece of media of all time. Not to do the whole 'I liked it before it was mainstream' but I FOUND IT WHEN IT WAS STILL RELATIVELY CULT-LOVED AND GOT INTO IT WHEN IT WAS ON AMAZON PRIME VIDEO. THE FANDOM FELT TINY ❗️ Anyway, I'm so glad to see how far it's come and how the fandom has grown. This remains one of the only series that was cancelled that I couldn't tell was actually cancelled because it still wrapped up so nicely in the last-aired season. I'm endlessly impressed with the character arcs, the dynamics, the PSYCHOLOGY (a huge deal for me), and especially the dialogue. I mean, I could list literally every element of this show and how tastefully it was used, but the main highlights are how artfully the gore is shown - giving great perspective of the killers whose eyes we mainly see through - and the dialogue. There's a surrealist tone to it, and so many of the lines are subtle poetry without being the hamfisted one-liners of so many other shows that try to do the same. The actors are incredible, the scenes are precisely paced, and just overall you can tell this was a work of the heart. I mean, more superficially, the homoerotic nature of Hannibal and Will's relationship appealed to me as soon as it was introduced, because GODS is it miles higher in chemistry than like ACTUAL EXISTING so-called LGBT romance shows. (I'm glaring FLAMING DAGGERS at the garbage Interview With a Vampire show in which they ruined everything but most of all the chemistry that the original story did so well.) In any case, please watch it! It's one of the best things I've ever seen.

Last Night in Soho [Film]: Directed by my favorite director, Edgar Wright, who has the most fantastic habit of matching musical beats to visuals (a particular love of mine), this film is GORGEOUS, for one. The colors and scenery, the editing, the lights, the creative shots, the effects, the MIRRORS! Don't get me started on the mirrors. I love mirrors. One of my favorite things about characters - although ONLY when done well - is the contrast of duality. Some of the best portrayals besides this one are in Tokyo Ghoul and Moon Knight, off the top of my head. It's hard to find portrayals I like, but this one shines above them all. There are technicalities on the actual character being dual, but I wouldn't spoil it for you. It's the journey of both a past and present woman, one struggling to find her place in the fashion industry, and one struggling to escape the sex industry before it devours her. I heavily related to certain themes in this one and was viscerally enthralled in the choices and character arcs made in certain scenes. It's cathartic, it's overwhelming, it's PURE ART. You're missing out if you never see this one.

HBO's Sharp Objects [Show]: On so many levels, this one speaks to my wounded little heart. Dealing with heavy topics like childhood trauma, parental abuse, self harm, child murders, the bad sides of southern/small-town culture, and mental illness, I don't know if there's another character that I feel quite as connected to as Amy Adams' portrayal of Camille Preaker. The outstanding detail of this one for me, personally, is Camille's mother, Adora. I can confidently say that there IS no other mother that resembles how my childhood felt than Adora, and because of that this show was a painful sort of catharsis. But I love feeling emotions to a dangerous degree, and I'll just say the finale of this one wiped me the fuck out. I'm currently rewatching it for the first time with my close friends, and I'm so scared to get to that finale again. Lmao. But in a good way. In any case, other than Adora, I also identified with the accurate and visceral portrayals of self harm and PTSD. The way that they show flashbacks and visually jumpscare the viewer WITHOUT the presence of blasting music was the show's shining glory. You have literal ASMR wind and crickets over shots of a dead child's missing teeth, blood hitting pavement, pornography on a cabin door, and then a hanged corpse in the corner of the bedroom, right there with Camille in the shot. It is...SO accurate to the feelings of PTSD. It's just so good. I would recommend the show for that alone, and yet everything else is so perfect, too. Along with the gripping plot of a murder case, the intense shame that follows Camille wherever she goes makes for such good conflict and friction with her surroundings. Everything is personal because it takes place in her hometown. Anyway, I can't keep rambling my mind out of its skull over this one. It's beautiful, it's perfect, it's fascinating. Please see it. I beg of you. For me, it represented so much of how it felt to grow up with family dynamics like Camille's. If you relate to it, you'll either love the catharsis or hate the memories it revives.

No Longer Human [Novel]: Pretty sure I've already rambled my ass off about this one when I made the 10 Characters 10 Fandoms post since Yozo is one of the most relatable characters I've ever read about and thus one of my faves! But yeah, this novel is everything to me. I want so many quotes on my wall from it but honestly the one that I constantly think about is still that first line: "Mine has been a life of much shame." It's well known, but that doesn't make it any less impactful for me. I still tear up sometimes when I think about it. Yozo's thought process is just so...accurate. And knowing all about Dazai Osamu and his life as the writer and how closely it's tied to it? I don't think it will ever move from its spot as my top novel of all time.

The Vampire Armand by Anne Rice [Novel]: Lol so the gif isn't from this story specifically but I need gifs for happy brain so I have one related to the story. Probably one of my favorite romances of all time, mostly because it's a very reserved romance, in the sense that it can't exactly be labelled "romance" except in sub-context. (I mean they do have sex but it's like a story about vampires first, if that makes sense? The romance is sort of a subplot to Armand's vampire adventures.) Anne Rice is a favorite writer of mine, and this book was a masterpiece to me. The language she uses and the scenes of vampirism fascinated me, and I wish that vampire media was better at bringing Anne's true style to life. They make it so goofy nowadays, and no other vampire stories apart from some anime portrayals are ever interesting to me. Not to mention the new Interview With A Vampire series as aforementioned is SO BAD and I hate it. Anne could handle that excessive grace of a man who's lived for centuries and the intelligence gained along the way without ruining their humanity, and knew how to portray the loneliness of such a life without making her characters sound like the emo piss babies of Twilight. She has such a grasp on the poetry of words and breadth of experience, and I'll never get over just how exciting it was to read this book for the first time. Truly felt like I was discovering vampires for the first time, and how they would realistically operate if they existed.

Tokyo Ghoul [Manga]: I believe everyone knows quite enough about Tokyo Ghoul, so I promise not to ramble on this one! But in short, as a psychological thriller lover PLUS horror lover PLUS dual-personality-when-done-right-and-realistically lover PLUS cannibalism-exlored-and-the-terrifying-effects lover I MEAN THIS IS JUST THE STORY FOR ME OBVIOUSLY. Kaneki has and always will be fascinating to me no matter how mainstream or over-talked about he is. He is amazing. Did the anime leave out most of the good stuff from the manga? Yeah, but Kaneki was there. The torture scenes were great. Is the manga better? WORLDS BETTER. But I still enjoyed the anime and got into it through there. I respect the anime's attempt to capture what was a sincerely tragic and deep emotional story. But man, reading the manga is something else, entirely. I haven't had the chance to read every single volume, and I may have skipped around a bit in search of the best parts to invest my time in, but boy I never regretted it. Kaneki's arc, getting to see into his head and experience his trauma and eventual decline into madness was SO SO SO SO SO FUCKING GORGEOUS. Nothing will beat it for a descent into madness story for me, I don't think. Plus ghouls as a whole and the art of the manga are just so *claws the wall* I wish I could draw like that.

The Phantom of the Opera [Score]: What's this?? Het media on Sadist's list?? Okay. I'm a huuuuge music fanatic. I grew up with multiple instruments in the house and played to escape, wrote to express, blah blah blah you get it, I NEEDED music to survive. When I discovered this soundtrack, as someone who despises musicals (and still does, but a few have made it through to my heart), I was ENTHRALLED, I tell you. ENCHANTED! Never before or since have I heard such riveting, mysterious, ethereal music, much less in a musical. Every single fucking song on this soundtrack is evocative and perfect and EVERYTHING. And the STORY! AUGH! I've always adored the story. One of my main quarrels with het 'romance' media is that so many of the "greats" (AKA The Notebook, 50 Shades, Twilight, After, etc.) have these fucking...WALKING RED FLAGS that are presented to be the most romantic things ever. Like the movie itself is gaslighting the audience into believing the emotionally manipulative man dangling off of a ferris wheel and threatening to kill himself if the girl doesn't go out on a date with him is adorable. I don't find it cute I find it reminiscent of every bad partner I've ever had, and I can't watch the movies because NOBODY in them ever acknowledges or is affected negatively in any way by these glaring, abusive behaviors. In Phantom of the Opera, Eric (the phantom) is obsessive, stalkerish, possessive, etc. - many things that other media presents as love WITHOUT understanding how it's also terrifying. The movie (though a little goofy at times and dramatic, I'll admit - which is why the score and not the film is on my tops list LMAO) presents these factors as they SHOULD be presented - scary. The music is ominous, the songs are obsessive and enchanting, and it's not presented as cutesy romance. That's why I love it so much. If you want a toxic love interest, please go right ahead and make one! You guys know me, that's literally what I write about. So I hope I've made myself clear about this topic and what I mean - just present the actual abuse as ACTUAL ABUSE, and scary and horrible, even if the protagonist is falling in love with that. Because reality can be like that. It's tough. But in Phantom, Christine goes with the healthy love interest in the end, Raoul, and I've always thought the ending was beautiful for that, because the Phantom still learned love in the end by letting her go. ANYWAY! Enough of that, good grief lmao. Tumblr with no word limits is so dangerous for me.

Mo Dao Zu Shi [Donghua]: 3 Seasons and I still haven't had enough of it. I just recently rewatched this with my close friends and good gods I was appreciating all the intricacy and character development the second time around. There isn't a single character left un-developed in this donghua like SERIOUSLY. Seriously, big kudos to the fucking author. In anyone else's hands, the magic system and the multiple plot lines and the larger-than-life characters most likely would've been fumbled. But whoever directed this KNEW what they were doing and KNEW their source material. And look, even though I barely know who is who because names are confusing and I barely understand half of the magic going on and why people are fighting, THIS IS THE SINGULAR SHOW THAT EXISTS WHERE IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER. I'M STILL TRYING TO UNDERSTAND HOW THAT WORKS. But it does? The emotional capacity of every scene no matter if I know what's happening or why just HITS and I'm always rooting for the characters or crying over them. Like, it's just insane. Okay. Everyone who's into BL should watch it, because it's one of the best. And even if you're not into BL, it's one of the best. The action is INCREDIBLE. apffff moving on.

The Case Study of Vanitas [Anime]: BRUUUUUHHHHH. We all know. We all know. I don't need to say anything. But the two boys, man. Two of my top faves. The show is gorgeous, the character designs are beautiful, the setting is romantic, the boys are gay (they are. they are gay.)...I mean what more can I ask for. Oh yeah also vampires! They're vampires. And I love vampires that are like, actually cool. Thank you for making actually cool vampires within a really interesting magic system. I would kiss the author but she made Vanitas straight so no kisses. ONE OF MY FAVORITE COUPLE OF CLIMAX EPISODES OF ALL TIME BTW.

A Silent Voice [Anime Film]: :(...I can't really talk about this one. I relate to it so much. Social anxiety, depression, attempted suicide. It's a really beautiful and painful movie. I cry every time I watch it. The end, that's all. The imagery and the meaning behind so many shots is just...UWEGH.

To Your Eternity [Anime]: *furiously points* LOOK AT THE BABY. OH MY GODS LOOK AT HIM. You guys, you guys. You guys. If you haven't seen this, and you like crying, and you need to cry really hard, and you need the most fascinating and heart wrenching story of all time, this is the one. Fushi, also? Hot. The Beholder, his daddy? Hot. Kenjiro Tsuda? Hot. Sorry, besides the point. This is the best written "you're supposed to cry" story I've ever seen. Nothing beats it. You know what they're going to do to you but yet they somehow subvert your expectations of HOW every fucking time, and MAN??? It hurts. But it hurts so good. And Fushi should be real so I can kidnap him, that's all.

I did 11 things, I'm so sorry. I do this every time. BUT I SURE HOPE YOU FOUND THOSE INTERESTING AND POSSIBLY FOUND A NEW THING TO ADD TO YOUR LIST IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN/HEARD/READ BEFORE. Thanks anon for the ask!

Oh yeah and as extra I wanted to throw in my favorite song right now because IT'S REALLY PRETTY.

#sadist's answered asks #anime recs #movie recs #book recs #no longer human #hannibal #to your eternity #vanitas no carte #a silent voice #mo dao su zhi #phantom of the opera #last night in soho #tokyo ghoul #the vampire armand #sharp objects

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romanroths · 5 years

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howdy. my name is mar, i’m 23, i’m out here in est, i go by she/her. this is my emo fuck, roman rothschild as titus. i don’t have a connections page set up yet so fjslkfj. just like this badboi and i’ll come hit you up. so mf excited to be here! feel free to add me on discord @ nyc's salad rat#9307

the basics.

skeleton: titus name: roman alexander rothschild age: 22 faceclaim: nick robinson gender: cismale pronouns: he/him degree: chemistry

the start.

his mother and father were only seventeen when roman was born, freshly out of high school. it would be a lie to dub the pregnancy as anything other than a massive accident, born out of the incessant desire to be known and seen by someone else at that age, right down to your core. what better way to do that then to let them in fully, spreading yourself open so wide that maybe someone might like even the ugly bits of you? maybe they loved each other, but maybe they didn’t. roman never did quite figure it out. they must have at least liked one another to some extent to stick it out, to produce two more lives after him. augustus and lucretia. they weren’t many things but they were consistent.

new money. how very fitzgerald for a boy from england. how very ironic it is with a name like rothschild. roman’s mother had always claimed they came from royalty, that their blood was tinged with blue. that always seemed like bullshit as far as roman himself was concerned. just because things sounded important did not always mean that they were. but then, one day they were important. fortune has a funny way of finding the most entitled. childhood was almost painfully boring. no traumatic stories or wondrous tales. he was born in bath, and was raised in a flat that was under furnished and a bit small, but cozy nonetheless. he loved it there, and even after moving into their cavernous home in london when the money trickled in, felt more at home in bath amongst the olden architecture. the city was ancient, just like his soul. most of his youth was spent under the sky, devouring books by natural light, a quiet and calm boy who hardly ever even scraped a knee. his mother had resigned herself to looking after roman once he was born, dashing her dreams of being a grand actress for wiping the spit off of roman’s chin. maybe that’s why she harbored a hair of resentment for him. his father went forth to achieve his mba, specializing in computer sciences. he’d later go on to invent some very important, very complicated anti-virus system that ensured the protection of your pc. it was bought and then patented by apple on roman’s eleventh birthday. money was no longer an object.

graduating to a higher social bracket proved to be more difficult than roman had anticipated. his mother had no issue in the matter, almost immediately swapping her dulled coats and modest silver for furs and diamonds. his father seemed relieved somehow, even if he spent even more time away than before. (though, it was later revealed that this was no longer due to work but due to the twenty-five year old secretary that seduced him. the family functions on a very, don’t ask, don’t tell basis. they all still pretend they don’t know.) even his siblings seemed more taken with their situation, getting lost in harrod’s with his mother, fetching treats they never used to be able to afford and filling their rooms with fun and frill. only roman was miserable. he longed for home. the nosiness of their street caused him to spend the night gaping at his ceiling, tears brimming his eyes. no matter how badly he willed it, he could no longer remember what the air in bath smelled of. he could no longer make out what the local bakery’s hot cross buns tasted like. all the money in the world could not cure his seemingly terminal case of homesickness.

the preparatory school he attended was a buffet of different flavors of the rich and very posh. some who were even actually were related to the crown, and not in the naive sort of way his mother had claimed. most of them seemed to speak a language of their own, already so determined of their futures. future parliament members just like their parents, or perhaps diplomats. there were even a few children of celebrities, who roman discovered either had a thirst for the crafts of their parents or absolutely abhorred it. there was no middle ground with the children conceived by artists.

during this period of solitude, roman as we know today was formed. once a sweet and relatively shy boy, he became a scribble of snark, sarcasm, and wit. it was not meant in malice, like many of his classmates and peers thought, but simply his sense of humor, outlook, and demeanor. anyone who was willing enough to befriend him, found him to be composed surprisingly of boyish grins and mischief. he was not the block of ice people made him out to be. all one had to do was offer him the warmth of their trust for him to melt.

the skill that permitted him into imperium happened somewhat accidentally. worried that their eldest son was falling into a depression, his parents had him seated with a psychologist at fifteen. unbeknownst to him, his mother had stolen the journal he faithfully confided in and presented it to the spidery woman responsible for unspooling the tangle of roman’s thoughts. while she did find some of the contents troubling, most of all she was impressed with the nature in which the boy wrote. a penchant for words, able to bewitch the page and to turn it into the picture perfect image of whatever he envisioned in his brain. poetic and dark, like a brewing storm. she encouraged him to follow this talent, to untether it from his moments of melancholy and allow it to speak for stories. which is what he did. by seventeen he had published two books of poetry, and was working on a murder mystery story, involving two reunited lovers piecing together the murder of a recently deceased childhood friend. despite the fact that the works that he had published were done so anonymously, ashcroft was able to uncover the truth. and so as he entered university, he was accepted with much prestige into imperium. the one and only place that roman felt as though he might belong. that he might actually be happy.

until octavia’s death, of course.

roman had loved tragedies until he had become one. that all he was now, tragedy with a heartbeat. was it better to love and have it taken from you? or was it better to have not loved at all? all he knows is that he was certain his heart had endured enough when she’d left the first time, he did not know what egregious sin he’d committed to lose her the second time. there was no peace for him anymore. nothing could quell the rainstorm in his soul. not even the things that used to work. laying out in the library with leather books in hand, walking around campus with the rest of the club and laughter in their voice, coffees with too much sugar, the first snowfall. all of it, devoid of anything but misery. ache. death. the only cure would have come in the form of her, octavia’s nimble fingers in his hair. missing her was so jarring, he felt that it was only a matter of time before he too would join her.

as naive as it was, roman felt grateful for the ghostly visits. first he’d chalked it up to insanity. what else could it be? at least now he could see her, he could hear her, beyond the times when he pulled up videos of her on his phone while the sounds and sights of her were snuffed out by the sounds of his own wailing. he’d rather a shadow of her presence than nothing at all.

rage came next. he wanted it to be lysander. needed it to be. lysander was responsible for all dissolution of his happiness. it was lysander who had seduced away the one person he’d ever loved. clearly it had to be lysander who had selfishly expelled her from the world too. it felt easier to condense his hatred to one person… roman wasn’t sure if there was enough space left in him to hate anyone else. but to learn this was wrong? roman had no idea what to make of it. it caused him to wet his sheets each night with sweat, to carve bloody moon imprints onto his palms. he felt ravenous for revenge.

the brain.

[ based off loosely off of: camille preaker, theodore laurie, ponyboy curtis, & draco malfoy ]

+ romantic: it’s no secret that ro is a massive romantic. anyone who saw him interact with octavia could see it clear as day. he genuinely enjoyed the little things in a relationship many thought organically lessened with the hands of time. however, he continued to be spontaneous, attentive, and sweet. he continued with love notes, and presenting flowers whenever he could. even in the way he looked at his love seemed to be veiled in something ancient, something innate like he’d always known her in all of his lives. roman’s romanticism did not stop at tiv, though. it leaked into his poetry, as intense wafts of emotions always seem to steal our words. but there is even a romantic manner in which he treats his friends. he’s a little bit of your boyfriend when you’re close enough friends, to be perfectly honest. the boy has a earnest love for making those he cares for feel looked after. not all loves are amorous in nature, but that does not mean they are not to be cultivated with the same dedication to magic as the one he shared with his beloved.

+ empathetic: sometimes a negative, mostly a positive roman has the unbearable burden of a heart too large for his mind. he sees whispers of goodness in every person (save for fucking lysander) even if he does not want to. if someone is under duress, or is wallowing in some sort of pain, roman’s instinct is to alleviate their plight. sometimes it comes begrudgingly, as though someone is holding a gun to his temple to execute such a task. not even a hint of a smile dressing his face, but he does it nonetheless, knowing he may be robbed of his sleep if not. but for his friends, he’d gladly die doing right by their hearts.

+ noble: perhaps roman is of aristocratic blood after all, because roman is the most noble of them all. he’s not quite sure when the moral compass forged itself into his soul, and when it began to guide nearly all of his actions, but one day he woke up and was highly aware of the importance of sticking to one’s words. once he adopts something as the decent thing to do, he has a hard time shaking it. it shackles him. it ensnares him to do the right thing each time. for this reason, he’s been in trouble a few times for sticking his nose where it doesn’t necessarily belong, getting into tiffs with moronic bullies who pick on others or sleazy men with wandering hands. sometimes he wishes he could just mind his own fucking business. it certainly may have prevented him a black eye or two.

- cynical: you could almost say that from the moment that roman kissed octavia, he could taste the doom on her lips. he certainly did not anticipate her grim ending, but he always knew she was too good for him. too beautiful, too happy, too perfect. just as her fickle gaze wanders, so shall she. but, this frame of mind was not unique to just this singular circumstance, it was roman’s entire mantra. all good in life would be expunged from him eventually. one must always anticipate the worst, and be pleasantly surprised when things pan out. for example, he’s a writer and yet he studies chemistry. why? because he’s afraid that his writing isn’t as good as he believes and will need a fall back. as of now, his fallback is pharmaceutical school. he finds happy endings in movies to be unbelievable. how is it realistic that everyone ends up happier than ever? bullshit. no fucking way.

- self-destructive: (tw: drug/alcohol mention) he drenches himself in gasoline with the cynicism, but he lights the match by participating in self-destructive behavior. drinking and drugs become a regular part of ro’s life when he’s lounging in a pool of his own pain. he finds it best to numb it, to muffle the screams of doubt in his head with sharp shops of bourbon and snowy lines of cocaine. besides, he always tells himself it may make him a more interesting writer. what’s life without a little scandal, anyway?

- aloof: despite having a pure heart, roman has a difficult time expressing himself. with page and pen, he manages to do so, but in person? to unlatch your cage of ribs and let someone inside? to watch the softness in your eyes when you admit a secret, or a snippet of deep affection? his shrink had chalked it up to the fact his parents never told him that they loved him. awkward kisses on the head on birthdays and maybe a stiff hug or two in between, but roman himself has always had a painfully hard time coming across as soft as he truly was, no matter how hard he tries.

the quirks.

has a tattoo of joan of arc on the left side of his ribcage. that sounds poetic but he also has a tattoo of the lochness monster with sunglasses on that he got while drunk in mexico one summer break.

presses flowers. usually he presses them to make bookmarks. leaves his favorite ones in his favorite books at the library for people to enjoy. if you ask him directly if he’s behind this random kindness though, he’ll tell you to fuck off.

has a pet goldfish that he’s successfully kept alive for six whole fucking years. her name is peaches. i think he’d fully lose it if peaches kicks it sometime soon too.

incredibly gifted when it comes to billiards. is known to drive further out of town to new bars to hustle people for money.

very much a “here’s my other headphone, let’s stare out the window together depressively” when on buses and train with his friends.

if you listen really hard in the library at like 8 pm, you will find him softly cry into the last book octavia checked out. come say hi, pals!

has very conflicting senses of style. likes clean lines and pristinely clean shirts and slacks which he then pairs with his most worn out chucks, and most lived in sweaters. if his shoes are clean and tidy then he has to be in a leather blazer. has this man ever brushed his hair in his life? absolutely not, but literally nothing he owns will ever appear wrinkled.

only has one pin on his leather messenger bag: “eat the rich” it says, as if he and literally most of his friends don’t consist of “the rich.”

his favorite book is love in a time of cholera

is a bit sentimental. he’s the type to keep movie tickets and receipts from good days he’s had with friends. he has them all in a big box, and when things are too heavy to bear he likes to sift through it all and remember all the pieces in time where things didn’t feel so ghastly.

carries around a disposable camera. roman’s too lazy to get into actual film, but he likes the concept of physical photos, so he’ll usually have his wallet, keys, a book, and the shitty camera stuffed into his coat at all times. please note that his keys have an obnoxious amount of keychains for a man of his age. his favorite one is a koala whose eyes pop out when you squeeze it, gifted to him by his little sister. keeps a photo of his sister, octavia, and his best friend in his wallet, always.

he still hasn’t finished his book. needless to say, his publisher is really fucking pissed. every time someone brings it up, he says, “it’s almost done.” it’s not. not even close.

always always always makes wishes in fountains. keeps coins on him just for that purpose. and no, he never does reveal what he actually wishes for.

the letter.

tivi,

the other day i read somewhere that drowning is relatively quick. between the midst of the panic and terror, the average person only has between thirty to sixty seconds before they involuntarily suck in a mouthful of water. the pain of this process is supposed to be so severe, that you pass out. but just before you do, the lack of oxygen sends you into a state of euphoria. you feel nothing but the swath of water’s gentle embrace. it blankets your thoughts, and the water’s clasp around you is meant to bring you comfort, the same way babies like pools. it feels maternal, safe. i used to think love was like that. both terror and elation ribboned and sandwiched down into a single person. it was morbid, to compare death and love, i know that now. but perhaps my self conscious was always preparing me for this. the death of you. the death of my heart. the death of all things colored and pure in this life, all of which is to be buried with you and our child. do you think our baby would have liked pools?

the pain is visceral. i can feel it, heavy and harsh in my lungs. in the crevices of my bones. in my arms, where the warmth of you lacks. i can even fucking taste it, even the bitter burn of scotch turning to ash in my mouth. no one knows how to approach this, or what to say to me. i keep receiving tight-lipped looks of people awash with pity and sympathy. you always hated when i cried. i did that a lot, didn’t i? a stupid fucking commercial about a father taking his daughter to ballet class and suddenly i’ve got my fists balled up hot and tight, and my eyes are at the ceiling trying to evaporate the ocean in my face. you were the only one i felt safe enough to be a complete an utter wreck in front of. but don’t worry, your headstone will get regular updates of my too loud, too long series of sobs. i’ll be forever faithful.

i found ten synonyms in the thesaurus for “miss.” pine for, long to see, ache for, feel the loss of, regret the absence of, yearn for, feel nostalgic for, long for, need. none of them seem to fit this all consuming rot that you left behind in my heart. nonetheless, each of these substitute meanings live inside me. when i walk, i can feel them all shifting around, clashing around my insides, against one another, like bits of a snow-globe. except none of this feels glittery. i know it sounds childish, but before the day begins, and just as the misery begins to sink in, my first instinct is always to reach for my phone and call you to tell you about it. there was always honey to be found in your words. god, i fucking miss you.

i have much to thank you for. it’d be naive to believe i could shrink all of it down into a single page, but i’ll try my best to do you justice. thank you for your patience, that of a saint at times. thank you for allowing me the great honor of your affection. thank you for every shard of laughter you extended to me. thank you for never calling me out on being a fucking awful dancer when i most certainly was. thank you for being the shepherd to my darkest secrets. [ REDACTED SECRET, BAYBEEEE ] thank you for existing in my life, and washing my world with worth. i wish i could forget it now, but i’m afraid i’ll be chasing this, you, for the rest of forever. at least i have something to chase, i guess. thank you, thank you, thank you.

tiv, wherever you are… please know that i love you and have loved you from the very moment we met. i would have died for you, but i don’t know if i can live like this for you. i feel carved out, hollow. you took with you every glimmer of light i had left. it’s too dark now… and enough of the prose for a second, i keep crying so god damn much i can barely see. like literally, i think fucking going blind too now. great. guess it really is dark now, huh baby? you would have hated this joke.

come back. even just for a little while. i love you. i love you, i love you. should have said it more.

i love you.

forever yours,

the extras.

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thank you for reading all of this if you did lol.

#spectreintro

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theladyarwen · 5 years

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do you have any book recommendations?

I do! I read more short stories and articles than I do books, so I’m going to list a few of those as well, but I’ll start with books.

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn: Southern Gothic thriller, written by one of my favorite authors. The main character, Camille Preaker, is a reporter who has to return to her hometown to write an article about the murders of two preteen girls. I love Flynn’s writing, and find Camille very relatable. There’s also a miniseries on HBO for this book starring Amy Adams.

Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? by Joyce Oates: This is a short story, but imo that counts as a book. Connie is a young girl who spends most of her time at a Big Boy picking up guys. To me, this is a story about the anxiety that comes with going from being considered a child to a young adult. I believe there is a movie adaptation, but I’ve never seen it.

Gloom by Ricky Olson: A collection of story stories by the only man my lesbian heart can love. I’ve always loved Ricky’s writing and think that he’s unbelievably talented. I wish I could give a solid description of this book, but since it’s a collection of short stories all I can really say is that every story is unique and interesting.

Ugly, Bitter and True by Suzanne Rivecca: This is an essay about the author going through a period of stagnation and suicidal thoughts, that I find very relatable. It isn’t at all a piece about how to pull yourself out of this feeling, but did give me hope for myself in a horrible period of my life earlier this year.

The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith: Lesbian romance novel that was published in the 1950′s that made me cry three different times because I could really relate to Therese’s struggle with finding who she wants to be. It has a bitter sweet ending, and a movie adaptation called Carol.

#reading #i hope this gives u at least one thing u find interesting #if u read any of these lmk bc i love talking about books and essays idk #anonymous #ask

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latestnews2018-blog · 6 years

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There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Tessa Thompson’s Earrings In ‘Sorry To Bother You’

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There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Tessa Thompson’s Earrings In ‘Sorry To Bother You’

Welcome to Good Shit, HuffPost’s weekly recommendation series devoted to the least bad things on and off the internet.

When Lakeith Stanfield compliments Tessa Thompson’s earrings in “Sorry to Bother You,” the camera cuts close to the ornaments framing Thompson’s face.

In quirky block letters, one earring says “MURDER MURDER MURDER,” the other says “KILL KILL KILL.” They’re the first of many audacious pairs that Thompson, playing a fiery artist-activist, wears in Boots Riley’s fantastic new movie. Others display men in electric chairs, Bob Dylan and Prince lyrics, and the apt words “WILDLY ORIGINAL” ― all accentuated by Thompson’s electric-orange curls.

As rowdy as the earrings may be, they’re one of the more grounded oddities in this surreal odyssey about race, capitalism and loud manifestos. ― Matthew Jacobs

Romelu Lukaku, A God

Watch Lukaku’s run. Drags the defender inside to create space for Meunier and then dummies it brilliantly for Chadli. Brilliant work. pic.twitter.com/RKseQLdX7q

— Jake. (@YedIin) July 2, 2018

I want you to stop, for one moment, and watch the video of this run by Romelu Lukaku, Belgium’s star striker, in the dying moments of Belgium’s 3-2 win over Japan in the World Cup’s round of 16. (In the above GIF, he’s the guy in red who starts at the bottom left of the screen.)

Lukaku, like many black soccer players, is often stereotyped as a big, strong, physical athlete whose greatness is defined by those qualities. But while he is all of those things, he’s also smart as hell when it comes to his positioning and his ability to see how a play should unfold before it does ― and then make it unfold exactly that way. This run is proof: Watch how Lukaku drags the defender nearest him toward the middle of the field to create space for the first pass. Watch how he follows that by pulling another defender in the opposite direction to create space for the next pass. And then, watch how he dummies that pass, stepping over it so that it runs to an open Nacer Chadli ― who is only open because of Lukaku ― on the far post. It’s brilliant. It’s all beautifully, mind-numbingly brilliant.

Lukaku is Belgium’s leading scorer, but he’d spent the first 89 minutes of the match against Japan failing to find the back of the net over and over again. No one would have blamed him for trying to bury that shot ― it was the last minute, the match was tied, he’s their best player, he’s there to score goals. But he knew the right play was to take the defenders out of the play completely, to let the ball run to Chadli, to let the wide open guy nail home the win instead. Romelu Lukaku is God. Also: he’s fluent in at least seven languages. He is brilliant, and I love him. ― Travis Waldron

The Charming Netflix Rom-Com That Makes Up For That Adam Sandler Movie

Listen, Netflix, I’m never going to forget that you made “The Ridiculous 6” possible, nor should I. BUT. Today I’m feeling nothing but gratitude for the proliferation of streaming-content creators, and Netflix in particular. See, I love a good, old-fashioned, stomach-flipping romantic comedy, and in this superhero-crazed environment I rarely get one as fun and unabashedly sweet as “Set It Up.” I missed it when it came out last month, but now that I’ve seen the Claire Scanlon-directed confection, I plan to watch it daily at least.

The premise: Harper (Zoey Deutch) and Charlie (Glen Powell), the beleaguered assistants to, respectively, a hotshot sports journalist (Lucy Liu) and a venture capitalist (Taye Diggs), decide to prod their bosses into dating each other in hopes that a fresh romance will prove a distraction from work. They manufacture a relationship between their bosses ― and accidentally start to fall for each other. The movie gleefully subverts numerous rom-com tropes, like the grand running-to-the-airport gesture, while maintaining the goofy-sweet heart of a true romantic comedy.

The cast is peppered with brilliant comedic turns ― Tituss Burgess, Meredith Hagner, Pete Davidson ― and the leads are a delight. Deutch is so winsome, I literally wished I could wear her as a skin suit, and Powell looks at her in that heart-melting way that every rom-com hero must do to win my heart. It was a bit disappointing to see the actors of color pushed, as usual, into supporting roles (of course in a rom-com about the oft-ignored assistants, it’s the assistants who are white). Here’s hoping the rumors that Lucy Liu’s character may get a sequel come true. ― Claire Fallon

This NYC Teen’s Valedictorian Speech

@StuyvesantHigh valedictorian: Find a way to diversify my school. #SHSAT #StuyAlum #MatteoWong https://t.co/g1pjCIyBxm

— Stuyvesant High (@StuyvesantHigh) June 28, 2018

The best writing I read this week came courtesy of a teenager. His name is Matteo Wong, and he is the most recent valedictorian at Stuyvesant High School, an elite New York City public high school that finds itself enmeshed in a larger battle over how (or how not) to combat racial inequality in the city.

The simple question of which students should go to which schools is an intensely emotional one for many parents, especially white ones, who have been known to yell when people propose that schools should reflect the demographic makeup of the city that surrounds them. It is widely considered an incredibly complex question as well. But that’s what makes Wong’s valedictory speech ― a version of which was published in Crain’s New York Business ― so fantastic. His writing is clear and measured, uplifting while also based on the facts.

“The problem: New York City’s best public high school is less than 4 percent black or Hispanic, demographics which compose nearly 70 percent of the city’s school-age population,” he writes. “This debate revolves around two truths. One: These statistics are unacceptable. To accept them is to buy into a racist myth of black and Hispanic inferiority that has very real, physical and psychological repercussions. To accept these demographics is to make Stuyvesant a toxic environment for black and Hispanic students. The way forward is unclear, but the status quo is broken.”

The 850-word speech, which I suggest you read in full, just gets better from there. If only adults could speak with the same level of candor. ― Maxwell Strachan

An Incredibly Boring (And Great!) Reality TV Show

I’ve been told to watch “Terrace House,” an unassuming Japanese reality television show in which three young men and three young women live in a house together, for years, and this week the Netflix algorithm gods blessed me by finally suggesting I put it in my queue. I’m only a handful of 28-minute episodes into the show, and yet I’m already a convert. If you’re looking for a way to soothe your news-ridden, tweet-ridden, over-stimulated soul, binge your way through this series. (Parts 1 and 2 are already on Netflix, and Part 3 is being released at the end of this month.)

The weird thing about “Terrace House” is that very little happens and yet it’s completely captivating. As a consumer of American reality TV, specifically the “Bachelor” franchise, I’m primed for high drama ― big fights, lots of tears, ominous music cues, carefully produced confrontations and very little eating on camera. “Terrace House” flouts these conventions, opting instead to lean into the seemingly mundane. It makes you wonder why American shows keep trying to raise the emotional stakes of reality television when the Japanese have figured out a way to draw in audiences with no stakes at all. ― Emma Gray

Amy Adams In Anything (But This Week In “Sharp Objects”)

HBO is back with another limited series in “Sharp Objects,” based on the debut novel of author Gillian Flynn. Alongside showrunner Marti Noxon and director Jean-Marc Vallée, the “Gone Girl” scribe brings her dark crime thriller to the screen in a compelling fashion.

The always superb Amy Adams plays reporter Camille Preaker, who returns home to Wind Gap, Missouri, to cover the mysterious murders of two young girls. But it’s her own past that haunts her as she’s reunited with her overbearing mother (Patricia Clarkson) and rebellious teenage half-sister (Eliza Scanlen) in a hometown burdened with pain. It premieres Sunday at 9 p.m. ― Leigh Blickley

Bron Snow, AKA A Clash Of Kings, AKA June 19, 2016

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On Sunday, June 19, 2016, I watched on a split-screen as the Cleveland Cavaliers won Game 7 of the NBA finals and Jon Snow defeated Ramsay Bolton in the Battle of the Bastards on “Game of Thrones.” Yes, it was two years ago, but it was beautiful. The days of the Cavs championship drought and of Jon Snow making his pouty face — not because it was cool, but because his life kinda sucked ― were over.

Now, with LeBron James leaving the Cavs and “Game of Thrones” coming to an end, it’s good to remember that moment can never be taken away from us. Some of my own colleagues, who are now celebrating LeBron in LA, counted him out of that 2016 series from the start, much like many doubted the White Wolf.

But the North remembers. Cavs fans remember! We know no king but the kings in the North and Northeast Ohio. I don’t care if they’re bastards or they moved to LA ― Ned Stark’s blood and Cavs wine-and-gold run through their veins! They’re my kings from this day until their last day! ― Bill Bradley

Tina Lawson’s Instagram Account

Tina Lawson, the mother of our true saviors Beyoncé and Solange, has the Instagram feed from Heaven. But this photo of her and her man, Richard, waiting to see Smokey Robinson is the blackest thing I have seen this week. I am fucking LIVING for it. I grew up listening to Smokey Robinson because of my mama and nana. So I feel like this could be my parents and that warms my soul in a way I can’t fully explain.

Also, look at that selfie. It’s just terrible enough to be a fantastic auntie and uncle pic. I love it. I love them. I’m crying. ― Julia Craven

Comedian Kate Berlant

HBO/ANNAPURNA PICTURES/NETFLIX/GETTY/VIMEO

Remember that time Roseanne Barr shrieked the national anthem at a San Diego Padres game? That is not my recommendation for the week. My recommendation for the week is the human being who wrote a thesis on the deconstructionist milestone that was Barr’s scream-performance: Kate Berlant. (She did this in grad school, really!)

Berlant is in the new film “Sorry to Bother You,” which according to my colleague Matt Jacobs, you should really see. But she’s also appeared in “Search Party,” “High Maintenance,” “The Characters” and “555.” She’s a prolific scene-stealer and best friends with John Early, with whom she’s apparently writing a film. I recommend it! Them! Her! ― Katherine Brooks

A ’70s Gangster Film, Why Not?

For years, I’ve been trying to track down Elaine May’s mid-’70s masterpiece “Mikey and Nicky,” starring John Cassavetes and Peter Falk as childhood friends turned low-level gangsters turned frenemies. The film, which is now streaming on Kanopy, was well worth the years of searching. It’s better than every other Netflix crime show you’ve just binged.

The premise is simple: Cassavetes’ character knows there’s a contract out on his life and calls Falk to help him out. The rest of the film concerns what Falk does with his friend’s fate during the course of one boozy, cigarette-stained night. You can see the movie’s influence all over “Goodfellas” and shows like “The Sopranos.”

But the thing that will stay with you long after the film is over are the spare scenes with the women in their lives ― the ones who take their late-night calls, their abuses and their endless, tormented need. You see it in their eyes. They know what’s up. ― Jason Cherkis

Red Shorts, Blue Shirts: A Phenomenon

We’ve uncovered an international phenomenon: Each summer, dudes across the world bust out red shorts and, after very little consideration, decide that the only fashionable pairing is a blue shirt. Two of our reporters have been documenting this for four years — but this is bigger than our circle of friends now. Prepare to have your third eye opened. We bring you the RedShortsBlueShirt Instagram page and a whole hell of a lot of red shorts-blue shirt combos. ― Andy Campbell

Kumail Nanjiani’s Cheeseburger Freakout

I still can’t stop thinking about Kumail Nanjiani’s cheeseburger-related freakout in “The Big Sick.” We’ve all been on the wrong side of a customer service issue at the exact worst moment, and watching Nanjiani channel that is perfection. He strikes just the right notes of sympathetic and ridiculously funny. It’s hard to pick a favorite moment from the scene because I loved all of it ― from his yelling “Who the fuck is we, man?” to his knocking over the trash can and then feeling bad and slowly, sadly picking it all up again. ― Anna Krakowsky

Inner Peace

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