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#light and dark are inaccurate but easy to say terms that stand in for their actual meaning as used in lore
themaskedwriter · 5 years
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The Screen
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Your whole life is movies, down to the job that you have and where you live. When a mysterious stranger comes into the movie theatre that you own, will your life become a romance? Or something else?
Word Count: 4055
Warnings: Some fluff. Some angst. Pop culture references. Made up movies to suit the plot.
Clues:
1) I have as many letters as numbers in my URL
2) I have three Queens, but only one of them is real
3) I do love a crossover
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The movie theatre was a juxtaposition for the senses. In the lobby; scents of popcorn, salt, butter, the overwhelming smell of hot cheese for the nachos and a sweeter smell of mustard and ketchup for hot dogs, and all of this overlaid by sugar from the candy and chocolate available for the kids. Sounds too were rife, children yelling excitedly about the movies they were about to see, parents yelling even louder for them to hush, couples and friends giggling and debating about possible plot lines…
Once inside the screen, however, calm would reign. The movie playing could be noisy, perhaps an action film which deployed explosions and gunshots as often as a comedy would deploy laugh out loud gags. Or perhaps it was a romance, or a thriller, or a horror designed to make you whimper and scream in your seat. It didn’t matter however. The people within the screen who watched the stories unfold would always be silent. Mesmerised by lives that weren’t theirs, dizzying highs and heart-breaking lows. Set underwater, in space, in far off nations that these people would never get the chance to visit.
The screen was a whole other dimension for the senses. A sea of calm amongst the craziness of today’s life. It didn’t matter what type of life you lead, who you were before you entered that screen and watched those stories unfold for the price of $20 including your snacks…
The screen was a safe space for all.
••••••••••••
The first time you saw him, he barely registered to you. The Screen, the name of your movie theatre, was packed. The newest Disney film was out and families had flocked from all over Brooklyn to pay to see it. Kids excitedly trying to cajole their parents into gifting them with just one more candy bar, or pleeeaaase can they have the animated animal themed soda glass? All of this made you smile, your heart light. This was what having a movie theatre was all about.
Making people happy.
Families were everywhere, which was why he stood out to you. Tall, dark shoulder length chestnut hair mostly hidden under a black baseball cap and, most tellingly, he was alone.
You took a second look, mainly out of idle curiosity, he wouldn’t be the first person to come to the movies by himself, but your eyes came up empty. With barely a pause for breath, you mentally shrug and continue to serve the popcorn.
He must’ve changed his mind.
••••••••••••
The second time, the man stayed and bought a ticket, but he went to Faith, your employees register. He didn’t go to see the film about the action hero that everyone was raving about, instead he went into the quieter screen with almost no people, showing the lesser known period movie about a WW2 sweeping romance. Again, you forgot him within minutes, the only thing that played on your mind was that for someone as tall as he was, he seemed to shrink into the background spectacularly well.
Two hours later and the five people, including the man in the black cap, came out. Black Cap was the only one alone, and he looked far more affected by the plot than the others.
“Did you enjoy the movie?”
You had no idea where the question came from, your usual practice was to smile benignly at the customers as they left and give them a generic thank you to top it off.
There was something in his eyes though… they were red rimmed… the man must’ve really been affected by the plot. Those swollen and- blue, such a pretty blue - shadowed eyes swung to yours…
Time stopped for a moment.
You had never felt such a jolt at just a look before. A string connected you, you felt like one of those romantic comedy heroines that you pretended to hate but secretly loved so much. The handsome stranger stared at you, right into your soul, and-
“I hated this movie. Completely inaccurate.”
The spell broke.
Your lips twist in disdain, “I’m so sorry you feel that way, sir. My understanding is that it is hard to accurately portray the horrors of war on screen in a way that really shows what it was like. And what’s wrong with a little love during such a terrible time?”
Black Cap rolled his eyes, scoffed, and walked out of your theatre without a backwards glance.
“Ummm… do you usually go out of your way to be an ass to potential repeat customers, boss?”
The tentative sound of Faith’s voice brought your attention to him, and you shake your head, “Is that any way to talk to your boss?”
Faith just shrugged, completely unbothered. To be honest, it was one of the reasons you liked the young woman so much. You grin at her and sigh, your shoulders slumping in sudden exhaustion when you see the time, “Oh god, I was a bit of an ass, wasn’t I? I just-”
“Yeah yeah, ‘movies are escapism, not real life,’ I get it, boss,” Faith mocked your saying and continued to clean out the popcorn machine, “The man was hot though, sure would’ve liked to see him again…”
Faith was right, of course. Black Cap had been a stone cold ten, you were just realising to yourself, but that wasn’t why you were hoping he might return, and not because of the potential repeat business either. Someone as sad as this man deserved to see movies that made him happy. To escape from whatever put those shadows under his eyes.
Your thoughts continue to drift to him, and you and Faith close up and head home. 
••••••••••••
It was another two weeks before you saw him again, this time he had come in to see a film critics were destroying, but fans all over were absolutely adoring. This one was about a lone ex soldier taking down a government conspiracy. Filled with explosions, violence and one very gratuitous sex scene.
You, personally, had loved every ridiculous second. 
Black Cap came up to your stand, keeping his eyes down, “Can I get a ticket for Saviour, please?”
“Sure, would you like any snacks with that? A drink? My opinion on the movie shoved down your throat, perhaps?”
Black Cap - you really needed to find a better nickname - finally looked up at you in shock, confusion creased the space in between his eyes for a moment, and then he smiled. It changed his whole face into something beyond handsome and dark and into… you didn’t have the words for it, but your heartbeat fluttered almost painfully against your rib cage as you saw it.
“Word on the street is that a movie like this shouldn’t be taken seriously,” Black Cap remarked casually, and pointed behind you at the popcorn, “Can I get some buttered, please?”
He was one of the last people to head to the screen, so you took your time getting his treat, “Something like this plot is so outrageous, all you should do is watch for the fun of it. Just leave your brain at the door and enjoy, you know?”
You turn, smile stretched across your face and hands filled with the gigantic bucket of popcorn, to see an unreadable look on the man’s face. He didn’t look angry, not like the last time, but he did look… 
“What if it’s not outrageous? What if shit like this actually happened? How would you feel then?”
Black Cap took the popcorn, staring intently at you, as if the answer you would give was important to him. You felt it again, that string, pulling tighter. Your answer came unbidden, straight from the heart.
“They had to get this plot from somewhere, right? I would just like to think that, if something like this did happen in real life, that everyone involved got a sappy and happy ending like they do in this film,” A gasp escapes you and you cover your mouth, “Oops! Spoiler alert!”
Black Cap blinks, and that devastating smile returns to his face, “That’s okay. I like knowing that they got a happy ending.”
This time, when he came out, he stopped and talked about the movie with you. Faith kept giving you guys looks and smirks as you talked. 
••••••••••••
Months went on, Black Cap, who you eventually learned was actually named James, would come to your screen maybe twice a month. He would always come in to the last show of the evening and he would always be alone, a fact that you tried to stop yourself feeling relieved about, but the feeling came unbidden, regardless.
What started out as a few words before and after each movie, turned into longer discussions post movie and James helping you to lock up. Soon, James was coming in just to speak to you, to keep you company, and you were able to let Faith leave earlier on those nights, much to the brunettes delight.
Eventually, James offered to walk you home, citing the need to keep an eye on you after dark, and you chuckled, feeling heat spread across your cheeks at his concern, “I actually live in the apartment upstairs, so there’s no need to worry about me walking the streets all on my lonesome, James.”
“Oh,” James had removed his cap, was spinning it idly in his hands and suddenly looking awkward, “right. That’s good. Uh… okay, well, it’s late. I better go.”
“Do you want to come up? I always need a while to unwind after work, I usually put on a movie, you could join, if you want?”
The air became charged again, but you felt more awkward than anything else, what exactly had you been thinking?! You barely knew the man! Of course he was going to say no-
“Really?” James interrupted your inner scolding, “What, uhhh… what movie were you thinking? I don’t wanna impose.”
“I’m feeling actiony tonight, maybe The Terminator?”
“Haven’t seen that, sounds good to me,”
You’re too busy spinning away and turning off lights in mortification at using the term “actiony” to notice how James went pale at the mention of “Terminator”.
You were surprised at how easy it was to have him in your little one bed apartment, and you were more than relieved that you had cleaned up earlier in the day.
“This is really nice.”
“Thanks, I love it.”
You start heading to the back and your bedroom, indicating the kitchen where James could make a drink, “This place was my Grandfathers, he built The Screen up from scratch back in the forties, it’s one of the only original movie theatres left from that time in Brooklyn.”
You’re busy pulling off your work uniform, and grabbing up your sweatpants and comfy t-shirt to fully hear James’s reply, but it sounded oddly like “I remember.”
“Huh? Remember what?”
The apartment being so small, it took you scant seconds to get back to James, finding him staring at your table of photographs, holding one up of you and your grandfather outside The Screen when you were maybe fifteen. Before his dementia had taken his memories of you, but not before he had passed his love of this place to you, or gifted the whole place to you in his will.
James’s smile was oddly wistful as he put the photo down, “I Uh… remember reading about this place. At school, I think. History class?”
“Oh.”
“This place reminds me of somewhere I used to go, way back when I was a kid, with my best friend. The guy who ran it, younger than you would think, he caught us sneaking in one time,” James chuckled fondly, but his eyes, those pretty, pretty eyes, they shone bright with tears, “made us learn how to change the reels and clean and tidy them. We worked a whole summer there, and he gave us free tickets after that.”
“Maybe he knew Pops,” You remark, softly, “Sounds like a story he told me ages ago about helping two kids out one summer.”
You’re fussing with the remotes, setting up the movie, and don’t see how James, once again, goes pale.
“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie, James!” You flop back onto the couch, patting the spare seat for him to sit, “It’s probably one of my favourite movies eveeeeer!”
James smirks and rolls his eyes at you, placing himself in the seat carefully after he removes his jacket, “Uhhh, excuse me, but not all of us grew up with movies on demand, ya know? Some of us were… busy.”
“Who the hell is too busy to watch classics every once in a while?”
The movie enraptured you, as ever you’re fascinated by the time travel, how Sarah Connor is swept up into a whole new life due to a choice she hadn’t even made yet. The way she starts out as an every-woman style character and eventually becomes such a badass called to you. And then, of course, there was Kyle Reese. The crush you had always harboured for him burned… especially when you realised that James looked just a little bit like him…
Tension fills the air again, your concentration on the movie starts to waver. You’re so close to James, and you just hadn’t appreciated before, how big he was. Your upper arms were almost touching, and the long sleeved top he wore did very little to hide the definition of the large bicep muscles he had. 
“This movie is insane.”
You jump slightly, the scene where Kyle had confessed his love had just happened, igniting more than the usual amount of tension for you. James was so close, and he was clearly as tense as you… Those pretty blue eyes stayed on the screen and didn’t turn to you, however, so you answer, trying to break the tension you were feeling, “Well, yeah, it’s about a time travelling cyborg sent to kill a woman before she can give birth to the man who will stop a war between artificial intelligence and humans in the future. And,” You add as an afterthought, “the poor woman isn’t even pregnant… well, yet.”
You’re trying to joke, the antics on the screen showed that the moment of conception was very, very imminent. 
“That’s not what I mean.” James’s jaw clenches, his eyes trained on the screen, “How can a woman like Sarah ever feel comfortable with Reese? His world… she’s always in so much danger, and it’s because of him.”
“You can’t help who you fall in love with, James.”
You tilt your head along the back of the couch and, after a moment, James turns to look at you too, blue eyes burning with something you can’t name.
“If Reese had just left her alone, the Terminator wouldn’t have needed to try and kill her. He should’ve stayed away.”
“She went into everything with her eyes wide open, James. And she loved him, she wanted to help him, too.”
That connection came again, the string pulling at your heart, and this time you could see that James felt it too. His teeth caught his bottom lip, the plump pink flesh turned white under the pressure… you couldn’t take your eyes off him if you tried…
“I have secrets, Y/N… I shouldn’t be here. I should go.”
He didn’t leave, though, or make any movement to indicate that he would.
“We all have secrets, James,” your left hand inched forward, towards his right hand in the gloves he still wore and he never took off, “but you don’t have to carry them alone.”
“I’m not a good guy. I’ll only hurt you.”
This was it, you could tell that he was serious, and he was trying to give you an out. But you thought of everything you knew about him. How he tried to melt into the shadows at The Screen, but how he smiled gently at the children that had dropped their candy on the floor at his feet that one time, and how he had paid for them to get more.
You thought about how he had raved about the Pixar film he had watched, all the emotions he had felt while watching it, and how he blushed when he said he “wished Stevie had been there with him.”
And you thought about his gloves, and his hats. That he had been some kind of soldier who was dealing with a lot and used your Screen as a way to escape the violence of his past was clear to you. He hid because he was scarred, probably physically as well as figuratively. None of this was your business, though. He would tell you when, and if, he was ready. Until then…
You take his hand. James stiffens at the contact… but doesn’t pull away.
“James… you could never hurt me the way that the ending of this film does.”
This time, your joke lands, and his nose scrunches up at you in a chuckle. It was a bad joke, but that was the point, to make his serious look go away. The string pulled tight again as you both laugh, and the distance between you both closes.
The press of your lips to his is everything you had hoped, and your eyelids flutter closed at the deep groan that rumbles up from James’s chest. As far as first kisses go… you knew none would ever top this one.
••••••••••••
Days later, and you’re in the middle of the late afternoon rush, but never has the sound of people demanding their escapism sounded so sweet as it did in that moment.
James is hanging around, shooting sweet glances at you, waiting for the moment where you would take your break and go outside with him. Most days since your kiss, he would come and meet you, kissing you sweetly and bringing you a flower, or a box of chocolates, old school gestures of courtship that made your heart flutter and your lips never stop pulling up into a smile.
You already knew you loved him. That he wanted to take his time with you and what you both had, only made you love him more. What that man had been through, what you assumed he had been through… who were you to ever push someone like that for more? You would wait as long as he needed to share his body, his soul and his secrets. 
Your watch tells you that you have five more minutes, and you gesture to Faith who fondly rolls her eyes whilst taking the ticket and snack order of the man and his girlfriend in front of her. You don’t notice how the man keeps on looking over at James, or how he is suddenly very interested in bringing up CNN on his cell phone.
You only notice that he drags his girlfriend away and out of the door, not paying for the tickets that Faith holds in her hand, her brown eyes wide in frustration, “Rude goddamn jackass! What a waste of popcorn and soda!”
“Oh,” A frown creases the space in between your eyes and you shrug, “just take it for yourself, Faith. He probably had some bad news.”
James came to the counter, looking over his shoulder at the door the couple had vacated, “What the hell was his problem?”
“Asshole muttered something about an escaped convict and fuckin’ ran outta here like a bat out of hell,” another low growl, then, “this isn’t a goddamn movie. Escaped convicts aren’t a real thing!”
The way the man had behaved didn’t bother you anymore, all you could think about was spending time with the amazing man on your left, and you grab his hand, starting to walk to the staff exit, “People are weird, you know that, hon. Okay, I’ll be back in twenty, you okay here?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Wait.”
You look up at James, who was now rubbing his eyes frantically, “Ummmm… rain check, doll? I… I don’t feel so good all of a sudden, probably ate something bad at work.”
Concern fills you, it was possible, James works at a small takeout restaurant in the kitchen, he often eats there to save money and, well, it wasn’t the cleanest of places. You often wondered why he would want to work somewhere with such a shady reputation.
Maybe it was just because it was quiet and he didn’t have to talk to people.
“Sure!” You say quickly, “If you don’t feel well!”
James can’t meet your eyes… he really did look pale…
“I, uh…” he seems to wrestle with himself, his eyes going from the exit to his shoes and to a point over your right shoulder, “I’m so sorry, Y/N… I w-wish I could’ve been different… ummm, I mean, I wish I wasn’t sick.”
“You can’t help getting a bug,” you narrow your eyes, “James, what’s wrong? Are you-?”
“I have to go.”
He pulls you into his arms, suddenly, the kiss he lays on you is sudden, deep, filled with emotions you’re too shocked to unravel, so you just kiss him back, holding onto his biceps with a desperate grip.
You knew he had a prosthetic arm, he told you a while back… a spark of something went off in your brain, a knowledge…
“I’m so sorry, darlin’… I love you.”
His lips left yours, his arms unwound themselves from around your shoulders and waist, and your fingers slip from the warm strength of his body. Without a backwards glance, James left you in the foyer of The Screen.
“He’s sick. He’ll be back.”
Faith doesn’t respond. But there was no need. Barely fifteen minutes later and your Screen is filled with SWAT and agents from branches of the government you had never heard of.
James was James Buchanan Barnes, aka; The Winter Soldier. He was responsible for god only knows how many murders and assassinations.
And you had fallen in love with him.
••••••••••••
So many questions. So many accusations. James Buchanan Barnes has been in your Screen, in your home, so many times over the last few months, and you had no idea about who he was?
It didn’t matter to them that you had only seen the good sides of him, that the Winter Soldier side wasn’t his true face. They dragged you into some dark room and held you for questioning for what felt like days.
You couldn’t give him up. You didn’t know anything and, in your heart of hearts, you knew that even if you did, you wouldn’t tell them anything.
There wasn’t any point, anyway. James was gone forever…
You get home, they release you and make you sign forms threatening prison or worse if you say anything about who was frequenting your establishment. Exhaustion pulls at every single muscle, screaming at you to fall into the blissful oblivion of sleep.
Your head hits the pillow… and you hear the crackle of paper. Frantically, you pull the hidden letter out from the pillowcase and hold it up to read;
Y/N,
I’m never going to be able to apologise enough. I just wanted to go somewhere that I remembered, that held only good memories for me. I knew your Pops, way back when.
I wish I could say that I hate myself for sticking around, for talking to you and learning about this amazing woman who kept Pop’s dream alive and knows more about movies than she does about math.
But I don’t.
I’m a selfish prick, but I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing about meeting you and getting to hold something so good in my arms for the first time in a very long time.
I want you to know, your Screen, your love, it gave me hope for the first time since before the war. I’m keeping it with me wherever I go.
I do love you, Y/N. It’s just funny how I now hate that I turned out to be Kyle and not the Terminator.
I won’t be back. I won’t do that to you.
Thank you for everything, Y/N.
Yours, always,
Bucky.
Tears fall, ink runs, and your heart breaks. 
Turns out your life could be like a movie after all, it just wasn’t the type you
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kcwcommentary · 5 years
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VLD6x02 – “Razor’s Edge”
6x02 – “Razor’s Edge”
It’s a little weird that the second episode of season six is starting literally right where the fifth episode of season five ended. It’s one thing for an episode to start right where the previous one ended, but this episode is starting right where three episodes ago ended. Keith is still standing there surprised to realize that Krolia is his mother. He has tons of questions he asks her, including “How are you so sure?” And her response: “I’m sure.” That’s not an answer. We know so little about the actual blades the Blades wield, but I guess we’re supposed to interpret all this as the blade is somehow genetically coded to a person, and that’s why both Keith and Krolia can affect the same blade? That would be an easy explanation for the show to give to give Keith an answer here as to how Krolia knows he’s her son, but the dialog instead is written to be cryptic-cliché. She follows up, telling him, “We can talk about this later.”
For all how Krolia’s dialog is supposed to suggest that they don’t have time to talk right now, she is just standing there doing nothing, not working to pilot their craft anywhere, not trying to contact anyone else in the Blades, nothing. (Also, can’t they talk as they travel to their next location?) Having the two of them standing there doing nothing, if we’re to believe they don’t have time to discuss this, then makes the scene feel like they forgot to choose any action to animate.
There’s a bit of flashback to explain how Krolia has information that Kolivan and Keith don’t about the unexpected transport lines of quintessence. Krolia apparently studied the ship from which Ranveig got the quintessence he used to make his “weapon,” and she determined that the ship had passed through the “quantum abyss.” That she never bothered transmitting that information to Kolivan/the Blades is baffling.
The description of the quantum abyss is science-sounding nonsense. Neutron stars are real, they’re the core left over when a relatively large star (though not the largest) goes supernova. Despite the name, neutron stars are not exactly stars since they’re no longer undergoing fusion They’re essentially a stellar corpse. A neutron star is small, having a typical radius of just 10 kilometers (for comparison, Earth has a radius of a bit over 6000 kilometers, and Pluto has a radius of a bit over 1000 kilometers). So, Krolia then saying that in this quantum abyss, neutron stars “orbit even larger, dark stars” sounds really silly to me. If her statement is trying to refer to mass instead of volume, neutron stars aren’t particularly massive either, with average masses somewhere between 1.5 and 2 times the mass of our sun. What makes their mass-volume relation interesting is that that much mass fits in such little volume, which Krolia does accurately reference the objects’ high density. You wouldn’t want to get close to a neutron star, but Galra technology should be more than enough to let them maneuver past neutron stars unbothered.
As for “dark stars,” I’ve never heard that term before, and the best I can tell it is either effectively another name for black holes or a name for a theoretical object involving dark matter that could only have existed in the earliest days of the universe. I imagine the word was used in writing this episode because the word “dark star” sounds ominous. So basically, this “quantum abyss” is just a stellar graveyard. Krolia says that the area has “unusual effects on gravitational waves and space-time itself.” The gravity of such an environment might be complicated to calculate and map, but it’s not “unusual.” If the Galra are a technologically advanced civilization such that they can dominate the whole universe, then they should be able to understand gravity of neutron stars and black holes that, while it might not be Krolia’s area of expertise, it wouldn’t be something she would think of as “unusual.”
Finally, the term “quantum abyss” seems so inaccurate, even if the show is trying to make up a name for the area Krolia describes. Nothing about her description makes me think of quantum mechanics, nor is an area full of neutron stars and black holes appropriately described by the word abyss, which is by definition a large, empty area.
Moving on.
Lotor is still talking up Allura, connecting her increasing her abilities to the achievements of Alfor. She’s standing there doing this show’s typical hand-touch-and-glow method of not actually doing anything but pretending something is actually happening. “Our visit to Oriande has taught me more than I ever thought possible,” Allura says. Since the show’s magic system is so undefined and opaque, and she’s doing no differently than we’ve seen her do before – touching something and glow – it doesn’t really feel like she’s learned anything. She thanks Lotor, and he thanks her, saying that she’s the “key to bringing peace to the universe.” I guess all this is supposed to be him still just being manipulative and secretly villainous.
Lotor and Allura nearly kiss before Pidge, Hunk, and Lance interrupt them. Pidge and Hunk are upset that they’ve been left out since they both like technology. Lance, meanwhile, of course is jealous, but his typical aggressive manifestation of his jealousy is interrupted by him accidentally knocking over some tools, which was funny. Allura tells them there’s nothing really for them to do, and Lotor points out that what Allura’s doing is infusing the ship, not building it. Pidge and Hunk are okay not being involved when they realize it’s all just “magic.” Lance, however, still wants to help. As much as I find Lance’s angry, entitled jealousy infuriating, how he ends this scene feeling sad, dejected, and lonely is something I can totally understand and makes me feels sympathetic.
Krolia and Keith arrive at the quantum abyss. The music in this episode is fantastic. It’s some of my favorite in the entire series, and I listen to it often.
Krolia says that Ranveig sent a lot of probes into the quantum abyss trying to track where the quintessence came from. (So, Krolia has known for a long time about this quantum abyss as being the origin point for the quintessence in the unexpected shipments the Blades of Marmora had been tracking. If Ranveig had time to send multiple probes into the area, then Krolia had time to relay information about all this to Kolivan.) “The probes picked up a path that was relatively unaffected by space-time,” Krolia says. This statement is more bad science. Space-time is not some external force that affects you. This situation would be more the opposite of what Krolia says; instead, all the objects in the quantum abyss would affect space-time significantly, and difficulty navigating would be the result of that effect on space-time. In other words, space-time would not affect things, things affect space-time.
She says that they never found out where the path these probes mapped went because the probes were all destroyed by something, and they never identified what. It’s a little noticeable that the dialog was written to try to create tension at the idea of something threatening and destroying the probes, whereas the most likely answer would just be that the path the probes mapped was simply a dead-end. So, this dialog is kind of written to jump to a conclusion.
They are attacked by weird, spiky creatures as they begin their journey into the quantum abyss. After they start being attacked, Keith says, “Krolia, we’ve got trouble.” What a useless line of dialog; she already knows since she’s in the same small ship Keith’s in and could feel the impacts and has all the warning alarms sounding off. The creatures can phase through the matter of the ship and come inside, though Krolia can blow them up with her gun. Krolia asks Keith for ship’s status, and he initially replies, “The ship’s damaged.” You think? The thrusters are offline, and they’re starting to drift because of gravitational pull. Keith and Krolia jettison from the fighter and are left floating in space.
Keith points out that the ship had the necessary coordinates to navigate through the quantum abyss, and Krolia responds, “We’ll have to make do.” Sigh. The idea of making do regarding something this complex is absurd. She continues, “As long as we stay inside the borders of the space-time drop-offs, we should be safe.” This sentence sounds silly to me since space-time is literally everywhere. I guess “space-time drop-offs” are supposed to be areas of space-time where gravity of the nearby objects strongly warps space-time? I think it’s just the wording “drop-off” that’s odd, which has a connotation of something ceasing to be. The writing didn’t need to name it, they could have just described the gravitational affect they were moving to avoid.
Some large object in the quantum abyss explodes or something, sending out a giant blast of light. This made me realize until this point I didn’t notice that the visual depiction of this area that’s supposedly made up of neutron stars and black holes doesn’t look like it. Neutron stars, though they cease fusion, are still bright. A black hole would only be visible as a dark relief against the light of other objects. Given the closeness of these objects and the gravity in the quantum abyss tearing objects apart, there would be a lot of objects with accretion discs, which are also bright. This area is animated as incorrectly dark. Most everything here looks like just shadowy chunks of rock.
Krolia jumps between Keith and the energy radiating out from whatever exploded. I honestly have no idea what’s happening, what these explosions are supposed to be.
Keith opens his eyes to find himself in some endlessly white area that dims enough to show Krolia and his father naming him in front of Keith’s house back on Earth. He then sees a premonition of his upcoming fight with the Shiro-clone. Back to relative normal in the quantum abyss, Krolia tells Keith, “Time collapses this close to dark stars. Going through the light triggers glimpses of the past and the future.” Absolutely not. If the show wants to have Keith have visions of the past and future, that’s fine, but don’t try to give it a science-violating, half-assed explanation. The episode could have just had Keith knocked unconscious, and while unconscious, his metaphysical bond to people could have magically given him visions. But for the show to have spent so much of this episode going space-time this and space-time that to now severe time from space-time and pretend that it functions differently, when the whole point of the concept of space-time is that space and time are actually different dimensions of the same thing, this just does not work whatsoever. I don’t mind the fiction part of science fiction, but I do expect anything science-like included in science fiction to at least somewhat match up with what we know scientifically.
Meanwhile, Lance is still sad. Pidge and Hunk see him upset, and instead of being friends who care about a sad friend, they mock and bully him. I don’t think I could ever be friends with the EPs and writers of this show since this sort of behavior is what they apparently think friendship is. They want us to think that these characters care about each other, but scenes like this show that they don’t.
Things continue to happen with Keith and Krolia, and it’s staring to be uninteresting. Keith is almost spaghettified (that’s a real term for the effect of super high gravity, by the way), but he throws his blade, attached to a rope, into a rock, and Krolia pulls him out of the area where gravity was starting to spaghettify him. Absolutely not. Their muscle strength is no where even slightly close to the amount of force needed to escape that kind of gravity.
There’s another light blast, so we get to see Krolia’s past of her as part of a two-man team looking for the Lions. Her partner orders her to “call it in,” and I can’t help thinking why doesn’t he just call it in then? It’s cheap (supposed) drama. She turns on him and starts trying to blast him. She destroys his fighter, but not before hers gets hit. She crashes on Earth, conveniently right at Keith’s dad’s house. He pulls her out of the wreckage. And we’re then back in the quantum abyss, Keith now having seen that vision.
Keith has another vision of Krolia and his father having found the Blue Lion. His dad suggests the Galaxy Garrison might help them, but Krolia says no. Krolia says that she wouldn’t go back to the Galra even if she could. That she wants to stay and protect Blue.
Lance is alone in the lounge. He’s still sad and upset. The mice come in, and he reacts by saying, “Great. Are you here to make fun of me too?” So, Pidge and Hunk’s behavior earlier most definitely had the effect of bullying on Lance. He has a monologue about his past making fun of people whose hearts have been broken, seemingly taking pride in his having a past of breaking the hearts of others, but then trying to contextualize that behavior as the result of him not knowing what it felt like to truly like someone. His insecurities make a return, as he says, “I don’t have anything to offer [Allura]. I’m just a boy from Cuba, not a space prince like Lotor.” Bringing Lance’s insecurities up again just reminds me how the show does not actually resolve this element of his character. His supposed character growth sort of happens off-screen (if it happens at all). It’s more of the EPs and writers not knowing how to write character growth, so they don’t ever show it. And that’s fundamental to the story this episode is telling about Keith too.
Back to Keith and Krolia in the quantum abyss. Keith points out, “At the rate we’re going, it’s going to take us a lifetime to reach the end.” Yeah, the plot feels aimless, like miscellaneous stuff is happening just to fill time. Keith says they need a new plan, and conveniently giant space whales the two of them should have been able to see from a distance suddenly pop up next to them. Sigh.
There’s another blast of light, and Keith sees Krolia feeding him when he was an infant. Krolia’s blade glows, which alerts her to the very nearby presence of Galra scouts. This is an ability of the blade that comes out of nowhere, so more writing that has things happen just because it’s convenient for the moment. Krolia plans on using some explosives that can’t destroy the fighters, but they can damage their engines (yet said explosions do later destroy a fighter, contradicting the writing here). Keith’s dad goes to do that. Krolia goes to interrogate the scouts, though she doesn’t actually ever interrogate them. A Galra sniper has sight on Keith’s dad from a nearby ridge. He pulls the trigger of his rifle and holds it way too long before the rifle finally fires; it’s unintentionally funny. Keith’s dad is shot, and he falls to the ground.
Krolia attacks two Galra in the Blue Lion cave. The sniper comes in and aims at her, telling her to drop her weapon. She feigns surrendering before attacking them. One Galra escapes her, gets to his fighter, takes off, but then explodes as Keith’s dad finally detonates the bombs.
Back at home, Keith’s dad tucks him in. Krolia says that she has to leave. She now thinks that she can best keep the Galra from getting their hands on the Blue Lion and protect Keith and his dad by returning to the Blades of Marmora and working from the inside to stop the Galra. She gives her blade to Keith’s dad to give to Keith eventually.
Back in the quantum abyss, Keith says that he finally understands why Krolia left, that she “put the mission above all else.” She counters, “That’s not true. I left to protect the person I most love: You.” Another space whale comes by, and they maneuver to get on its back.
The space whale creates its own atmosphere because of course it does. So, Keith and Krolia can breathe on it. We then begin the montage. Out of nowhere a shining object plunges into the back of the whale that turns out to be a sleeping space wolf. There are also giant insect-like creatures on the whale, that they fight off. Keith and Krolia camp. Keith feeds the space wolf. They sleep. More light flashes, letting Krolia see Keith grieving at his father’s grave when he was young. Keith plays fetch with the space wolf. It rains (seriously, the whale has a water cycle?). The space wolf teleports.
Then the montage ends with Keith announcing that it’s been two years.
It’s really all pretty ridiculous. Yes, relativity would have an affect on time that differentiates time passing for Keith and Krolia from the time experienced by people outside of the quantum abyss (the show has never cared about temporal relativity before). The show is using this time-lapse montage to again have character growth occur off-screen. The idea that this experience causes Keith to become a better leader, as the EPs have suggested, is absolutely ridiculous. As I’ve said before, leadership is a set of skills. Like all skills, you have to practice them to get better at them. Keith living with his mom and a space wolf and having no other contact with anyone for two years is not going to improve his leadership skills. Also, the space wolf is pointless. His introduction does not have any narrative weight. It’s just part of the cliché that so many stories have that the ideal life is a boy growing up with his parents and a dog. Don’t get me wrong, I like dogs, but the space wolf’s introduction and effect on the story is so nebulous. It just feels thrown in, not like it’s something necessary for the story.
Allura collapses after having exhausted herself from touching the ship and glowing. Lotor continues to speak supportively to Allura. She then goes to her room, where she finds the mice, who’ve been given a bath by Lance. They tell Allura that Lance loves her, and Allura’s face drops. She’s clearly bothered, in a sad way, not elated by the idea. It makes her eventually ending up in a relationship with Lance seem not like the inevitable outcome of their respective character arcs because she’s not shown being interested in him. It makes that relationship when it happens feel like forced narrative.
The space whale finally makes its way to a red planet. Krolia can detect the type of quintessence Ranveig found from relatively far distant from the planet with just the computer in her arm. Technological capability really is based on whatever the writers want to happen at any given moment. It leaves me feeling unable to anticipate how the world-building of the story can be applied to the development of the plot.
Completely off-screen, Krolia, Keith, and the space wolf somehow make it off the space whale and down onto the planet’s surface. There’s a building there that looks like Galra tech and architecture. Inside, they find a door that opens to what looks like a bright, colorful planet, and in that room, they come across a blond Altean at a stream of water. Romelle.
This time at least, watching this episode doesn’t feel balanced. A lot of the time spent progressing through the quantum abyss ended up feeling like the story was idling, stuck in neutral, just waiting to finally go somewhere. I am not a fan of the time-vision, not just because it has a science-illiterate veneer, but also because it doesn’t do character work as strongly as it could have. It makes the revelations Keith has be a passive thing. He just stands there and has visions. The same content of events – Krolia coming to Earth, her relationship with Keith’s dad, why she left Earth – could have been revealed through having Keith and Krolia talking to one another, having her do the uncomfortable thing of having to tell Keith the story of her past.
The two-year time jump exists for no other reason than to allow them to have Keith’s character development happen off-screen. By scripting it to take two years, the EPs and writers know that character development takes time, but they were unwilling to give it the time it needs. The time jump is a total storytelling cheat used because they didn’t want to do the hard work of writing character development.
It is nice to have the story thread introduced seasons ago of the Blades’ tracking the unexpected shipping lines of quintessence paid off now by having Keith find where that quintessence is coming from. Unfortunately, it means the story is introducing Lotor’s Altean colony, introducing Romelle, and prepping the show to have the “surprise” revelation that Lotor’s a villain all along. I am not a fan of this plotline because it makes me feel the EPs and writers did not fully think through the implications of their writing choices. They were so narrowly focused on wanting to pull off a “surprise” twist of Lotor-is-a-villain-all-along that they didn’t care about that twist nullifying the past storytelling and character work they’ve done. Ultimately, the whole colony story and Lotor-is-a-villain is the result of the EPs and writers wanting to manipulate the audience. The problem is, most of us don’t like being manipulated.
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saitou-shuka · 7 years
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hello shukamod this is embarrassing but what is a UO that you and other people that watch the live is talking about?
Nononono it’s totally fine! I’ve found that it’s actually really hard to learn about this stuff unless you’ve actually been to a live concert or viewing. Which… as some of you may know from experience, is excruciatingly difficult if you’re an overseas fan (꒪⌓꒪)
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The short answer: UO stands for “Ultra Orange”, and is a chemical glowstick that glows bright orange, often only for a couple of minutes before it burns out. Because of how short-lived they are, people usually save them for their favorite songs at concerts.
The long answer: I’m gonna talk about glowsticks under the cut! Yayyy :DSkip to the Cyalume section for the full explanation on UOs :)
Disclaimer: I’m pretty new to all of this too, so any of you more experienced eventers please don’t hesitate to correct me if I say something inaccurate. Thanks!
Glowsticks are a staple of anisong and idol concerts, where audience participation is super important. The audience section is dark during concerts, and waving around glowsticks helps the performers know that you’re enjoying the show!
There are two types of glowsticks: battery-powered penlights and cyalumes.
Penlights
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Pictured: @dyreatic​​‘s impressive penlight collection :^)
These are battery-powered LED glowsticks. Many of them can change color with the click of a button. It’s pretty much a plastic tube mounted onto a handle with buttons. You can almost always unscrew the tube off, and then the handle is basically a multi-colored flashlight. Most of them also come with wrist straps, so that the penlight doesn’t come flying out of your sweaty hands at a concert. The brightness and colors will die as the batteries drain, so I always recommend packing some fresh batteries for concerts.
If you’ve ever watched a live (whether in-person or not), you’ve probably seen plenty of these. I’ll cover some of the more known brands from the perspective of a Love Liver.
King Blade
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Overview:Price: $30-35 USD, 4500yen (official Love Live! Blades, firsthand)Batteries: AAA x3Buttons: 2, on the bottom of the handle (Forward/Backward)Strengths: Custom colors
One of the most popular brands of penlight. The newest version (x10iii) comes with an app that allows you to tune the penlight to have whatever color palette you want (e.g. you can make specialized blades with the colors for μ’s, Aqours, or whatever you favorite group is!)
Most of the official Love Live! penlights are King Blades. They’re often colloquially referred to as “kbs” or “blades”. The King Blade is so common (at least in the Love Live! community) that sometimes you’ll hear people use the word “kb” as an umbrella term for all penlights.
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Pictured: The official Aqours Blades for 1st and 2nd Live.
King Blades are in stock on Amazon with free shipping!King Blade x10iii Shining - $31 USDKing Blade x10iii Smoke - $31 USD
The Smoke version has a matte cover over the penlight tube, while the Shining version has a glittery cover. In my experience I’ve found that most people prefer the Shining version.
Lumiace
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Overview:Price: $25 USDBatteries: AAA x3Buttons: 3, on the side of the handle (Left/Confirm/Right)Strengths: Cheaper than KB, 24 colors
Another good penlight brand, and a somewhat cheaper alternative at $25 USD vs. the King Blade’s $30-35. The default color palette on the latest version, Lumiace 2 Omega (abbreviated L2O) is 24 colors rather than the King Blade’s 15 colors. However, the L2O cannot be programmed to have a custom palette like the King Blade x10iii.
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The official Aqours in Los Angeles penlight from Anime Expo 2017 was a Lumiace 2, and comes with the nine official Aqours image colors rather than the Lumiace default palette. As far as I know, this is the only official Love Live! penlight that isn’t a King Blade.
Lumiaces are also in stock on Amazon with free shipping!Lumiace 2 Omega Sparkling - $25 USDLumiace 2 Omega Matte - $25 USD
The two different styles are the same as the King Blade ones — the former has a glittery tube, while the latter has a matte tube.
PENLa
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Overview:Price: ¥2500-3000 without shippingBatteries: AAA x4Buttons: A switch on the side of the handle (very easy to flip by accident)Strengths: Very bright but don’t die like chemical lights
A slightly different type of penlight. PENLas don’t actually change color, but they have three different brightness settings. The first brightness setting is about as bright as your King Blade or Lumiace at full battery. The second and third are much, much brighter. The primary advantage of PENLas is that they are just as bright as chemical glowsticks (covered later), but they are reusable.
They are suuuuper bright. My eyes.
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A fan compares a PENLa UO to a KB x10ii. Jeez they are bright.
PENLas come in three tube sizes (S, M, L), but I recommend the S because same brightness + smaller tube = brighter penlight :)
Unlike KBs and Lumiaces, they also come with a small bag. I’ve heard complaints that the wrist strap that comes with PENLas isn’t as secure.
You can buy PENLas from Amazon JP with DHL shipping!PENLa Orange (S) - 2970yenPENLa Blue (S) - 2563yenPENLa Green (S) - 2950yenPENLa Yellow (S) - 2970yen
Cyalumes
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These are chemical glowsticks. You crack them to cause a chemical reaction that makes the glowstick… glow. And boy do they glow. They’re much brighter than penlights, but they only glow for a couple of minutes before dying. And they’re one-time use only, so they’re useless after that. By the way, cyalumes are also kind of fragile. Don’t drop them unless you want to crack them by accident and have them dead before you actually need them (꒪⌓꒪)
Cyalumes are almost always colloquially referred to as the abbreviated form of “Ultra [color]”, regardless of brand. Ultra Oranges are UOs, Ultra Blues are UBs, Ultra Greens are UGs, etc.
The UO in particular has chemicals that make it much brighter than any other color of cyalume, making it the most popular color by far (regardless of who your best girl might be!). They’re an irreplacable part of idol concerts. Because of how bright and short-lived they are, people will save UOs for special moments such as solos or the choruses of their favorite songs. They’re also smaller and thinner than penlights, so it’s easier to go crazy and hold like 8 of them at once.
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Exhibit A: Honoka’s parents with a whopping 16 UOs total.
For even more hype, you can take two UOs and do a rapid cycling motion above your head. This is called “cycloning”. At concerts you will often see people cycloning during the chorus of fast-paced crowd favorites such as Strawberry Trapper or Thrilling・One Way. You can also cyclone using your kbs, but it’s more exciting if you use brighter glowsticks like UOs or PENLas. It’s also way easier to cyclone with UOs — if you try to cyclone with bulkier glowsticks like kbs without practice you’ll probably end up hitting them on each other.
Perhaps the most famous use for the UO is during Honoka’s solo in Snow Halation. At Final Live, everybody popped a UO. No kidding:
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The whole dome was orange (இ⌓இ )
Other colors are less common because they’re not as bright. Even so, in recent years, more and more Love Livers are starting to use colors other than Orange. I’ve seen people cracking UBs for both Koi ni Naritai Aquarium and MIRAI TICKET, and I know at least a couple of others who are considering UGs for HAPPY PARTY TRAIN.
How long do cyalumes last? A good rule of thumb is that the brighter they are, the more short-lived they are. The Lumica Daisenkou Kiwami Orange is one of the brightest brand of UOs available, and one stick lasts 2-3 minutes. Nice duration if you want to crack for a solo or chorus and have the UO last through the rest of the song before dying.
You can also buy standard Lumica Daisenkou Orange, which are not as bright as the Kiwamis (side note: kiwami means “extreme” lol), but last for 5 minutes instead. On the other hand, UBs are not much brighter than a KB at full battery, but they last for a good 15 minutes. In my experience, Kiwami UOs are always better than the normal UOs. The extra brightness is 500% worth it (•̀ ∀ •́)ﻭ ✧
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You can either buy a box of 25 (left) or single glowsticks packaged separately (right).
The best brand of cyalume for buying in bulk (and trust me, you don’t want to buy just a single chemical glowstick. Especially if you’re importing from Japan.) is the Lumica Daisenkou. You can buy cyalumes in boxes of 25 from Amazon JP with Global Priority (DHL) shipping. Be warned: the shipping is not cheap. They’re also available on Amiami sometimes, but as of right now they’re sold out there. My personal recommendation is to always buy multiple boxes if you can afford it and just save the ones you didn’t get to use. Go to concerts with friends and split cyalume orders with them! ٩( ᐛ )( ᐖ )۶
Overview:Price: ¥2400-2500 for a box of 25, without shippingBatteries: None! :DStrengths: very bright, very hype, less bulky than penlight
Lumica Daisenkou Kiwami Orange (2-3min duration) - 2400 yenLumica Daisenkou Orange (5min duration) - 2400 yenLumica Daisenkou Blue (15min duration) - 2500 yen“Daisenkou” on Amazon JP (for other colors)
If you live in the U.S., you can also order Lumica Daisenkous straight from Lumica USA via email: [email protected]
Why buy cyalumes at all when PENLas exist? They’re short-lived, and don’t seem very cost-effective.
The way I see it, the point of having chemical glowsticks is to show both the performers and the people around you how excited you are for your absolute favorite songs. As a novice concert-goer I’ve found that I really enjoy cracking UOs (and UBs) in the heat of the moment and seeing other people get fired up cracking UOs for the songs they like best. They may not be very cost-effective, but at the end of the day, they truly enhance your concert experience.
shukamod recommends at least one penlight and a handful of Kiwami UOs for the first-time concert-goer! For best results, at least two penlights and a box of 25 UOs! If you’re like shukamod, then be sure to bring a box of 25 UBs as well o7
As always, thanks for reading (` ・-・´)ゞ
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Old News, New Beginning
Dean x Reader 
Request By @pandazombie69 : “Can i get a deadn x reader where dean and the reader are best friends who flirt and stuff but neither have confessed anything. They hang out allot and tell things to each other and share with each other wherw they wont anyone else. Then one night it just explodes. All their feelings come out and stuff. Can be angst to lemon please (not full on smut).”
Warnings: A smidge of language, a slight mention of anxiety if you squint hard. (Like literally it just says the word, do details.) Let me know if something should be added. 
This is unedited, apologies for any mistakes, or anything that’s kinda funky lol 
A/N: What a whirlwind the last 2 weeks have been. My summer has quickly come to close, and I have gone back to work. If you don’t know, I work in special ed at an elementary school, so my hands are pretty full on weekdays. After we get through the first couple weeks of school, I will have more time to write. I apologize for the wait time for these requests, and I thank you for your patience. 
I added a To Do List to my description! Now you can access what posts or fics I am currently working on anytime! 
Masterlist           To Do List
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Best friends. That was the term you used to describe your relationship with Dean Winchester. There was nothing wrong with that. It’s not like it was inaccurate. The two of you had long since earned that title. From the time you had met many many years ago, you had a connection that no one could question. You did everything together, ordered the same drinks, listened to the same music, shared the same sense of humor. It was everything you could want in a best friends type relationship.
While saying your relationship was being best friends wasn’t inaccurate, it wasn’t totally accurate either. A few years back you had started dancing along the lines of something more. The harmless joking became more and more like flirting, until it was outright shameless flirting. You two had something more going on than what either of you let on. Even a blind man standing a mile away could see that. Of course that didn’t matter. Neither of you would acknowledge it, let alone act on it. Your asses had been called out many, many times by some sweet old lady either in a store, or some times on a hunt, which almost always led to an awkward car ride, or some pitiful attempt to divert the conversation. 
The two of you knew it was pathetic that you tried to hard to bury what nothing could hide. You had a bond that was unbreakable. The man knew things about you, you weren’t even sure you knew about. He had always been so easy for you to talk to, and confide in when you needed that love and support. He knew the depths or your despair, and the darkest of that dark hollows your fears had left within you, and still he never once looked at you as any weaker, or less than you had always been. There were also many nights that the man who is gruff and intimidating by day would find his way into your room, and under the cover to seek shelter from the things that kept him up at night. The things he could tell no one, not even Sam. He didn’t tell you of any of them at first, afraid he would scare you aware, or you would take pity on him. It didn’t take long for hat charade to drop. After only a couple weeks, he would no longer try and hide the hurt and pain. He would curl up with you and tell you what had him so undone. You knew his most painful memories, his baggage, and what would paralyze him with fear and anxiety. You were more than bet friends, if you could even truly call it that anymore. 
These behaviors and tendencies were what made up your relationship. It was all you knew, and all you thought you’d ever know. One night, after a night of some heavy post hunt celebrations, you had been feeling pretty good. The drinks had taken their toll for sure. You were nowhere near fall down drunk, but you and Dean had enough to really dull down the edge you were constantly on, making this equally as risky as it was rewarding.
The feeling you had for the older brother had been building since day one. That was no question. However, the fast few months had been like someone amped them up. You were both constantly on edge, which was such a new feeling for both of you. It had never been that way before. The feeling was so new and foreign, you felt a buzz of excitement, but that was coupled with a twinge of fear. You like the idea that something you had been biting back for a few week might accidentally slip past your lips, or even better his. 
The minute the two of you were sitting alone in the bunker’s kitchen, polishing off what was left in the glasses you held, he came around the table and sat down so close that neither of you could breathe without at least your arms brushing. You never felt uneasy around him, but tonight, he was making your all kinds of nervous, but in all the right ways. If was like your bodies could sense your guards letting down, and were plotting against you, planning for the feeling to come rushing out. Your little trip down the rabbit trail in your mind was cut short when you could feel the fanning of his breath against your cheek, making a few stray strands of hair flutter in the slightest. “Wha-huh?” Did you really just blush and stutter. 
“Where did your mind you just now?” He inquired, tilting his head at you. Like always he could sense when something was off, and he truly wanted to now what, and why. 
You shook you head, “It was nothing. Just tired and zoned out after a long day i guess.” 
The look he gave you told you he wasn’t buying that crap for one second. “Really, I was kind hoping you were thinking th same thing I was” 
“What exactly is that?” 
“This.” He said, slightly motioning his head towards the space between the tow of you as if to describe the current state of your relationship. 
“Okay...”
“Okay?” He shot his eyes up to meet yours, “That’s all you’re going to say?”  “What do you want me to say, Dean?” You stood up from your chair and started pacing in the small space by the table. “That I am in love with you. With how your eyes light up, and there are those little crinkles when you laugh. With the way you never seem to be able to give enough of yourself. The way you still find joy in the little thing even in the midst of this shit show of a life we live. The way you can be so big and bad, but also the biggest teddy bear ever. The way you make me laugh with out a single word, or the way you hold me when I cry. Or-” 
He stood up from the table as well, “I may not have been thinking those exact things, but yes, you are on the same train of thought as I am. You see, the day I met you, all those years ago, the time when the world would have considered us to still be kids, I knew you were going to change my life. I may not have known exactly how, but I knew you would. Little did I know, you would be the ray of sunshine on the stormy days we have in this life. I didn’t know I would have someone who gets my humor, or could make me smile the way you do. I didn’t know I would get someone who sees my baggage but chooses not to let it define me. Some one who could listen to me cry my eyes out over a bad dream, and still look at me like I was some kind of superhero. Someone who is so much more than just a best friend. I am in love you. Your laugh. With the way your eyes shift in color ever so slightly depending on the light. With the way your heart abounds with love for people even when have made some piss poor decisions. You see things in ways I never could. You see me in ways I never could. I love everything about you, and I can’t pretend that I don’t anymore.” 
The room was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop, neither of you knowing what to say. Finally you broke the silence. “So... what does this mean for us.” 
“I don’t know exactly.” He stepped closer to you, your eyes locked on each other, and his arms circled around your waist, “But I do know that I want to do this.” His lips collided with yours in a fiery yet still soft and loving kiss. It was one that was made up of all the memories from the many years you’d shared together. It represented the building and building of feelings that had finally exploded. There was no telling how long you had stood there lip locked with your best friend, just making out, and feeling all of each other. 
You broke away, out of breath, dawning the goofiest smiles. “So does this mean I can just start the night in your room now, or do I have to wait until have way through to join you?” He wiggled eyebrows suggestively as he spoke. 
“Oh my god. You’re such a dork.” 
That night could be summarized as Old news, New beginning. 
If you would like to be added to one of my tag lists, just ask :)  I have 3 main lists: The Anything and Everything, The Sammy Boy, and The Deano. Feel free to ask about other characters/ types of fics/posts :)  I love Y’all!!! 
The Anything And Everything Tag List: @tillielynn16 @fandomaskedstuff @saltysamgirls @naruko88558855 @hillface89 @unusualcorn
The Deano Tag List:  @angelofchaos @straitsupernaturalmalefan @kayladools
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guidetoenjoy-blog · 5 years
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DC Entertainment responds to turmoil over sexual harassment claims
New Post has been published on https://entertainmentguideto.com/must-see/dc-entertainment-responds-to-turmoil-over-sexual-harassment-claims/
DC Entertainment responds to turmoil over sexual harassment claims
In response to a recent outcry from fans and comics creators, DC Entertainment has released a statement addressing allegations of sexual harassment.
Published in Comic Book Resources(although not on DC’s own website or social media pages), the statement promises that DC will expand employee training and review policies regarding workplace discrimination.
DC Entertainment strives to foster a culture of inclusion, fairness and respect. While we cannot comment on specific personnel matters, DC takes allegations of discrimination and harassment very seriously, promptly investigates reports of misconduct and disciplines those who violate our standards and policies.
While the statement speaks in general terms, most people are interpreting it as a response to allegations about Eddie Berganza, a senior editor at DC.
For the past few months, Berganza has been the subject of unconfirmed rumors about a quarantine at the publishers Superman office, wherein DC allegedly avoided hiring women to avoid further sexual harassment incidents with a certain editor. In late April, a number of comics reporters and fans named Berganza as the editor in question, with writer/editor Janelle Asselin saying that she left DC due to the publishers lack of interest in holding him accountable for inappropriate behavior.
Yes, I was one of many who reported Eddie Berganza’s behavior in 2011. I left DC because they promoted him anyway.
Janelle Asselin (@gimpnelly) April 21, 2016
Back in 2012, the comics site Bleeding Cool suggested that Berganza was demoted from executive editor to group editor after a series of sexual harassment claims, specifying one incident that allegedly took place at WonderCon 2012 in front of witnesses. The idea of a Superman office quarantine was brought into the public eye in September 2015, ina blog post from comics writer Alex de Campi. However, what sparked the most recent debate was something seemingly unrelated to Berganza: DCs decision to “eliminate the job of popular Vertigo editor Shelly Bond.
Vertigo is the adult-oriented imprint that launched cult comics likeSandman,Preacher, and Y: The Last Man. Bond had worked there since the 90s and was promoted to CEO in 2013. It was unclear why she was let go when DC announced it was restructuring Vertigo last month, and the comics community wanted answers. Why was she leaving while DC continued to employ a man who, in the words of Alex de Campi, had multiple incidents on his HR file?”
Recently I ended up turning down a Supergirl job partly because I was nervous about working in proximity to Eddie Berganza.
Sophie Campbell (@mooncalfe1) April 21, 2016
I have friends with PTSD from Berganza and people like him. But yes, let’s fire the Shellys of the world.
Janelle Asselin (@gimpnelly) April 21, 2016
As reported by comics blog The Outhousers, this quickly snowballed into a public discussion about sexism and discrimination in comics publishing. One contribution wasa blog postfrom artist Katie Jones, stating, “I was sexually harassed and almost raped by a Senior Art Director from DC Entertainment,” describing an incident at San Diego Comic-Con.
After three weeks of back-and-forth on social media, DC’s only official response is its statement to Comic Book Resources, published on a Friday afternoon. Berganza, who still works at DC Comics, has not answered any requests for comment.
Let me make this unequivocal: Comics has a sexual harassment problem. It needs to stop. Men need to stand with female creators in support.
Jim Zub in Japan (@JimZub) April 25, 2016
As comics fans would be quick to point out, this isnt an isolated case, and it would be inaccurate and unfair to single out DC when similar things have happened at other major publishers.
Last October, the former editor-in-chief of Dark Horse Comics, Scott Allie, issued a public apology for biting and groping a writer during a party at San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC). The writer in question, Joe Harris, described the incident to Janelle Asselin at Graphic Policy, but the accusations didnt stop there. Graphic Policys report also cites several anonymous sources at Dark Horse, characterizing Allies behavior as threatening and volatile. One source claimed that he was nicknamed Bitey the Clown due to his habit of biting people while drunk. Several said that they reported his behavior through official channels and were assured that the problem was being investigated.
Brendan H. Wrightan editor who worked at Dark Horse for seven years before leaving last Septembertweeted that Dark Horse “worked to hush up” the incident at SDCC, despite other employees demanding that Allie be fired.
Just like Berganza, Allie was repeatedly promoted after bad behavior, including after last year’s SDCC.
Brendan H. Wright (@BrendanWasright) April 23, 2016
Before Allie’s most recent promotion, the ENTIRE Editorial department begged for his firing and were ignored.
Brendan H. Wright (@BrendanWasright) April 23, 2016
DH’s director of HR stressed to me Allie’s 20+ years at the company and the respect I should therefore show him in this matter.
Brendan H. Wright (@BrendanWasright) April 23, 2016
After Allie apologized for his conduct towards Harris last year, Dark Horse president Mike Richardson gave an extensive statement to The Beat, championing his own open-door policy with employees. While he applauded Asselins desire to expose sexual harassment in the industry, he added that no one here has ever turned a ‘blind eye’ to these behaviors, not in this case, not in any case.
The SDCC incident came to light less than a month after Allie was reassignedfrom editor-in-chief to executive senior editor. Its unclear whether this change was linked with harassment allegations, but Allie still holds an editorial role at Dark Horse and writes the ongoing comic Abe Sapien.
In 2013, Brian Wood (who has worked for DC, Marvel, Image, and Dark Horse, and is particularly well known for his original series DMZ) was accused of sexual harassment at SDCC. Artist Tess Fowler said that he feigned interest in her career before trying to get her to join him in his hotel room. Wood responded with a statement saying he had simply made a pass at Fowler, and that there was never a promise of quid pro quo.” He characterized the incident as a misunderstanding, adding, “I think the larger issues of abuse in the comics industry are genuine and I share everyones concerns.” (After naming Wood, Fowler tweeted, when I have 3 women in my inbox in TEARS as they’re typing over the same guy? Yeah, screw being nice.)
Comics is small so most of these sources don’t even want to be anonymous because it can be traced backed to them
Ware R. DaiDoe (@ArdoOmer) April 25, 2016
Writer G. Willow Wilson (Ms. Marvel) wrote at the time, Nearly every other woman Ive met in the industry seems to have horror stories about creepy run-ins with male colleagues and creators.
Shortly after, former DC editor Heidi MacDonald published an article delving into why comics publishing had such an entrenched problem with sexual harassment. Along with her examination of victim-blaming, sexism, and power imbalances in the industry, one underlying point stands out: Before Fowler mentioned Wood by name, MacDonald wrote, It was pretty easy to figure out who she was talking about.
Examples like Allie and Berganza are in the minority because they weren’t just called out by name; they were called out by multiple people in respected positions in the community. In Allie’s case, he actually made a public apology. Most of the time, these allegations remain anonymous, couched in terms of “blind item” gossip and subtweets. Women in the industry may share private warnings about “known” harassers, but it’s rare for industry employees to come forward and name names.
I haven’t bought a DC title since the news story broke and don’t intend to until @DCComics gets their act together with how they treat women
Black Girl Nerds (@BlackGirlNerds) May 10, 2016
Working in comics is a precarious career. The medium is collaborative, people spend years (if not entire careers) as low-wage freelancers, and most of the steady jobs are at a small handful of companies. Those who have discussed abuse also raise concerns about being ostracized for speaking up. That’s why many female writers and artists have said they rely on word-of-mouth warnings, feeling unable to trust publishers to effectively hold harassers accountable.
Comics watchdogs and reporters, however, have been pursuing the harassment issue for years, and DC Comics most recent statement, though unsatisfying to many, indicates the company is aware its an issue readers are closely watching.
Photo via DC Comics
Read more: http://www.dailydot.com/
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apsbicepstraining · 7 years
Text
Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’
The QPR defender talks powerfully about his strives with mental illness, his addictions to gamble and drinking and why “he il be” thankful still to be alive
Steven Caulker has a fable to tell and, as hard as it is to hear, it is best plainly to listen. His stream of consciousness veers from scoring on his England debut less than five years ago and the excite at potential being realised to the frightening mental health issues a matter that have almost terminated it all in the period since. A actor who, from the outside, emerged consecrated with endowment and opportunity speaks of frantic nervousnes and self-loathing.
He entertained killing himself in his darkest instants with his path one of self-destruction. Endeavors at escapism rate him hundreds of thousands of pounds, compensations frittered away in casinoes. Then came the drinking is targeted at numbing the sting. The 25 -year-old notes himself recalling the times spent in custody watching CCTV footage of his misdemeanours, his lawyer at his slope, and not recognising the infamous being on the screen.
Football is still coming to terms with mental illness and Caulker, an international and a last-place linger remember at Queens Park Rangers of financially misguided dates as a Premier League club, has been an easy target. He is not was striving to make excuses or acquire sympathy. These are details he knows unpleasant to narrate. Ive sat here for years hating myself and never understand why it is I couldnt only be like everybody else, he says. This time was almost the end. I seemed for large spans there was no light-footed at the end of the passageway. And yet “hes not” residence a gambling since December, or stroked alcohol since early March. The healing process that can rehabilitate him to the top level is well under way, with this interview, one he attempted out, potentially another step on the road to recovery.
A little under a year ago Caulker had spoken to the Guardian about a life-changing week spent in Sierra Leone, of humbling yet invigorating benevolence work with ActionAid that had rendered him with a sense of view. He returned to be galvanised under Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink at Loftus Road and, having invested the previous season on loan at Southampton and Liverpool unfulfilling stints which fuelled his latent dangers was ready to give his all. Early season recitals against Leeds and Cardiff indicated confidence had been rebuilt, reward for a summer of incessant fitness work.
The trigger that they are able to mail him spiralling to rock bottom would be injury. He snapped his groin at Barnsley and played in pain for weeks, dreading a incantation back in rehabilitation, before succumbing to an accompanied hip objection. I owed it to QPR to try, he says, but I was naive thinking I could still perform with the weeping. He has not played since last-place October, with the period celebrated by personal ferment and, simply of late, resurgence. Talking publicly, he advocated, may place younger participates towards seeking assist if they find themselves trampling the same itinerary, or knowing the same gumption of desertion, in a merciless industry. The real hope is the activity, as gallant as it is, may eventually prove more cathartic for Caulker himself.
He recognises his football ability as a gift but likewise a swear. It took him from Sunday League at 15 into the Premier League four years later, to the 2012 Olympics with Great Britain and into Roy Hodgsons England side for a friendly in Sweden later that year. His talent has persuaded some of the most respected directors he is worth engaging. Yet, while he could still get away with it on the pitch, he lived in denial. It was more than six years into his busines before he admitted he necessitated assist. You always think you can rein it back in again and the money plies a inaccurate sense of security. But at Southampton I realised, mentally, I was extend. I wasnt playing, my job was going nowhere and I had to reach out to someone. Medical doctors there tried to help me but others were just telling me got to go on the tone and express myself.
There was no understanding as to what was happening in my leader. I know theyd returned me in to do a job and they werent there to be babysitters. Just like at QPR, I needed to justify the money they were paying me but I was in a state and, at some place, there has to be a duty of care. Football does not deal well with mental illness. Maybe its changing but the support mechanisms are so often not there. Ive spoken to so many actors who have been told to go to the Sporting Chance clinic and theyve accepted because they know, if they take time off, theyll “losing ones” neighbourhood in the team. Someone gradations in and does well, so youre departed. That dissuades parties from getting improve. You feel obliged to get on with things.
I would urge cubs to speak to the PFA, to speak to their director, and not be scared about being stopped if they are experiencing like I did. Be brave enough to say you need improve before its too late. The feeling Id ever involved something to take the edge off. Football was my flee as a kid but that changed when I was chucked into the first team as a adolescent and abruptly football came with distres. My behavior of to address it, even in the early stages of my career, was gambling. Im an addict. Im addicted to triumphing, which people say is a positive in football but certainly not when it extends to gambling. I was addicted to trying to beat the system, because you reassure yourself there is a plan to it and you can beat it. You can never get your brain around why you arent.
Steven Caulker, here celebrating after scoring on his England debut in 2012, says his football ability is a gift but too a affliction. Photograph: Michael Regan/ Getty Images
He has played 123 ages in the Premier League and for eight teams with the same, horribly familiar hertz of insecurity and self-destruction seeking him to each. There is always a catalyst to the nosedive. The sleepless darkness, sat up till 5am replaying every bad decision Ive ever became in my life, perturbing what will be next Tottenham moved me to Bristol City on loan at 18 and they set me in a flat in the city centre surrounded by nightclubs, two casinos opposite, the various kinds of coin Id never seen in my life, and no counseling whatsoever. I was plucked formerly by a member of staff and told Id been recognized in the casino at 3am but their posture was: What you do in your free time is your business. Just dont gave it affect your acts out on the pitch.
At Swansea a year later it was an injury which created it all to the surface, and Spurs communicated me to Boasting Chance to sort myself out while I was recovering from my knee but I wasnt ready. I hadnt experienced enough agony to form me want to stop. I was gambling heavily when I went back to Tottenham, biding up to crazy hours of the darknes in casinos. I guess never feeling good enough played a big part in that. I never appeared I was on the same degree as any of the first-teamers but a big win in the casino and fund in my back pocket might change that. Being stopped sounds me even more because football was what I had relied on to make me feel better. So then the gambling was every single day. The pain of forgetting all my fund, combined with the pity and guilt, ingest away at me. So Id drink myself into oblivion so I wouldnt have to feel anything. I was numb but I was out of control.
The chairman, Daniel Levy, eventually attempted him out on a post-season trip-up to the Bahamas. He just said: The room you act is phenomenal. You either sort yourself out or lead but I can assure you, if you leave, youll be going down , not up. I was young, stupid. I took it as a challenge, a chance to prove him wrong. I was so immature. So I went to Cardiff and, for six months, everything was amazing. I was chieftain, the manager, Malky Mackay, knew I had some issues but offered to be there for me. I experienced wanted, so there was no gambling , no heavy binges but the second largest he was sacked, all the beasts came back. Thats all it took. Even before we played the next game, Id persuasion myself good-for-nothing would be the same. Thats the kind of cataclysmic envisioning Ive had to address.
Steven Caulker, here playing for Tottenham against Arsenal in 2010, says he made a big mistake leaving Spurs. Photo: Tom Jenkins for the Guardian
I pointed up at QPR that summertime, 2014, trying to hold it together, but the prompt there came in the second largest recreation when we were pummelled 4-0 at Tottenham. That detecting coming off the tone at White Hart Lane, knowing marriage been humiliated and that Levy was sitting up in the stand thinking: I told you so There was no disclaiming it any more. Id made a big mistake leaving Spurs. I should have stayed and sorted myself out. I required the ground to swallow me up. It just pounded in my psyche: dejection, unhappines, bitternes. From that instant I was run, even if I never wanted to accept it, and there is nothing that intensified. Id go for days without sleeping. I dont known better I endured it. That time was an absolute nightmare.
It was a vicious circle. Wed lose at the weekend and the love would get at me, and Id be interrupting. I really wanted to help us get results but we werent good enough and Id walk away taking responsibility in my head for the whole crews flunks. I couldnt sleep, are concerned about what had happened. The only comfort I acquired was in booze. It would silence the tones of indecision and self-hate, temporarily regardless, but Id be too intoxicated to go into teach, and the blackouts Id have no remember of anything. It could be Monday and Id have no remembrance of what had happened since Saturday night. Id wake up, roll over and look at my phone, and thered be texts from people saying: Did you really do this last-place darknes? The director want to talk to you. It was petrifying because I didnt know what had happened.
There were occasions where reference is would wake up in a police cell. He pouts when asked how often he has been arrested, upset to admit the above figures, but the drunk and disorderly offences would flare up from London to Southampton to Merseyside. Sometimes Id be sat there with law enforcement agencies and my solicitor, watching the CCTV footage of what Id done, and I didnt recognise myself. I couldnt conceive the person or persons I was. Its so hard to accept I could be like that. In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the nighttime throwing up, people were blackmailing me, association proprietors and bouncers: Offer money or well sell this story on you. And I had no meaning what Id even done on those blackouts. I eventually told the sorority I couldnt function and needed to go back into rehab.
Things might have improved last-place season under Hasselbaink had the hip hurt, diagnosed as a week-long edition that became a complaint which induced five different diagnosis , not interpret him powerless is again. Id expensed the organization 8m, was one of the top earners and one of the few left from the Premier League, and beings had no explanation why I wasnt acting. Why I was absent. It ended up as my toughest year ever. I couldnt learn. My girlfriend lost her mother and was grieving while living with someone struggling with craving. My son, who lives with his mother in Somerset, is still in academy so Id go months without recognizing him. He had always been my safe place. There was no release.
QPR and my agent tried to push me towards Lokomotiv Moscow in January, saying it would be a fresh start. Portion of me contemplated the money they were offering could solve all my difficulties but why would being on my own out in Russia help? I had no feeling how to separate the cycle and is available on Moscow while still disabled only appeared a recipe for disaster. The director, Ian Holloway, was actually tell people to stand. Id been in his office close to rips, so he said: How anyone could feel sending you there would be a good theme is beyond me. You need to get yourself right. I realized him for that but, for the sorority, I can see why it was appealing to be shot of me but I was in no fit district to move and eventually pulled the plug on it.
Id had one last-place gamble and lost a blaze of a lot of money in December. A last blowout. It was at that point I lastly countenanced I could not win; that there was no quick fix , no more fantasizing I could save the world through one good nighttime on the roulette wheel. It was all a fantasize that took me away from having to feel anything. I entertained suicide a lot in that stage. A dark era. Everything Id gone through in football, where had it taken me? All the remorse, the shame, the shame, the public humiliation in the working paper and for what? I could cling to my son, to what Id done in Africa, or the dimensions Id bought their own families, but Id blown everything else. I calculate Ive lost 70% what Ive payed. When “were losing” that amount of money, the guilt thats so many lives you could have changed. There was no flee , no way out, other than to leave.
Steven Caulker says: In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the darknes throwing up, parties were extorting me, club owneds and bouncers. Picture: Sarah Lee for the Guardian
But, in the moments of clarity, I knew I couldnt do that because of my son. I havent gambled since but the drink crowded the void for a while. I was frightened and didnt feel like there was anywhere else to transform. Rehab didnt production before so why would it work now? I stupidly took convenience in the alcohol but it objective up deepening the depression. It was relentless from every slant. Until 12 March. Thats the day I lost my “drivers licence”. Thats when I realised my life had now become unmanageable.
Caulker was ordered to pay 12,755 in penalties and costs at Slough magistrates court at the end of March and was banned from driving for 18 months, having refused to blow into a breathalyser after police were called to a parking lot near Windsor Castle. I knew I was over the limit, I knew Id get the ban but I didnt want to tell my parents Id fucked up again. What if I had driven the car out of the car park and killed someone? No, that was it. Ive been up before a adjudicate four or five times. No more second probabilities. Its a incarcerate sentence next. I was still injured and unable to play, so I signed off sick. I went to see a specialist who diagnosed me with depression and nervousnes. He prescribed me medication and we put together a design where I would take some time away to sort myself out.
He and his lover travelled to Africa and India, is contributing to orphanages, homeless shelters and academies where the bear was exposed and obvious. He has attended countless Gamblers Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous gathers, and has reached out to support works in video games such as Clarke Carlisle for advice. He has not touched alcohol since his arrest in March. He takes medication, a feeling stabiliser is striving to match my high-priceds and lows, and address that substance inequality which draws my practices so cataclysmic, twice a day. Golf is a new, most constructive vice.
People say Ive done all this because Ive had too much money shed at me but I know teenagers without a penny who have the same addictive characters as me. Whether I played football or not I would still be suffering from this illness, precisely without the public pressure and mortification. Addiction does not care. I am a man of extremes. Parties dont find me doing the additional training, feeing right, going to the reserve every night to get fit, were represented at the anonymous convenes, doing the donation make. That is still me. That is who I am. But I get fucked by these other demons and I desperately necessary something in the middle. I feel like Im getting there now, that things have finally changed.
Im doing interesting thing merely to prompt me to stay on track. I could be relying on taxis to get me everywhere while Im banned but Im exploiting public transport. Im living in one of the owneds I own in Feltham, back where I grew up, to stir me recollect how hard I had to work to get out of here aged 15. Its a remember that, if I continue to unravel, I wont improve my statu again. Money considers the fissures. It can be evil. It prolongs the agony.
QPRs musicians reported for pre-season last-place Friday but Caulker, who has one year to run on his contract and has been improving all summertime with the former conference player Drewe Broughton at Goals centre in Hayes, had been signed off until July. Life at the golf-club had degenerated into an incessant flow of internal disciplinary hearings and, despite Holloway having become clear his desire to retain the centre-halfs business, his future will not is currently under Loftus Road. What happens next is all a bit perplexed, all a bit uncertain, he says. The manager has texted me several times offering his support and “says hes” misses me at the club but my brand-new representative has been informed by the owners Im not welcome back.
For too long Ive disliked everything about myself and I needed to learn to affection myself again. I miss video games like crazy. I dont detect as if Ive experienced playing football since Cardiff. I dont want to type my identify into Google and just see a roster of humbling narrations. I want people to remember I am a footballer who was good enough to represent his country at 20 and still has 10 years left in the game. At 40% of my ability, I was playing at the highest level. Now I feel good mentally and I want the chance to show people, including my son, what I am absolutely capable of. Wherever the opportunity starts, Im exactly appreciative still to be alive.
In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123.
In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255.
In Australia, the crisis support assistance Lifeline is on 13 11 14.
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apsbicepstraining · 7 years
Text
Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’
The QPR defender talks powerfully about his strives with mental illness, his addictions to gamble and drinking and why “he il be” thankful still to be alive
Steven Caulker has a fable to tell and, as hard as it is to hear, it is best plainly to listen. His stream of consciousness veers from scoring on his England debut less than five years ago and the excite at potential being realised to the frightening mental health issues a matter that have almost terminated it all in the period since. A actor who, from the outside, emerged consecrated with endowment and opportunity speaks of frantic nervousnes and self-loathing.
He entertained killing himself in his darkest instants with his path one of self-destruction. Endeavors at escapism rate him hundreds of thousands of pounds, compensations frittered away in casinoes. Then came the drinking is targeted at numbing the sting. The 25 -year-old notes himself recalling the times spent in custody watching CCTV footage of his misdemeanours, his lawyer at his slope, and not recognising the infamous being on the screen.
Football is still coming to terms with mental illness and Caulker, an international and a last-place linger remember at Queens Park Rangers of financially misguided dates as a Premier League club, has been an easy target. He is not was striving to make excuses or acquire sympathy. These are details he knows unpleasant to narrate. Ive sat here for years hating myself and never understand why it is I couldnt only be like everybody else, he says. This time was almost the end. I seemed for large spans there was no light-footed at the end of the passageway. And yet “hes not” residence a gambling since December, or stroked alcohol since early March. The healing process that can rehabilitate him to the top level is well under way, with this interview, one he attempted out, potentially another step on the road to recovery.
A little under a year ago Caulker had spoken to the Guardian about a life-changing week spent in Sierra Leone, of humbling yet invigorating benevolence work with ActionAid that had rendered him with a sense of view. He returned to be galvanised under Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink at Loftus Road and, having invested the previous season on loan at Southampton and Liverpool unfulfilling stints which fuelled his latent dangers was ready to give his all. Early season recitals against Leeds and Cardiff indicated confidence had been rebuilt, reward for a summer of incessant fitness work.
The trigger that they are able to mail him spiralling to rock bottom would be injury. He snapped his groin at Barnsley and played in pain for weeks, dreading a incantation back in rehabilitation, before succumbing to an accompanied hip objection. I owed it to QPR to try, he says, but I was naive thinking I could still perform with the weeping. He has not played since last-place October, with the period celebrated by personal ferment and, simply of late, resurgence. Talking publicly, he advocated, may place younger participates towards seeking assist if they find themselves trampling the same itinerary, or knowing the same gumption of desertion, in a merciless industry. The real hope is the activity, as gallant as it is, may eventually prove more cathartic for Caulker himself.
He recognises his football ability as a gift but likewise a swear. It took him from Sunday League at 15 into the Premier League four years later, to the 2012 Olympics with Great Britain and into Roy Hodgsons England side for a friendly in Sweden later that year. His talent has persuaded some of the most respected directors he is worth engaging. Yet, while he could still get away with it on the pitch, he lived in denial. It was more than six years into his busines before he admitted he necessitated assist. You always think you can rein it back in again and the money plies a inaccurate sense of security. But at Southampton I realised, mentally, I was extend. I wasnt playing, my job was going nowhere and I had to reach out to someone. Medical doctors there tried to help me but others were just telling me got to go on the tone and express myself.
There was no understanding as to what was happening in my leader. I know theyd returned me in to do a job and they werent there to be babysitters. Just like at QPR, I needed to justify the money they were paying me but I was in a state and, at some place, there has to be a duty of care. Football does not deal well with mental illness. Maybe its changing but the support mechanisms are so often not there. Ive spoken to so many actors who have been told to go to the Sporting Chance clinic and theyve accepted because they know, if they take time off, theyll “losing ones” neighbourhood in the team. Someone gradations in and does well, so youre departed. That dissuades parties from getting improve. You feel obliged to get on with things.
I would urge cubs to speak to the PFA, to speak to their director, and not be scared about being stopped if they are experiencing like I did. Be brave enough to say you need improve before its too late. The feeling Id ever involved something to take the edge off. Football was my flee as a kid but that changed when I was chucked into the first team as a adolescent and abruptly football came with distres. My behavior of to address it, even in the early stages of my career, was gambling. Im an addict. Im addicted to triumphing, which people say is a positive in football but certainly not when it extends to gambling. I was addicted to trying to beat the system, because you reassure yourself there is a plan to it and you can beat it. You can never get your brain around why you arent.
Steven Caulker, here celebrating after scoring on his England debut in 2012, says his football ability is a gift but too a affliction. Photograph: Michael Regan/ Getty Images
He has played 123 ages in the Premier League and for eight teams with the same, horribly familiar hertz of insecurity and self-destruction seeking him to each. There is always a catalyst to the nosedive. The sleepless darkness, sat up till 5am replaying every bad decision Ive ever became in my life, perturbing what will be next Tottenham moved me to Bristol City on loan at 18 and they set me in a flat in the city centre surrounded by nightclubs, two casinos opposite, the various kinds of coin Id never seen in my life, and no counseling whatsoever. I was plucked formerly by a member of staff and told Id been recognized in the casino at 3am but their posture was: What you do in your free time is your business. Just dont gave it affect your acts out on the pitch.
At Swansea a year later it was an injury which created it all to the surface, and Spurs communicated me to Boasting Chance to sort myself out while I was recovering from my knee but I wasnt ready. I hadnt experienced enough agony to form me want to stop. I was gambling heavily when I went back to Tottenham, biding up to crazy hours of the darknes in casinos. I guess never feeling good enough played a big part in that. I never appeared I was on the same degree as any of the first-teamers but a big win in the casino and fund in my back pocket might change that. Being stopped sounds me even more because football was what I had relied on to make me feel better. So then the gambling was every single day. The pain of forgetting all my fund, combined with the pity and guilt, ingest away at me. So Id drink myself into oblivion so I wouldnt have to feel anything. I was numb but I was out of control.
The chairman, Daniel Levy, eventually attempted him out on a post-season trip-up to the Bahamas. He just said: The room you act is phenomenal. You either sort yourself out or lead but I can assure you, if you leave, youll be going down , not up. I was young, stupid. I took it as a challenge, a chance to prove him wrong. I was so immature. So I went to Cardiff and, for six months, everything was amazing. I was chieftain, the manager, Malky Mackay, knew I had some issues but offered to be there for me. I experienced wanted, so there was no gambling , no heavy binges but the second largest he was sacked, all the beasts came back. Thats all it took. Even before we played the next game, Id persuasion myself good-for-nothing would be the same. Thats the kind of cataclysmic envisioning Ive had to address.
Steven Caulker, here playing for Tottenham against Arsenal in 2010, says he made a big mistake leaving Spurs. Photo: Tom Jenkins for the Guardian
I pointed up at QPR that summertime, 2014, trying to hold it together, but the prompt there came in the second largest recreation when we were pummelled 4-0 at Tottenham. That detecting coming off the tone at White Hart Lane, knowing marriage been humiliated and that Levy was sitting up in the stand thinking: I told you so There was no disclaiming it any more. Id made a big mistake leaving Spurs. I should have stayed and sorted myself out. I required the ground to swallow me up. It just pounded in my psyche: dejection, unhappines, bitternes. From that instant I was run, even if I never wanted to accept it, and there is nothing that intensified. Id go for days without sleeping. I dont known better I endured it. That time was an absolute nightmare.
It was a vicious circle. Wed lose at the weekend and the love would get at me, and Id be interrupting. I really wanted to help us get results but we werent good enough and Id walk away taking responsibility in my head for the whole crews flunks. I couldnt sleep, are concerned about what had happened. The only comfort I acquired was in booze. It would silence the tones of indecision and self-hate, temporarily regardless, but Id be too intoxicated to go into teach, and the blackouts Id have no remember of anything. It could be Monday and Id have no remembrance of what had happened since Saturday night. Id wake up, roll over and look at my phone, and thered be texts from people saying: Did you really do this last-place darknes? The director want to talk to you. It was petrifying because I didnt know what had happened.
There were occasions where reference is would wake up in a police cell. He pouts when asked how often he has been arrested, upset to admit the above figures, but the drunk and disorderly offences would flare up from London to Southampton to Merseyside. Sometimes Id be sat there with law enforcement agencies and my solicitor, watching the CCTV footage of what Id done, and I didnt recognise myself. I couldnt conceive the person or persons I was. Its so hard to accept I could be like that. In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the nighttime throwing up, people were blackmailing me, association proprietors and bouncers: Offer money or well sell this story on you. And I had no meaning what Id even done on those blackouts. I eventually told the sorority I couldnt function and needed to go back into rehab.
Things might have improved last-place season under Hasselbaink had the hip hurt, diagnosed as a week-long edition that became a complaint which induced five different diagnosis , not interpret him powerless is again. Id expensed the organization 8m, was one of the top earners and one of the few left from the Premier League, and beings had no explanation why I wasnt acting. Why I was absent. It ended up as my toughest year ever. I couldnt learn. My girlfriend lost her mother and was grieving while living with someone struggling with craving. My son, who lives with his mother in Somerset, is still in academy so Id go months without recognizing him. He had always been my safe place. There was no release.
QPR and my agent tried to push me towards Lokomotiv Moscow in January, saying it would be a fresh start. Portion of me contemplated the money they were offering could solve all my difficulties but why would being on my own out in Russia help? I had no feeling how to separate the cycle and is available on Moscow while still disabled only appeared a recipe for disaster. The director, Ian Holloway, was actually tell people to stand. Id been in his office close to rips, so he said: How anyone could feel sending you there would be a good theme is beyond me. You need to get yourself right. I realized him for that but, for the sorority, I can see why it was appealing to be shot of me but I was in no fit district to move and eventually pulled the plug on it.
Id had one last-place gamble and lost a blaze of a lot of money in December. A last blowout. It was at that point I lastly countenanced I could not win; that there was no quick fix , no more fantasizing I could save the world through one good nighttime on the roulette wheel. It was all a fantasize that took me away from having to feel anything. I entertained suicide a lot in that stage. A dark era. Everything Id gone through in football, where had it taken me? All the remorse, the shame, the shame, the public humiliation in the working paper and for what? I could cling to my son, to what Id done in Africa, or the dimensions Id bought their own families, but Id blown everything else. I calculate Ive lost 70% what Ive payed. When “were losing” that amount of money, the guilt thats so many lives you could have changed. There was no flee , no way out, other than to leave.
Steven Caulker says: In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the darknes throwing up, parties were extorting me, club owneds and bouncers. Picture: Sarah Lee for the Guardian
But, in the moments of clarity, I knew I couldnt do that because of my son. I havent gambled since but the drink crowded the void for a while. I was frightened and didnt feel like there was anywhere else to transform. Rehab didnt production before so why would it work now? I stupidly took convenience in the alcohol but it objective up deepening the depression. It was relentless from every slant. Until 12 March. Thats the day I lost my “drivers licence”. Thats when I realised my life had now become unmanageable.
Caulker was ordered to pay 12,755 in penalties and costs at Slough magistrates court at the end of March and was banned from driving for 18 months, having refused to blow into a breathalyser after police were called to a parking lot near Windsor Castle. I knew I was over the limit, I knew Id get the ban but I didnt want to tell my parents Id fucked up again. What if I had driven the car out of the car park and killed someone? No, that was it. Ive been up before a adjudicate four or five times. No more second probabilities. Its a incarcerate sentence next. I was still injured and unable to play, so I signed off sick. I went to see a specialist who diagnosed me with depression and nervousnes. He prescribed me medication and we put together a design where I would take some time away to sort myself out.
He and his lover travelled to Africa and India, is contributing to orphanages, homeless shelters and academies where the bear was exposed and obvious. He has attended countless Gamblers Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous gathers, and has reached out to support works in video games such as Clarke Carlisle for advice. He has not touched alcohol since his arrest in March. He takes medication, a feeling stabiliser is striving to match my high-priceds and lows, and address that substance inequality which draws my practices so cataclysmic, twice a day. Golf is a new, most constructive vice.
People say Ive done all this because Ive had too much money shed at me but I know teenagers without a penny who have the same addictive characters as me. Whether I played football or not I would still be suffering from this illness, precisely without the public pressure and mortification. Addiction does not care. I am a man of extremes. Parties dont find me doing the additional training, feeing right, going to the reserve every night to get fit, were represented at the anonymous convenes, doing the donation make. That is still me. That is who I am. But I get fucked by these other demons and I desperately necessary something in the middle. I feel like Im getting there now, that things have finally changed.
Im doing interesting thing merely to prompt me to stay on track. I could be relying on taxis to get me everywhere while Im banned but Im exploiting public transport. Im living in one of the owneds I own in Feltham, back where I grew up, to stir me recollect how hard I had to work to get out of here aged 15. Its a remember that, if I continue to unravel, I wont improve my statu again. Money considers the fissures. It can be evil. It prolongs the agony.
QPRs musicians reported for pre-season last-place Friday but Caulker, who has one year to run on his contract and has been improving all summertime with the former conference player Drewe Broughton at Goals centre in Hayes, had been signed off until July. Life at the golf-club had degenerated into an incessant flow of internal disciplinary hearings and, despite Holloway having become clear his desire to retain the centre-halfs business, his future will not is currently under Loftus Road. What happens next is all a bit perplexed, all a bit uncertain, he says. The manager has texted me several times offering his support and “says hes” misses me at the club but my brand-new representative has been informed by the owners Im not welcome back.
For too long Ive disliked everything about myself and I needed to learn to affection myself again. I miss video games like crazy. I dont detect as if Ive experienced playing football since Cardiff. I dont want to type my identify into Google and just see a roster of humbling narrations. I want people to remember I am a footballer who was good enough to represent his country at 20 and still has 10 years left in the game. At 40% of my ability, I was playing at the highest level. Now I feel good mentally and I want the chance to show people, including my son, what I am absolutely capable of. Wherever the opportunity starts, Im exactly appreciative still to be alive.
In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123.
In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255.
In Australia, the crisis support assistance Lifeline is on 13 11 14.
The post Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.
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apsbicepstraining · 7 years
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Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’
The QPR defender talks powerfully about his strives with mental illness, his addictions to gamble and drinking and why “he il be” thankful still to be alive
Steven Caulker has a fable to tell and, as hard as it is to hear, it is best plainly to listen. His stream of consciousness veers from scoring on his England debut less than five years ago and the excite at potential being realised to the frightening mental health issues a matter that have almost terminated it all in the period since. A actor who, from the outside, emerged consecrated with endowment and opportunity speaks of frantic nervousnes and self-loathing.
He entertained killing himself in his darkest instants with his path one of self-destruction. Endeavors at escapism rate him hundreds of thousands of pounds, compensations frittered away in casinoes. Then came the drinking is targeted at numbing the sting. The 25 -year-old notes himself recalling the times spent in custody watching CCTV footage of his misdemeanours, his lawyer at his slope, and not recognising the infamous being on the screen.
Football is still coming to terms with mental illness and Caulker, an international and a last-place linger remember at Queens Park Rangers of financially misguided dates as a Premier League club, has been an easy target. He is not was striving to make excuses or acquire sympathy. These are details he knows unpleasant to narrate. Ive sat here for years hating myself and never understand why it is I couldnt only be like everybody else, he says. This time was almost the end. I seemed for large spans there was no light-footed at the end of the passageway. And yet “hes not” residence a gambling since December, or stroked alcohol since early March. The healing process that can rehabilitate him to the top level is well under way, with this interview, one he attempted out, potentially another step on the road to recovery.
A little under a year ago Caulker had spoken to the Guardian about a life-changing week spent in Sierra Leone, of humbling yet invigorating benevolence work with ActionAid that had rendered him with a sense of view. He returned to be galvanised under Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink at Loftus Road and, having invested the previous season on loan at Southampton and Liverpool unfulfilling stints which fuelled his latent dangers was ready to give his all. Early season recitals against Leeds and Cardiff indicated confidence had been rebuilt, reward for a summer of incessant fitness work.
The trigger that they are able to mail him spiralling to rock bottom would be injury. He snapped his groin at Barnsley and played in pain for weeks, dreading a incantation back in rehabilitation, before succumbing to an accompanied hip objection. I owed it to QPR to try, he says, but I was naive thinking I could still perform with the weeping. He has not played since last-place October, with the period celebrated by personal ferment and, simply of late, resurgence. Talking publicly, he advocated, may place younger participates towards seeking assist if they find themselves trampling the same itinerary, or knowing the same gumption of desertion, in a merciless industry. The real hope is the activity, as gallant as it is, may eventually prove more cathartic for Caulker himself.
He recognises his football ability as a gift but likewise a swear. It took him from Sunday League at 15 into the Premier League four years later, to the 2012 Olympics with Great Britain and into Roy Hodgsons England side for a friendly in Sweden later that year. His talent has persuaded some of the most respected directors he is worth engaging. Yet, while he could still get away with it on the pitch, he lived in denial. It was more than six years into his busines before he admitted he necessitated assist. You always think you can rein it back in again and the money plies a inaccurate sense of security. But at Southampton I realised, mentally, I was extend. I wasnt playing, my job was going nowhere and I had to reach out to someone. Medical doctors there tried to help me but others were just telling me got to go on the tone and express myself.
There was no understanding as to what was happening in my leader. I know theyd returned me in to do a job and they werent there to be babysitters. Just like at QPR, I needed to justify the money they were paying me but I was in a state and, at some place, there has to be a duty of care. Football does not deal well with mental illness. Maybe its changing but the support mechanisms are so often not there. Ive spoken to so many actors who have been told to go to the Sporting Chance clinic and theyve accepted because they know, if they take time off, theyll “losing ones” neighbourhood in the team. Someone gradations in and does well, so youre departed. That dissuades parties from getting improve. You feel obliged to get on with things.
I would urge cubs to speak to the PFA, to speak to their director, and not be scared about being stopped if they are experiencing like I did. Be brave enough to say you need improve before its too late. The feeling Id ever involved something to take the edge off. Football was my flee as a kid but that changed when I was chucked into the first team as a adolescent and abruptly football came with distres. My behavior of to address it, even in the early stages of my career, was gambling. Im an addict. Im addicted to triumphing, which people say is a positive in football but certainly not when it extends to gambling. I was addicted to trying to beat the system, because you reassure yourself there is a plan to it and you can beat it. You can never get your brain around why you arent.
Steven Caulker, here celebrating after scoring on his England debut in 2012, says his football ability is a gift but too a affliction. Photograph: Michael Regan/ Getty Images
He has played 123 ages in the Premier League and for eight teams with the same, horribly familiar hertz of insecurity and self-destruction seeking him to each. There is always a catalyst to the nosedive. The sleepless darkness, sat up till 5am replaying every bad decision Ive ever became in my life, perturbing what will be next Tottenham moved me to Bristol City on loan at 18 and they set me in a flat in the city centre surrounded by nightclubs, two casinos opposite, the various kinds of coin Id never seen in my life, and no counseling whatsoever. I was plucked formerly by a member of staff and told Id been recognized in the casino at 3am but their posture was: What you do in your free time is your business. Just dont gave it affect your acts out on the pitch.
At Swansea a year later it was an injury which created it all to the surface, and Spurs communicated me to Boasting Chance to sort myself out while I was recovering from my knee but I wasnt ready. I hadnt experienced enough agony to form me want to stop. I was gambling heavily when I went back to Tottenham, biding up to crazy hours of the darknes in casinos. I guess never feeling good enough played a big part in that. I never appeared I was on the same degree as any of the first-teamers but a big win in the casino and fund in my back pocket might change that. Being stopped sounds me even more because football was what I had relied on to make me feel better. So then the gambling was every single day. The pain of forgetting all my fund, combined with the pity and guilt, ingest away at me. So Id drink myself into oblivion so I wouldnt have to feel anything. I was numb but I was out of control.
The chairman, Daniel Levy, eventually attempted him out on a post-season trip-up to the Bahamas. He just said: The room you act is phenomenal. You either sort yourself out or lead but I can assure you, if you leave, youll be going down , not up. I was young, stupid. I took it as a challenge, a chance to prove him wrong. I was so immature. So I went to Cardiff and, for six months, everything was amazing. I was chieftain, the manager, Malky Mackay, knew I had some issues but offered to be there for me. I experienced wanted, so there was no gambling , no heavy binges but the second largest he was sacked, all the beasts came back. Thats all it took. Even before we played the next game, Id persuasion myself good-for-nothing would be the same. Thats the kind of cataclysmic envisioning Ive had to address.
Steven Caulker, here playing for Tottenham against Arsenal in 2010, says he made a big mistake leaving Spurs. Photo: Tom Jenkins for the Guardian
I pointed up at QPR that summertime, 2014, trying to hold it together, but the prompt there came in the second largest recreation when we were pummelled 4-0 at Tottenham. That detecting coming off the tone at White Hart Lane, knowing marriage been humiliated and that Levy was sitting up in the stand thinking: I told you so There was no disclaiming it any more. Id made a big mistake leaving Spurs. I should have stayed and sorted myself out. I required the ground to swallow me up. It just pounded in my psyche: dejection, unhappines, bitternes. From that instant I was run, even if I never wanted to accept it, and there is nothing that intensified. Id go for days without sleeping. I dont known better I endured it. That time was an absolute nightmare.
It was a vicious circle. Wed lose at the weekend and the love would get at me, and Id be interrupting. I really wanted to help us get results but we werent good enough and Id walk away taking responsibility in my head for the whole crews flunks. I couldnt sleep, are concerned about what had happened. The only comfort I acquired was in booze. It would silence the tones of indecision and self-hate, temporarily regardless, but Id be too intoxicated to go into teach, and the blackouts Id have no remember of anything. It could be Monday and Id have no remembrance of what had happened since Saturday night. Id wake up, roll over and look at my phone, and thered be texts from people saying: Did you really do this last-place darknes? The director want to talk to you. It was petrifying because I didnt know what had happened.
There were occasions where reference is would wake up in a police cell. He pouts when asked how often he has been arrested, upset to admit the above figures, but the drunk and disorderly offences would flare up from London to Southampton to Merseyside. Sometimes Id be sat there with law enforcement agencies and my solicitor, watching the CCTV footage of what Id done, and I didnt recognise myself. I couldnt conceive the person or persons I was. Its so hard to accept I could be like that. In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the nighttime throwing up, people were blackmailing me, association proprietors and bouncers: Offer money or well sell this story on you. And I had no meaning what Id even done on those blackouts. I eventually told the sorority I couldnt function and needed to go back into rehab.
Things might have improved last-place season under Hasselbaink had the hip hurt, diagnosed as a week-long edition that became a complaint which induced five different diagnosis , not interpret him powerless is again. Id expensed the organization 8m, was one of the top earners and one of the few left from the Premier League, and beings had no explanation why I wasnt acting. Why I was absent. It ended up as my toughest year ever. I couldnt learn. My girlfriend lost her mother and was grieving while living with someone struggling with craving. My son, who lives with his mother in Somerset, is still in academy so Id go months without recognizing him. He had always been my safe place. There was no release.
QPR and my agent tried to push me towards Lokomotiv Moscow in January, saying it would be a fresh start. Portion of me contemplated the money they were offering could solve all my difficulties but why would being on my own out in Russia help? I had no feeling how to separate the cycle and is available on Moscow while still disabled only appeared a recipe for disaster. The director, Ian Holloway, was actually tell people to stand. Id been in his office close to rips, so he said: How anyone could feel sending you there would be a good theme is beyond me. You need to get yourself right. I realized him for that but, for the sorority, I can see why it was appealing to be shot of me but I was in no fit district to move and eventually pulled the plug on it.
Id had one last-place gamble and lost a blaze of a lot of money in December. A last blowout. It was at that point I lastly countenanced I could not win; that there was no quick fix , no more fantasizing I could save the world through one good nighttime on the roulette wheel. It was all a fantasize that took me away from having to feel anything. I entertained suicide a lot in that stage. A dark era. Everything Id gone through in football, where had it taken me? All the remorse, the shame, the shame, the public humiliation in the working paper and for what? I could cling to my son, to what Id done in Africa, or the dimensions Id bought their own families, but Id blown everything else. I calculate Ive lost 70% what Ive payed. When “were losing” that amount of money, the guilt thats so many lives you could have changed. There was no flee , no way out, other than to leave.
Steven Caulker says: In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the darknes throwing up, parties were extorting me, club owneds and bouncers. Picture: Sarah Lee for the Guardian
But, in the moments of clarity, I knew I couldnt do that because of my son. I havent gambled since but the drink crowded the void for a while. I was frightened and didnt feel like there was anywhere else to transform. Rehab didnt production before so why would it work now? I stupidly took convenience in the alcohol but it objective up deepening the depression. It was relentless from every slant. Until 12 March. Thats the day I lost my “drivers licence”. Thats when I realised my life had now become unmanageable.
Caulker was ordered to pay 12,755 in penalties and costs at Slough magistrates court at the end of March and was banned from driving for 18 months, having refused to blow into a breathalyser after police were called to a parking lot near Windsor Castle. I knew I was over the limit, I knew Id get the ban but I didnt want to tell my parents Id fucked up again. What if I had driven the car out of the car park and killed someone? No, that was it. Ive been up before a adjudicate four or five times. No more second probabilities. Its a incarcerate sentence next. I was still injured and unable to play, so I signed off sick. I went to see a specialist who diagnosed me with depression and nervousnes. He prescribed me medication and we put together a design where I would take some time away to sort myself out.
He and his lover travelled to Africa and India, is contributing to orphanages, homeless shelters and academies where the bear was exposed and obvious. He has attended countless Gamblers Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous gathers, and has reached out to support works in video games such as Clarke Carlisle for advice. He has not touched alcohol since his arrest in March. He takes medication, a feeling stabiliser is striving to match my high-priceds and lows, and address that substance inequality which draws my practices so cataclysmic, twice a day. Golf is a new, most constructive vice.
People say Ive done all this because Ive had too much money shed at me but I know teenagers without a penny who have the same addictive characters as me. Whether I played football or not I would still be suffering from this illness, precisely without the public pressure and mortification. Addiction does not care. I am a man of extremes. Parties dont find me doing the additional training, feeing right, going to the reserve every night to get fit, were represented at the anonymous convenes, doing the donation make. That is still me. That is who I am. But I get fucked by these other demons and I desperately necessary something in the middle. I feel like Im getting there now, that things have finally changed.
Im doing interesting thing merely to prompt me to stay on track. I could be relying on taxis to get me everywhere while Im banned but Im exploiting public transport. Im living in one of the owneds I own in Feltham, back where I grew up, to stir me recollect how hard I had to work to get out of here aged 15. Its a remember that, if I continue to unravel, I wont improve my statu again. Money considers the fissures. It can be evil. It prolongs the agony.
QPRs musicians reported for pre-season last-place Friday but Caulker, who has one year to run on his contract and has been improving all summertime with the former conference player Drewe Broughton at Goals centre in Hayes, had been signed off until July. Life at the golf-club had degenerated into an incessant flow of internal disciplinary hearings and, despite Holloway having become clear his desire to retain the centre-halfs business, his future will not is currently under Loftus Road. What happens next is all a bit perplexed, all a bit uncertain, he says. The manager has texted me several times offering his support and “says hes” misses me at the club but my brand-new representative has been informed by the owners Im not welcome back.
For too long Ive disliked everything about myself and I needed to learn to affection myself again. I miss video games like crazy. I dont detect as if Ive experienced playing football since Cardiff. I dont want to type my identify into Google and just see a roster of humbling narrations. I want people to remember I am a footballer who was good enough to represent his country at 20 and still has 10 years left in the game. At 40% of my ability, I was playing at the highest level. Now I feel good mentally and I want the chance to show people, including my son, what I am absolutely capable of. Wherever the opportunity starts, Im exactly appreciative still to be alive.
In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123.
In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255.
In Australia, the crisis support assistance Lifeline is on 13 11 14.
The post Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.
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