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fortisfiliae · 4 years

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Promised Part 11 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, an unholy amount of fluff

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: This chapter is written partially from Tom’s POV and the reader will be addressed in third person. The POV shift starts in the second half, after the divider, just so you know :)

Part 11 - The Earth’s Centre

Starting to brew the antidote for Mors Grano happened to be easier than you had anticipated. The potion’s base was quite similar to any other healing draught, and so was its production. You had decided to begin the laborious process, even though the Banshee tears were missing. According to the recipe, they were the last ingredient to be added, so you still had a lot of time to find them, even if you still didn’t quite know how.

For the first few weeks, there was nothing more to do than letting the Moondew cook and stir it frequently. The cauldron stood in Tom’s room, its content simmering steadily, ready to be examined at any given moment by one of you.

Professor Beery had denied you the bonus points for the N.E.W.T.s after you had told him that the Moly had unfortunately died. Those points were the least of your problems, however.

The plant had, in fact, bloomed beautifully, ready to be added to the potion.

And that was when the difficulties began. As soon as you let the blossoms fall into the cauldron, the potion started to smell. Very strongly. The mixture reacted in a way that wasn’t described in the book and started to produce yellow steam, as well as a sour, headache-inducing scent, which reached beyond the walls of Tom’s room. The fume filled up every last inch of his dorm and even seemed to creep out into the Slytherin common room. Other students had started mentioning the weird smell and even Dippet, who had paid Tom a number of unfortunate surprise visits, started to get suspicious.

You had sent your parents an owl to inform them that you wouldn’t come home during your semester break. They weren’t exactly happy about it; you had never stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays after all. But you had insisted, telling them there was so much studying to do until they finally let go. That wasn’t even a lie. There was a bunch of work to do. Granted, not all of it was related to school, but you still had a lot on your plate.

Tom stayed in Hogwarts for the week as well. You weren’t sure but highly doubted that he had notified his own family about it. And to be fair, they wouldn’t really care about that, would they?

Even though the school was practically empty and only a mere fraction of students stayed along with you, those who did stay complained about the biting smell in all of Slytherin’s dormitories. On Sunday evening you heard that the housekeeper had been sent to seek out the source and Tom was informed that Mr Carpe would start his search the next morning.

So there you were, worrying about what to do, stirring the cauldron for the twentieth time within the last minutes, hoping it would steam less, the more you whisked through it. No matter how hard you concentrated, how many options you took into account, there was nowhere you could possibly drag the cauldron to, where its scent would go unnoticed.

The Potions classroom was off-limits, even though it was much better equipped for the fumes. Slughorn would spend a lot of his time there, to prepare tasks for the upcoming semester. You had even considered taking it home and telling your parents about it. But using the Floo-Network with an item this heavy wasn’t possible, and taking the train with a simmering cauldron seemed ridiculous. Besides that, the antidote still took months to finish, so you would have to take it back to Hogwarts a week later anyway.

Hell, you had even thought about taking that damned kettle out onto the Quidditch pitch or into the forest, so no one would smell it anymore. But you couldn’t leave it out in the open, of course.

The moment you had given up all hope and realised that you couldn’t go on brewing the potion in Tom’s room, or anywhere else, he had told you about another possibility. There was this room on the seventh floor he had discovered in fifth grade. He called it the Come and Go Room and he was positive that no one besides him, not even the teachers, knew of its existence. The room must have been enchanted, according to Tom, and only appeared when you were in dire need.

So the two of you went there the same night, in a cloak and dagger operation, levitating the cauldron behind you. You had covered it with a white sheet so that if someone saw you, they at least wouldn’t know initially what you were doing. The disguise was weak and you knew if Dippet or any other teacher would spot you, you would be screwed.

Luckily none of them was there when you rushed through the halls, aside from Warren O’Connor, a Ravenclaw fifth year, who patrolled on a corridor next to their tower. He was too far away to detect the poorly hidden cauldron and didn’t even seem to look at you after he had recognised Tom.

When you had finally arrived, chest heaving, thoughts rushing from relief and tension, Tom instructed you how to summon the Come and Go Room. You walked past the stone wall three times and imagined, very carefully, what you needed. An airtight room that allowed you to keep on brewing your potion in peace, that no one would be able to find unless you wanted them to. Suddenly, a door appeared. You looked at Tom and he nodded before you took the handle and opened it.

The small room behind the door was, simply put, perfect. Your very own Potions laboratory. Dark and nifty, it offered enough little cabinets to store all the ingredients for the antidote, as well as a worktop to put the cauldron on. Everything looked as if it had been custom made, just for this purpose. Which it was, you had just created it all yourself.

Now that the cauldron was in a safe place Tom felt more at ease and actually thought that the semester break could turn out to be enjoyable. Why did that relax him, though? A question he had asked himself more than once. He didn’t have to care, nor did he have to help his fiancée to save her sister. Then why had he done it?

He didn’t have a logical answer to that question, even though the illogical one seemed to wave at him from the back of his head. He shrugged it off. But there were so many questions of the same kind running through his mind. Why did he care? He had never cared before. For anyone. That girl wouldn’t bring him where he wanted to be just by marrying him. Sure, her family was respected. Of course, they were purebloods, which was why his Grandfather had taken notice of them. But it had never been Tom’s wish to marry her. So why didn’t he mind the thought anymore? The idea of seeing her walking down the aisle had repelled him immensely when he had found out what Marvolo’s plan had been. And now it didn’t. He had gotten used to the idea. It even bugged him to think about the fact that the marriage wouldn’t happen by chance if the antidote was finished soon enough. Then why did he help her?

There was something inside of him, something that he couldn’t just pinpoint yet. Something that made him do the things he had done, even when it had gone against his own benefit. Something that made him care less and less about himself. It must have turned all of his morals upside down, because somehow, and he couldn’t explain why, the most important thing was seeing her happy. He didn’t even know when his priorities had changed. When he had stopped putting himself first. But it had happened. And that irritated him beyond belief.

She had been so easy to dislike. Back then, when they were sitting in her dining room alone. When she had stared at him, eagerly waiting for him to feel sorry for her. So conceited. Desperate for his attention. But then again, she had been so easy to like. When had he started giving in? At first, he had been nothing more than disgusted. Appalled of the uproar that had gone on inside his head. That nasty feeling in his chest and his weak knees. But once he had surrendered, it had begun to feel good.

All he wanted - no - all he needed now, was to make sure she was safe. Protect her. Help her. That wasn’t just an act of kindness though. He had figured out that apparently, he mirrored her emotions. When she was pleased, he was too. When she was angry, he couldn’t help but feel furious as well. When she was sad, his chest stung with her. It felt like a purpose. Like she was the earth’s centre and everyone else, even himself, merely spun around her. She had his full attention now and he didn’t plan on taking it from her anytime soon.

If someone were to ask him why, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. How does one describe the meaning of everything? He could start with her glow. That devotion she seemed to radiate anywhere she was. Her relentless spirit and how ready she was to combat anyone with it. How tender she was with people that deserved it. And how ruthless she could be with the ones who didn’t. The way she moved in her sleep, slowly and gently, turning over and unknowingly stealing his blanket at least twice a night. The way her chest moved up and down when she lay next to him. How her eyes seemed to light up when she awoke and looked at him. The hours he had watched her. Held her. Felt her skin brushing against his own, just like in this moment. How could anyone experience that and not have the urge to keep it? To freeze those moments in time and lock them up, safely, for nobody to see.

Tom wasn’t sure if she was aware of how nervous she made him. He knew how to hide it, but was ever so annoyed at how much he depended on being close to her. And he usually wasn’t the one to become jittery. That was the response he normally got. Freda Morris, for example, couldn’t seem to think straight when he had taken her out once, during their sixth year. Merlin’s beard, that lass was nerve wrenching.

Quite contrary to her. No one had ever done that to him. She had crawled under his skin and into his head, drugging his mind until almost every single thought he produced revolved around her. But he knew his place. She hadn’t befuddled him just to make him her pawn. He knew because that was what his family had done ever since he could remember. She had never done him wrong. Maybe that was why he had helped her. And why he was willing to do anything for her, even if it meant for him to suffer. He was the antagonist in their story. And if he was poison, she was the remedy. If he was the villain, she was the treasure worth saving.

Tom’s pitiful monologue was interrupted when she woke up, opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Morning,” she said quietly and smiled.

He looked at her for a moment. If only she knew.

“Morning,” he replied.

She stretched her arms in the air and yawned, then turned towards him and ran her fingers along his jawline. Bliss.

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, staring at the stubble on his chin that her thumb had just touched.

“Not long,” he lied. “Just a few minutes.”

She grinned and placed a kiss onto the left end of his lips. “I have to get up and stir the potion. Care to join me?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Good. Oh, and I think I’m going to go to Diagon Alley in the afternoon. To buy the Foxgloves. I have to add them next week.”

“I’ll come.”

She exhaled and pulled him in, nuzzling into his neck.

“Do you think we should go to Knockturn Alley as well?” she asked, her voice muffled. “While we’re there. I want to see if any store offers Banshee tears.”

“I don’t think they do,” Tom said and she lifted her head to look at him.

“But where else then?”

“I think I know where we could get some.”

She nodded, urging him to tell her.

“Well, I’m sure Morfin owns a flask. He had to get it if he wanted to brew the antidote, didn’t he?”

“But if they never planned on curing Elsie entirely, I don’t think he would have gotten them.”

“Marvolo never planned on curing her,” Tom said. “Morfin did. He’s a Potions master. One that doesn’t care about legality. He knows every last person that deals with ingredients like that. Even if he never intended to free her, I’m sure he got them just in case he ever needed them for himself.”

Her eyes roamed his face while she thought about it. “So what can we do now? Go to your house, search his chamber and steal the flask?”

Tom shook his head. “That won’t be as easy. They’re always home, Marvolo has his eyes everywhere. Even the house-elves would alarm him.”

She frowned, brows furrowed while she lightly tugged on his hair.

“They’ll be gone,” Tom went on. “In late March. The Order of Merlin gets honoured and they are both invited. We could go then and try to find it.”

There it was again. That spark in her eyes.

“Okay,” she answered. “Let’s do it then. But for now, let’s stay in bed for five more minutes.”

Oop, hope you didn’t throw up from all that fluff. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Let me know if you want to be tagged, or untagged. Thank you for reading!

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imagine-that-one-thing · 6 years

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21 kids and a kiwi.

Authors Note: I really couldn't help myself when I saw the picture on H's Instagram about Kiwi and this has been torturing me in my brain ever since, so here is a lil somethin' to get us through until the next two days until KIWI comes out.

Harry Masterlist found HERE

It was only a matter of time before he became a music enthusiast who aspired to constantly be surrounded by the beautiful, affectionate, innocent eyes of children and their laughter that is astonishingly contagious.

Five years ago when he sauntered through the front door with a crooked grin and enthusiasm through the roof with his eyes overflowing with pure delight, you weren’t surprised when the words, “I am going to be a music teacher.” Escaped his perfectly rosy lips. You glanced over at him with a cup of coffee in cupped in your palms while your body was sat up on the stool by the countertop. You gave him a generous smile and nodded. You certainly weren’t surprised at all.

He needed something to do while he was taking a break from the A-List stardom life of touring and recording.

Over the five years, he triumphantly earned his Bachelor's degree in music, completed a student-teaching experience at the school he went to growing up and received his teaching license. It wasn't as intense as you had thought it would be, you expected him to be as miserable through obtaining his degree like you were years ago, but none of it bothered him, he appreciated constantly being buried in books and papers while discovering more about his passion. He never complained on the late nights he was perched in front of his laptop revising for tests and whatever else he was stuck doing at ungodly hours.

Today, you encounter yourself with your hands and arms grappling to hold everything, car-keys, purse, and many different snacks for Harry’s music class. Since parents were allowing their children to stay after school to rehearse for the winter musical that Harry has been extremely excited about producing. Harry proposed to feed the kiddos snacks. And by Harry volunteering to feed the children, what was really inferred was that you would be left in charge of the food needs of the individual children and their various allergies and desires.

You step into the front office and give the receptionist your typically generous smile as she welcomes you, opening the door for you to enter the foyer that leads to the rest of the school's classrooms. You wander the endless hallway of dim lights, eventually making it to the music centre. As you stand outside the two wide doors, you overhear the laughter of children echoing and the soft tone of the piano playing. You grin to yourself before you manage to force the doors open, instantly causing all the little eyes to stare over at you, "Missus Y/N," a few of the little ones hurry over to you with great joy, their little arms wrapping around your legs.

You catch Harrys chuckles before he's by your side taking the food from your arms, "Hey Missus Y/N," he chuckles with a wide grin, kissing your cheek and making his way to the table that he has evidently set up for the snacks.

You watch as the little ones follow his every step and endeavour to assist him, all of them listening to his every instruction and holding onto his every word.

"What do we say to Missus Y/N for bringing us the food?" He announces to his group of what you like to call, little minions. They all glance over at you and in unison declare thanks with a charming chime of "Thank you Missus Y/N."

You give them a small laugh and assure them that they are welcome before Harry proceeds to help two little girls that are a little shorter than the rest and having a troublesome time stretching for the fruits.

You can't help but relish him with that gorgeous grin on his face as he does everything to help all the kiddos that require his attention, making sure each and every child is taken care of. If you didn't know any better, you'd believe he was the father of all twenty-one children.

Harry stands beside you proudly, "You're going to be blown away, jus' watch." He beams as his eyes stay focused on the twenty-one children assembled in a well-defined manner. "Lilly, sweetie a little more to your left," Harry gestures graciously and she shuffles to her left, "There we go," Harry gives her a thumbs up, "Okay, on three I want you all to show Y/N what we have practised... 1...2...3." Harry counts and a warm and soothing tone of young voices harmonising together and bouncing off the walls. You proudly smile at the wonderfully sounding kids as they sing 'Rudolph the red nose reindeer,' with cute, dainty smiles as they bounce up and down gleefully.

"You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, you know Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen, But do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?" With each name of a reindeer, a little one steps forward proudly.

You allow the adorable singers to finish the song before you give them your own special standing ovation, "Wonderful, each and everyone one of you," you exclaim with such happiness etched into your heart. Little kids carolling Christmas carols is honestly one of the warmest things that you cherish.

"Okay ladies and gentlemen, it is time to get ready for your Mummy and Daddy's to come pick you up, go get your backpacks." Harry gestures towards the other room where the backpacks and belongings are kept, "Don't forget your jackets it is cold outside."

"Can we sing another song?" One girl smiles as she walks closer to Harry and he nods.

"I think we have a few minutes, once you all collect your bags we can sing another one," Harry informs the little girl before she skips off happily towards the other room. "So, what do you think? Cute, huh?" Harry beams as he turns to you with bright eyes that have always brought joy to your fluttering heart.

You nod your head in agreement, his little crew are by far extremely cute, especially when they're singing and enjoying themselves. "Yes, you have done a good job, they can even hold notes."

"Yeah, they're a good little group. So, I was thinking the kids, in the beginning, they have differently decorated reindeer antlers so we know they're Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and the rest."

"Seems like a good idea. All of them outfitted as Reindeer would be so adorable," you admit, already imagining all of the kiddos decked cutely as Reindeers.

"Mhm, I was thinking you could help me with decorating them."

"Harry," you sigh, remembering the last time he said those exact words. You got stuck last time decorating fairy wings while he slept on the couch because you got sick of scolding him and having to redo his creations because...well... he isn't steady with his hands when it comes to decorating small things with glitter glue. He tried, he really did, but he just wasn't brought into this world to decorate things, especially fairy wings. "I love you, I do, but I can't decorate reindeer outfits all on my own within two weeks."

"I know, darling, I will help."

"Harry, do I need to remind you of the fairy wings? Or the Halloween costumes?"

"Y/N," Harry chuckles, "I promise I am better at decorating Reindeer ears than I am pumpkins and fairy wings."

"Mhm, you owe me dinner and a movie night after all this."

Harry nods, "of course, I'll even cook for yeh."

You grin and graciously nod in agreement to his proposal. You can never turn down his propositions to cook. The second best thing to seeing him prepare the children is to observe him dance around the kitchen with nothing but a pair of sweatpants on while he hums along to his favourite songs. It's breathtaking, to say the least.

You and Harry both stand and welcome each parent as they walk in to claim their children with wide grins when they see how the children are vibrant and beaming.

Once the last child leaves, Harry turns to you, "Thanks, thank you for everything you do and allowing me to do this," he gestures his arms around to his little music room that has become his 'safe-haven,' you could say. His safe haven to escape the world used to be the studio, and since he is taking a hiatus with his music career as an artist, he has resorted to his music room as his place. He loves the laughter of children and the vibration of their beautiful voices as he performs on the piano and teaches them new songs. Harry loves observing their faces light up when their favourite songs get played and he especially loves it when they request some of the older songs that he has taught them with parental consent.

His eyes are evermore an eminent shade and his smile is invariably a little bit wider when he gets to spend extra time with the little ones and preparing for small musicals and recitals. He has a soft spot for kids, it is obvious, and there is a part of you that absolutely adores watching him operate his magic with so many young individuals who have a strong devotion and passion for music like he does. He is connected with them on a different level, it's beautiful to witness.

You lean up and kiss Harry sweetly before you carefully pull away, "You always support me. It is no problem. But, next time you want to sign me up for snack duty, don't remind me at midnight."

"Yeah, sorry about that love, I forgot."

"I know," you chuckle, "So, I was in the fruit aisle today, take a guess what I stumbled upon?" You grin cheekily as Harry crosses his arms over his chest and raises his brow.

"Well, darling, I am assuming you stumbled across the fruit."

"Smart ass," you roll your eyes at your husband who is grinning widely at his comment, "I happened to catch a glimpse at some kiwis," you inform Harry and he instantly chuckles while covering his face with his hands, "I got a few, too. I remember you enjoy them quite a bit."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "oh my, I don't think I am ever going to live that down, am I?"

"Mmm, no," you shake your head, "So, can you remind me how it goes again?" you purposely bat your eyes and grin at him as he rolls his eyes and curls his lips.

It has been a while since the all-so-famous song Kiwi has been brought up. You can't really help yourself today, especially considering how at one point he came home with a box full of kiwis thanks to a dedicated fan who was quite the comedian.

Harry steps closer to you, his hands pressing to your waists while his lips caress to the corner of your mouth. Your arms drape over his shoulders and shivers become pulsated down your spile as his soft breath steadily hits your bare neck as he slowly sings.

"She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes. Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect. And all the boys, they were saying they were into it. Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck."

(Tell me what you think, here).

#Harry styles imagines #harry styles prompt #harry styles prompts #imagine harry styles #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles preference #harry styles preferences #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles writing

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jam2289 · 4 years

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Nice People - What does it mean?

My default perspective of people is that they're nice. That doesn't particularly hold true if you compare things to history, or other cultures, or even all of my own experience. I've had my life threatened many times, I've been shot at, had someone try to stab me, been successfully poisoned in Africa, have had money stolen, been lied to and betrayed, been lied about, and I've been conned a few times. I've largely ignored this contradiction because I didn't know how to reconcile it. But, the last 16 months have held it in my awareness so consistently that I need to confront my ideas about the niceness of people. Today is a good example.

I decided to go for a walk at Lake Harbor Park to clear my head. It's been a drizzly day, which I like. With an overcast sky blocking out the sun, the park wasn't too busy, which I also like. I took a trail that isn't the most popular. You walk up a small incline of sand, and then turn down a narrow ravine with trees all around you. Even when the sun is out it doesn't touch you there. I didn't encounter any people on that trail.

I could hear the heavy waves of Lake Michigan crashing on the sandy shore in front of me as I started to come out of the ravine. There's a steep climb up a sand dune. I cut across the top of the dunes along the shore, watching the waves crash. I saw one other woman with her dog and a backpack sitting on the sand staring out over the water. My boots left footprints in the sand, but made hardly a sound. With the noise from the wind and the waves the woman didn't even notice me walk by her, and I left her to her solitary contemplation. She seemed nice.

I saw that there were large orange markers floating out in the lake and wondered what they were for. I came off the dunes onto a set of wooden stairs. The first thing that I noticed was that the part of the channel that had collapsed earlier in the year had been repaired. As I walked down the stairs I noticed that there was a man with a jet ski in the channel. It seemed that him and his son were pulling in the orange buoys with the jet ski. I smiled and waved, and they smiled and waved back as they headed back out of the channel for another round. They seemed nice.

As I was getting in my car to leave there was a couple getting out of their car two parking spots over. The husband got the two dogs, and the mother was picking up the baby girl. I said hi to the guy and he said hi back, and I waited to make sure both of the dogs were where I could see them before backing out. They seemed nice.

I decided to stop at Meijer on Henry to get some Wallaby brand kefir, because it's a tasty treat. I walked to the back of the store, grabbed two bottles in each hand, and got in line. It was an oddly long line stretching from the self-checkout area, across the main aisle, and into the produce area. I was standing in line and a guy came up and stood next to me. He stared at the line and sighed. He put his two half-gallons of chocolate milk that he was carrying onto a stack of Coca-Cola in the aisle. I laughed and said, "It's a weirdly long line today. It's not a holiday or anything is it? The holiday was last weekend." He agreed that it was odd having such a long line.

We were talking and he kept adjusting his mask. I said, "The masks are annoying aren't they?" He agreed and said, "What's really annoying is the six foot thing. Whenever you start to get close to anyone they start to do this!" And he tucked into a little cower and shuffled away like he was afraid. We both laughed, me with my leprechaun bandana around my neck and him adjusting his mask. We talked about my students who grew up wearing masks in the Soviet Union and in China. He mentioned conditioning, and then told me that he uses whole Meijer brand chocolate milk that he mixes with plain two percent milk to create the best tasting concoction. We checked out at the same time at different registers and were walking out together. I told him that it was nice talking with him. He asked me my name and I told him, and he told me his name was Eric. We shook hands and he said how nice it was to meet me. And how unusual it was to have a nice conversation in a checkout line, especially now, and he liked that I was a teacher. He was surprised to have had such a nice talk.

The next place I was headed for was Scott Meats. I drove down Broadway Avenue. The road feels like driving down a rough two-track, as you're bouncing along you look out the window and see empty business after empty business, boards over the windows and doors, a desolate sight. There were more people than usual walking along the sidewalk. I noticed that one was holding a cardboard sign that read "Black Lives Matter", and just after that I passed the rally they were holding in the park. Ignoring the crippling content of the underlying philosophy, people walking on the sidewalk and speaking and standing in a park seem nice.

As I was walking into the meat store there was a guy standing outside with a bag on his walker. I asked if he needed help. He seemed quite surprised that I talked to him. He said he was just waiting for a cab. He seemed nice.

I went inside and grabbed my ticket, waited, and got a bag of hanger steaks. I asked what the seasoning was on them and the clerk told me that it wasn't anything particularly special, but a mix that they made in the back. He seemed nice.

I got in line as the woman in front of me was just finishing checking out. The cashier motioned me forward as she called for someone to come help the woman carry out her two bags. She had asked the cashier if the hanger steaks were any good, she said yes, and I said, "They are very good." The cashier scanned my bag and I put in my card as she told the woman waiting that it would be a moment for someone to come and carry her bags for her. I said, "I can help you." Both of the women were very surprised and said "Really?!" I said, "Yeah, I'm headed that way anyway." and laughed. They both did the thing where you agree with something by making one muffled laugh and nodding your head. The cashier remarked several times that it was so nice of me to help. I carried my bag in one hand and one of the woman's bags in the other hand. She thanked me several times as we walked to her truck. I told her to have a nice day and she thanked me again. When I was one car away she yelled something. I turned around and asked, "What?" She said, "I can give you a dollar tip if you want." I said, "No, it's no problem. My car's right over there. Have a good one." She seemed nice.

On my drive home I was reflecting on these unusual interactions. Mostly on the fact that they seem normal to me, and they seem so surprising to the other people. I was thinking to myself, "Why have these people been so surprised by these normal interactions?" My mind answered back with the obvious, "Because they aren't normal." They never were, and are even less so now that covid has made everyone scared of everyone else. When's the last time that I saw someone carry groceries out for a stranger? Never. When's the last time I saw someone walk up to a stranger standing in a parking lot and ask them if they need help? Never. When's the last time I saw two strangers have a sincere conversation diving into serious topics in a checkout line? Never.

It's not that they never happen, they're just so rare that you aren't going to see them. Sometimes people plan to do nice things. A few years ago there was a fad about paying for the meal of the person behind you in the fast-food drive-through. I don't think it's the same thing psychologically. That's a planned anonymous charity, rather than a sincere person-to-person encounter in the moment. Helping people with money might be more common. A few years ago I was having breakfast at a restaurant. I was standing in the checkout line and the old guy in front of me was digging for money to pay. It seemed like he probably wasn't going to come up with the total amount. I told him and the cashier to just put it on mine and I'd cover it. He thanked me, but didn't seem surprised. The cashier didn't seem surprised either, and we had a little conversation about him having love and hate tattooed across his knuckles. No big deal.

On the other hand, a couple of years ago I was looking for a parking space at the grocery store in the middle of winter. There was an old guy that got his front tire stuck in a snowbank. He was putting it in forward, reverse, forward, reverse. I drove past him while finding a parking spot. There were a lot of people at the store. People walking in, people walking out. There were tons of people that walked past this guy. By the time that I had parked and walked down the parking lot lane, not a single person stopped to help him. All he needed was a little push. I helped him and he was on his way. I remember being surprised that no one else had offered to help this guy, even though a lot of people were walking right by him.

In my mind, in these various situations, I was just being nice. I get this emphasis on being nice from my mother. But you can see that there's some inconsistency in my use of the word and my application of the concept. Because of the way I use it almost everyone gets classified in my mind as nice. And that doesn't fully work, because when I encounter not nice people, as I often do, it conflicts with my perception of all of humanity as mostly nice, which is a depressing inner conflict. I need to change things to come into closer contact with reality.

Our performative actions contain more information than images, and images contain more information than words. What we're seeing here is a discrepancy between how I'm classifying performative actions of myself and others with the words that I'm using. When I'm helpful, I'm nice. When I offer to help, I'm nice. When I have a sincere personal encounter, I'm nice. When someone talks to me, they're nice. When someone smiles at me, they're nice. When someone doesn't do anything, they're nice. This extremely wide range makes the use of the word fuzzy.

There's a big gap between being helpful and not doing anything. The key difference is between being active and being passive. Now we're getting to the heart of the issue, I can feel it. My use of nice includes being not-bad, non-malevolent, and not-hurtful. These are completely passive things. We could say that the person isn't good or bad, they're neutral. Just because someone's not-bad doesn't mean they're good, being non-malevolent doesn't mean you're benevolent, being not-hurtful doesn't mean you're helpful. Being helpful is good, being hurtful is bad, being non-helpful and non-hurtful is neutral. It holds the potential for moral action, but isn't engaged in it.

This passivity is what's common. Mixing the ideas of being passive and being active is what's confused my working definition of niceness.

This pervasive passivity is also what allows for atrocities. Hannah Arendt and Karl Jaspers talk about this in Nazi Germany, and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Vaclav Havel talk about it in the Soviet Union. Stanley Milgram demonstrated it in his famous experiments. Arendt called it the banality of evil. Milgram called it the agentic state. To classify this passivity under the same heading as helpfulness is obviously a mistake.

Now we know the distinction that I was failing to make in my thinking. There is an immense amount of change that comes from that. It will take some time for my mind, body, and soul to fully digest. But I can point out some of how it will begin. For instance, if I think that almost everyone is nice, and within niceness I have being non-malevolent, and being helpful. Then, when a bunch of people pass by someone who needs help, and it wouldn't even be inconvenient to help, they are both being nice in being non-malevolent, and not being nice for not being helpful. Most people are passive, not helpful. They can be helpful in certain circumstances. If the person was in their in-group and they knew them they might help them, if an authority figure told them to help they probably would, if others were helping they might conform, if there was a reward someone would help for the benefit. But being helpful outside of these parameters is extremely unusual. By making the clear distinction between passivity and helpfulness there is no longer an inner contradiction in my perception of the situation.

It does make a deeper problem stand out though. Since this passivity is the norm by far, and it allows for such great injustices to prevail, how do we move away from it as a society? The first part of that answer is simple, the society is made out of individuals, so it's a change that has to occur in individuals. Carl Jung emphasized that very clearly. Arendt talks about the importance of thinking as an individual, Jaspers talks about assessing your individual guilt, Viktor Frankl talks about discovering and fulfilling individual meaning. What they're all dealing with is the conscience. How do we activate the conscience? How do we make and keep it strong? When I wrote 'Moral Engagement' I was talking about the contents of conscience, but the practices that engage it are something different. It's what pulls Arendt, Jaspers, Solzhenitsyn, Havel, Jung, and Frankl all into the spiritual realm when they talk about doing good and constraining evil, first within the self. It's deeper than philosophy and psychology. What's needed is deeper than a better thought. The mind and body house an emergent property, the conscience, the soul. In the depths of the individual what's needed is spiritual healing. Heal the spirit, the conscience, the soul. That is the way forward.

Here's the link to 'Moral Engagement': http://www.jeffreyalexandermartin.com/2020/04/moral-engagement.html

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If you like this, check out JeffThinks.com or JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com

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iftekharsanom · 7 years

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Top 7 Teen Movies

When you grow up, your heart dies - or so they say. Here's the proof: Heathers Juno, critic of The Guardian and Observer select the 10 best movies for teenagers. Blackboard Jungle

Under the name "Evan Hunter", also known as a crime writer Ed McBain - Blackboard Jungle the early age of the labeled teen offender - it was based on his own experience as a teacher in the Bronx. In London movie Brooks attracted crowds of Stuffed Boys, cut theater seats, danced in the aisles and actually started a riot. The reason for this so shocking behavior was not so much the content of the film, which is now a sober 12 rating, but achieved due to the use of Bill Haley and the early rock'n'roll comets, Rock Around the Clock, who played in polarization . Today is the least shocking aspect of a crime-thrusting film with a knife, drugs and even rape in the state school system, but at the time it was a touchstone for disgruntled young people, regardless of whether Haley was a white musician traveler in Its 30 years and the music has already been a year old. Almost 60 years later, he still has a hit, with Richard Dadier Glenn Ford (first called to enable students to call the Jive to talk to him "Daddy-O") struggle to control his students in the North fiction manual school. Others try and fail, such as the unfortunate Mr. Edwards, whose valuable 78s are crushed by his class consists of an act of symbolic and even disturbing rebellion, but I hope that as African Americans Gregory Miller, what eventually patriotic authority Dadier replied. But for all its war morality, Vic Morrow, the evil Artie West, is the true anti-hero of the film, dressed in leather and meets the logical heir Wild One, Marlon Brando, two years before. Superbad

With certified hits The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up, the Judd Apatow Express was already rolling at full speed when Superbad, directed a comedy in the younger audience, appeared on the movie screens. Co-written by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg (designated the main characters to be), and produced by Apatow, he liked this movie more with a hoarse Partycrowd. The image is dominated by three young actors who were not then the stars they are now. Evan (Michael Cera), Seth (Jonah Hill) and Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) are high school graduates getting ready for a final party before college. Evan and Seth no longer see each other when the first outing to the prestigious Dartmouth while the latter attended a public university; Seth Groll scattered around the action, but now he's eyeing sex. If he offers through the object of his alcohol affection to a party held so the numbers he is sleeping with her. This is where the drippy Fogell enters: having a fake identity secured mis-adapted under the pseudonym of McLovin, is the key is to plan Seth. With its notes and 24-hour melancholy, the film takes a similar American Graffiti and Dazed and Confused terrain, but is distinguished by a Post-Porky Sensitivity Hallows celebrates simultaneously pre-PC smuttiness. Much of the humor derives from the assessments of the chauvinistic Sex by inexperienced hero. (Adult, I no longer sophisticated. A Rogen police admits that police work is nothing like the serious coroner CSI procedural having been carried out, can be expected. "When I joined the force," he laments, "I semen believed oftentimes "). Goodwill mocking the experts, the details of the accompaniment and direction of Greg Mottola exuberant makes the image almost irresistible, although the pace of broad-fashion and humor is as sexist as a hope for the production of Apatow Kids

No kids at school wisecracking here. In fact there is no mention of the school. Not that many jokes, either come to think of it. Instead, Larry Clark's raw, Drama bracing reminds us securely and artificially that most movies are teenagers. The boys were dangerous: an open honest representation of what modern teenagers actually do (those who grew up in New York, anyway). It was a heavy blow to the chops of a complacent society, who thought she had made all the rebels in the 1950s, and was convicted by demonstrators and politicians. But as The Wild One and Rebel Without a Cause, the film showed a terrible chasm between generations of young and old. The last only demographic number in history. While they work, their children are drunk, they are stoned, fun, fight, steal them and more sex than they did, yet clumsy, insecure and people who do not particularly like. Worse than all this danger sign, but the general lack of concern or compassion for the characters, especially Leo Fitzpatrick's anti-hero is Telly's terrible reckless pursuit of "de-virginise" younger girls and neglected joint has its successes. With the spectrum of AIDS lurking in the shadows, a happy ending is even more in the distance. But there is nothing particularly sensational about the way children have gone through these adolescent lives. The treatment is more like a documentary: on the wall with the camera (which incidentally by the indecent sometimes), the actual sites of the road, unstructured scenes and dialogue really conversation - the latter in Harmony Korine, largely through Of the internal work of a writing, as he was 19 years old. That's the thing, do not get the kids credit for the season: it's done. It is a work of fiction, but the benefits are so little is known, is not included as an "actor", although many of the players followed the decent career, such as Fitzpatrick, Chloe Sevigny, Rosario Dawson and Korine. In short, the will of a job done a little too well. 10 Things I Hate About You

The philosophy behind this lively teen comedy looks like the Shrew the Clueless made Emma do. That is, take the skeleton of a literary classic and dressed in the threads of high school. Although the film Clueless is not, still quite blinding Bobby. Shakespeare's transplant into a youthful atmosphere of the United States in recent times is the least successful part of it: It is not something that a strident touch in the plot, in which a young man told his father that he would not allow graduation date, until the Abrasive ground older sister Kat (Julia Stiles). This sets up a system of younger brother suitors born of a legal soil, Patrick (Heath Ledger), is paid uncontrollably seduce Kat. But that's a small detail. To which we respond in 10 things are visual and verbal, energetic rhythm and charismatic performances: Stiles and the last Ledger may be known for more intense films, but it is doubtful that we do not always get more on the screen than I do here. Writer Karen McCullah Lutz and Kirsten Smith, keeping things bright will not character for a long time without toxic replica or a sharp zinger their lips anymore. If someone has hit a dry spot, there is always a language to see. "I know you can be overwhelmed and dominated" reflects a girl, "but can it alone" overwhelmed "? Everyone here is united and evoked by their idiosyncratic vocabulary, and the viewer is also enriched by phrases such as" (The brain area where the images are saved as desirable partner for stimulants) or a new definition for the word "backup." For the cast includes Joseph Gordon-Levitt and as the father of the Kat, the magnificent Larry Miller (who was an early contender for George Costanza's game at Seinfeld.) If the rhythm flags, still pick-me-ups like the wonderful accounting show karaoke with the zeal of Steve's early start Martin is held. Juno

Written by an ex-stripper and the issue of student pregnancy approaching - the downfall of all middle-class parents - Jason Reitman's film is a hilarious comedy, played well, that a star made night Ellen Page as the title character. Much if talked about its pro-life nuances in its release, but in reality the situation is Juno is something of a MacGuffin, a premise that a smart, wise to the world and its future can look 16 years. Juno begins with his heroine to realize that a baby will have, the result of a loose ball with his best friend Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera, in his own weediest). Instead of finishing, Juno decides the child for adoption to give attributes to the Loring (Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner), a couple who seem to be in tune - especially participate their love for indie rock and horror movies (although their tastes are quite Early, even by today's standards). The latter is twee and well marked, but what Juno is refreshing, without dismantling the smart edge. In the end, she is certainly older and wiser, but what Juno learns more, do, prepare for disappointment: the adult world not Disney World of complexity is what he seems to think. The use of indie rock still dark have hampered its potential as a mainstream success, but now that only its charm is given lo-fi and in a sense, it is probably useful because Juno really is not aligned world, only those who think Who knew everything grew and learned the hard way that even if they know everything, nobody likes a smartass. Clueless

"As if!" — "I totally paused!" — "Minor ducats…" — "Let's do a lap before we commit to a location!" — "I was surfing the crimson wave!" — "Did my hair get flat?"If Clueless was published in 1995, it was not just sensational and intelligent fun - carefree, the opposite of its title was. Insinuating indirect, clever and funny: writers director Amy Heckerling and seemed to have invented a new culture of the teen-pop language. It was as vivid and colorful as his remarkable movie heroine-keeper: funnier and more romantic than any romcom. In the nineties, it was the hot topics issue. This film was a disgrace to all who, a funny and gracious tribute to Emma Jane Austen with nod to Shakespeare and Wilde. In Clueless, 19, Alicia Silverstone was the role of her life, unique style and comedy display ability, but never found after the race that everything seemed to promise. She plays Cher, the pampered, but basically good-hearted Princess: rich, popular, obsessed with fashion, but lonely and looking for love. Silverstone finds laughter as a teacher, and his voice in a sort of pitchy yodel pause in perplexing tones or complaint. Cher is best friend Dionne (Stacey Trace), but somewhat aggressive with his ex-strident Josh, whose mother was married to Cher's ferocious defender Mel, played by Dan Hedaya. However, could there be a spark between these two? Josh is a college student in liberal causes and Roar Mode "Rock Complaint". It is played by 26-year-old Paul Rudd, who immediately became a brand in Hollywood and sniper. Rudd's character began to mature and youthful Clueless. Get Cher decides what bad grades you have to do with getting your teachers in love, to sneakily two of them fall to each other, and if the east coast dorky girl named Tai appears, Cher makes a personal change "project ". Tai is very well played by Brittany Murphy, an up-and-comer talent who was bleak due to complications of dying in 2009 after an overdose of prescription drugs. The teen movie references to contemporary youth culture is always complicated with irony and melancholy if you look after almost 20 years. The terrible fate of Brittany Murphy is the saddest part of it. Clueless is strange to think that once the social networks. These people are ready and ready for the Internet and the digital revolution. There is a splendid view of the gag on Cher and Dionne talking uncomfortable on his large mobile phone. The recent film by Sofia Coppola, The Ring Bling is Clueless next generation. The difference is that the lean teenager Coppola really are clueless, white and selfish. There is a nice quality and idealistic Clueless comic that makes it so appealing. Cher and Dionne are the queens at their school, but not unpleasant, and according to their lights, they always want to do the right thing. Clueless is not characterized by a sign of "Bully" noticing a comeuppance ter. Mean Girls, the 2004 satirical film written by Tina Fey and Lindsay Lohan is very different. There's nothing new about bullying, of course, but I think it's interesting that Clueless appeared briefly to introduce snarky sites and reality farce at the center of pop culture. Clueless is a true classic: handsome, innocent fun. I envy people I have not yet seen. Pretty In Pink

The amazing ability to take advantage of John Hughes' teenage thrill, and then inexorably, pack it in a commercial way, has never been better employed here. This is empathy for his films, but also the most outrageous Eighties-tastic. A universal heart-tugger and retro bible style. It's a win-win. There is an old story - the poor Cinderella rich Prince Charming meets, and agonize all the way to the climatic ball, sorry, dance - but the full spectrum of teen angst is here: worry about what your colleagues think; Believing secretly tell your best friend and courage; They worry that you are very poor; Concern for parents; Worry that the sleeve of your vintage tuxedo has not rolled high enough. Hughes takes everything seriously and it takes time to build his characters. Andie knows where Molly Ringwald is coming from. We have to see him at home, and how embarrassing it is, we hung in his room, we saw the status of his single father (playing Harry Dean Stanton). This does not want to take the Ringwald natural wonderful power. Their blend of forward and fragility is the compelling effort. If you apply your lipstick or calls snobbery Andrew McCarthy, we are all the way with it. And Duckie John Cryer is the strangest of the male characters: the friendly and friendly clown who does not stay with the girl, although a better and better dressed society. The latter (especially the requirements of the modified screening tests) feels a bit like a cop-out, but could be read as a commentary on the bittersweet novel against pragmatism. If the story you do not start with Pretty in Pink, style it be. The film is worth looking at the costume changes alone, the respective boss Ringwald, Annie Potts, who travels from the fetish-punk in the 50's hive, Madonna-like material girl Debbie Harry New Wave. Serious art direction now makes the film look like a time capsule intentionally, filled with so many fashions, posters, records and decorative objects as they thought they could escape. And do not forget the soundtrack: Psychedelic Furs, OMD, Echo and the Bunnymen, New Order, The Smiths, uh, a cover by Nik Kershaw. Was each teen movie better?

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