#I can’t believe this fucking vegetable is the leader of the free world

[theworldchangedwithoutme]

I just fucking hate Joe Biden. I’ve been robbed by people I like more than him. I’ve enjoyed surgeries more than I enjoy listening to his skeleton corpse fight with the teleprompter. I’d call him a disgrace to the presidency, but that would do a disservice to the word disgrace. I’ve never known loathing like this before. I hope never to again.

Fuck Joe Biden.

[w2beastars]

The Ballad of the Lion and the Stag

Morality is relative in the world of “Beastars.” Because of the many different animals who has to live together despite instincts and their extreme differences, it can be hard to tell who is the good guy and who is the bad guy. Yafya who is the Sublime Beastar is suppose to be the ultimate hero and protector of animal society, but his heroism is flawed. He is a bigoted antihero who is quite manipulative, and his forceful methods has made him a boogeyman to the carnivores, meaning he technically makes the relationship between meat eaters and vegetarians worse.

So if someone who is suppose to be so genuinely good is a bastard... is it really a surprise that a mobster can be a noble giant?

Ibuki is a surprising noble beast when you consider the fact that he is not just a criminal, but he is a member of the Shishigumi, or the Lion Mafia as I prefer to call them. They are one of the major criminal organizations in the Back-Alley Marked.

Who would have believed that a violent thug like Ibuki the Lion would be the male who saved Louis from himself?

Louis was not exactly a sentimental animal as such. If someone tried to be kind to him, he would consider it pity of some sort, something he would not accept at all. So it was a good thing that Ibuki was not sentimental at all the first time they met.

Ibuki saw potential in the young stag. The kid had just killed the Lion Mafia’s boss whom Ibuki hated since he had alienated the gang from most of the criminals in the black marked by being TOO wild and violent. Knowing that Louis was a famous honor student whom newspapers called an inspiration for the future, he was the one who suggested that the lions shouldn’t eat him. In fact, they should make him the new boss of the Lion Mafia.

And that was a brilliant idea.

Everything that made Louis the uncrowned king of Cherryton Academy was what made him an amazing criminal leader.

Louis might have been arrogant as fuck, but he understood the value of teamwork and organization(even at his most self centered moments he can make a group work) making him a natural leader. He is charismatic, sexy and has a golden tongue. He is the kind of guy who could sell you shit by promoting it as chocolate.

My point here is that Louis is in a position where he is not pitied. In fact, he more or less ends up owning most of the Back-Alley Market by using his negotiation skills and his image as a herbivore to make the shops in the black marked do business once more with the Lion Mafia. And as Ibuki predicted, the young stag even made the Back-Alley Marked a safer place, less chaotic and more “clean” so to say.

So Ibuki being concerned about Louis is justifiable. It is not an act of pity, he is just looking out for his boss that he needs. Louis can live with that. So he allows the lion to get close to him, to be the only one who knows that he can’t actually eat meat, that he needs vegetables to survive. Ibuki becomes his unofficial second in command and bodyguard.

But that does not change that Louis feels alone when he is surrounded by other animals. Louis was born into slavery, he survived by proving that he was better than the other kid slaves and then became the adopted son of the rich and powerful Oguma. How could anyone understand him?

Ibuki can.

Like Louis, he was a slave, meant to be eaten. There is a shop in the back-alley marked that sells fake drugs made out of carnivores that herbivores eat since the want the strong spirit of meat eaters. Ibuki was sold by his parents so they could get rid of their dept. But he got away from slavery like Louis. Revealing this to Louis made them close like brothers, possibly like a father and a son. Heck, Ibuki even consider if he should try and introduce Louis to a nice female(such a dad move!).

But that makes his fate that much more tragic.

Ibuki’s friendship made Louis feel better in the company of carnivores. In fact, he realizes that he downright likes them. And that made him realize that Legosi is his friend, and he would hate it if he died. So he tells Ibuki that he has to leave the gang, and he is aware that it means that he can’t return.

So like the pseudo father he is, he takes the harsh duty of kicking his baby bird out of the nest... to the extreme!

Ibuki might seem like a nice enough guy, but he is a mobster. Not only that, he is a meat eater. And his favorite kind of meat so happens to be deer. He has controlled himself the six months he has known Louis, but him leaving the gang makes him so frustrated that he can barely control himself.

His last act of love to the boy is offering him the chance to shoot him before he eats him up. But Louis can’t do it. That is not only a sign of growth from Louis who six months ago would have taken the shot without hesitation to save his own skin, it is also a sign of love to the lion who has been the adult he needed to grow up.

Ibuki thought this might happen... So he asked Free to shoot him in case he would attack their boss.

Ibuki sacrificed himself in order to make Louis what he is today. A more confident and much kinder animal who is no longer burdened by self loathing.

[tackyink]

Here’s what would amount to chapter 1 of the fic I started the other day if I ever decide to work on it seriously. It’s the same two scenes as last plus a new one, so it’s very short, but I’ve laughed a lot writing it.

I also realized this thing has a lot of potential to merge with Inked on Skin by Wano and I can’t believe I’m here, free at last after five years busting my ass, and suddenly thinking it would be cool to make a whole fic verse with my One Piece OCs.

=======================

It was the sunniest it had been in weeks. Clear skies, twenty-seven degrees, calm clouds and weak northwestern winds blowing from Skypiea.

Veleta had left a note on the dining table telling potential travelers to feel free to use her home to rest while she was away, and to please not touch the meteorological station next to the vegetable garden. The connection to her dad’s team had been lost for six months already, so there wasn’t much for her to do and she was dying of boredom, but he might come back for it one of these days. Who knew? Not her!

She adjusted one last time the straps of her swimming vest and backpack. Her grin gleamed under the sun almost as much as the pair of riding goggles she was wearing.  

“Ready, set…” She gripped the handles of her waver firmly. “Go!”

She hit the gas and rode in a straight line towards the horizon. The White-White Sea cloud formations had some variation from day to day, but she had already determined that that was the shorter point between her home and absolute nothingness.

Other people might have called her suicidal and wondered what drove her to do this, but if Veleta had to be compared to one of the characters of the tabletop game her dad liked to play when they had visitors, she would have rolled 20 Intelligence and 2 Wisdom.

It took her a good half an hour to reach the place she was shooting for, and when she got there, with the absolute confidence of a fool with too much pride in her ideas, she drove off the white clouds into the endless blue, and a few seconds after she started dropping at breakneck speed, she hit the special button she had built into the waver and a parachute shot out of it, slowing her descent until it was safe to kick back and enjoy the view.

There was only sky, distant clouds and water as far as the eye could see, with a few dots sailing through it that must have been ships, and the promise of an island, a real island made of Vearth, far, far way. Veleta made it a mental goal to sail there.

She was elated. Her heart pounded inside her chest with excitement, and her face hurt from smiling so much. Her world was about to get so big!

And then one of the ropes securing the parachute to the waver snapped, and she was freefalling again.

With a screech that was probably heard in at least two seas above and another couple below, Veleta finished her leisurely descent by crashing into the ocean with an upturned waver and getting her backpack’s mesh caught on the breath dial exhaust. On one hand, it was a good thing that she was floating thanks to the swimming vest. On the other, she had fallen face down, and the extra buoyancy wasn’t doing her much good, considering she couldn’t turn around.

Devil Fruits weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

—

Eustass Kid was watching time pass on the prow of the Victoria Punk when he saw a projectile falling from the sky and into the sea with a spectacular splash.

He squinted at the shape of a small boat ahead and asked Killer, “The fuck is that?”

—

As it turned out, ‘that’ happened to be a pink haired girl and her failing vehicle, though a girl who didn’t know she was being appraised when she was caught in a fishing net and dragged onto a dry surface. In fact, she was having a pretty hard time staying conscious at all, and the only energy she could divert from that task was being wasted on feeling grateful that she’d been found.

When she was pulled out of the water, still tangled in the net but able to move, Veleta spent the next three minutes or so coughing out water and doing her best to hurl out the contents of her stomach into the ocean and not on these kind strangers’ ship. Said strangers gathered near her and their conversation turned increasingly confused, but they all stared at her from a distance. Perhaps the vomit had something to do with it.

She gasped for air when water stopped coming out and turned around to face her saviors and thank them, but what came out of her mouth was another screech when she saw that she was inside of a fish’s maw.

“OHGODWE’REGETTINGEATEN!” She reached for her backpack to pull out something to defend herself, but she managed to get even more tangled in the net, and she stopped struggling when she noticed no one else shared her urgency. “Huh?”

“We’re in a figurehead,” a man hiding behind a striped mask explained.

“This is a ship?!” She gaped, looking around her again. She could’ve never told that she wasn’t in a real fish. “Oh, excuse my rudeness!” She bowed, still on her knees, or tried to. Not a lot of freedom of movement inside a fishing net. “I’m Lockheed Veleta.” She flashed them a smile. “Thank you so much for saving me!”

Nobody replied right away, as if she had said something awkward. Did she make a faux-pas already? She had known people from the Blue Sea, but maybe they had a different culture. She sure as heck had never met anybody who dressed like them. Or… had a stitched mouth… but she didn’t stare, because that would surely have been rude. Maybe he had been in an accident. Maybe it was a fashion? She wanted to learn about those too. There wasn’t a lot of variety in her little island.

“How did you do that?” The redhead asked. He had a pair of goggles, too, and Veleta recognized in him a fellow stickler for safety measures. The rest of the men had been eyeing him when they weren’t staring at Veleta, so she assumed he was their leader.

“Do what?”

“Drop in the middle of the ocean!”

“Oh, of course! My parachute failed,” she said, lifting a little the tarp. It was a bit cramped inside the net, between it, the waver, her bag and herself, but she was chipper nonetheless. “I thought I was done for!”

“What are you on about?” He replied, sounding increasingly irritated. “We’re at open sea, you have to have fallen from somewhere!”

“Oooh, right! Sorry, I didn’t explain myself very well, did I?” She laughed at her own silliness. “I come from an island in the White-White Sea!”

There was another awkward silence as their confusion grew. Veleta’s smile didn’t waver.

“The White-White Sea?” The man in the mask repeated.

“Yeah! You know, where the sky islands are?” There were no signs of recognition in their faces. “People in the Blue Sea know there are islands above… right?”

A gloomy looking man wearing a hood with cute ears, conceding her point, telling the others, “She has wings.”

“I thought they were an accessory,” said the one with the stitched mouth.

“What? No! I can move them, see?” She did so as she pointed at her back.

The redhead didn’t look convinced. “Then why didn’t you fly down instead of freefalling?”

“I didn’t mean to! The parachute was supposed to work!” She was very surprised that these people were being so skeptical. “And I can’t fly! Nobody can, that’s scientifically impossible.”

The captain looked at her with a mix of disdain and disbelief and told the men, “I can’t be assed with this. Kick her off, skin her alive, do whatever you want.”

He began to walk towards the throat of the gaping fish mouth, and Veleta eyed warily the two men that approached her, but she relaxed when they only let her out of the net.

“Oh, thank you so, so much!” She said again, this time bowing properly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness!”

Veleta didn’t know why that was, but they looked mighty uncomfortable every time she thanked them. It had to be a cultural thing. Something to investigate. Maybe she needed to be more subtle? Some people were easily embarrassed by open gratitude.

Well, no matter, they seemed friendly people, even if their captain was a little grouchy. And he had a right to be, Veleta was intruding in their ship, after all. She pulled her waver upright and tested the wood to make sure it wasn’t broken. The sooner she could stop bothering them, the better.

She was gathering the tarp and ropes and shoving them at the back of the waver when the masked man said, “I’ve never seen that type of vehicle.”

Veleta was very glad to break the silence and even more to explain how her vehicle worked. “It’s a waver! We use them to sail in the sea clouds.” She twisted the handle a little so they could see the wind blowing out of the exhaust. The waver escaped her grasp for a second, but she caught it before it could launch itself towards one of her saviors. “They’re very practical, but it takes a lot of time to learn to ride one.”

Apparently, the captain hadn’t gone very far yet, because that caught his attention and he walked a few steps towards the group just to say, “Doesn’t look like you’re any good at it.”

Veleta laughed. “That’s a good one!” She had made an impressive entrance from their point of view, she realized. And she could see the gleam of curiosity in his eyes, even if he wasn’t saying anything. “But they aren’t made to fly!”

He didn’t look very happy with her response. “How’s it work? I don’t see an engine.”

“Aha!” Her eyes lit up. This was her favorite part each time she met explorers from the Blue Sea. “Here’s the trick!” She crouched behind the waver and fiddled with something inside the exhaust pipe until a piece came loose. She took out the dial that powered it and showed it to the crew. “It’s a breath dial!” She pushed the top, and it expelled a gust of wind strong enough in the captain’s face to make him take a step back. She offered it up for examination. “It’s really easy to use.”

He took the dial as his men watched him test it a few times with interest. “Not bad,” he said.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” mumbled the man with the stitched mouth.

“Cool, isn’t it?” Veleta said with a grin, and she extended her hands towards the redhead to take the dial back.

The man looked at the dial, then at Veleta with a grin that could have mirrored her own if she looked like she was about to snap someone’s neck every time she smiled, which she did not. “I’ll take this as repayment.”

“Eh?” She uttered in confusion, which gave way to panic when she realized he wasn’t giving it back and he was walking away again. “EEEH?!”

“Toss her out!” He barked without looking back, motioning at the sea with a hand.

The rest of the crew didn’t waste a moment to drop the waver back in the water, grab Veleta from under her arms and launch her onto her little vessel.

“Wait!” She yelled. “I need that dial to sail! You can’t leave me here!”

But the men had stopped paying attention to her the moment they flung her away. The strange ship that had rescued her unceremoniously sailed past her, dangerously rocking her waver and abandoning her to her luck in the middle of an unknown sea.

[osleyakomwonkru]

The Octavia Blake Guide to Surviving Lockdown (and What Comes Next)

So it’s been six weeks in isolation. I think? Time has long since become irrelevant. The world is stressed. I’m stressed. Not so much about the coronavirus itself, but everything else surrounding the situation. The isolation. The uncertainty. Society losing its shit. What the world will look like when it is all over, because everything will change whether we want it to or not.

You know, all that fun stuff our favourite characters on The 100 deal with each episode.

Which brings me to this post. What Would Octavia Blake Do?

I mean, she’s got the experience. Sixteen years of isolation in a single room, followed by a year of isolation in another room, then about six months on the ground, followed by six years locked under the ground... she knows better than anyone how to survive these sorts of trying times.

So here we have it - famous Octavia quotes and how to apply them to our current situation. Mostly serious, part irreverent, all of it a homage to the fact that stories matter and can help us figure out how to deal with this messy thing called life.

“A warrior doesn’t worry about what she can’t control.”

This is a mantra I repeat to myself many times a day. Sometimes I believe it. It’s hard. But it really is the only way to keep yourself sane these days. The world has turned upside down, but you can’t control it. You can only control yourself.

I can’t control that 75% of my income earning potential vanished overnight. I can control how I budget the remaining 25%, credit cards and looking into new income streams.

I can’t control that I’m stuck in a country I was supposed to leave this week for however long this continues to go on. I can try and learn to love it again, because we’re going to be spending more time together.

So what else can I do to keep myself healthy and sane? Let’s look at what Octavia does.

Train. One of the first things I started doing as soon as the lockdown started in mid-March was set up an exercise plan. Now, I don’t typically “exercise” in my normal life. I just walk everywhere I need to go and call that good enough. But now that I’m not really doing that, I have to find a way to do so indoors. I started out with three half-hour Zumba sessions per day, and now I’ve worked my way into more specific and targeted workout sessions. YouTube is a godsend. Every type of exercise you could think of, in any time length you want, you can find there. I’m doing abs, arms, more squats than I’ve ever done in my life, kickboxing, etc.

Read. See all those books on your shelves collecting dust? Yeah, read them now. I haven’t been following this advice as much as I should, but I’m making an effort to get better. I have so many unread books and I really should read them. If you’re one of those strange people who don’t have unread books, embrace the opportunities that sites like Project Gutenberg provide and read all the classics online for free. Octavia loves the classics.

Eat healthy. I hadn’t eaten at home for six months before this all started, so I had to refill my pantry and remember how to cook. Keeping your body healthy is important. Get your fruits and vegetables. Also ensure a protein source. Don’t go full on prepper, don’t hoard, but if shit hits the fan and you want to avoid the Dark Year happening in real life, make sure you have a few jars of peanut butter and/or a few packs of beef jerky stashed away for a rainy day. Your neighbours will thank you.

“Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.” (Get knocked down, get back up)

At the beginning of this year, no one could have predicted what the state of the world is right now. People made plans. People started putting their plans into action.

Enter coronavirus.

Everything changes.

I actually had a plan for this year. I was going to leave here this week, go back to Canada for six months, then move to Spain. Well... I don’t know what’s going to happen now. And because of the uncertainty, I can’t know. This has made me so mad, because for the first time in years I had a strategy for the changes I wanted to make in my life, and now they’d all been shot to sunshine.

Some days you have to just scream. (Or cry and spend the day eating quesadillas in a blanket fort. True story.) But then after that happens, you have to brush yourself off, get up again and keep going.

Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.

I’m not making any plans further than today. I know that’s an exercise in futility right now. All I can do is focus on what I can control (see above point) and continue to focus on that and what I can do for myself until there are things that I can do in the world again.

Moral of the story: Yes, there are going to be shitty days. You’ve probably already had a bunch of them. But you have to pick yourself up again and keep going when they’re over. You might feel like you want to give up. Heaven knows Octavia’s felt like that a lot of times. But she still kept going. If she stubbornly fought through a cliff dive with a stab wound and a quicksand pool of Orbeez, we can handle some uncertainty and delayed life plans.

“The sword doesn’t care what you meant, it just cuts.”

Time to step onto a soapbox for a bit.

Some world leaders and governments have done admirably with dealing with this crisis. Some have done okay. Some have done so fucking awful at their jobs and continue to spout nonsense from their podiums that it is going to cause real people to die. (Not naming any names, but I’m sure you know what I mean.)

Octavia is the only character on this show who understands that when you’re in a tough situation, what your intentions are doesn’t matter, it is only the results that do. This is applicable to our situation today in a twofold manner.

Point One: We can only control our own actions. That means being a responsible citizen, following public health guidelines. Stay home. If you have to go out, practice social distancing and any other recommendations set out by your public health authority. You might say you’re young and healthy, you’re not concerned about if you get the virus, but it is not about you. You could be asymptomatic and not know it. You might not mean to get someone else sick - someone who is more vulnerable - but it could still happen if you don’t behave responsibly. So take ownership of your actions and do what you can to minimize the spread.

Which brings us to Point Two: You can’t control other’s actions, but you can hold them accountable for them. Which in this situation mostly means your country’s leaders. Do not forget how they responded to this crisis. Remember. Remember when it is time to vote. Did they do a good job or did they do a bad job? How many people lived or died because of what they said? Did they follow the advice of medical experts? And so on. This isn’t a time for party politics, this is a time for “can we rely on this leader to do what’s right for the people of this country when we’re in a crisis?” If the answer is no, vote for somebody else.

The same applies to non-governmental leaders - leaders of business and charities and everything else that you can think of. Remember who stepped up and helped people when and how they needed it. Remember who didn’t. Remember who actively made lives worse. Budget your money accordingly.

“Kom folau oso na gyon op.” (From the ashes we will rise)

This will pass.

When, we don’t know. How, we don’t know. But all we can do is work on ourselves and make ourselves as strong as we can for whatever the future brings us. 

Some people are optimists, believing that this will usher in a new world where more people understand the challenges that others have always faced with things like mental health or physical disabilities and issues of accessibility and so on. Where more people will be aware of the dangers of climate change. Where people who are now coming together online and building hope and change will continue to do so in person when we can leave our homes and meet up with others again.

Some people are pessimists, believing the world will collapse and we’ll enter into a post-apocalyptic scenario like The 100 or any of the other dozens of post-apocalyptic media offerings out there. Where it’ll be every person for themselves and panic and destruction will reign supreme.

You don’t have to speculate on the different scenarios. That’s not helpful right now. All you can do is work on yourself and make yourself ready for whatever the future will throw at us, and do your part in making a positive one.

This could be the point of lockdown where you’re starting to move out of the panic phase of ensuring survival, and are able to move into higher-level brain function again. If you’re not, that’s okay, it could still take some time. If you’re struggling, don’t be afraid to ask for help. There are people out there who can help. Just remember that this is a process, a process of so many different emotions, sometimes on a loop, sometimes all at once in a flurry of chaos, and that’s okay.

Take care of yourself. Survive. Find a new normal.

Octavia’s journey in season six was about shedding the pain and trauma of her old life, and finding a new one to believe in. Until she did that, she didn’t have to worry about the greater plot nonsense that was going on. That’s our journey now too. The world is changing. How, we don’t know yet. But take this time to make yourself strong for whatever is to come, because whichever scenario wins out, a strong you will always be beneficial.

Ste yuj. (Stay strong.) Because humanity is resilient. And from the ashes, we will rise.

[takeiteasypeasybaby]

Save Me: Chapter 30 - Resolution

~Hey guys! Chapter 30 is out now :) Molly takes a break from Alexandria in order to become a better person and live her life free from Negan’s hold...I hope y’all are having a good week <3 I can’t believe i’ve published thirty chapters of Save Me!! I couldn't have done this without all of your support, love you all <3~

There was change in the air at Alexandria, but for Molly things would only feel different once she began a new life, far away from Negan.

Negan's POV//

I had stayed in the Doc's office for about a week until the cell was made, then I was transported there.

It must have been an old basement because I only had a small window to look out of and when you did, you were at grass level.

I couldn't see Molly's house, the pricks made sure of that.

Two weeks passed and she never came, I doubted she ever would, I just hoped she was safe.

All I did from morning till night was sit there on my bed which had a thin mattress or look out of the window and listen in on people's conversations.

I hated not doing anything or talking to anyone, it was driving me crazy.

But that was the point I guessed, they wanted to break me like I had tried to do to them.

One morning the door swung open and Rick came to stand in front of the bars, he wanted to have a chat.

We had those weekly.

'It was a hard day. Hardest we've had in a while. A man lost his arm and the project is behind schedule' he said as he pulled up a chair to sit down.

I sat in the darkness and watched him.

'People were at each other's throats. Thing is though, as bad as it was, when the day was done they came together' he said confidently.

He meant my Saviours and his people.

'Not all of them, but enough' he continued.

At least some were still loyal to me. They were waiting for me to rise again, which I would.

'They chose to be together, you see what I'm getting at? No matter what happens, it's human nature to come together. That's just what we do' Rick said sternly.

I just smiled in disbelief.

'That's a real pretty picture you paint there Rick. When do I get to see it?' I asked hoarsely.

'Never. You can die behind these bars, you know that' he said slowly.

I scoffed and said 'well then, don't I get some final request? Why don't you bring Molly to me?'.

'Don't you get tired of acting like you're still in charge?!' Rick asked chuckling to himself.

I scowled when I knew he would never let me see her.

'Do you?' I asked provokingly.

'You think that just because they all had a little wienie roast that you got all this on lock? When it finally goes to shit and it will, make sure you come back and you tell me all about that day too' I spat at him.

'We're thriving without you, Molly is thriving without you. We're building a future just like I said we would' he said now standing up and coming close to the bars.

I had gotten under his skin, but unlike before, he knew he was getting under mine by mentioning Molly.

'Building it for who? For Carl?' I retorted teasingly.

'You don't speak his name' he growled.

'Your family's gone Rick. Same as mine. That bridge you're buildin, it's not the future. It's a monument to the dead' I said as I stood slowly and walked towards the bars.

'You're not saving the world Rick, you're just getting it ready for me' I added, smiling at him.

He was terrified when I said that, he was doubting himself already.

Soon he would fall and I would be leader again, then I could get Molly back.

I smiled at the thought as Rick walked away.

Molly's POV//

It was beautiful.

Tara was coming home soon and then I would have to give her my answer but looking around, I saw people connecting and working together.

Building work in Alexandria had started as the clean up was finished.

I saw Rick's plans, they were perfect. It was gonna be a goddamn paradise.

Just what Carl had envisioned, fields of crops and vegetables, a church, windmill, hydroelectricity from the lake.

We were finally bringing civilisation back.

Many Saviours like Laura and Diane were on board, joking and laughing with the others.

It was nice to see people setting aside their differences, trust was still along way off but now at least we had a common goal.

I oversaw the crop plantation and food supply.

I had experience of that stuff and the Saviours working for me liked that I was once one of them, or so they thought.

Sometimes it felt like I was the one bridging the gap, whenever a Saviour had an issue they would come to me because I knew them on a personal level.

They understood that I wasn't Negan and never would be, but I guess I gave them comfort during this period of fragile change.

I loved it here, it felt good to have a leadership role again, like I'd had at the Sanctuary but without the darkness and brutality.

Some days I completely forgot that Negan was here, especially when I was busy.

It was only when things seemed to slow down or stop that I felt him nearby.

It was like he was watching me, from that tiny window.

I never looked in that direction but I felt it.

That was why I needed to leave, even for just a while.

I needed to break that bond because it still felt like we were tied to one another with string and it would only snap if one of us made it so.

I had decided.

I marched with determination to the cell where he was, fully knowing that I wasn't ready but emotion got the better of me and I needed to know.

I made sure to sneak past the guards during their shift change and I pulled open the door and walked inside.

I had never seen the cell before but it looked like hell.

It was dark and stifling with very little breeze.

I hadn't seen Negan since the throat slash and I knew it would be almost impossible to talk to him but there would be no conversation, just one question.

I stood strong with a confident stance as I strode towards the bars, seeing his shadow grow larger as he came closer, when finally he was illuminated by a streak of light from the window.

I physically restrained myself from audibly gasping at seeing his face, instead we just stared into each others eyes.

He spoke first, like he always did.

'Rick told me that you're doing well. I'm glad' he said almost smiling.

I cut straight through this.

'Cut the crap. You're gonna answer one question then we're done, is that clear?' I said sternly as I folded my arms.

He just stared at me, with more hurt in his eyes than before.

'After everything you owe me at least that...' I said, trying to prevent my voice from cracking through the pain.

He now knew exactly what was running through my mind, he knew my question and it's answer.

'Ask me' he whispered as he looked down to the ground and placed his hands in his pockets.

I exhaled, my eyes started to well up and I bit my lip to stop from trembling.

'Was any of it real or were you just using me to get to Rick?' I asked hesitantly.

He paused for a moment, his face freezing, leaving just his eyes tracing parts of the concrete floor.

He inhaled, gathering his composure and looked straight into my eyes and said calmly, 'no...you we're just a means to an end. I need you to fall in love with me so I could use you as leverage'.

My eyes didn't stray from his as he spoke these words to me, I was paralysed with heartache as I felt my tears cease rising.

I nodded as I moved closer to the bars and replied coldly, 'thank you'.

I turned on my heels and darted for the door, he didn't try to stop me.

I swung the door open so that it hit against the wall and stormed out.

It was only once I was out of the cell and I walked back up the stairs that I let myself feel.

All my emotions came flooding in at once, overwhelming me.

I struggled to breathe as I gasped through screams of tears.

Of course some looked at me as I stormed to my house, with one hand covering my mouth and the other placed on my stomach to control my breathing, I didn't care.

I just needed to get away from him.

He never loved me. He never loved me. He never loved me.

Negan's POV//

'Fuck!' I whispered as I gripped the bars and pressed my forehead against them in frustration.

I had to let her go, she needed to live without me.

She hated me and I loved her more than ever.

She looked so beautiful, she was glowing.

If there was any time where she would be the light in my life, it was now.

I needed her more than ever but she was no longer in my reach.

I sat back down onto my bed and held my head in my hands.

The door swung violently open as Michonne walked in.

'Well look who it is' I said sarcastically.

'What did you say to her?' she said sternly as she folded her arms.

I sighed, saying 'ah you see, that's none of your concern'.

She moved closer to the bars.

'Molly's well-being is my concern. You need to let her go, she can't be happy if you're around' she said.

'I agree, that's what i'm trying to do. But quit bullshitting me, you're not gonna kill me' I said smirking.

'You're right i'm not, even though Molly would be better off. But, she would never forgive me, so for now, you live' she said smiling sarcastically as she was about to walk out the door.

She turned around slowly and said, 'If you care about her at all, leave her be'.

'That's why I'm doing this Michonne, I want her to be happy. But, she'll have to hear what I have to say eventually' I replied as she walked away.

I heard her stop before she walked outside, she must have been contemplating what I told her.

Molly's POV//

As soon as I got to my house, I ran upstairs and curled into a ball on my bedroom floor and just sobbed for hours.

Everything that I had risked, that I had lost for that man.

I hated him, but never more so than I hated myself.

At least when I thought that he loved me, there was a purpose but now there was nothing.

Nothing left here for me anymore. I had decided.

I waited at the gates for Tara to return.

All day I thought about my decision and whether it was right, but I knew in my heart that I had to.

All of sudden, from my binoculars I saw Tara approaching, followed by a large group of women.

I smiled when I saw her, they must have been from Oceanside.

'Open the gates!' I shouted down to Daryl who nodded and slid them open.

In came Tara and I climbed down the steps and pulled her in for a hug.

'God I've missed you!' I said chuckling as we embraced.

The women all came inside the compound and stood around admiring the place.

'Molly, I'd like you to meet the people of Oceanside. They've agreed to help us' Tara said as she ushered to the women.

Suddenly a young woman emerged from the group and marched towards me and Tara.

'Hi, I'm Cindy, the leader' she said as we shook hands.

'Thank you so much for being a part of this' I said as we smiled at each other.

Tara whispered to me that she was a nice person.

Tara kept her eyes firmly on Cindy's so I knew something was going on between them.

'Please, follow me. I would like to introduce you all to our leader, Rick Grimes' I said as I pointed over to Rick.

Rick was about to leave for the bridge repairs (the bridge was vital for connecting Hilltop to Alexandria for a faster route).

They followed me and Tara over to Rick.

Cindy looked at me, puzzled and said 'I thought you were the leader?'.

I chuckled, saying 'oh, no. I never could be'.

She just said 'hm' while she frowned in disappointment.

Rick had shown them around Alexandria, the plans for the future of the place, the function of uniting the communities and how Oceanside would contribute and also gain from this.

They were in agreement and seemed excited about the prospect of greater security and prospects.

They had promised to stay and help build the bridge but would return to Oceanside afterwards.

Many were opposed to working with the Saviours after what they did to their brothers and husbands but tried their best to all come together.

Meanwhile, I pulled Tara to one side and told her my decision.

'I've made up my mind' I said smiling at her.

'So...' she said slowly.

'I'm going to Hilltop for a couple years. I'll help with their agricultural development and then I'll come back to Alexandria' I said as she squealed and pulled me in to a tight squeeze.

'Okay, okay, cutting off my circulation now' I said breathlessly.

She just chuckled and said 'it's best, I hope you know that'.

I just nodded and smiled.

'But are you sure you wanna go today and leave Cindy all alone?' I said teasingly as we walked to the gates.

She stopped me with a hand on my arm and said 'what d'ya mean?'.

'Oh cut the crap, I see everything that goes on, alright. Especially with you. You like her!' I said smiling smugly.

She sighed and chuckled, saying 'yeah, okay fine...she said she'll come to Hilltop to see me!'.

'Ooooo' I said mockingly.

'Shut up' she said with faux annoyance and pushed my arm.

'You got everything?' she said as she climbed into the car.

I looked behind me one last time, mainly at the cell.

'Yeah, yeah there's nothing I've left' I said slowly and sadly.

I climbed into the front seat and then we were off.

'See ya in a couple years Alexandria!' Tara said enthusiastically as we put on our shades.

I wore my old black ray bans and Tara wearing her ridiculous orange ones and pulled away from the gates.

[waltrp]

YOUR TALENT MAKES YOU WHO YOU ARE. YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF IT

BIDDI BOPPI BOOP A SPECIAL MESSAGE ADMIN ZULEMA: this is truly the season of returning members and we’re thriving lads ! Jill, I am so happy to welcome you back to walt. your app for Tiffani was brilliant. you have so much passion and love for this character. I know she’s in good hands and that you’ll bring so much to her. I’m excited about what you’ll bring to the dash with this feisty pixie ! Please refer to THIS PAGE for your next tasks. We can’t wait to roleplay with you. Welcome to our Ohana xx.

It’s a pleasure to meet you…

Jill, 30, eastern, she/her :)

My favorite fruit is raspberries

I love swords

I know more than I ever wanted to about Shakespeare’s history plays

No triggers!

Are you positive you can be active?

Yes, I’d been planning a return to rp to give me something to do during my day job once I was done with this season’s rep shows… and then covid happened…

How did you stumble upon Walt?

Walt was the first post that came up when I typed “Disney rp” in the tumblr search so I took it as a sign

Did you read the rules?

Yup!

Are you sure?

rfp

Character you want?

Tiffani Belle

Please describe the character for us

Baseball caps and glitter. Those were the words to describe Tiffani Belle as she was growing up. Born to a well-off family, Tiffani was the only girl her age growing up in her neighborhood. The boys all gave her the nickname Tink, because she was the tiniest of their playdate crew. The tiny blonde swelled with pride, and quickly had every single one of them wrapped around her little finger. She could get down and dirty with the rest of them, but she knew that being a girl made her special. She spent her childhood days fixing her friends’ bicycles, collecting grass stains on her clothes, and convincing all the boys that because they were friends, she should be their first kiss. (Somewhere in her childhood bedroom, she still has the contract they drafted on that day in first grade when the boys lined up to peck their lips against Tiffani’s.)

Tiffani took to the role of leader quickly. It wasn’t necessarily a control thing, but Tiffani liked to be in charge, and she really liked for things to go her way. She was headstrong from childhood onward, more than willing to use her leadership skills and stubbornness to fight for what she believed in – whether that be later bedtimes with mom and dad, or returning tater tots to the elementary school lunch menu. They were a kid favorite, potatoes were good for you and ketchup was technically a vegetable, and they deserved to be eaten!

Getting to high school wasn’t much different for Tink. Now she was a little fish in a big pond, but being small had never held Tink back before. Tiffani made sure to make her name known early on in her high school year. As the weather was getting warmer, Tink stood on top of the cafeteria table, white tennis shoes squeaking against the plastic table top, mini skirt almost dangerously short from that angle, and demanded students be allowed to eat their lunches outside. They had gorgeous weather half the school year, it was their right to be able to enjoy the outdoors, and their medical need to soak up the Vitamin D. Administration caved, and Tink was class president for two years after that.

But the older she got, the lonelier Tink became at the top. The girls all wanted to be her, and the boys all wanted to date her. Well, the ones that mattered anyway. But as the years went by, the more Tink became a leader and the boss, and the less she had any actual friends.

Fairy wings and pixie dust. That was when everything started to change. Puberty for Tiffani had started on the early side. She took it in stride, loving to be first in everything. She was the first in her grade with boobs (small as they may have been at the time) and she flaunted her period to her classmates because they were still girls but now she was a woman. What Tink wasn’t prepared for was the pain that started in her shoulders one evening. She’d spent the day with some of the boys switching between doing pushups and sitting on top of them while they did pushups. Tink loved to show them up whenever she can, reminding them that just because she was small and a girl didn’t mean that she couldn’t do just as many reps as they could. So she’d thought nothing of the pain, writing it off as having pushed her body a bit too far that day. But the pain didn’t dissipate, and it was a few days later that she saw them: iridescent wings starting to poke from her shoulder blades. The oddities multiplied from there. Tink didn’t know anything about what was happening (she knew how to use the internet, she’d figure some things out), but she knew that she couldn’t tell anyone. Not if she was going to stay on top. So the top became even lonelier.

Meeting Pippin Pan changed everything. He transferred to her school, and Tink saw something in him. Saw that he was a leader and an adventurer like herself, and to top it off, Pippin wasn’t immediately intimidated by her. In fact, she was sure that he saw an equal in Tink just as she saw him as an equal to her. The two became attached at the hip, a couple of teenagers at the top, and Tiffani would do anything for Pippin. Anything. He was the first person she told about her abilities, and he was the first person Tiffani had any real romantic feelings for. He made her heart race, and she was ready to see what was on the opposite end of their friendship.

Turns out the only thing there was disappointment. When the Darlings came to town, Pippin became fascinated with them. So naturally Tink hated them. She hated Wendy, she hated Jane, she hated that Pippin wanted anything to do with them at all, and she hated that she still needed Pippin as her best friend and her right hand. She hated that she’d shared her secrets and her heart with him, and he dared to care about anyone other than her. Green had always been a good color for Tiffani, it really brought out her eyes, but jealousy consumed the girl and their relationship never truly recovered.

Soon after she met Hook, and Tink was no longer concerned with friendship or Pippin or being a leader. What had leadership gotten her? After all these years? No, true leadership would come later. Tiffani Belle would take the world by storm one day, but Hook new about revenge. Hook stirred a darkness within her, growing out of that jealousy, his silver tongue and clever words working their way into Tink’s heart and mind. He could help her get Pippin back, and everything would go back to normal. But the blonde might’ve been in too deep. She connected with Hook in a way she’d never connected with anyone before, told him all of her secrets, gave him all of herself; he listened, was a comforting presence, and give Tink the push she needed to make sure stupid Wendy Darling was out of the way and Pippin would be hers again.

But the prank went too far, the Darlings wound up in the hospital, and something about that night opened Tiffani’s eyes. She was alone again, but that old spark – the one that was there before boys and feelings became involved – was ignited once more. Of course, everything had changed. She could never go back to the girl she was, not if she stayed. She told her parents everything, her entire side of the story, and even she couldn’t bring herself to argue when the decided to ship her off to Walt.

Second character choice

n/a (but I may also have plans for Honey Lemon and the return of one Rita Holden)

It’s time to see that sample para.

cw: pixie dust related flying/broken bones accident

Perfect. Everything was perfect. And then those stupid Darling children came along and ruined it.

What did Wendy Darling have that Tiffani didn’t? Tink had power, popularity, imperfection. Tink had magic: she could fly, she could shrink, her pixie dust could make Pippin fly too. But perfect little birdy Wendy Darling came along and none of that mattered anymore. She didn’t matter anymore.

Well fuck them. Tink had found a new companion and new friendship in James Hook. With him she didn’t need to be a leader anymore. She could follow and learn and love him instead. Not real love, of course. Real love was bullshit that got her nothing and nowhere. When she was eventually back on top again, with the Darlings out of the way, love would be an emotion she would let nowhere near her tiny body. The wasn’t room anymore for love. Just like there wasn’t room for the Darlings.

It had been Hook’s idea, but Tiffani had latched on to his scheme, and now the time had come. He’d been able to get close to the Darlings in a way that Tink had been loath to do. She admired him for that, for his ability to hide that side of him in order to move forward with revenge. I would be harmless enough, just a simple scare to put the darling Wendy bird in her place. She wasn’t god’s gift to mankind, yet somehow she’d made Pippin think she was.

Digging through her closet, Tinkerbell pulled out the bit of pixie dust she’d been saving. She’d only ever used this on two other people before: Pippin and then Hook; but now she’d secretly use it on the Darlings, too.

She met up with Hook on the edge of town. The Darlings would be meeting him soon, then Tink would take care of the magic, and he would take care of the rest. Before she shrunk to fairy size, Hook’s hands pulled the tiny blonde in to him for a kiss, rough and raw and fiery and full of passion, striking the heat in Tink’s body that rose every time he did that. Who needed love and romance when there were people like hook who were so sexy and free of attachment?

Hidden from view, when the Darlings arrived and Hook started sewing his side of the plan, Tiffani silently sprinkled her pixie dust on their shoulders.

—What? —No—Hook wasn’t supposed to tell them how it worked. They were supposed to be shocked when they suddenly found themselves flying. A shock that would turn their lives around the way Tink’s wings had turned around hers.

Rage flared in Tink’s tiny fairy body, and she flittered toward Hook at a moment when the Darlings had turned away, but he flicked her away with a wave of his hand, and Tiffani darted to the ground as she tried to regain control of her wings. Too late she did, and she skid along the ground, crossing her arms in anger and disbelief. But she couldn’t revel in those feelings for too long, because then Hook was leading them away, and Tiffani would be damned if she let herself get left behind, now that Hook had screwed everything up. He was just like Pippin, dumping her for Wendy, and using her magic to garner Wendy’s praises.

She doesn’t like to think too often about the in between; about the events that lead to what happened next. But suddenly the Darlings were flying. Except they weren’t flying, they were falling. Falling from too many stories high. That wasn’t right, Tink’s pixie dust was fail proof. Perhaps it had worn off? She may have hated Wendy Darling, but she wasn’t in the murder business. Another sprinkling would do the trick. Reaching into her pocket, Tiffani withdrew her bag of pixie dust.

Pixie dust that wasn’t pixie dust.

Too late she realized that Hook had switched the bag, pulled her in for a kiss, wrapped his arms around her waist, and replaced her precious pixie dust (which was very much a part of her) with something else. And she could only stare in horror as the first bone cracked.

Anything else, love?

~

Yup!

[magicmagikarp]

Fragments of the Past: the Interview

tw: death, torture, amputation, just bad stuff i guess. --

Michael ⦁  מִיכָאֵל (Mikha'el)

meaning “Who is like God?”. This is a rhetorical question, implying no person is like God. Regarded as one of the archangels, he is portrayed as the leader of heaven’s armies in war and is thus considered the patron saint of soldiers within religion.

How fitting of a name for a man who achieved immortality just like a selected few before him. It is ironic that such an unworthy person of infinite life is blessed with such exemption from being mortal, but the universe is a funny creature as she blesses those deemed unworthy. Michael would say that this is a curse rather than a blessing, but who cares what a lowly fool thinks?

--

Dark brown eyes that were as dark as the night sky stared lazily at the shapes before him. How many days has it been? He could not remember, the time has slipped away from him and he could not tell if it was morning or night. Yet, it did not matter to him anymore as he has given up on keeping his sanity.

With a lick of the lips, his eyes looked over at the camera that was propped up over them. Ah, so they were going to record him this time just like the last. What did they think they will accomplish this time that they have not already seen or done?

Michael cast his gaze down at the doctor before him, dressed in white robes and wore a light blue shirt. He was beginning to hate the color blue.

DR. ████ : How are you feeling today Michael?

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : [ no response ]

DR. ████ : [clearing of throat ] Ah I see. Well, will you mind telling me what you remember on [ DATA RESTRICTED ]

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : Was I not detailed enough in my report, doctor?

DR. ████ : Yes, but that does not answer the question.

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : I was stationed at [ DATA RESTRICTED ] to find and locate [ DATA RESTRICTED ]. It took less than a week to locate and things were going as planned. The mission was complete within two weeks, but there were complications.

Michael exhaled as the ringing in his ears slowly faded and he could finally relax. His job was always like this, waiting for an opportunity to strike and to take it the second it showed up. He had done this countless of times, but he was still a rookie in comparison to the other members of the squadron. This was one of the few missions that he went solo. His partner, Tango Hotel, was completing another mission that would take a few months.

Shifting onto his knees, the young marksman quickly collected his equipment. Best to leave as soon as possible before anyone figures out that his target is dead and search the area to find the matching gun to the bullet.

Tch.

Michael clicked the back of his teeth as he adjusted his jacket and was hoisting his rifle over his shoulde-The sound of the door opening and the thundering sound of shoes against the floor filled the room. His instincts told him to react, grabbing the knife he kept on his person to try and defend himself, but he was quickly overtaken with the number of men he was up against. Michael found himself face-first against the dirtied floor beneath him and his body being restricted from moving.

“My my, what do we have here? A little rat in our territory, well I guess I should thank you for killing that guy for us, he was a real dick. But he was one of our own, so I can’t exactly let you go scot-free.”

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : I was taken prisoner. Interrogated and tortured for an unknown amount of time. 

DR. ████ : You say this so calmly.

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : [ no response ]

DR. ████ : Sorry, please continue.

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : [ no response ]

DR. ████ : I mean, please elaborate? 

Michael blinked once as he stared at the doctor in silence. It was obvious that they wanted to see how traumatized he was of his experience. Standard therapies did not work before due to his short and direct speech. It seems that they were coming with a different approach, and by the way the doctor was sitting...she was uncomfortable.

“Were the videos not sufficient?” Michael questioned as he watched the doctor’s eyebrows raise. Ah, so she did not know of the videos. How unfortunate. And here he thought they gave all the files to the interrogators therapists. Guess they left out the videos they sent to Giovanni in hopes of pressuring the Boss to save such a high valued operative. Ha. What fools.

“Michael, please...elaborate.”

Michael’s head and eyes glanced up towards the camera sitting in the corner. How long were they going to treat him as some lab rat? Pretending like he was some sick patient when all the did was see how far from human he was at this point. He closed his eyes as he let out a sigh. Eyes returned to the doctor with that same bored expression. This was a waste of his time.

His arms and legs were shaking out of fear as he was dragged up to the table. This was a familiar scene that was replayed every day thus far. And the trembling of his chest and breathing were doing nothing to calm his nerves as he was struggling to breathe. All his life he had not known fear, perhaps this was what it felt like. Certainly, the way he was breathing and the noises he was making were of those who had been caught betraying Rocket. So was this fear? Was he fearful of what was to come?

“How cute, the bitch is shaking. Don’t worry, it’ll be over before you know it. Just like it was yesterday.”

That voice again and that face. Michael pressed his lips together as his teeth chattered. Fuck. He refused to make a noise. He would not give them that satisfaction of showing them any more weakness than he was already displaying. Not when his face was forced to look forward. Not when he saw that rusted blade that was lining up just below his knuckle. Not when he could feel tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Shhh, take it like a man why don’t you.”

Michael wanted to close his eyes, but he knew the consequences if he did. He struggled to keep them open as his vision was blurred. He bit his lip and drew blood as the pain in his fingers and hand were amplified once again. The sound of a blood curtailing scream was so unfamiliar he didn’t realize that it was his own.

Michael watched as the doctor listened to his answer. Even when he used very few words, he could tell that she did not believe any of them. To say that he had lost his hands up to his forearms by amputation did not seem plausible when she could clearly see his hands were still attached to him.

Yet he could see the strain in her eyes. There was no doubt that she noticed the scars the littered his knuckles. How they appeared like rings and lined up perfectly to where he said they chopped them off. It was making her head spin just like his was already, unfortunately for Michael, he was stuck with it forever.

DR. ████ : Uh huh [ pause ] Right. So they just took off a knuckle [ pause ] twice a day.

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : [ no response ]

DR. ████ : Michael?

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : Correct

DR. ████ : Was there [ pause ] anything else?

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : A brand, a cut on my lip, and my eyes were gauged out before I was shot a few times in the chest.

His answer was short and sweet, like the other times. Michael knew that she thought he was insane with the way she shifted and stared at him. All the interrogates doctors were like this. Doubting his words, not that he could blame them.

“Okay...and how did you um...survive...”

And there was the question that everyone was asking. What he has repeated over and over again not only in his reports but also vocally countless of times. How many videos have they recorded him saying the same thing? Michael could not tell, but he knew that the Rockets were not the sanest people in the world.

“I don’t know,” Michael started, “I woke up to a city in shambles and my six gyarados demolishing everything in sight.”

He woke up to the sound of gyarados howls and roars. The scent of death and destruction lingered in the air. All he could do was push his body up off the ground. The rubble beneath him pressed into his skin and his body ached from having fallen asleep on the ground. The first thing he noticed was the dried blood that was beneath him and that he had his hands back.

Michael looked down at his hands with haze. From his dream he had lost them so brutally, same with his eyesight. He formed his fingers into fists before extending them again. A hand would be pressed to his chest as he felt three small divots in his chest, where he had been shot in the chest.

Eyes widened as he took in a deep breath and looked around. He was alive. And in the middle of a destroyed city. All around him, buildings were on fire and there was a deafening silence, well aside from all the broken water pipes and damaged electrical system. Michael could only fall to his knees as he took in the sight before him.

The sky was dark with storms and the shadows of six large gyarados soaring through the sky were daunting. A shiver ran down his spine as he slowly saw the patches of grass and vegetation slowly forming over the stone. It seemed almost unnatural as the terrain lacked anything that could hold life...

No.

His eyes stared at the bodies that were near him. He saw how plants were coming out of their bodies, as if they were a breeding grown for nature to thrive. It was a haunting discovery, to see corpses littering the abandoned city and to slowly turn into a tiny forest. Michael turned his head every which way as his eyes caught a four legged creature disappearing into the distance.

DR. ████ : And after that?

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : I took a walk.

DR. ████ : Why did you not return to Team Rocket?

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : It did not cross my mind.

DR. ████ : Did not cross your mind?

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : I was abandoned, was I not?

DR. ████ : [ long pause ] Where did you go?

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : [ no response ]

DR. ████ : Team Rocket sent in agents to find you.

MICHAEL LETTERMAN : [ no response ]

DR. ████ : What happened to them?

                                      “GOD PLEASE NO!”

                        “PLEASE!”                  *squelch*                   “HAVE MERCY!”                      *chomp*                                                    “please no”

                            “MONSTER!”           “NONONONONO!”                                                            *gulp*                                               “why me”

                 “AHHH”                                             “GOD”                                           *crack*                                                  “STOP!”

Michael inhaled the pleasant scent of cooking meat as he stared off into the night sky. The ocean was so beautiful in this light. How long has it been since he truly been at peace like this? When he did not have to worry about anything at all.

MICHAEL LETTERMAN: I don’t know.

DR. ████ : You telling me they just disappeared?

Michael blinked lazily at the doctor in front of him. It was always the same reactions, always the same questions. How are you? What do you remember? Where did you go? Where are those missing agents? Why did you abandon Team Rocket?

Michael sighed as he closed his eyes. The results were going to be the same. As soon as this therapy session was up, he would be back on that table. The only thing he could say is that he doesn’t scream as much as he did before, but it still hurt like a bitch.

“Michael, answer me!”

The agent opened his eyes to stare at the doctor once again. Her hair was a mess and by the way she was breathing, it seemed like she was yelling at him for quite a while. Ah, he must have ignored her for too long.

“MICHAEL DID YOU KILL THEM?!?!”

She was angry, more than any other one that had interviewed him. 

Michael looked towards the mirror that he knew as a one way mirror. He knew there were guards outside in case he got out of hand. Not that he could actually do anything as he was pretty much changed to this chair like a prisoner. Though, he honestly did not understand why they chose doctors that were too emotionally invested in this case.

“Just give her the gun,” Michael said as he stared at the high ranking officer behind the mirror, or at least in the direction of them. Team Rocket was a mess and a shit hole. To think that they expected him to actually care about an organization who abandoned him and left him for dead? Ha.

                                    BANG. BANG. BANG.

[noddytheornithopod]

So it’s chapter 4, and things are heating up.

Very eerie Rantaro message. He says there’s something important about the rule to the two people left rule, and that this isn’t their first something (their first killing game?). Whoever finds out who they are will come for them, and that they apparently wanted this. I assume Rantaro is talking to the students... what does it all mean? I mean, the wanting the game definitely ties into that memory of Shuichi wanting to die. All in all, this is all pretty weird.

So what’s up with that writing on the rock? Who’s writing it?

Gonta also apparently keeps seeing bugs, weird.

Okay so Kokichi is REALLY getting into the killing game now. He’s no longer just an annoying brat, but he’s actually starting to show his Ultimate Supreme Leader side. I still can’t help but wonder if he knows something the others don’t. And of course, the Mastermind could STILL be one of the students. I feel like Kokichi would be too obvious to be the mastermind (as said, it feels like he’s a Byakuya/Fuyuhiko type, though him getting more serious and manipulative is very Nagito too, plus like Nagito he has a major link to the story’s central themes), but I’m still keeping an eye on him.

Kokichi steals one of the items you need to unlock new areas... and it just so happens to be a card. I have a feeling it might be the library card for the hidden door. What’s really in there?

Tsumugi gets her lab, nice. Also turns out she was a bartender as a job to get money before sponsors, cool. You’re back to being adorkable instead of a creepy cult follower, Miss Shirogane.

Shuichi gets his lab, huh. I thought it would be the checkered one downstairs, but I guess we get this one. Whose lab is it down there then? Rantaro? Or maybe Kokichi... maybe his checkered scarf is a clue.

Keebo gets a lab... and doesn’t like it. Monokuma tailored to everyone except him, of course. :v

So they get another memory flashlight and we see the meteors. We also hear about something called the Gofer project to save humanity which supposedly failed... and we also got some weird culty group saying mankind deserves damnation. Sounds kind of Ultimate Despair-like if you ask me.

Wait... this is the crisis Kirumi was overseeing wasn’t she?

More training. I’m enjoying the Shuichi, Maki and Kaito trio. Also Maki weirdly asks a question about whether Shuichi had feelings for Kaede, and if it’s rational. TBH it’s like she’s asking if she has feelings for someone. :v My guess is Kaito, lol.

That bonus I got with Himiko and Gonta training was fun. Seeing Himiko try to live her best life possible and move forward is pretty cool... even if she’s trying too hard sometimes, lol.

Okay this Monotaro and Monophanie subplot is REALLY weird. Monotaro malfunctioning is one thing... but the weird incest thing too? And domestic violence? What even is this? And there’s an ending??? Wow.

So we get Maki’s tragic backstory with training... ouch. So the Ultimate Child Caregiver cover has some truth to it, being something that happened at her orphanage. But then she was forced to be an assassin so she could get the money to keep the orphanage running. It sounds like that life really took a toll on her, huh. Amazing how she went from the most invisible character to TBH one of my faves. I like this main trio we currently have, as said.

Also got another bonus event with Shuichi bringing a practice katana to train with Kaito and Maki during the day... but unfortunately it makes Maki remember her failed mission. Turns out she failed the assassination because they thought she was cosplaying as a character and everyone loved it... and the attention meant she was almost discovered and couldn’t do her job. It’s kinda cute, but Maki is pretty upset by it because of the aforementioned backstory. I have to admit even if it’s a bit cliche with her kind of character, seeing Maki warm up to the others like this is nice.

Okay so free times... I finished Tsumugi’s since she’s now un-cancelled, and it actually got really sweet in the last one where it turned out Shuichi really liked a show she not only adored, but also inspired her to cosplay. Also wow, they get a bit awkward at the end, in a bit of a romantic tension kind of way. First character I completed too.

Also did some more Kaito free times. He’s really talking himself up, huh? I don’t even know if I believe these stories about having a pirate rival out at sea and running into an anaconda that guarded some ancient empire? IDK what to make of it, but it seems like he really has a taste for adventure and that’s why he wants to explore the Universe (gosh I hope he’s not blackened and that’s his Monokuma execution). Best part though was when Shuichi was really fondly of Kaito but then was like “WAIT I SHOULDN’T BE THINKING ABOUT A GUY LIKE THIS!” Shuichi Saihara is not straight confirmed, honestly this makes me ship him and Kaito even more.

Speaking of Kaito, he seems pretty unwell. It’s interesting that even though he’s trying to push and inspire Shuichi and Maki, he’s afraid to admit his own weakness (even as he encourages the others to talk about what’s bothering them). That end of chapter 3 thing implied he was dying, but from what?

Kokichi, what are you up to? I don’t trust you. It’s implied he’s somehow using the card for the second Neo World Miu was working on, but IDK how that works, especially if it’s the library card. Unless there’s something IN there he’s using, or the card is something else completely (like it has code or something)? And again, I feel like he might know something the others don’t. Also wow, his sprites get progressively creepier.

I guess Chapter 4 is the “callback to last game’s setting” chapter now, lol.

They do make a good point about wondering why Gonta feels such a need to be useful and protective to everyone.

So it also becomes apparent that even though Miu was working on the Neo World, she’s up to something with Kokichi. Miu decided she wanted to use it so they can all escape, but it seems like Kokichi has conspired something with her, or at the very least is manipulating her into doing things that he’d want. Is there really a secret in the Neo World, or is that all just an assumption that Kokichi wanted the others to make?

Miu, with vegetable and the R word, enough with the fucking ableist slurs.

Wow, so this Neo World has them all looking like weird funko pop things. Miu is as crass as ever (and there’s some odd exchanges about Tsumugi being sensitive on her neck and Kaito being a perv WTF), but also using her authority as the one who developed this version of the Neo World to steer things in her (or Kokichi’s?) direction.

Wow, Kaito is pretty excited about snow, lol. Maki says he’s acting like a puppy. Also when they split into groups to search Maki sounds disappointed she wasn’t with Shuichi and/or Kaito, and later comments that Shuichi really is cold for not checking the roof of the mansion to see if Kaito was there when he goes missing.

Miu gets rid of the bridge for the mansion group, which is pretty suspect even as she (really badly) pretends it’s an accident.

So they hear the chapel side even though it’s far away from them... is there some circular aspect to the loading of the world? Like you can travel between the supposed ends to reach the other world and not just the middle loading point?

Keebo makes a peculiar comment wondering if the world’s borders here with nothing beyond them reflects the academy they’re in right now. Huh.

Alright Kokichi, just spill the beans already. You asking Shuichi to basically join you is pretty suspicious. I have no idea what you’re planning, but it’s clearly not good.

So they exit the Neo World and... Miu’s dead. This is intriguing, since it seemed like she was planning something (or Kokichi was and using her). Kaito being missing makes him an obvious suspect, but even if it is obvious, I do think they’re setting something up with him dying and all that. Maybe he discovered the plan and at the last minute killed her to stop it, whatever it may be (I mean, chapter 4 IS the “super tragic sacrifice” chapter... gosh Maki if you have any feelings for Kaito say them before it’s too late)? Kokichi is also suspicious of course for seemingly orchestrating everything, but I feel like he’s too smart to be the killer directly right now.

[mutualhighmaintenancemachin-blog]

I need a fix cus I'm going down

Made the mistake of appraising myself sufficiently healthy to attend a bonfire with normal decent tax-payer type folks. Stood up too fast in my chair and blacked out completely, hit my head on concrete. When I came to i had no earthly fucking memory of having driven to the bonfire, nor could i really recall the names of the three concerned hipsters perched over my limp doughy abscessed jaundiced shit heap of a body. Told them it was a problem with blood sugar, i had forgotten to imbibe my afternoon orange juice! Translation-haven’t slept in four days, taking in roughly two hundred calories a day all in ginger ale. Meth heads opt to sustain themselves on a diet of paranoid resentment in lieu of proteins and grains. The cook gets super spun and lectures us like we’re babes about the dark leftist forces presently waging war on the masculinity of the white man-for one thing, he's convinced that jews run the porn industry and that fucking pornhub is riddled with overtures both overt and subliminal intended to brainwash white guys into identifying as weak and feminine and to associate men of color with heroism and strength. He also believes that soy causes gender dysphoria. All of these batshit crazy delusions act like stars in the broad constellation of the cooks worst dystopian fears-a workforce with no room left for traditionally male-centered leadership characteristics dominated from top-down by a host of future ladies who make their trade in creative collaboration, rather than fear and theft of other peoples ideas. Without a need for a provider, our nazi-bespectacled methamphetamine cook envisions a new sexual economy in which women will jettison their attachments to the family structure in favor of like, industrialism, i guess, and men will have no other resort but a desperate turn to cross-dressing and dick-taking and i guess maybe stitching scarves. It was at this point that i was really tempted to tell the cook something he needs to hear-if you really believe that large shadow societies are orchestrating history just cus they want to make you some dudes boyfriend, its probably cus part of you wants to be. I get that, sucking dick is a blast. if you’re terrified that you can’t compete in a post-modern job market, it might just be because you aren’t. There’s no place left for cowboys or outlaws or methcooks cus those professions only make sense in the context of an insanely violent frontier. You feel obsolete and useless because you are, but make no mistake, that hurt has nothing to do with the world everything to do with your soul being severely malnourished. I know cus mine is too! Real moral christian courage is showing up to your crucifixion with a smile on your face ready to graciously thank the romans for every nail they put through your wrist. You feel empty because your a paranoid fascist meth cook, i feel bad cus I'm a junkie. We are bad. The nazi pilots who blitzed france in two sleepless, speed-fueled nights probably felt fucking fantastic, as if they were aloft on the trade winds of history itself and their momentum across europe must have seemed like proof enough of the moral righteousness of the german cause. But then the morning comes and the meth wears off and your skin smells like piss and your back aches and you can’t stop grinding your jaw and the first wave of survivors begin to trickle out from the camps and presumably in that moment a few nazis had the epiphany-that the very same starved beaten traumatized jewish women and men and children they had aspired to extinguish from human memory were now going to tell the story of what had happened. Power loses, grace is its own kingdom, etc etc. Furthermore those german officers who managed to transition back to civilian life and start families must have experienced a very strange new parental dynamic-can you imagine a family at a dinner table and the proud head of household instructs his small son to finish his vegetables and after pausing to mull it over for a few moments his son turns to him and says Father having thought about it a great deal i don’t think ill be following your instructions-after all you were only following instructions yourself when you helped to engineer the greatest cruelty in human history! To which ostensibly the father mumbles to clear his throat and asks his wife to pass the potato salad. Not even to invoke the possibility that the Fuhrer himself Mr. Adolph Hitler probably died surrounded by a swarm of shadow people, fucking hilarious just the thought, him yelling in that distinctive manic patois of his that he’s the leader and the abeyance of his will is sacrosanct blah blah blah while the little invisible mites under his pale skin shift and swell and scratch and the shadow people dancing around his peripheral vision taunting and cajoling and ridiculing him and the absurdity of his final solution and because he didn’t know speed the way we now know speed he probably didn’t know anything about the shadow people at all from his perspective they might just as well have been the ghosts of his victims come to taunt and ridicule him in his lowest hour pointing and laughing and daring him to pull the trigger!   

The same entitlement motivates the mass shooter who imagines a world full of seven billion perfect strangers as an attack on his rightful pursuit of happiness. No one will sleep with him and he can’t make sense of his place in a world built on fucking so he begins to indulge in fantasies of coercion, revenging himself on the very public space he so craved Now if our hypothetical douchebag had any pretense of self-awareness he might have looked into the possibility of adopting several dogs, and in turn coming to see his life as a story about caring unconditionally for animals. That’s a helluva life-Saint Francis got into the catholic hall of fame for doing not a whole lot more. Or perhaps he could adjust his expectations of intimacy in consideration of the countless plain-to middling-to ugly folks who are forced to come to terms with the truth early on that all of our bodies are grotesque and hideously deformed billboard advertisements for our big beautiful impossibly dense souls-come see a kernel of divine inspiration made self-aware, shimmering in the glory of creation,  just two exits past the tits and chin and ankles and all the rest of our faulty parts. 

Now a discerning reader(however unlikely you’d be to find one in an audience consisting of absolutely fucking nobody lol) might have already begun to detect a certain heady strain of hypocrisy in this authors conclusion. Because while I'm not much of anything the one thing i certainly am is a self-destructive drug addict. So maybe its one thing for me to make fun of the cook for his wrath-filled flu-stricken infants tantrum of a way of viewing the world, assigning to his solipsism a generation-hopping solidarity with his nazi forefathers who came before and identifying in his politics the germinal seed of fascisms future, a politics so personal and self-contained that every divorce will be debated as if it were a stand in for larger cultural decay, every morning hangover a portent of spiritual decline, the vitals of the stock market remeasured and reassessed each time someone finds on the sidewalk a loose dollar bill. Political assemblies with real largesse exclusively devoted to trolling the instagram of a nebraskan man named doug’s now ex-wife  for pictures of her maui vacation with husband number two drinking mojitos on a beach with sand bleached white as bone and both of them grinning with surgical precision an opulent almost confrontational kind of public grinning Doug couldn't recall that bitch ever having felt for him and the kids off playing in the surf and well how could any concerned and conscientious citizen fail to see the basic threat to democracy that whole scene represents? Donald Trump is probably the loneliest man in the world. He’s never met another person. He spends his time wandering the halls of his head checking for reoccurrences of his own reflection, a lifetime spent pathologically re-telling the same story about how he came to be the most powerful person in the world, so that by the time he really became who he had always pretended to be, the most influential figure in the free world, he had long-since bought into his own fraud to such a great extent that even the real thing couldn’t compare. Only a selfishness and self-centeredness as grandiloquent as his could explain the mindset of the modern mass shooter and the micro-politics informing him. He confuses his head for the world and then becomes enraged when it won’t do as he wishes, cursing the rain for its cold lash against his shoulder where he’d rather there have rested warm summer glow, furious at the thought of all the people he would never meet in far-off places he would never see who never paid him any attention whatsoever. Playing peek-a-boo a little bit of cheating peer through chubby fingers arrayed like a geisha’s fan and for the first time see that objects don’t disappear without our gaze to ontologically anchor them to earth. What a hurt. Now it might be technically correct that my addiction does to my loving family what the selfishness of the mass shooter does to public space. It intrudes like an alien thing and turns the air chilly in our childhood home and it transforms the medicine cabinet into a contested territory in need of defensive fortification and now that Cassies marriage has crashed on the rocks of addiction nobody could blame her if she never allowed another addict to darken her doorstep again and there was the sight of Jan opening my trucks passenger side door and a few rigs fell out onto the floor and all the spoons in the house have one side burnt-and-bruised like a black-eye you say you got from falling down a flight of stairs despite body language that says something entirely else why is it we don’t have a single spoon in the house what ghost spends all night punching the walls full of holes 

recently went to an Alanon meeting to sneak a glimpse of how the other half lives...this lady said my addiction is to loving my addict. Bawled rivers out from red raw-rubbed rubber eyes and said my addiction is to my addict Not her person or qualifier or partner but her addict. Syntax almost seeming to suggest that something about the existential plight of the addict gets her intoxicated dizzy on pain. It’s quaint though cus that sort of sentiment is for fucking rookies-guarantee you no ones crying over me like a romantic. Not anymore. My thing these days is of a distinctly more shakespearian strand of tragedy, with wittgenstein and derrida’s influences also undeniable. I’m sick now in a way where people stop crying and praying you’ll find God and change and decide instead it’d be easier to just cross the street. Schizophrenics lost in a chorus meant only just for them, apocalyptic street preachers who stand on soap boxes while reeking of shit and give voice to visions of an America not our own, an alternate dimension where european arrival at the shores of the new world stalled out somewhere halfway across the pacific ocean on a wave so tall it scraped the heavens and America grew up a nation of nomads who set their watches to the rumbling migration of herds of buffalo and not even the highest priest could dream of a more beautiful idea than that of motion, movement without cease, the only acceptable fixed still frozen property being the burial mounds where the dead went after all their motion had gone-if they could view us on the other side of the looking glass stolen away in our own personal homes they would almost certainly come to the conclusion that this place where we live is just the land of the dead, a negative photograph of everything vital and good. Who would i be to disagree though, right? 

The point is anyway that some alchemical reaction of A. Mental illness and B. Amphetamine abuse has more or less stranded me in words. Verbs and nouns and adjectives and adverbs in place of sky and grass. What Fredric Jameson called the prison house of language. Where derrida’s difference goes to play for eternity, never quite meaning what it had meant to say. What shook wittgenstein speechless. The president’s rhetoric so hollow that you can almost see him suffering a kind of dementia or spiritual torpor that results from the badness of his faith. Chewing and chomping consonants and sounds till they all are made to mush and shearing syllable after syllable off the network of signification until all that’s left is one satellite pinging a distress call hello is anyone there off of its own side. It’s own side like Adam plucked Eve from his rib and said put on this dress-after they ate the fruit and God cast him/her out to walk the world alone reportedly God said have fun all alone you worthless slut. Imagine trumps final state of the union-i am very sick, i have been alone for as long as I can remember, i wish i hadn’t lied so often, i wish i had occasionally told the truth, i would trade all of it to have known just one person. 

Anyways, barring that miracle of political theater, the body gets sick and dissolves while the spirit is lost in words. I’d like to die in a bathroom stall in haughville with a rig stuck in my arm and the words I'm sorry stuck at the tip of my tongue and God decides to show some compassion and makes me a deal says you were never much good to people didn’t believe in a thing but you sure could do some impressive vomiting up of nonsense words and so what ill do is your soul will dissolve and turn into ink and for the rest of eternity you’ll be a naughty joke or a half-scribbled doggerel scrawled on the wall of a piss-soaked bathroom stall in the ghetto or you could say call this number here for a good time and don’t forget to ask for large marge and nobody’d ever suspect you were trapped in there or maybe a joke like this favorite of mine about my son it goes something like Jesus Christ was a God-awful carpenter, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Christ was a God-awful, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Couldn't pull a nail. Christ was God-awful. Couldn’t nail his own couldn’t save a carpenter terrible couldn’t pull god-awful a terrible carpenter he couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. I can’t pull this nail to save my own life. It’s right there sticking out of my wrist, but for whatever reason I just can’t find the right words to pull it out he was a carpenter who couldn’t pull a nail even if his life depended on it couldn't save his own life he couldn't-

For a good time call this number 1-555-555-5555 and don’t forget to ask for-

[hell-if-i-know13]

Death??

"Oh, crap! I'm late.  Oh, well...I probably have one of the only jobs where people prefer that I'm late.  Actually, to be completely honest, most wish that i would never show up at all. Not everybody.  But most."  I open the door.  "Hello.  Let me check my chart...Ah, here it is.  Mr. Campbell.  Hey!  You wouldn't, by chance, be related to the Bruce Campbell, would you? Ya, know...famed 'B' actor.  Guy with the chin?  'This is my Boom Stick'."   Campbell stared at him blankly.  Frank pitched his voice, "Give me some sugar, Baby."  Nothing.     "Um, no.  Why?"  Incredulously, he exclaimed, "I love that guy!  His movies are awesome!  So funny!  Hahaha...so funny!  Check him out, totally worth it.  Seriously."  "Who are you?", Mr. Campbell asks.  "I'm sorry.  How rude of me!  My name is Frank, but most people know me by my other name- Grim Reaper.  Ya know, the hooded one, the angel of death. But I like Frank better.  It's a less "shit-your-pants" kinda name.  "So I'm dead?"  "Well, yes and no.  You're currently in a coma, but it's your time."  Stunned, Mr. Campbell stutters, "If I'm in a coma, then how am I talking to you?"  "Cuz I'm dead, dude.  You're thinking of the laws of the living. I go beyound that. Take a look around, man!  All your family is here but no one can see us.  And for the love of god...  You're standing up!  You've been, like, paralized, a vegetable, for 5 years!   That should be a big give away right there."  Frank felt kinda sorry for him, but he deals with this crap all the time and had a job to do, so he continued.  "So, as you may know by my rep, I'm here to escort you to your final judgment. But since it's Friday and because I kinda feel like slacking off a bit, if you want, you can tag along with me today.  Hangout."   He looks around at Campbell's family- women sobbing, men shuffling from one foot to another, obviously uncomfortable and no doubt wishing they were anywhere but here. "This job can be boring.  It would be kinda nice to have some company. So, what do you say, man?  You game?" Death's enthusiasm was apparent.  "That is, unless your'e that excited to see where you'll be spending eternity."  Hahaha!  "I mean, I dont know how you lived your life so I'm not really sure if you'll be heading north or south, but it's your call."  Campbell stared at him vacantly.   "Please hangout with me!" Frank blurted out.  "I'll put a good word in for you."  Campbell snapped to.  "You can do that?" he asked.   "Well, shit yeah, I can!" Then, half-under his breath, Frank murmurred, "If they listen to me, that is.  But hey!  It can't hurt, right?  Ok then, Mr. Campbell.  Wait, that's so formal.  If you don't mind, what's your first name?"  "Rob."  "Rob.  No shit?  You took me as a Mark."   "So, Mr. Death."  "Hey!  That's my father.  Like I said, call me Frank."  "Ok, then, Frank.  Why "Frank" and why do you look like a normal man instead of a skull in a hood?  I thought you'd be, like, different."  "Death or any of my other names are just...scary.  The 'Reaper-look' is just so, ya know, eighteen hundreds. I mean, shit, your dead and this tall hooded skull holding a huge scythe just appears, standing over you...That's some scary-ass shit!  You humans are already dealing with the whole 'being dead' thing, and then that thing walks through the door!  Fuck me side ways!  That's some cruel shit.  Don't get me wrong, though.  There are still some of us who like that look but not all of us are into that shit."  "What do you mean by 'all of us'?", Rob asks.   "Well, you see, Rob, there are, like, 150,000 deaths a day so that would be impossibale for one dude to reap them all.  Plus, I like my weekends off.  Shit, who the hell wants to work that much? So, anyway, there are a lot of us. And since everything has to be so P.C. these days, there's a Reaper for every religion.  Like I said, most of us try to make this as easy as possible for you, but not all of us. Like Gary, for instance.  That dude is a dick! Scares the shit out of every single soul he reaps. So fucked up!  But he's been doing this for a super long time."  Frank chuckles to himself, as if a funny image just popped into his head.  He sobers, shakes the thought away and looks back at his charge.  "So Rob, what do you say?  Wanna hang for a little while or shall I take you straight to your judgment? Da-da-da DUM!"  Rob thought a second, then replies, "Sure, I guess.  Just as long as it doesn't effect my judgment."  "Nah, man.  No worries.  It really all depends on how you lived your life. Once your dead, it's all good. Ok?  Sweet.  Then, follow me.  We have an agenda to follow.  So, first, we have to go to a union meeting.  I know, I know.  Boring shit, right?  You wouldn't believe some of the stuff they make us do.  Like, before we got the Union, we had to work all animal deaths.  You wouldn't believe how many more deaths that adds to our schedule!  Man, those days were crazy!   Dog really is man's best friend. Those stubburn S.O.B.'s  would never want to come with us.  They'd just want to hang around waiting for their masters.  It was so bad we had to start carrying dog treats with us! And leashes!  Shit was unreal.  But ever since we got the Union, they sanctioned a whole other Grim department  to take care of pet deaths.  Helps out alot.  "Oh, and also to answer your previous question, we Reapers can look anyway we want."  To emphasize his point, Frank suddenly appeared as a large-breasted, scantily clad blonde woman, then quickly shifted back to his old self.  "Remember me talking about Gary?  Yeah, don't let him scare you. He can't hurt you in any way so if he starts anything, just ignore him.  "Alright, we're here.  Let's find a seat.  Don't worry, man, these meetings don't usually last long...unless one of those dick holes starts asking stupid questions. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."  They both take a seat near the back.  "Wwwwhat the hell is that?", Rob asks, shuddering.   "Oh, now see, that's what i was talking about- that's Gary. Man, he is such a dick!  Why he want's to scare the souls he takes is such a dick move. HEY GARY!!!"  Frank waves, trying to get Gary's attention.   "Yeah, Frank." Gary waves the finger at him.  "Eat a bag of dicks."  "Screw you, Frank."  Gary shakes his head in total annoyance.  "Haha! I love fucking with him. You see, Rob?  You're lucky you got me. You could've had him or one of these other boring pricks.  Ugh, they're so lame.  It's like 'Hi...I'm Death, here to take you to your judgment...follow me, please'.  BOOOORRINNG!  So lame!  Told ya, you're a lucky guy...well, except for the whole 'dying' thing."  Frank shifts awkwardly in his seat.     "Right, then...it's starting.  Pay attention.  You might find some answers to a few questions you had in life."   The Grim on the mic clears his throat.  "Uh-Hem!  Excuse me, sorry about that.  Alright.  I'd like to thank you all for showing up and sharing you support for Team 013. I guess I'll get right down business- I know you guys have alot to do. Okay, first on the dockit. If everyone could do their best at getting the spirits to come with you, that would be great.  I know they have free will, but try to remember that they don't know they have free will.  Basically, don't give up so easily if they give you problems.  It's too much paperwork, anyway.  And now we're being threatened with quotas!  I know none of us want that.  So, please, folks, let's all work together on this."  The Team Leader shuffles a few papers, then runs his long, boney finger down the page.   "What's he talking about, Frank?", Rob asks in befuddlement.   "Well, you see, even though your dead, you still have free will.  Technicall,  you don't have to go with us. We have always made it seem like you have no choice, but that's really just to make it easier on us."  Frank muffles a laugh.  "And to make the boss men happy. But, some souls put up a fight, and that's where your 'ghost' comes in."  Rob's face glazes over.  Frank continued, "Alright...so, for some people, it's really hard for them to leave their loved ones.  Or maybe they have some sort of unfinished business so they refuse to come with us.  Instead, they end of wandering the world as a detached entity, or rather, a ghost.  Eventually, most end up calling on us after they feel that their loved ones are fine, or that unfinished business they were so concerned about finally gets taken care of.  For instance,  there are the ones that have been killed at the hands of their fellow man.  Once their murderer is caught or killed, they usually seem to be able to rest in peace and take their judgment.  Unfortunately, though, there are some that don't.  They stay on Earth, eventually becoming evil.  They start getting jeolous of the living and become violent.  They'll try to possess people."  Frank shakes his head, a little in disgust but mostly with sadness.   "You see, there are demons and angels, but known of them are allowed on Earth. Only us-the Grims- and the Almighty Big Cheese himself.  That's it.  So really, that demon-possession stuff is really just a pissed off spirt that's refused to be judged and is trying to find a way back to the living.  It's fucked up, right?!  Man, your kind will do anything to stay on Earth.  Oh, shit!"  Frank exclaimes.  "We've missed, like, half of the meeting!  We better start paying attention."   The speaker raises his voice a little. "And for the love of that man right over there..."  Frank glances over in the direction of the speaker's gesture.  "Is that God?  Holy shit!  It is!!  He never comes to these things  Check this- I'll see if we can talk to him after the meeting...ya know, throw a good word in for ya."  The Grim throws Campbell a wink.  Speaker- "Ok, ok...calm down, folks."  God clicks his cheeks and points his finger to th crowled.  The crowd starts hooting again.  God bows his head slightly, a sly smile on his lips and says, "What can I say?  I'm the shit."  The speaker sighs, waits for the cheers to subside.  "Ok, then, back to business, Boys.  As I was saying, I know all of you are overloaded as it is, but please, do your best to get the spirits before they die or at the least, right at the time of death."   "Why is that so important?" Rob asks.   "If we are too late the spirit doesn't really know they're dead, which brings us back to the ghost thing.  Have you heard of the different kinds of hauntings?"  "Yeah, I have.  I was kinda into that sort of stuff."  "Oh, cool.  Then you know what a residual haunting is, right?"  "Yeah."  Rob was actually starting to perk up, finally.  "It's where the ghost does the same thing at the same time, over and over.  Like, every day."  "Yep, you got it, buddy.  So these poor bastards...if we don't get to 'em in time, they get stuck and end up repeating the last moment that they remember.  Like, what they were thinking right before they died or whatever and get stuck there.  And they don't become mean because they don't know they're dead. They're the hardest ones to get to cross over.  So hard, even, that once they get stuck in that loop, we have a special Grim that gets appointed the case.   "And that concludes our meeting for Union 013.  Thank you, Gentlemen, for coming."   Frank nudges Rob, "Let's go talk to the Big Guy."  Rob follows the Grim over to where God was sitting behind the podium.  "Hey, you old son-of-a-gun!  Or should i say 'Gaylord Olda Dern'?  Hahaha!"  "You can stop right there, Frank." God says, holding up his hand in mock-protest.   "Haha!  I love messing with this guy!  Ok, Rob, like, we call him God 'cuz those are his  initials and he hates his real name.  That's why people also call him 'Lord'.  It's just the abbreviation of Gaylord."  Rob is still just staring at God, mouth slightly gaped.   "So, where's that bastard son of your's ?" Frank says, giving God a slight jab in the arm.  "Let me guess...back on Earth just hanging around."  Hahaha!  God roles his eyes and gives a slight huff.  "Man, don't get me started with that kid!  I have no clue where he is most of the time!  You know how he likes doing that disappearing act of his. Get's all kinds of attention when he's a kid and then poof!  Becomes antisocial for thirty years, resurfaces and is all like- "Look at me! Look what I can do!"- That boy, I swear!"  God's clearly exasperated.  Frank turns to Rob.  "So, I'm sure you know about Mary and the virgin birth, right?  Well, that wasn't really what God, here, intended it to be."  Frank lowers his head and starts chuckling.  He continues, "Oh man, this shit is funny! Ok, ok...so God goes down to Earth and starts spitting game to Mary, right?  He's all like, 'I'm the Almighty being, the creator of the stars and the universe...' Hehehe." Frank puts his hand to his mouth and whispers, "If you couldn't tell by the Bible, He kinda has an ego and shit." Rob just looks at him.  Frank nods over at God, "So anyway, He and Mary start talking all dirty.  She's all naked, rolling in the hay, talking some nasty perv shit  back to God, and he's all like, 'damn, girl' because she's a virgin.  So, He's gettin' all hot and bothered.  Starts priming his piece from across the room just from the way she's been talking to Him.  Then, all of the sudden there's a big BANG!  And it goes off prematurely.  A hole in one from across the room, like some Arnold Palmer shit!  Frank's doubled-over in laughter at this point.  Through snorts, he says, "God gets so damn embarrased that he's like, 'Oh, hey, yeah, sorry about that.  So.....I gotta go.  Peter just sent me a message...Morning Star is starting some shit, so I gotta split.'  Um, so I'll, like, set a bush on fire or something to get ahold of you.'  And poof!  He disappeared!  Whatdaya know...nine months later and here's Jesus!  Oh, man!  That was so great!  I love telling that story.  God just shakes his head at Frank, who asks, "So, what's that son of your's going by these days? If I can remember correctly, it's been Krisha, Mithra, Jeshua...that boy could never make up his mind.  Haha."  Frank shakes God's hand, says, "Alright, Gaylord.  We gotta get back to work...Unlike some of us."  He grins and gives a little ahem.  "I'll talk at you later, my Dude.  Oh and do me a solid, would ya?  Take it easy on Rob, here, when I bring him up.  He's a pretty cool dude."  He gives Rob a nudge.  God smiles at Rob.  "Yeah, I'd say...if he's had to hang around you all day, listening to all your shit, Frank!" Hahaha.  "Good one, God...go eat a bag of dicks.  Ok Rob, let's hit the bricks, Bud.  "So dude, I'm going to go in here and do my thing.  You wait out here.  Hopefully, it won't take long."  Thirty minutes later,  Grim walks out.  "Sorry man.  Took a little longer than I thought.  But anyway, Rob, this is Doris.  She's going to tag along with us, too.  I only have a few more stops to go.  "Oh, shit.  This next dude is a bad fucker. Um, if you here screaming and shit, pay it know mind."  Grim opens the door and walks in. All of a sudden, Rob and Doris hear screaming and begging, then, a really loud roar-like growl.  More screaming.  Finally, silence. Grim opens the door again.  "He was a bad dude.  He had to pay. I took him straight to judgement, but not before I had my fun. Fucking child molestor-piece of shit.  "Ok, I'm going to pick up a few more souls. Man, Peter hates when I bring a group to him."  He chuckled.  "When this is all you do every day for hundreds of years, you gotta have fun with your co workers, right?  I know it's kinda dick, what I'm about to do, but hey! It's funny to me!", he busts out laughing.   Regaining composer, "Ok.  Let me do a head count here.  Fifteen.  Ok, cool.  Didn't lose anyone."  Pointing a finger upwards, he says, "It's time to head up to them Pearly Gates for all of you to receive your judgements, and, of course, for you guys to meet the biggest Peter of them all!"  Frank snickers and lets out a snort.  "If you could just head through that door over there and take a seat, please. Thanks."  "Hey." Grim says as Rob slowly walks past him towards the door.  "I had a blast with you today.  I really hope you get some good news.  Come on...I'll walk in with you."  "God damn it, Frank!", exclaims Peter.  "What have I told you about collecting so many?  One at a time, you dick.  It's Friday and almost time for me to get off.  I have a date for  the movies with Shiva.  Oh, man...all those arms!  Can you imagine?"  "Chill, man.  You know I have to fuck with ya, Petey-boy."  "I hate you, Frank."  "Oh, but I love you!"  Grim puts a hand on Rob's shoulder.  "Well, Rob, take it easy, my dude."  He turns to Peter and says, "Take it easy on my boy here, Peter."  "Shit, if he's had to deal with you all day, then that should be a gold pass straight through!"  Peter chuckles.   "Whatever, Dick nose."  Then the Grim shakes his head and says, "Damn!  That's twice today I've been told that."  He lets out a laugh and turns to Rob.  "Hopefully for your sake they mean it.  "Ok, my dude."  He shakes Rob's hand.  "I better see some wings on you and not horns."  All of a sudden there's a loud voice behind the door. Frank turns his head.  "Oh, shit!"  He walks out the door.  As it shuts behind him, Rob hears Frank exclaim, "What's up, Dick nose?!" 

[theworldchangedwithoutme]

Asking for a friend. Makes perfect sense to me

Congratulations President Biden! With that said, I’m going to need some help from my Democratic Liberal friends:

1. Can I borrow the #NotMyPresident hashtag or is that reserved for President Trump?

2. Did the Republicans boycott the Inauguration, like the Democrats did for President Trump?

3. Do I have to accept the election results, or can I cry for four years, claiming election interference?

4. Am I entitled to see Biden’s tax returns to learn how his income jumped dramatically in one year (I mean, we all know how and why. Just show the proof.)?

5. Am I allowed to trash anything that Biden says, without repercussion, because I’m just expressing myself?

6. Is there a sign-up somewhere for riots, do organizers call me, or how does that work, since I didn’t get my way?

7. Are businesses targeted because they supported Biden, or do I just pick a business that has something I want to take home?

8. Were the thousands of businesses that boarded up for fear of riots, for Conservatives or Liberals? If they were for Conservatives, did I miss the riots already???

9. Where are the safe spaces at? Is there a map or something? I may need to go cry for a little while (because of how stupid our country has become).

10. Does all the free stuff your party has promised, just come or do I have to quit my job first?

11. What is the address you guys have been sending all that extra tax money to, since you think people aren’t paying enough in taxes? I’m sure you have been voluntarily sending in more than required...

12. When my 401K crashes, will the President make up for that in give-a-ways, or am I just screwed?

13. Since Socialism is what you just voted in, if my neighbor has something I want, do I just take it or do I have to let him know I’m taking it (Personally, I have had my eye on the brand NEW Mercedes SUV, a couple of doors down ... Biden sign in yard.).

14. When gas gets unaffordable, is there an EBT card for that?

15. I have seen the gatherings of Conservatives protesting the election results, but something is wrong, nothing is getting destroyed. Did you guys go to a class for that, or could you provide some pointers on how to do it right, please?

16. So, now that you are the President, Is every death now on you, or is it President Trump's responsibility, just at your convenience?

17. During Biden's State of the Union Address, is Nancy going to tear up the speech on national television, or does she only do that with President Trump?

I’m sorry for all the questions, this is all new to me. I want to make sure I get it right!

[hellaintthatbad]

Riverdale fanfic 1 - kevin & joaquin (with @fangirly-freak)

>Kevin, all well-behaved, typical suburban boy, straight a’s, and then the serpent, bad boy how theyre written, and yet theyre together and I bet, if there should be a showdown of some kind, joaquin will try to protect kevin, to keep him away from the shit hes getting being a serpent, even though he doesn’t realize hes protecting him, and also im betting that kevin wants some distance at first, but he cant keep it up for long and runs to joaquin and kisses him as if the world is ending. And that will happen in that bar where the serpents hang around, right in front of all the other men and when anybody says anything against them jugheads dad will personally beat them up because he is a good soul.<

 Kevin ran faster than he ever did before, his throat burned and his legs became wobbly, threatening to give up. But Kevin didn’t pay attention to his body’s protests, the only thing on his mind was a raven-haired boy, the boy that was from another world and yet from so close, being so close to him yet being unrecognized.

Kevin took a sharp 90° turn, his shoes slid on the wet concrete but he didn’t fall and just kept running. Jughead’s words still echoed through his head. His friend asked Archie if he could sleep over a few nights, his dad having a serpent thing and didn’t want him to follow him, his ‘detective of a son shouldn’t be there for his own life’s sake’. Thankfully Archie asked when the whole ordeal would take place so Kevin hadn’t been caught eavesdropping. And thankfully Jughead trusted Archie enough to tell him.

But not so thankfully, Kevin’s dad didn’t fall asleep fast enough. The sheriff was always tired when he came home from work and usually fell asleep after dinner, but tonight he wanted to tell his son about his last case. In the end, Kevin said he had homework to do and left, only to sit on top of the stairs and wait. Soon his father’s breath slowed and the boy sneaked down, a first-aid packet and another jacket on his hands. He fingered around the holster, freeing the gun and wrapping it in jacket. Then, quietly, but still as fast as possible, he left his house and turned for the old warehouse.

Joaquin told him where this warehouse was, they used it as a place to be when they wanted to be alone. Okay, let’s be honest, when they wanted to make out without anybody interrupting them.

And while the authors described stuff so the reader knows stuff that’s important for the story, Kevin has reached said warehouse. Several motorcycles and cars stood in front of it. And men talked in it. Their voices were only hearable due to the echo in the empty building; also the men didn’t care to lower them.

Kevin knew the architecture of the house quite well, him and Joaquin going exploring when they wanted to talk or not make out [haha yeah that happens sometimes too believe it or not] and needed something else to do with their hands. Because, you know, hormones.

The old and rusty stairs at the back didn’t look trustworthy but they didn’t even move when you climbed them up right. They led to a sort of second story, but in the middle was a huge hole, enabling a good look to the ground story. Stair cases led down, but nobody bothered to climb them up, giving Kevin a perfect hiding spot.

The men stood at two fronts, the serpents on Kevin’s left, their client on his right. Joaquin was in the back, only about 50 meters away from Kevin, and fidgeted his hands behind his back. That meant he was nervous as hell.

Suddenly one of the clients screamed in rage, Kevin hasn’t noticed their voices rising until they shouted, he was too caught up in Joaquin’s facial features. A broad-necked bodyguard tried to calm the angry man, but another slipped through his arms and went to punch F. P., almost succeeding but the serpent next to their leader hit him first, sending the suit-wearer to the ground.

With that, all hell broke loose, fists hit jaws, blood dripped, bones crashed. Men went down, many of them unconscious. In the chaos, Kevin has lost Joaquin, but then something neon green caught his gaze. That neon green was a bracelet he gave his boyfriend a few weeks ago. A snake eating a heart was printed on it. Then it vanished as a very buff and muscular man blocked the view, pulled back his fist and threw it onto the boy’s stomach. Joaquin went down with a groan.

Out of desperation, Kevin reached for the gun, stood up and shot into the air. Everybody stopped in their tracks. Their faces turned towards him and twisted as they recognized him as the sheriff’s son.

“Kill him! He gonna report! Whatcha waitin’ for?!”

Thugs went for the stairs, one of them the man that just hit Joaquin, but the boy suddenly jumped up and put his arm around his neck, trying to strangle him.

“Kevin! Run!” F.P. bellowed.

Kevin followed his order and ran to the stairs that led him up there. He heard fists hitting flesh and groans, but didn’t look back. That is, until a stone hit his head making him feel dizzy and trip over his own feet.

He expected violence as he felt a body near him and tensed up, but was even more surprised as gentle hands fiddled around the gun in his hand.

“Sweetie, hey, it’s me. Gimme the gun. Get up. Run. Please, for me.”

“No, I can’t. Can’t leave ya…”

Kevin fainted.

The next thing Kevin knew is that he’s lying on the floor, some voices speaking almost out of earshot.

“Why is he here? Did you tell him?”

“What? No. I don’t know why he’s here. He isn’t supposed to.”

“And you’re not supposed to take a broken nose for him. You should spy on the sheriff, not play the knight in shining armor for his son.”

“I didn’t want to, it just happened! I just couldn’t see him getting hurt!”

At that, Kevin stirred. His movements didn’t go unnoticed, Joaquin and F.P. rushed over to him.

“Hey... Whoa, sweetie, calm down, your head must hurt like hell.” Joaquin reached up to stroke Kevin’s cheek as he began to sit up.

“You must hurt like hell, your face looks like Spaghetti Bolognese, and not in the tasty way.”

Jughead’s father chuckled. “Two seconds back and already backfiring, you got one there.”

“I got a first-aid kit, let me clean you up.”

The two boys went over to where Kevin’s jacket was and sat down next to it.  They sat in silence as Kevin got the utensils out and started to take care of Joaquin’s wounds.

“I heard you talk.”

“Huh?”

“Joa, I heard you and F.P. talking. He said you are supposed to spy on the sheriff. Is that why you are dating me?”

“Kev, I…”

“Don’t lie to me. I want the naked truth, without excuses. Without consideration of my feelings or whatever. Just tell me.”

The young serpent sighed.

“Yeah, I mean, I… I am supposed to play your boyfriend to spy on your dad. But so much has happened since then, and F.P. still wants information needed for clients and jobs, but I… We can get information otherwise, I am… I’m confused, you know? Because you are so good and kind and I am a no-good, usele…”

Before the boy could finish, Kevin presses a piece of bandage drenched with pure alcohol into an open cut.

“Go to the hospital, that needs stitches. I can’t do that. I’m going home. And tell F.P. to go fuck himself.”

Kevin’s voice sounded so cold. The room temperature seemed to drop 15°C

“Sweetie, what…”

“Don’t call me sweetie! That’s a name a lover should use, not a spy!”

Joaquin flinched as the other boy spat those words. He tried to reach for his hand, but Kevin withdrew his hand, grabbed his things as he stood up and left quickly without another word.

  The next three weeks were hard for both of them. Kevin couldn’t concentrate at all, which had effects on his grades, his friends were worrying, but he didn’t tell them why he didn’t eat as much, sleep as much or even talk as much as he used to or why Joaquin wasn’t with him all the time like he used to, and seeing from Jughead’s behavior, his dad didn’t tell him. Kevin felt emotionally used, he wanted to hate his (former?) boyfriend, but couldn’t help to reach for his hip, where his hand had lied or almost call him, his thumb seemed to be frozen into spot right above the call button.

Joaquin wasn’t much better. He, too, didn’t watch his health and lied on his bed when F.P. didn’t need him to do whatever needed to be done. He didn’t know why exactly he behaved like this. He just had no clue what to do. Or what is body was doing while his mind wandered off. He caught his hand several times as it creeped over his mattress, looking for something, that wasn’t there. He didn’t charge his phone, afraid to get weak and call Kevin, even though the boy has made clear that he was angry with him.

Both boys vegetated through their lives, but Kevin had more people to look out for him. He didn’t lose as much weight as Joaquin. And people tried to talk to him about what happened. Joaquin had no one to talk to except for his cactus.

                        This led to Kevin’s breakdown as he sat with his friends in Pop’s diner. Veronica showed them her new haircut, it was about the length Joaquin’s hair had been when Kevin had last seen him. Veronica’s was a more female version though. Just as she turned around to show Betty how she had to straighten them, Kevin looked up from his now cold coffee. She looked so much like Joaquin mas he had shown him a tattoo on his neck.

Kevin let out a sob. Then another. Then he let out a ragged breath, murmured something about fresh air and stumbled out of the diner to the parking lots. As soon as he felt like there was enough distance between him and the diner to not be seen instantly, he vomited. But there wasn’t much to vomit, so he just gagged around air, his throat burned and his head felt way too light. He stumbled from the car he used for balance towards the diner. Someone was coming out, but Kevin didn’t recognize them before he fell face down on the ground.

Another voice, somehow common to him, called his name. The boy opened his eyes to see dark hair at shoulder length.

“Joa?” he asked with a raspy voice before wincing. His throat felt like he swallowed sour rain.

“No, I’m sorry. But Kevin, you got to get up. You got to drink. Archie’s calling your dad. We thought you were dying here.” Veronica let out a forced laugh. “And I can’t let you die on my favorite dress, can I?”

Betty came and kneeled next to him. She held a glass of water to his lips and he drank greedily. Pop came out too and handed the blonde an extra-large milk shake.

“He gonna need that. Saw his orders last few weeks. He needs the protein and sugar and whatnot.”

Kevin also drank the shake, though slower than the water, enjoying the sweet taste in contrast to the acid burn he felt before.

Just as he finished and properly sat up without help, his father’s car pulled into the parking lot. As soon as the car stood, the sheriff ran to him and kneeled down.

“Son? Son, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“None, dad, your hands are crashing my shoulders. I’m okay now. I’m just tired.”

His dad stood up, pulling him onto his feet and led him to the car after thanking Pop and Kevin’s friends for helping him. Pop declined the money he offered him.

When they came home, the sheriff made his son eat and take a bath before letting him sleep.

 Kevin slept until 3:40pm, having his first halfway decent sleep in weeks. He hadn’t notice how much this kind-of break up was draining him.

As he got up, he thought of what to do next. He couldn’t continue like this. He missed the warmth of Joaquin right next to him. He missed the way his kisses felt. He missed shoving his hands into the long hair when they kiss. He missed the smell of leather, hair gel and Joaquin. Even his room still smelt a bit like him, even though he hadn’t been there in a month or so.

At 5pm, Kevin was completely dressed, half a pizza was eliminated and a note was left for his dad. He had made his mind up.

 Joaquin had just finished his last job, paying a drug dealer, and now sat at the bar and sipped at some drink he didn’t even know the name of.

He thought of nothing specific as someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around and saw Kevin. Right in front of him.

“Wha…” he began but was interrupted as Kevin slapped him.

“That”, the brown haired boy said, ”was for using me! And that”, a slap on the other cheek, “was for not telling me!”

Then he brought up both his hands and gently laid them on his jaw.

“And that is for being you.”

Kevin kissed Joaquin with all he had, with all the pain and nothingness he had felt throughout the last weeks, with all the love he felt for the boy, with all the missing he had endured. And Joaquin kissed him back with as much emotion as him.

As they parted, both breathing heavy, they mustered each other, noticing the way both had lost weight and gained shadows under their eyes.

“I love you. I’m sorry we became a couple due to my wrong intentions, but I’m happy we did. I adore you so damn much. You are my pretty boy, my sweetie. And I doubt that’s gonna change in the near future.”

“You know, that’s so cheesy, if we would be closer to the heater, we would melt.” Both boys giggled before missing again.

“And by the way, I love you too.” Kevin mumbled with their lips touching. And kissed him. Which felt better than their first kiss. Better than the making out sessions. Better than the last kiss. But not as good as their next kiss. Because the kiss that is just happening will always be the best kiss. Because, well, because it’s happening.

 ~some extra F.P.-is-super-and-a-good-man-in-the-end-stuff but this isn’t necessarily part of the story~

A few days after the great becoming-a-couple-again action, Kevin came into the bar after school to pick up Joaquin for the movies. He stepped into the building and looked out for his boyfriend as someone shoved him.

“Oi, fag, stop blocking the way. You not allowed in here!”

Kevin wanted to apologize, but a familiar raven haired boy stepped to his side and slid his arm around his waist.

“Stop bothering my boyfriend, would ya?”

“Ya can’t tell me what to do! You little shit think you’re bette…”

“That’s enough!” F.P. walked down the stairs and towards them.

“Pete, if you got a problem with homosexuality, that’s okay. But it is not okay to treat someone as less worthy or disrespectful because of it! Y’all! I know some of you looked at them with disgust, but this is love! And I don’t care what’s your reason for being a homophobic little bitch, and as long as you don’t hurt them because of it, I will not care! But if you even think about it, I will give you what you deserve! And I don’t care if any of you will hate me for it, I will protect them! And if you have a problem with them kissing, tell me, not them! Let them live their lives!”

With that, he shushed the two boys out, mumbling something about late for date. Before he can close the door though, Joaquin wraps his arms around his neck, murmuring “you’re the best dad I could wish for.” before grabbing Kevin’s hand and dragging him towards the cinema.

[earthdeep]

so I actually finished fe echoes shadows of valentia after *checks back through blog* about one and a half years. or rather, I got totally fed up on my first playthrough and restarted a few days ago bc I was sick of having it semi-complete. I have Thoughts so... under the cut

might as well get the technical stuff out the way. 

loved the artstyle. but the ui fucking sucked. all the important numbers and stuff is WAAAAAY too small to make room for character portraits and the layout of a lot of options is just... weird. oh and there’s no way to look at a zoomed out map and it’s a pain in the arse when I just wanna check where the fucking enemies are.

combat system is... definitely interesting for a fire emblem game. I enjoyed it overall, but it felt a bit lopsided. no weapon durability (yay), no weapon triangle (eh), magic users learn spells in character specific orders (hm), 90% of bow using enemies can’t do shit against fliers (wtf?), absurdly high crit rates (ugh)... lance users ended up near useless by endgame. I had a single one who could hit hard enough to take down an act 5 enemy, and he was too slow to chase them. meanwhile I could keep my archers back way out of enemies’ range and crit them, or field my many mages who could do massive damage AND heal each other constantly. srsly, all hail our lady and saviour delthea, who by the final boss had 30 atk and could oneshot almost every enemy with her lowest level spell. she is the best, and I love her very much.

there was a lot of other fidgety stuff especially on the overworld that really got on my nerves after a while. I’ve never been fond of the point hopping system that’s fairly common in tactical rpgs, but echoes has the infuriating variation that forces u to fight every respawning enemy u cross. fuck those graveyards. fuck them to hell. especially fuck them when I have to pass them so often to complete sidequests in the villages and such. but at least dungeon exploring is still fun. well, I say that, and it leads into another bother.

fates, the previous fe game, did a lot to improve the experience of casual players such as myself. the protagonist being allowed to fall in battle without an insta game over, for example. phoenix mode was nice for replays too, tho since echoes was preeeeetty linear that’s a moot point for me. echoes decides no, actually, fuck that, and also fuck the battle saves introduced in awakening. ur gonna work through duma’s tower for an hour with no way to save and reload and if one of the ten million enemies in there knocks down celica ur losing all ur progress without even a chance to use the in-universe save scum device. bc fuck u.

incidentally, duma’s tower is where I quit during my first playthrough.

buuuuuuuut there’s more to games than mechanics. there’s story too! and... hoo boy. there’s two major sticking points for me that ultimately make it a disappointment. spoilers ahead for literally the entire game.

number one: the broken aesop of alm’s arc. ie, fernand was right.

so, fire emblem games have a lot of birth destiny and divine rights to rule and all that jazz. while it can be just a background fact of life (awakening and imo path of radiance fell into this) or a major problem that causes protagonist centred morality out the whazoo (Y HALLO THAR FATES’ CONQUEST ROUTE), echoes tries to go a different route, especially in the first act. alm butts up against those who don’t think he should be allowed to be a knight, let alone lead an army bc he’s of common birth. even those on his side (*cough*clive) struggle to hold noble and common life of equal worth. but here’s alm, the poster child of destiny caring not for trivialities such as parentage. he’s a good fighter and a good leader, and proves that even a commoner can become a hero!

except they can’t. alm isn’t a commoner. he’s a prince. he could never vanquish duma if he hadn’t noble blood in his veins, bc the falchion is locked in a vault only royals can enter, and is a sword only he can wield. were he truly a commoner, he would have failed. and all this would’ve been easily forgotten fridge logic if the characters hadn’t kept bringing the even a commoner bs all the way with them until he found out who his dad was! fernand, the primary voice for this shit, doesn’t die until after seeing alm revealed!

frankly, alm being a lost prince was purely a detriment to the story. oh no, he killed his dad? who fucking cares. blood is the only thing they share. I’ve seen this dude like twice before I cheesed his ass by warping my best units up to his section of wall and zapping him. half his dialogue is only available post-patricide. alm had more of a connection to Asshole Cousin Berkut that to him. also, his plan for preparing for the end of the world as is stood was one of the worst I’ve ever seen.

but there’s also a more fun point. number two: the straight agenda!

ugggggh. listen. on my first round through, I joked a lot abt all the unrequited love going around. and honestly there’s quite a lot of interactions that I found genuinely nice. faye and leon being open about their feelings and accepting they aren’t requited, and alm and valbar being honest and comfortable with that. or delthea mentioning her crush on clive to his sister and having mathilda immediately pointed out. or like, clive and mathilda’s entire relationship during the game. I like me a lovey dovey battle couple.

but then the epilogue slides hit. why the fuck would mathilda become a Good Housewife(TM) after marrying a man who encouraged her as they fought alongside each other. delthea gets the same treatment and settles down with an unnamed husband and becomes “normal” in her slide. then u have mae and boey who get married and have children and argue AND THAT IS IT. like guys, I like me some rivals to lovers as much as the next lesbian, but u can’t be said to have kids that give u more reasons to fight and have me believe this is any way healthy. please find a replacement for celica bc u do NOT work together on ur own. *sigh* at least clair and gray have a nice marriage where they’re both free to be themselves. in my game anyway, idk if she hooks up with tobin if they get higher support, but when he’s an archer and she’s a frontline fighter, they never had a chance.

and then there’s alm and celica.

I could’ve liked alm. I really could. while his base is still Default Fantasy Hero, I like his comments when u examine things, I like that he has the nerve to stand up to clive when he’s on his bullshit. but dude. u met ur fake cousin celica briefly when u were kids, got along well, then obsessed abt her for like a decade. get. over. it.

same to u celica. u were fucked in my eyes from the beginning bc I find devout characters actively dull, but come on. u made a friend who had a birthmark like urs. as far as ur concerned, that’s all. stop reading the script and try learning the politics of running that kingdom ur set to inherit.

beyond the “alm...” “celica...” wistful calls, and the forces of destiny/the writers, I could not tell u what draws these characters together. the one time they’re not staring into the middle distance at each other, they’re in a petty fight that makes celica look like a spoiled child (and keeps her there until after she sells her fucking soul to the shadiest guy in the fucking universe? celica. celica cmon.) like why do these people like each other. with as much as destiny pulled them together rather than human connection, they may as well have been siblings instead.

on my first run, I genuinely thought that was where they were headed. I got given “alm can lift royal sword” and “celica ‘lost’ brother in fire” and put together that OH! they’re brother and sister! like mila and duma! bc it’s history repeating itself! and then conrad showed up and I was confused. also, iirc alm genuinely believed celica was a cousin of his while they were interacting as kids and didn’t learn she was just in Fantasy Witness Protection until later, so for that to turn into poorly telegraphed romance is just... ew.

anyway. at least most of the characters were good. can’t even pick a favourite tbh. I like clair a lot, and tobin and gray. mae and delthea are both fun and adorable. the valbar/leon/kamui trio are great and chill dudes. I even like silque despite being the nun type, bc she just tries so hard and I appreciate that. oh and sonya’s very lovely with genny and DESERVED BETTER THAN BECOMING A LITERAL SOULLESS HUSK IN THE EPILOGUE AS SHE TRIES TO HELP OTHERS, FUCK U ECHOES.

also there are definite immersion hiccups. oh, the land’s barren and we’re facing famine, huh? *stares at trees full of oranges* *stares at wells full of water* *stares at baskets full of fish* *stares at inventory full of meat and vegetables* *stares at knife that can produce food if I kill an enemy with it...*

wait. I turned a lot of enemies into food with that knife. like my inventory for celica’s army filled up with it. was... was I eating people the whole time?! D:

anyway, fe15, 7.5/10 too much swamp

[apsbicepstraining]

6 Horrifying Thought The Nutrition Industry Won’t Tell You

Nutrition is one of the most frustrating disciplines in that it is arguably the most important to our daily lives, but we barely know diddly tits about it. Knowing what nutrients are good for us and which ones will kill us instantaneously seems like the type of circumstance we’d invest more serious energy into decoding, but “healthy” and “unhealthy” meat craft lieu more often than pro wrestlers in a tag-team competitor. Take coffee for example: First it was good for you, then it was bad, then it was good again, then it induced cancer, and then it dried cancer.

And coffee is far from the only sample, which reaches it was not possible to to take any health bulletin seriously. If you’re wants to know why nutrition is such a tough nut for us to crack and why people have no idea what to think about obesity, it’s because …

# 6. Our Procedures For Investigating Nutrition Are Terrible

To known better different nutrients alter different parties, we first have to know exactly what food parties eat, and in what quantities, compoundings, castes, etc. If there seems to be the sort of concept that is impossible to accurately observe without planting hidden cameras everywhere else in the world, that’s because it is. Fortunately, scientists bequeathed something called “memory-based dietary assessment methods”( M-BMs ), which is another way of saying “we ask people about their diet and then take them at their word.”

That would explain why in the ‘7 0s obesity was blamed on eating “like … salads? Yeah, super health salads and shit, man.”

Unsurprisingly, when the scientists over at the Mayo Clinic reviewed and considered the M-BM, they found that the method was “fundamentally and fatally flawed” when it came to studying nutrition. They tried to be tactful and diplomatic about their findings by attributing the failures of the M-BM to the unreliable nature of human remember, but as anyone who has ever fees anything in “peoples lives” can tell you, it isn’t hard to remember whether you chew steamed vegetables or Taco Bell on a regular basis. No, the conclude the M-BM doesn’t work as an accurate the representatives from people’s nutritions is because people are filthy fucking liars.

We lie all the freaking epoch, which is why a review of nutrition examines found that 67.3 percent of women and 58.7 percent of men report calorie intakes that are “not physiologically probable .” And this is the data on which we base all of our nutrient program and dietary guidelines. Shit, maybe the facts of the case that Big Macs are conceived unhealthy is because the only ones to ever admit to eating them were depressed parties on their route to kill themselves.

“Two all-beef patties, special sauce, an entire bottle of crushed-up sleeping capsule, loot, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun … ”

With such shoddy report, you can find analyses joining virtually any nutrient to virtually any affliction you can imagine . So what we’re certainly saying is: Recollect that study that attached eating treated meat to cancer? We wouldn’t make that stop you from eating bacon just yet. Speaking of which …

# 5. The Media Constantly Bombards Us With Bogus Food Subject And Contradicting Research

If some shitty blog was pointed out that the world leaders are secretly robot lizard people from another dimension’s future, risks are whoever wrote it is either a goddamned lunatic or is pretending to be a goddamned lunatic, which is basically the same circumstance. But when a respectable society like the BBC was pointed out that breastfeeding forecloses obesity, the fib is immediately believable in our sentiments. We assume that they deported thorough independent experiment, and aren’t merely blindly echoing the results of haphazard contemplates that outlined a questionable conclusion.

“Coming up next: Why are scientists so good in couch? A knot of scientists clarify! ”

Between 1999 and 2006, the BBC has changed their knowledge about the benefits of breast milk more eras than a vegan, first-time mother. Of direction you might say: “Duh, they’re only reporting on the progress of science, ” but the thing is, they’re not. At all. Three out of the four surveys covered by the BBC were based on examines, becoming them about scientifically reliable as horoscopes. And when another place reports three conflicting studies about the effect of sodium on the human body within the same year , you have to start wondering if mass media isn’t only fucking with us like George Lucas at this point.

“Huh? Is this even report? Too belatedly, you already clicked.”

Things have gotten so bad that the same word store will now report on how red wine might make radiation treatment guys more efficient, fight holes, and even prepare your children grow up to be more solicitous and better behaved, which of course it can’t, because it’s fucking grape juice , not angel tears.

A group of researchers lately foreground how bad the problem has already become when they released research studies is demonstrating that dark chocolate could help you lose weight. The investigate was explosion in all the regions of the Internet, formed front-page headlines in major newspapers, and was discussed on TV word networks. The subject, nonetheless, was intentionally shortcoming, and was written by a lead author from an institute that didn’t actually exist. The investigates behind it wanted to see how many shops would do some basic journalism to vet the story before breathlessly reporting it. Depressingly , not many of them did, so we’re not sure how stoked health researchers were that their hoax study was such a success.

“No joke. … No journalism, either.”

That’s why you should get all of your diet advice from medical doctors, right? Yeah, about that …

# 4. Doctors Get Almost No Nutritional Training Whatsoever

The one thing you should have taken away from this article by now is that it’s hopeless to make sweeping generalizations about nutrition, so you should probably just do what the commercials say and ask your doctor which diet is best for you . Unfortunately, it turns out that during their entire stint in med academy, the average doctor only invests about 19. 6 contact hours learning about nutrition, which is less time than it takes to beat Final Fantasy XII .

In 2003, a sketch found that 84 percentage of cardiologists didn’t are well aware that a low-fat diet could actually increase your high levels of triglycerides, which can lead to heart disease. This seems like something that heart physicians was likely to be taught, right? But modern drug is apparently more very concerned about the therapy of cardiovascular disease than the prevention.

“I’m sorry Mr. Johnson, but I can’t start giving you pills until your dick stops working.”

Even scarier, less than 25 percent of doctors canvassed said they feel qualified to talk about diet with a patient. The learn likewise found that doctors are less likely to talk with their patients about nutrition if they happen to be overweight themselves, which means that you should only search nutrition recommendations from medical doctors if she has a formidably powerful physique.

# 3. All Diets Sort Of Work( As Long As You Protrude With Them)

If you grew up in the 1980 s, you recollect sounding that it’s carbohydrate that establishes you fat — that’s why abruptly artificial sweeteners were in everything TAGEND

Then in the ‘9 0s, it was decided that flab was manufacturing you fat — thus the “stop the insanity” diet, which was all about fat grams and nothing else. That demonstrated birth to a ripple of “fat-free” snacks sold as health foods despite being full of sugar, carbs and calories.

Shockingly, a chocolate-filled chocolate cake is still bad for you .

In the 2000 s, carbs were the bad person — that brought us the Atkins diet and billions of parties telling restaurants to supplant their burger bun with additional bacon.

The detail that they were required to exhaust an improved publication of a revolutionary diet should have been a red flag . These dates, you’re starting to hear about carbohydrate again, and we’re right back to where we were 30 years ago TAGEND

“Right between “rat poison” and “trifluorochloroethylene”

Were any of them right? Well, let’s look at the still-raging struggle between low-fat vs. low-carb diets. Countless books and sections have been written fiercely insisting one over the other, because it is apparently unbelievable that both could have virtue. Researchers lastly applied both possibilities to the test in a huge meta-analysis, and found that after 12 months, the differences among average weight loss between those on low-carb diets and those on low-fat nutritions was a tiny fraction of a pound in favor of low-carb( which isn’t exactly floors for a culture struggle, but blood will no doubt been spilled for less ).

“Science says it’s OK to eat just as much fat as you miss! ” – how medical reporting labours .

Other types of foods is likewise experimented, and while they tallied worse than the low-fat/ low-carb ones, the differences in weight loss between them were just observable. What does this necessitate? For one, it means that the Paleo, Atkins, South Beach, and Tapeworm diets all work to virtually the exact same degree, and that the best kind of food for you is simply the one that you won’t discontinue two days after starting. For some people, giving up carbs might be a walk in the park, while with others, it will establish them hallucinate that their friends and loved ones have turned into giant illustrations of caricature hamburgers.

There’s a more subtle impression at play too. Let’s say you decide to cut back on sodium, and after a few months you’ve misplaced load, you feel more energetic, and your blood pressure has proceeded style down. But before “theres going” recommending it to everyone else, consider all the other changes you’ve indirectly seen. Cutting back on sodium signifies most fast food is no longer an option. Same becomes for most processed food. You’ve likely likewise started cooking more of your own snacks, and they’ve possibly included more fruits and veggies than you used to eat because, again, your options are a lot more limited now.

“What do you mean? “Theres”, like, seven nuts I can choose from! ”

It’s kind of similar to the gluten-free fad, in which billions of parties convinced themselves that gluten was clearing them sick, despite maybe not knowing what gluten even is( do you ?). Sure enough, they feel better after making a concerted effort to cut it out. But is it because they cut down on gluten, or because they cut down on the kind of foods that happen to have gluten in their own homes — namely pasta, cookies, patties, brew, etc? “I feel so much better now! ” Of course you do.

Hell, merely going people to stop and examine the contents of what they’re dining is a huge accomplishment. If somebody’s siding out snacks at “states parties “, you’re less likely to exactly absent-mindedly cram something into your opening because it ogles good if you think you’ve got an allergy to some invisible ingredient. Even if you almost certainly don’t.

“Sorry, I’m allergic to sour ointment and onion and regret.”

# 2. Almost Every Health Initiative That Food Firms Take Is Complete Bullshit

Every now and then, large-hearted food corporations will announce that they are making their makes healthier by removing all the asbestos and cancer and ousting it with it with a cluster of vitamins and shit. For precedent, Kellogg’s and General Mills lately decided to stuff their cereals with vitamin A, niacin, and zinc in the hopes that parents everywhere will choose their sugary concoctions over some bullshit grapefruit. In Large-scale Cereal’s defense, there’s good-for-nothing wrong with a little of sugar as long as it’s delivered alongside some solid nutritional supplements.

Well, the thing is, the cereals’ dosages of vitamin A were bafflingly calculated in accordance with adults. The dosage was dangerously high-pitched for children, enough to potentially induce liver shattering and immune disorders.

Although, that might have just been because of all the sugar .

And when these companies aren’t lending useless( and occasionally damaging) parts to their commodities, they’re removing innocuous ones to pander to fad-stricken consumers. When Pepsi announced they were removing aspartame from their diet sodas( that is, the stuff that 1980 s commercial-grade was boasting about earlier ), they made it clear that it had nothing to do with health, or refuge, or any kind of scientific research. Shoppers chose they didn’t trust aspartame( false rumors about its harmful effects had been circulating for decades ), so it had to go. The same was genuine when Subway removed a common artificial additive from their doughs after public pressure. And when Kraft and Nestle announced they were removing artificial ingredients from some of their products, they said it was because of meat trends rather than any nutritional headaches( they presumably gave the term “food trends” in condescending air mentions ).

Now, we’re not saying that all the stuff food companies arbitrarily remove from their commodities was actually good for us. We’re went on to say that food firms do not give one lonely peanut shit whether their produces dedicate us all cancer or not. They’ll add or subtract anything we ask them to, and unfortunately for us, what we want is easily influenced by daily quantities of alarmist bullshit. That’s often because …

# 1. We Dismiss Nutritional Experts In Favor Of People With No Academic Knowledge Or Training

The truth is that there are lawful scientists out there who can tell you what meat will allow you to live long enough to see that fourth season of Sherlock . Unfortunately, we generally decide to ignore them, because they tend to babble on about circumstances like “vegetables” and “moderation, ” while brutally leaving no room for Bloomin’ Onions or mozzarella sticks.

Then there are people like Vani Hari, who pressured corporate monsters like General Mills and Kellogg’s to change their products, wrote a best-selling work on nutrition, and was reputation one of Time magazine’s 30 Most Influential Beings On The Internet, despite having absolutely no educated in the field of nutrition whatsoever. Instead of attracting from any actual academic schooling, every ounce of her admonition is based on the relevant recommendations that all substances are bad for you, without exception.

That’s why we get all our flowings from brew instead of that nasty “water” substance .

We might scoff at the relevant recommendations of Rihanna writing a neuroscience textbook or questioning Mel Gibson’s opinion on how to find the Higgs boson. But when Beyonce and Gwyneth Paltrow endorsed a “cleanse” diet, loads of people were more than happy to listen, trying extreme nutritions fabricated by attractive celebrities in an attempt to “detox” their body of creepy poisons that can’t be screened or detected by any kind of medical testing.

That said, it is admittedly a bit disorient to figure out whose nutritional admonition you are able to listen to, because the terminology is weirdly muddled. To fun, a “dietician” is a legally accepted expert who went to academy to learn how to tell you to stop eating like a frightened goblin. However, a “nutritionist” is a bullshit deed that bullshit administrations like The American Association of Nutritional Consultants once given on a dead “cat-o-nine-tail”. That is in no way a laugh .

No, truly .~ ATAGEND

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[apsbicepstraining]

6 Horrifying Thought The Nutrition Industry Won’t Tell You

Nutrition is one of the most frustrating disciplines in that it is arguably the most important to our daily lives, but we barely know diddly tits about it. Knowing what nutrients are good for us and which ones will kill us instantaneously seems like the type of circumstance we’d invest more serious energy into decoding, but “healthy” and “unhealthy” meat craft lieu more often than pro wrestlers in a tag-team competitor. Take coffee for example: First it was good for you, then it was bad, then it was good again, then it induced cancer, and then it dried cancer.

And coffee is far from the only sample, which reaches it was not possible to to take any health bulletin seriously. If you’re wants to know why nutrition is such a tough nut for us to crack and why people have no idea what to think about obesity, it’s because …

# 6. Our Procedures For Investigating Nutrition Are Terrible

To known better different nutrients alter different parties, we first have to know exactly what food parties eat, and in what quantities, compoundings, castes, etc. If there seems to be the sort of concept that is impossible to accurately observe without planting hidden cameras everywhere else in the world, that’s because it is. Fortunately, scientists bequeathed something called “memory-based dietary assessment methods”( M-BMs ), which is another way of saying “we ask people about their diet and then take them at their word.”

That would explain why in the ‘7 0s obesity was blamed on eating “like … salads? Yeah, super health salads and shit, man.”

Unsurprisingly, when the scientists over at the Mayo Clinic reviewed and considered the M-BM, they found that the method was “fundamentally and fatally flawed” when it came to studying nutrition. They tried to be tactful and diplomatic about their findings by attributing the failures of the M-BM to the unreliable nature of human remember, but as anyone who has ever fees anything in “peoples lives” can tell you, it isn’t hard to remember whether you chew steamed vegetables or Taco Bell on a regular basis. No, the conclude the M-BM doesn’t work as an accurate the representatives from people’s nutritions is because people are filthy fucking liars.

We lie all the freaking epoch, which is why a review of nutrition examines found that 67.3 percent of women and 58.7 percent of men report calorie intakes that are “not physiologically probable .” And this is the data on which we base all of our nutrient program and dietary guidelines. Shit, maybe the facts of the case that Big Macs are conceived unhealthy is because the only ones to ever admit to eating them were depressed parties on their route to kill themselves.

“Two all-beef patties, special sauce, an entire bottle of crushed-up sleeping capsule, loot, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun … ”

With such shoddy report, you can find analyses joining virtually any nutrient to virtually any affliction you can imagine . So what we’re certainly saying is: Recollect that study that attached eating treated meat to cancer? We wouldn’t make that stop you from eating bacon just yet. Speaking of which …

# 5. The Media Constantly Bombards Us With Bogus Food Subject And Contradicting Research

If some shitty blog was pointed out that the world leaders are secretly robot lizard people from another dimension’s future, risks are whoever wrote it is either a goddamned lunatic or is pretending to be a goddamned lunatic, which is basically the same circumstance. But when a respectable society like the BBC was pointed out that breastfeeding forecloses obesity, the fib is immediately believable in our sentiments. We assume that they deported thorough independent experiment, and aren’t merely blindly echoing the results of haphazard contemplates that outlined a questionable conclusion.

“Coming up next: Why are scientists so good in couch? A knot of scientists clarify! ”

Between 1999 and 2006, the BBC has changed their knowledge about the benefits of breast milk more eras than a vegan, first-time mother. Of direction you might say: “Duh, they’re only reporting on the progress of science, ” but the thing is, they’re not. At all. Three out of the four surveys covered by the BBC were based on examines, becoming them about scientifically reliable as horoscopes. And when another place reports three conflicting studies about the effect of sodium on the human body within the same year , you have to start wondering if mass media isn’t only fucking with us like George Lucas at this point.

“Huh? Is this even report? Too belatedly, you already clicked.”

Things have gotten so bad that the same word store will now report on how red wine might make radiation treatment guys more efficient, fight holes, and even prepare your children grow up to be more solicitous and better behaved, which of course it can’t, because it’s fucking grape juice , not angel tears.

A group of researchers lately foreground how bad the problem has already become when they released research studies is demonstrating that dark chocolate could help you lose weight. The investigate was explosion in all the regions of the Internet, formed front-page headlines in major newspapers, and was discussed on TV word networks. The subject, nonetheless, was intentionally shortcoming, and was written by a lead author from an institute that didn’t actually exist. The investigates behind it wanted to see how many shops would do some basic journalism to vet the story before breathlessly reporting it. Depressingly , not many of them did, so we’re not sure how stoked health researchers were that their hoax study was such a success.

“No joke. … No journalism, either.”

That’s why you should get all of your diet advice from medical doctors, right? Yeah, about that …

# 4. Doctors Get Almost No Nutritional Training Whatsoever

The one thing you should have taken away from this article by now is that it’s hopeless to make sweeping generalizations about nutrition, so you should probably just do what the commercials say and ask your doctor which diet is best for you . Unfortunately, it turns out that during their entire stint in med academy, the average doctor only invests about 19. 6 contact hours learning about nutrition, which is less time than it takes to beat Final Fantasy XII .

In 2003, a sketch found that 84 percentage of cardiologists didn’t are well aware that a low-fat diet could actually increase your high levels of triglycerides, which can lead to heart disease. This seems like something that heart physicians was likely to be taught, right? But modern drug is apparently more very concerned about the therapy of cardiovascular disease than the prevention.

“I’m sorry Mr. Johnson, but I can’t start giving you pills until your dick stops working.”

Even scarier, less than 25 percent of doctors canvassed said they feel qualified to talk about diet with a patient. The learn likewise found that doctors are less likely to talk with their patients about nutrition if they happen to be overweight themselves, which means that you should only search nutrition recommendations from medical doctors if she has a formidably powerful physique.

# 3. All Diets Sort Of Work( As Long As You Protrude With Them)

If you grew up in the 1980 s, you recollect sounding that it’s carbohydrate that establishes you fat — that’s why abruptly artificial sweeteners were in everything TAGEND

Then in the ‘9 0s, it was decided that flab was manufacturing you fat — thus the “stop the insanity” diet, which was all about fat grams and nothing else. That demonstrated birth to a ripple of “fat-free” snacks sold as health foods despite being full of sugar, carbs and calories.

Shockingly, a chocolate-filled chocolate cake is still bad for you .

In the 2000 s, carbs were the bad person — that brought us the Atkins diet and billions of parties telling restaurants to supplant their burger bun with additional bacon.

The detail that they were required to exhaust an improved publication of a revolutionary diet should have been a red flag . These dates, you’re starting to hear about carbohydrate again, and we’re right back to where we were 30 years ago TAGEND

“Right between “rat poison” and “trifluorochloroethylene”

Were any of them right? Well, let’s look at the still-raging struggle between low-fat vs. low-carb diets. Countless books and sections have been written fiercely insisting one over the other, because it is apparently unbelievable that both could have virtue. Researchers lastly applied both possibilities to the test in a huge meta-analysis, and found that after 12 months, the differences among average weight loss between those on low-carb diets and those on low-fat nutritions was a tiny fraction of a pound in favor of low-carb( which isn’t exactly floors for a culture struggle, but blood will no doubt been spilled for less ).

“Science says it’s OK to eat just as much fat as you miss! ” – how medical reporting labours .

Other types of foods is likewise experimented, and while they tallied worse than the low-fat/ low-carb ones, the differences in weight loss between them were just observable. What does this necessitate? For one, it means that the Paleo, Atkins, South Beach, and Tapeworm diets all work to virtually the exact same degree, and that the best kind of food for you is simply the one that you won’t discontinue two days after starting. For some people, giving up carbs might be a walk in the park, while with others, it will establish them hallucinate that their friends and loved ones have turned into giant illustrations of caricature hamburgers.

There’s a more subtle impression at play too. Let’s say you decide to cut back on sodium, and after a few months you’ve misplaced load, you feel more energetic, and your blood pressure has proceeded style down. But before “theres going” recommending it to everyone else, consider all the other changes you’ve indirectly seen. Cutting back on sodium signifies most fast food is no longer an option. Same becomes for most processed food. You’ve likely likewise started cooking more of your own snacks, and they’ve possibly included more fruits and veggies than you used to eat because, again, your options are a lot more limited now.

“What do you mean? “Theres”, like, seven nuts I can choose from! ”

It’s kind of similar to the gluten-free fad, in which billions of parties convinced themselves that gluten was clearing them sick, despite maybe not knowing what gluten even is( do you ?). Sure enough, they feel better after making a concerted effort to cut it out. But is it because they cut down on gluten, or because they cut down on the kind of foods that happen to have gluten in their own homes — namely pasta, cookies, patties, brew, etc? “I feel so much better now! ” Of course you do.

Hell, merely going people to stop and examine the contents of what they’re dining is a huge accomplishment. If somebody’s siding out snacks at “states parties “, you’re less likely to exactly absent-mindedly cram something into your opening because it ogles good if you think you’ve got an allergy to some invisible ingredient. Even if you almost certainly don’t.

“Sorry, I’m allergic to sour ointment and onion and regret.”

# 2. Almost Every Health Initiative That Food Firms Take Is Complete Bullshit

Every now and then, large-hearted food corporations will announce that they are making their makes healthier by removing all the asbestos and cancer and ousting it with it with a cluster of vitamins and shit. For precedent, Kellogg’s and General Mills lately decided to stuff their cereals with vitamin A, niacin, and zinc in the hopes that parents everywhere will choose their sugary concoctions over some bullshit grapefruit. In Large-scale Cereal’s defense, there’s good-for-nothing wrong with a little of sugar as long as it’s delivered alongside some solid nutritional supplements.

Well, the thing is, the cereals’ dosages of vitamin A were bafflingly calculated in accordance with adults. The dosage was dangerously high-pitched for children, enough to potentially induce liver shattering and immune disorders.

Although, that might have just been because of all the sugar .

And when these companies aren’t lending useless( and occasionally damaging) parts to their commodities, they’re removing innocuous ones to pander to fad-stricken consumers. When Pepsi announced they were removing aspartame from their diet sodas( that is, the stuff that 1980 s commercial-grade was boasting about earlier ), they made it clear that it had nothing to do with health, or refuge, or any kind of scientific research. Shoppers chose they didn’t trust aspartame( false rumors about its harmful effects had been circulating for decades ), so it had to go. The same was genuine when Subway removed a common artificial additive from their doughs after public pressure. And when Kraft and Nestle announced they were removing artificial ingredients from some of their products, they said it was because of meat trends rather than any nutritional headaches( they presumably gave the term “food trends” in condescending air mentions ).

Now, we’re not saying that all the stuff food companies arbitrarily remove from their commodities was actually good for us. We’re went on to say that food firms do not give one lonely peanut shit whether their produces dedicate us all cancer or not. They’ll add or subtract anything we ask them to, and unfortunately for us, what we want is easily influenced by daily quantities of alarmist bullshit. That’s often because …

# 1. We Dismiss Nutritional Experts In Favor Of People With No Academic Knowledge Or Training

The truth is that there are lawful scientists out there who can tell you what meat will allow you to live long enough to see that fourth season of Sherlock . Unfortunately, we generally decide to ignore them, because they tend to babble on about circumstances like “vegetables” and “moderation, ” while brutally leaving no room for Bloomin’ Onions or mozzarella sticks.

Then there are people like Vani Hari, who pressured corporate monsters like General Mills and Kellogg’s to change their products, wrote a best-selling work on nutrition, and was reputation one of Time magazine’s 30 Most Influential Beings On The Internet, despite having absolutely no educated in the field of nutrition whatsoever. Instead of attracting from any actual academic schooling, every ounce of her admonition is based on the relevant recommendations that all substances are bad for you, without exception.

That’s why we get all our flowings from brew instead of that nasty “water” substance .

We might scoff at the relevant recommendations of Rihanna writing a neuroscience textbook or questioning Mel Gibson’s opinion on how to find the Higgs boson. But when Beyonce and Gwyneth Paltrow endorsed a “cleanse” diet, loads of people were more than happy to listen, trying extreme nutritions fabricated by attractive celebrities in an attempt to “detox” their body of creepy poisons that can’t be screened or detected by any kind of medical testing.

That said, it is admittedly a bit disorient to figure out whose nutritional admonition you are able to listen to, because the terminology is weirdly muddled. To fun, a “dietician” is a legally accepted expert who went to academy to learn how to tell you to stop eating like a frightened goblin. However, a “nutritionist” is a bullshit deed that bullshit administrations like The American Association of Nutritional Consultants once given on a dead “cat-o-nine-tail”. That is in no way a laugh .

No, truly .~ ATAGEND

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6 Horrifying Thought The Nutrition Industry Won’t Tell You

Nutrition is one of the most frustrating disciplines in that it is arguably the most important to our daily lives, but we barely know diddly tits about it. Knowing what nutrients are good for us and which ones will kill us instantaneously seems like the type of circumstance we’d invest more serious energy into decoding, but “healthy” and “unhealthy” meat craft lieu more often than pro wrestlers in a tag-team competitor. Take coffee for example: First it was good for you, then it was bad, then it was good again, then it induced cancer, and then it dried cancer.

And coffee is far from the only sample, which reaches it was not possible to to take any health bulletin seriously. If you’re wants to know why nutrition is such a tough nut for us to crack and why people have no idea what to think about obesity, it’s because …

# 6. Our Procedures For Investigating Nutrition Are Terrible

To known better different nutrients alter different parties, we first have to know exactly what food parties eat, and in what quantities, compoundings, castes, etc. If there seems to be the sort of concept that is impossible to accurately observe without planting hidden cameras everywhere else in the world, that’s because it is. Fortunately, scientists bequeathed something called “memory-based dietary assessment methods”( M-BMs ), which is another way of saying “we ask people about their diet and then take them at their word.”

That would explain why in the ‘7 0s obesity was blamed on eating “like … salads? Yeah, super health salads and shit, man.”

Unsurprisingly, when the scientists over at the Mayo Clinic reviewed and considered the M-BM, they found that the method was “fundamentally and fatally flawed” when it came to studying nutrition. They tried to be tactful and diplomatic about their findings by attributing the failures of the M-BM to the unreliable nature of human remember, but as anyone who has ever fees anything in “peoples lives” can tell you, it isn’t hard to remember whether you chew steamed vegetables or Taco Bell on a regular basis. No, the conclude the M-BM doesn’t work as an accurate the representatives from people’s nutritions is because people are filthy fucking liars.

We lie all the freaking epoch, which is why a review of nutrition examines found that 67.3 percent of women and 58.7 percent of men report calorie intakes that are “not physiologically probable .” And this is the data on which we base all of our nutrient program and dietary guidelines. Shit, maybe the facts of the case that Big Macs are conceived unhealthy is because the only ones to ever admit to eating them were depressed parties on their route to kill themselves.

“Two all-beef patties, special sauce, an entire bottle of crushed-up sleeping capsule, loot, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun … ”

With such shoddy report, you can find analyses joining virtually any nutrient to virtually any affliction you can imagine . So what we’re certainly saying is: Recollect that study that attached eating treated meat to cancer? We wouldn’t make that stop you from eating bacon just yet. Speaking of which …

# 5. The Media Constantly Bombards Us With Bogus Food Subject And Contradicting Research

If some shitty blog was pointed out that the world leaders are secretly robot lizard people from another dimension’s future, risks are whoever wrote it is either a goddamned lunatic or is pretending to be a goddamned lunatic, which is basically the same circumstance. But when a respectable society like the BBC was pointed out that breastfeeding forecloses obesity, the fib is immediately believable in our sentiments. We assume that they deported thorough independent experiment, and aren’t merely blindly echoing the results of haphazard contemplates that outlined a questionable conclusion.

“Coming up next: Why are scientists so good in couch? A knot of scientists clarify! ”

Between 1999 and 2006, the BBC has changed their knowledge about the benefits of breast milk more eras than a vegan, first-time mother. Of direction you might say: “Duh, they’re only reporting on the progress of science, ” but the thing is, they’re not. At all. Three out of the four surveys covered by the BBC were based on examines, becoming them about scientifically reliable as horoscopes. And when another place reports three conflicting studies about the effect of sodium on the human body within the same year , you have to start wondering if mass media isn’t only fucking with us like George Lucas at this point.

“Huh? Is this even report? Too belatedly, you already clicked.”

Things have gotten so bad that the same word store will now report on how red wine might make radiation treatment guys more efficient, fight holes, and even prepare your children grow up to be more solicitous and better behaved, which of course it can’t, because it’s fucking grape juice , not angel tears.

A group of researchers lately foreground how bad the problem has already become when they released research studies is demonstrating that dark chocolate could help you lose weight. The investigate was explosion in all the regions of the Internet, formed front-page headlines in major newspapers, and was discussed on TV word networks. The subject, nonetheless, was intentionally shortcoming, and was written by a lead author from an institute that didn’t actually exist. The investigates behind it wanted to see how many shops would do some basic journalism to vet the story before breathlessly reporting it. Depressingly , not many of them did, so we’re not sure how stoked health researchers were that their hoax study was such a success.

“No joke. … No journalism, either.”

That’s why you should get all of your diet advice from medical doctors, right? Yeah, about that …

# 4. Doctors Get Almost No Nutritional Training Whatsoever

The one thing you should have taken away from this article by now is that it’s hopeless to make sweeping generalizations about nutrition, so you should probably just do what the commercials say and ask your doctor which diet is best for you . Unfortunately, it turns out that during their entire stint in med academy, the average doctor only invests about 19. 6 contact hours learning about nutrition, which is less time than it takes to beat Final Fantasy XII .

In 2003, a sketch found that 84 percentage of cardiologists didn’t are well aware that a low-fat diet could actually increase your high levels of triglycerides, which can lead to heart disease. This seems like something that heart physicians was likely to be taught, right? But modern drug is apparently more very concerned about the therapy of cardiovascular disease than the prevention.

“I’m sorry Mr. Johnson, but I can’t start giving you pills until your dick stops working.”

Even scarier, less than 25 percent of doctors canvassed said they feel qualified to talk about diet with a patient. The learn likewise found that doctors are less likely to talk with their patients about nutrition if they happen to be overweight themselves, which means that you should only search nutrition recommendations from medical doctors if she has a formidably powerful physique.

# 3. All Diets Sort Of Work( As Long As You Protrude With Them)

If you grew up in the 1980 s, you recollect sounding that it’s carbohydrate that establishes you fat — that’s why abruptly artificial sweeteners were in everything TAGEND

Then in the ‘9 0s, it was decided that flab was manufacturing you fat — thus the “stop the insanity” diet, which was all about fat grams and nothing else. That demonstrated birth to a ripple of “fat-free” snacks sold as health foods despite being full of sugar, carbs and calories.

Shockingly, a chocolate-filled chocolate cake is still bad for you .

In the 2000 s, carbs were the bad person — that brought us the Atkins diet and billions of parties telling restaurants to supplant their burger bun with additional bacon.

The detail that they were required to exhaust an improved publication of a revolutionary diet should have been a red flag . These dates, you’re starting to hear about carbohydrate again, and we’re right back to where we were 30 years ago TAGEND

“Right between “rat poison” and “trifluorochloroethylene”

Were any of them right? Well, let’s look at the still-raging struggle between low-fat vs. low-carb diets. Countless books and sections have been written fiercely insisting one over the other, because it is apparently unbelievable that both could have virtue. Researchers lastly applied both possibilities to the test in a huge meta-analysis, and found that after 12 months, the differences among average weight loss between those on low-carb diets and those on low-fat nutritions was a tiny fraction of a pound in favor of low-carb( which isn’t exactly floors for a culture struggle, but blood will no doubt been spilled for less ).

“Science says it’s OK to eat just as much fat as you miss! ” – how medical reporting labours .

Other types of foods is likewise experimented, and while they tallied worse than the low-fat/ low-carb ones, the differences in weight loss between them were just observable. What does this necessitate? For one, it means that the Paleo, Atkins, South Beach, and Tapeworm diets all work to virtually the exact same degree, and that the best kind of food for you is simply the one that you won’t discontinue two days after starting. For some people, giving up carbs might be a walk in the park, while with others, it will establish them hallucinate that their friends and loved ones have turned into giant illustrations of caricature hamburgers.

There’s a more subtle impression at play too. Let’s say you decide to cut back on sodium, and after a few months you’ve misplaced load, you feel more energetic, and your blood pressure has proceeded style down. But before “theres going” recommending it to everyone else, consider all the other changes you’ve indirectly seen. Cutting back on sodium signifies most fast food is no longer an option. Same becomes for most processed food. You’ve likely likewise started cooking more of your own snacks, and they’ve possibly included more fruits and veggies than you used to eat because, again, your options are a lot more limited now.

“What do you mean? “Theres”, like, seven nuts I can choose from! ”

It’s kind of similar to the gluten-free fad, in which billions of parties convinced themselves that gluten was clearing them sick, despite maybe not knowing what gluten even is( do you ?). Sure enough, they feel better after making a concerted effort to cut it out. But is it because they cut down on gluten, or because they cut down on the kind of foods that happen to have gluten in their own homes — namely pasta, cookies, patties, brew, etc? “I feel so much better now! ” Of course you do.

Hell, merely going people to stop and examine the contents of what they’re dining is a huge accomplishment. If somebody’s siding out snacks at “states parties “, you’re less likely to exactly absent-mindedly cram something into your opening because it ogles good if you think you’ve got an allergy to some invisible ingredient. Even if you almost certainly don’t.

“Sorry, I’m allergic to sour ointment and onion and regret.”

# 2. Almost Every Health Initiative That Food Firms Take Is Complete Bullshit

Every now and then, large-hearted food corporations will announce that they are making their makes healthier by removing all the asbestos and cancer and ousting it with it with a cluster of vitamins and shit. For precedent, Kellogg’s and General Mills lately decided to stuff their cereals with vitamin A, niacin, and zinc in the hopes that parents everywhere will choose their sugary concoctions over some bullshit grapefruit. In Large-scale Cereal’s defense, there’s good-for-nothing wrong with a little of sugar as long as it’s delivered alongside some solid nutritional supplements.

Well, the thing is, the cereals’ dosages of vitamin A were bafflingly calculated in accordance with adults. The dosage was dangerously high-pitched for children, enough to potentially induce liver shattering and immune disorders.

Although, that might have just been because of all the sugar .

And when these companies aren’t lending useless( and occasionally damaging) parts to their commodities, they’re removing innocuous ones to pander to fad-stricken consumers. When Pepsi announced they were removing aspartame from their diet sodas( that is, the stuff that 1980 s commercial-grade was boasting about earlier ), they made it clear that it had nothing to do with health, or refuge, or any kind of scientific research. Shoppers chose they didn’t trust aspartame( false rumors about its harmful effects had been circulating for decades ), so it had to go. The same was genuine when Subway removed a common artificial additive from their doughs after public pressure. And when Kraft and Nestle announced they were removing artificial ingredients from some of their products, they said it was because of meat trends rather than any nutritional headaches( they presumably gave the term “food trends” in condescending air mentions ).

Now, we’re not saying that all the stuff food companies arbitrarily remove from their commodities was actually good for us. We’re went on to say that food firms do not give one lonely peanut shit whether their produces dedicate us all cancer or not. They’ll add or subtract anything we ask them to, and unfortunately for us, what we want is easily influenced by daily quantities of alarmist bullshit. That’s often because …

# 1. We Dismiss Nutritional Experts In Favor Of People With No Academic Knowledge Or Training

The truth is that there are lawful scientists out there who can tell you what meat will allow you to live long enough to see that fourth season of Sherlock . Unfortunately, we generally decide to ignore them, because they tend to babble on about circumstances like “vegetables” and “moderation, ” while brutally leaving no room for Bloomin’ Onions or mozzarella sticks.

Then there are people like Vani Hari, who pressured corporate monsters like General Mills and Kellogg’s to change their products, wrote a best-selling work on nutrition, and was reputation one of Time magazine’s 30 Most Influential Beings On The Internet, despite having absolutely no educated in the field of nutrition whatsoever. Instead of attracting from any actual academic schooling, every ounce of her admonition is based on the relevant recommendations that all substances are bad for you, without exception.

That’s why we get all our flowings from brew instead of that nasty “water” substance .

We might scoff at the relevant recommendations of Rihanna writing a neuroscience textbook or questioning Mel Gibson’s opinion on how to find the Higgs boson. But when Beyonce and Gwyneth Paltrow endorsed a “cleanse” diet, loads of people were more than happy to listen, trying extreme nutritions fabricated by attractive celebrities in an attempt to “detox” their body of creepy poisons that can’t be screened or detected by any kind of medical testing.

That said, it is admittedly a bit disorient to figure out whose nutritional admonition you are able to listen to, because the terminology is weirdly muddled. To fun, a “dietician” is a legally accepted expert who went to academy to learn how to tell you to stop eating like a frightened goblin. However, a “nutritionist” is a bullshit deed that bullshit administrations like The American Association of Nutritional Consultants once given on a dead “cat-o-nine-tail”. That is in no way a laugh .

No, truly .~ ATAGEND

The post 6 Horrifying Thought The Nutrition Industry Won’t Tell You appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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