#its literally that so many people from the us have poor geography because out schools dont prioritize it. why are you making it some moral

[girlcockholmes]

this website is not beating the piss poor reading comprehension allegations

[dustedmagazine]

Punk’d History, Vol. VIII: This Machine [blank] Fascists

Photo by Richard Young

It has the appearance of a worrisome pattern: any number of punk rock’s founding figures embraced the symbolics of Nazi Germany. Ron Asheton, an original and indispensable member of the Stooges, played a number of gigs wearing a red swastika armband, and liked to sport Iron Cross medals and a Luftwaffe-style leather jacket. Sid Vicious loved his bright scarlet, swastika-emblazoned tee shirt, and Siouxsie Sioux, during her tenure as the It-Girl of the Bromley Contingent, mixed her breast-baring, black leather bondage gear with a bunch of “Nazi chic.” And how many early Ramones songs (inevitably penned by Dee Dee) referenced Nazi gear, concepts and geography? “Blitzkrieg Bop,” “Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World,” “Commando,” “It’s a Long Way Back to Germany,” “All’s Quiet on the Eastern Front,” and so on—for sure, more than a few.

“Appearance” is the key term. Poor Sid lacked the sobriety and smarts to have much of a grasp of fascism as an ideology. Siouxsie was just taking the piss, and gleefully pissing off the mid-1970s British general public, for much of whom World War II was still a living memory. Asheton and Dee Dee? Both were sons of hyper-masculine military men. Asheton’s father was a collector of WWII artefacts, and the guitarist shared his father’s fascination. When the Stooges adopted an ethos and aesthetic hostile to the late-1960s prevailing Flower Power rock’n’roll subculture, the Nazi accoutrement seemed to him fitting signs of the band’s anger and alienation. Dee Dee hated his father, an abusive Army officer who married a German woman. Dee Dee spent some of his youth in post-war West Germany, in which Nazi symbols were highly charged with anxiety and vituperation. Casual veneration of Nazis was a convenient way to reject the triumphal ennobling of the Good War, and of the military men associated with its traditions. And (as Sid, Siouxsie and Asheton also noticed) it really bothered the squares. 

None of that makes the superficial use of the swastika or phrases like “Nazi schatzi” any less offensive — it simply underscores that in the cases noted above, the offense was the thing. The politics weren’t even an afterthought, because the political itself had been dismissed as corrupt, boring or simply the native territory of the very people the punks were striking out against. If that’s where the relation between punk and fascism ceased, there wouldn’t be much more to write about.

The post-punk moment in England provided opportunities to rethink and restrategize the nascent détournement of Siouxsie’s fashionable provocations. Genesis P-Orridge and the rest of Throbbing Gristle were a brainy bunch, and their play with fascist signifiers was a good deal more complex. The band’s logo and their occasional appearance in gun-metal grey uniforms clearly alluded to Nazism, with its attendant, keen interests in occult symbols and High Modernist representational languages. TG’s visual gestures were also of a piece with an early band slogan: “Industrial music for industrial people.” Clearly “industrial people” can be read as a highly ironized coupling: the oppressed workers marching through the bowels of Metropolis were a sort of industrial people, reduced to the functionality of pure human capital. TG seemed to impose the same analysis on the middle-managers of Britain’s post-industrial economy, and their uncritical complicity in capital’s cruelties. But it’s also possible to argue that industrial people are industrious people; like TG, industrial people (middle managers, MPs) can get a lot of stuff done. They can produce things. They can make the trains run on time. And what sorts of cargo might those trains be carrying? What variety of conveyance delivered the naked “little Jewish girl” of “Zyklon B Zombies” to her fate?  

To be clear: I don’t mean at all to suggest that TG was a fascist band. Like their punky contemporaries, TG traded in fascist iconography in a spirit of transgressive outrage, expressing their hot indignation with equally heated symbols. And other British post-punk acts flirted with fascist themes and images, ranging from ambiguous dalliance (Joy Division’s overt references to Yehiel De-Nur’s House of Dolls and to Rudolph Hess; and just what was the inspiration for Death in June’s band name?) to more assertive satire (see Current 93’s appealingly bonkers Swastikas for Noddy [LAYLAH Antirecords, 1988]). But a more problematic populist undercurrent in British punk persisted through the late 1970s. The dissolution of Sham 69—due in large part to the National Front’s attempts to appropriate the band’s working-class anger as a form of white pride—opened the way for a clutch of clueless, cynical or outright racist Oi! bands to attempt to impose themselves as the face of blue-collar English punk. And literally so: the Strength through Oi! compilation LP (Decca Records, 1981) featured notorious British Movement activist Nicky Crane on its cover. It didn’t help that the record’s title seemed to allude to the Nazis’ “Strength through Joy [Kraft durch Freude]” propaganda initiative.  

Of course, it’s unfair to tar all Oi! bands with an indiscriminate brush. A few bands whose songs were opportunistically stuck onto Strength through Oi! by the dullards at Decca Records — Cock Sparrer and the excellent Infa Riot — tended leftward in their politics, and were anything but racists. But for a lot of the disaffected kids sucking down pints of Bass and singing in the Shed at Stamford Bridge, it wasn’t much of a leap from the punk pathetique of the Toy Dolls to Skrewdriver’s poisonous palaver.  

In the States, a similarly complicated story can be recovered:

In numerous ways, hardcore intensified punk’s confrontational qualities, musically and aesthetically. The New York hardcore scene made a fetish of its inherent violence, which complemented the music’s sharpened impact. So it’s hard to know precisely what to make of the photo on the cover of Victim in Pain (Rat Cage Records, 1984). If inflicting violence was an essential element of belonging in the NYHC scene, with whom to identify: the Nazi with the pistol, or the abject Ukrainian Jewish man, on his knees and about to tumble into the mass grave?  

Agnostic Front seemed to provide a measure of clarity on the record, which included the song “Fascist Attitudes.” The lyric uses “fascist” as a condemnatory term. But the behaviors the song engages as evidence of fascism are intra-scene acts of violence: “Why should you go around bashing one another? […] / Learning how to respect each other is a must / So why start a war of anger, danger among us?” That’s a rhetoric familiar to anyone who participated in early-1980s hardcore; calls for scene unity were ubiquitous, and the theme is obsessively addressed on Victim in Pain. But the signs of inclusivity most visibly celebrated on the NYHC records and show flyers of the period were a skinhead’s white, shaven pate; black leather, steel-toe boots; and heavily muscled biceps. Those signifiers clearly link to the awful cover image of Strength through Oi! The forms of identity recognized and concretized in the songs’ first-person inclusive pronouns have a clear referent. 

Agnostic Front wasn’t the only NYHC band to refer to and engage World War Two-period fascism. Queens natives Dave Rubenstein and Paul Bakija met at Forest Hills High School—the same school at which John Cummings (Johnny) befriended Thomas Erdelyi (Tommy), laying the groundwork for the formation of the Ramones. Rubenstein and Bakija also took stage names (Dave Insurgent and Paul Cripple) and formed Reagan Youth. But unlike the Ramones, there was nothing tentative or ambivalent about Reagan Youth’s politics. Rubenstein’s parents, after all, were Holocaust survivors. The band’s name riffed on “Hitler Youth,” but specifically did so to draw associations between Reagan and Hitler, between American conservatism’s 1980s resurgence and the Nazi’s hateful, genocidal agenda. Songs like “New Aryans” and “I Hate Hate” accommodated no uncertainties.  

Still, it’s interesting that Victim in Pain and Reagan Youth’s Youth Anthems for the New Order (R Radical Records, 1984) were released only months apart, by bands in the same scene, sometimes sharing bills at CBGBs’ famous matinees of the period. And while Reagan Youth toured with Dead Kennedys, it’s Agnostic Front’s “Fascist Attitudes” that’s closer in content to the most famous punk rock putdown of Nazis.

It’s odd what comes back around: Martin Hannett, whom Biafra playfully chides at the track’s very beginning, produced much of Joy Division’s music, moving the band away from its brittle early sound to the fulsome atmospheres of the Factory records, and to a wider listenership. “Nazi Punks Fuck Off” similarly addresses a formerly obscure, tight scene opening to a greater array of participants, some of whom were attracted solely to hardcore’s reputation for violence. Like “Fascist Attitudes,” the Dead Kennedys’ song itemizes fighting at shows as its chief complaint, and as a principal marker for “Nazi” behavior. Biafra’s lyric eventually gets around to somewhat more focused ideological critique: “You still think swastikas look cool / The real Nazis run your schools / They’re coaches, businessmen, and cops / In a real fourth Reich, you’ll be the first to go.” The kiss-off to punk’s vapid romance of the swastika (it “looks cool”) complements the speculative treatment of a “real fourth Reich.” Both operate at the level of abstraction. The casual, superficial relation to the symbol’s aesthetic assumes a sort of safety from the real, material consequences of its application. And the emergence of a fascist political regime is dangled as a possible future event. That speculative futurity undoes the “real” in “real Nazis.” The threat is ultimately a metaphorical construct. The Nazis are metaphorical “Nazis.”  

Still, it’s the song’s chorus that resonates most powerfully. So much so that the song has found its way into other artworks.

Jeremy Saulnier’s Green Room (2015) is frequently identified as a horror film on streaming services. We could split hairs over that genre marker. The film gets quite graphically bloody, but there’s no psychotic slasher killer, no supernatural force at work. And cinematically, the film is a lot more interested in anxiety and dramatic tension than it is in inspiring revulsion or disgust. It terrifies, more than it horrifies. What’s especially compelling about the film (aside from Imogen Poots’ excellent performance, and Patrick Stewart’s menacing turn as charismatic fascist Darcy Banks) is its interest in embedding the viewer in a social context in which the Nazis are a lot less metaphorical, a lot more real. In Green Room, the kids in the punk band the Ain’t Rights are warned about the club they have agreed to play: “It’s mostly boots and braces down there.” And they understand the terms. What they can’t quite imagine is a room — a scene, a political Real — in which fascism is dominant. Their recognition of the stakes of the Real comes too late. The violence is already in motion. In that world, the Dead Kennedys song provides a nice slogan, but symbolic action alone is entirely inadequate.  

OK, sure, Green Room is a fiction. Its violence is necessarily aestheticized, distorted and hyperbolized. But perhaps the film’s most urgent source of horror can be located in its plausible connections to the social realities of our material, contemporary conjuncture. You don’t have to dig very deep into the Web to find thousands of records made by white nationalist and neo-fascist-allied bands, many, many of which deploy stylistic chops identified with punk rock and hardcore. You can listen. You can buy. (And yeah, I’m not going to link to any of that miserable shit, because fuck them. If you do your own digging to see what’s what, be careful. It’s scary and upsetting in there.) It feels endless. And the virulent sentiments expressed on those records are echoed in institutional politics in the US and elsewhere: Steve King (and now Marjorie Taylor Greene, effectively angling for her seat in Congress), Nigel Farage, Alternative für Deutschland, elected leadership in Poland and Hungary. Explicit white supremacist music also has somewhat more carefully coded counterparts in much more visible media (the nightly monologuing on Fox News) and in very well-positioned, prominent policy makers (Stephen Miller, who’s on the record touting “great replacement” theory and is a big fan of The Camp of the Saints). It’s a complex, ideologically coherent network, working industriously to impose and install its hateful vision as the dominant political Real. 

Sometimes it feels as if no progress at all has been made. Maybe we’re moving toward the reactionaries. Contrast Skokie in the late 1970s with Charlottesville in 2017. And now if the Neo-Nazis have licenses for their long guns, they can strut through American streets wearing them in the name of “law and order.” It’s even more disturbing that a subculture that wants to clothe itself in “revolution” and “radicalism” is so tightly in league with institutional politics. Say what you will about Siouxsie’s Nazi-fashion antics, no one suspected that her prancing echoed political activity, policy-making or messaging in Westminster.

So what’s a punk to do? It’s certain that a vigorously free society needs to preserve spaces in which unpopular speech can be uttered and exchanged. Punk should pride itself on defending those spaces. But speech that operates in conjunction with an ascendant political power and ideological agenda doesn’t need defense or energetic attempts to preserve its right to existence. In October of 2020, that speech (in this case, speeches being written by Miller, texts by folks who have spent time in Tucker Carlson’s writer’s room and songs by white supremacist hardcore bands) has become synonymous with political right itself.  

So now more than ever, it’s important to be active in the public square, to stand up to the fascists and to say it, often and out loud:

Jonathan Shaw

[devourer--of--books]

Callis was Gavaldon’s first witch gynecologist and here’s why

Okay so, in this post we’ll be discussing topics such as sex, contraception, and some religion in the context of it being used as a mean to control people sexually. 

If you’re younger than 13, honestly, this post isn’t for you. 

If you’re unlucky, like me, and your school didn't give you proper sex ed, I beg you to ask someone about it. Your older sibling, your mom, someone, okay? Ask google. It’s important stuff you need to know.

First of all, for composure’s sake, let’s all pretend I didn’t start thinking of this due to me writing a smut fic. At 4am, on my tablet notes. On my defense, tho, there’s an astonishing lack of E-rated fics on this fandom and someone ought do it, okay? Moving on.

So, where shall we start?

Let’s get context out of the way, welcome to my analyses, the actual headcanons are here, I promise, let me just bore you to death first:

The SGE book series overall is set in fantasy fairytale land (The Endless Woods), with the exception of Gavaldon, aka, the reader village. Due to this, there’s not really a time period liking the SGE world to ours, neither can it be presumed by the world building, as Soman mixes traditional medieval elements  with modern elements, which I know bothers some of you too, it ain’t just me, but nevermind that right now.

The point is, the arguments I’m making on this post are based on aspects mentioned in the books, but I’m also going to draw some information from the real world.

A big chunk of the first two books rely on the world the existence of a patriarchal structure in that world, as do some plot points during the rest of the series, but if I were to dive into that we’d be here all night. Talking about the Endless Woods social structure is very complicated, specially with the ‘no labels in the woods’ stuff combined with the misogyny. It’s messy. 

Thankfully for this post, we’ll only go into Gavaldon, because I feel things there are more… explicit (pun intended).

So here’s what we know of Gavaldon’s social structure pre-book 1:

It’s a decent sized village with no official government. There’s no political figure of power, such as prince or a mayor, as they eventually get in QFG. There also doesn’t seem to be an actual economic class distinction between the people of Gavaldon, other than mentions of beggars (pretty sure it’s just one tho, but I might be wrong). Everyone works and trades amongst themselves, with people having more or less the same things (except for Callis and Agatha, due to them being social outcasts). 

Who has power in Gavaldon?

The Elders Council. They make the laws, they are respected, they have influence, and therefore they have power. These dudes stopped people from selling food to Stefan’s family during book 2, and threatened his new family in front of everybody during book 3. And everyone in Gavaldon loved that man. Why are they powerful tho?

Power is born out of inequality. If you have what we have not, we follow where you lead. Gavaldon has no nobles and no bourgeoisie. Geez, I wonder which powerful class we’re missing.

The clergy.

Personally, I hold no love for the church. I’m an atheist, but, as this post is about SGE and not religion, I’ll try to be as neutral as possible, as the point is not to offend or disrespect anyone. When I mention ‘religion’ or ‘clergy’ from this point on, I’m talking about religion as an Institution. As in the Medieval Catholic Church (which if you don’t agree was at least kind of very evil, I don’t know if I want you reading my posts anyway, so feel free to leave).

Most likely, the members of Elders Council of Galvadon were linked to its Church, whatever religion they may have. I can’t see any reason why they would have so much influence otherwise. Who appoints new men to the positions once one of them dies? I’m gonna guess the remaining members of the Council. 

And no one said anything? For centuries. Okay. Corruption? Never heard of her.

Also, burning unmarried women as a way to solve problems claiming they were witches? Wonder where I’ve seen this before.

The fact they’re men, should get mentioned too, just in case you forgot. I bet there are women just as old and wise, if not wiser than the members of the council. Hm, wow why they’re not part of the council.

This hypothesis ties in with the fact that the education given to the kids is limited to the local school, which, given the lack of government and simplicity of work relations, is probably funded by the clergy. We don’t see any proof of this, but again, if we’re comparing Galvadon to a medieval village, it would make sense.

What is even taught at this school? Math and whatever language they speak there, sure, but like they have little to no history that we know of, geography would be pointless, there are no foreign languages, science who, and with these clowns running the village I’ll bet there is no philosophy or social studies and... Doesn’t matter, let’s not do this right now.

Callis briefly mentioned that all girls in Galvadon must marry before the end of their school education, or they are deemed witches. The Elders Council even chooses the matches, in case those aren’t naturally formed or if they disagree with pre-existing ones. These kids are what,15,16, maybe younger?

(this makes me so mad, you have no idea-)

ANYWAY. They form these child marriages, for... look I’m gonna presume is because of population reposition. They need an average of 2 kids per couple or they’ll have more people dying than people being born. Let’s just presume it’s because of this because if it’s because of some tradition stuff I’ll scream, okay?

Maybe they have a low life expectancy in Gavaldon (which is another evidence for the case that the elders are part of the clergy, they probably don’t work, so they live longer). 

So have them teenage girls poping them babies, I guess.

Also, a miracle they have survived this long, because the genetic pool for Gavaldon must be the worst ever, everyone is related to everyone, ew. At least, in theory, there would be no STIs.

In theory.

Ahem… During the middle ages, all forms of birth control tended to be frowned upon, at least here on the west, including coitus interruptus (aka, pull out method), (tho it depends of who was the pope at the time, some of them were cool with this one if you already had too many kids and was like super poor), because sex was supposed to be about procreating, so a marriage with no kids was ‘pointless’. 

(hear me raging in the background, this context is stressing me out, i just wanna get to the headcanons-)

We can assume this view is probably compatible with the Elders Council mindset, as they are marrying CHILDREN. 

If there were any available contraceptive methods, you can bet they weren’t teaching this stuff at school. They probably have no sex ed, and if they do, it’s going to be just about periods and vague stuff. Gotta love them church schools (I never went to one, officially, but honestly, I live in Brazil, what even is Secular State).

(“Don’t have sex before marriage, you’re gonna get pregnant and die”, - one of the teachers at the Galvadon school at some point, I bet)

Let me also mention that there is an specific Gavaldon law that states that if a girl is pregnant she is going to marry the boy who knocked her up. Which, specially in Vanessa’s case, makes no f-ing sense. Could she prove it was Stefan’s? Did she sent it to a DNA lab? If Stefan was the Elders favorite why would they not take his word?

I digress, let’s say Stefan didn’t deny sleeping with her and only said he was under a spell, which, hm, how dumb do you have to be to do that, it’s lying 101, Stefan c’mon, but okay, you do you.

So they are probably super “moral” in Galvadon. You know, the kind of moral who just swipes stuff under the rug. Like, yeah, Stefan you’re now doomed to marrying Vanessa, but ain’t nobody gonna say a thing if you cheat on her as long as you don’t do it during plain daylight.

(The amount of closeted gays in Gavaldon is probably astronomical, can you imagine?)

And then you have Callis. Whom I think is probably responsible for the introduction of birth control in Gavaldon. We have arrived at the headcanons. Hear me out:

After Stefan saved Callis, she was deemed a witch. She’s a ‘witch’ doctor for the town. Only the most desperate of people seek her out. 

That means she normally wouldn’t get a lot of patients. Like, Idk about you, but Gavaldon doesn’t seem big enough for her to have people looking for her everyday. And she probably had to feed Agatha somehow.

But, while her being a doctor for normal diseases wasn’t really working all that well, everyone knew she had a hand in Vanessa’s miracle child. So ‘infertile’ women and women who had been getting sickly during pregnancies start looking for her, asking for her to help them. 

Callis obviously doesn’t use her magic, but as she can’t say she used magic for Vanessa, she gives them generally good advice about herbs and stuff they can add to their food to make it ‘more likely’, aka stuff that reduces stress, telling them how to eat better, stuff they should avoid, etc. She’s no big expert, but at least in the Endless Woods they had sex ed and she was witch, she just knows stuff.

So she becomes this sort of witch gynecologist for Gavaldon’s desperate women.

It works for a while, but then people eventually share these tips amongst themselves to avoid going to see her. Then, it’s back to slightly starving herself so baby Agatha could eat.

One day, a teenage girl arrives at her doorstep in the middle of the night, trading food for her help. If she could ‘make people more fertile’, she could surely make them miscarriage. Maybe this girl got pregnant by sleeping with someone the elders didn’t aprove for her to marry, maybe it was something else a bit darker, but we won’t talk about how that could be common, given you could literally force someone to marry you if they had your child.

Callis panics, because she wasn't ‘making anyone more fertile’ really, she was making them healthier and therefore more likely to have a healthy kid. If she were to tell her to do the reverse of what she told the others, not only it wouldn’t work, but it would actually harm the girl’s health.

At first she’s like, “I can’t help you…”, but then she hears baby Agatha crying, poor thing, so hungry all the time. So Callis decides, “you know what, might as well”.

There’s probably many potions made with magic one could take to not have a baby in the Woods. Even ones that cause abortions with no side effects or danger to the woman. But there also more natural ways, ones that maybe aren’t 100% effective, but would work, tho it had some side effects.

So Callis, makes her a potion to take. For real life comparisons, let’s say she used Queen Anne’s Lace, which works a bit like Plan B. The girl is thankful, and goes on her way.

Soon enough, everybody knows Callis can do these potions. You have girls sneaking to Graves Hill in the middle of the night to get help in exchange for food and while the elders know something is fishy, they can’t do much anything about it. They ask Callis what is up with that and she’s like ‘nope, just ya know, helping them have babies, plan b who’.

She tries to introduce a variation of the potion, one that acts as birth control, because it would stop people from being irresponsable all the time, but the Plan B one is the one every girl wants, because well, it’s easier. You can be unsafe and then take a potion and it’s fine. Soon, it’s not just girls. There’s full grown women there too, who should really know better.

She is pissed, so she says she won’t make them any more potions unless people stop being so careless.

Someone tries to make a knock-off potion, but it ends tragically, because people don’t really know what Callis puts in it. And well… you know what looks a bit like Queen Anne’s Lace?

F-ing Water Hemlock, that’s what.

After that incident, people listen to Callis when it came to ingesting stuff. And thus, birth control culture is born in Gavaldon. Other people started trying out other things to avoid dealing with Callis, like animal-based condoms, pull-out method and inserting acacia gum into your vagina before you had sex,but she had a good clientele overall.

The Elders? Pissed. But since they couldn’t just prove this was her fault, they just kept on hating on her from a distance.

After Agatha has her first period, Callis sits her down and pretty much gives her the talk. Agatha doesn’t really see a point to it, boys are gross, but she listens nonetheless. 

Callis gives Agatha the best sex ed homeclass ever, you can bet she will teach her correct anatomy, debunk myths the school told her about both periods and her own body and even promised her to teach her how to make the birth control potion once she got older.

Again Agatha doesn’t see a point, but okay.

When Agatha comes home with Tedros, years later tho. Callis is... worried.

She tries to ask Agatha if she’s being safe but her daughter just... stops functioning. Blushing like crazy. 

 (“We just kissed, like, once, mom.”)

That being said… Callis doesn’t live long enough to teach her how to make the potion.

So when Tedros and Agatha’s relationship starts to progress (hm… if you wanna read something about it, maybe wait a couple of days, I might or my might not have a sin fic in the works, it wouldn’t be one of my posts if it had no self-promotion, I’m my own sponsor after all) she’s unsure of who to ask about this.

And it makes her extra sad about her mother’s death, so that’s great.

I honestly don’t know who she would ask. If you have any ideas, please tell me. Because I’m kind of inclined to think that maybe Merlin might have predicted this and handed a recipe to her as a semi-joke, but idk. Maybe Uma?

But yes, Callis was totally Gavaldon’s first witch gynecologist. And after they made Stefan mayor, I want people to remember her for the absolute legend she was, okay?

[baddyzarc]

2/7 Ruins: Legend of the Gladiator

1 x 3 4a 4b 5 6 7  

The next Barian ruins I wanna discuss is that of Alito. I was supposed to group Gilag and Alito since my contract says I’m legally not allowed to separate these two. But I went absolutely ham on Alito’s ruins so, uhhh, im splitting them up.

Alito is a fascinating, fantastic character. Not only is he outwardly bisexual and genuinely a non-evil character, he’s one of the most interesting due to how the writers use him to progress the narrative of the Barian Emperors. This could be attributed to his close relationship with Yuma, and thus he’s allowed ample screen time to play his role in the story.

Alito’s ruins are located under an artificial lake in the fictional city of Spartan City located somewhere in Italy. The ruins are revealed when Alito blows up the dam and drains the water away. Judging by the presence of a colosseum and the fact that Alito was a gladiator in his past life, I’m sure this is supposed to be based on Rome’s Colosseum. Not a big shocker, but this sets up the basis for the discussion. 

The Guardian for this Mythyrian Number found in the ruins (Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart) is a gladiator. This Guardian is the hardest one to decipher out of all of the Guardians. You have Mach, Ponta, Abyss, Minotaurus, Jinlon, and then a random gladiator. Each of the Guardians I listed have something to say about the Emperor it corresponds to, and I believe that the gladiator also falls into this category because of this line.

The gladiator recognizes Alito. This confused line is also spoken by Jinlon when he first encounters Mizael, so it can be said that some of the Guardians may not immediately recognize their Emperor, but they do feel their “aura”. 

Like Jinlon, the gladiator takes a moment before realizing its attacker is Alito. After that, Alito breaks through its power and gains him to get control of the Mythyrian Number. 

The most common theory, and the one I personally believe, is that the gladiator is the prince of the legend. 

My evidence is slim, but I think his likeness to the Mythyrian Number "Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart", his usage of a sword during his fight with Alito, and strong familiarity with Alito (”we’re like brothers!”) provides enough evidence. Not the best or decisive, but from what we have, I like this one the most.

Not only that, and I may be reading into this scene a little too deeply, but it looks as though the gladiator recognizes that this angry blob of hate is Alito, and under some choice of its own, it  allows itself to be taken by a Barian. Rather, the Mythyrian Number yields to a Barian. (For reference, only Nasch and Gilag came into direct contact with their Numbers; each has their own situation with Nasch’s being more complex and Gilag’s being similar to Alito). But why would something like a Mythyrian Number give itself to a Barian? I’ll get into that when I talk about the Ruins Duel later on.  

Back onto the ruins itself, when I first started this, I was truly struggling to see how the past and present are the same place. 

Obviously they have to be the same place because that’s how the plot works, but looking at the placement of the mountains, this image of the ruins in modern Spartan City does not match the geography of the past (unless there’s a glacial retreat or something, mountains do not wear away that quickly). I assumed that the animators didn’t consider this until I found a single second that shows that these locations are the same place. The image of Yuma is a poor angle of the ruins. 

And luckily for this shot, it gives me not only a confirmation that the geography is consistent, it also allows me to use this as an accurate frame of reference for the layout of the city.

Hold onto this information for a minute, because it is absolutely tasty.

Now that I confirm that everything is consistent, I can move onto Alito’s legend. His legend is straightforward if you discount the false memories embedded in him. Alito was a popular gladiator who was also friends with the prince. They frequently fought head-to-head and were on equal footing with each other. According to the legend, Alito and the prince were going to have a final showdown to see who comes out on top. However, the prince’s advisors were afraid that the prince would lose and damage the reputation of the country. The advisors framed Alito for murder, and despite the prince’s plead that Alito was innocent, he was executed under charges of murder. But according to Alito’s memories (or the ones altered by Don Thousand), the prince declared him guilty and was the one to call his death. Alito, being a hero adorned by many, was betrayed by his best friend and scorned by the people of the city, and this was what pushed him to Barian World. 

(Side track: But this is one of my favorite scene of his legend. The casket-shaped shadow, the crystalline, Barian-like shape, is a prelude to his fate after being framed for murder through the works of Don Thousand. At this point, no matter what happens, only death waits for him. The bright crimson coloration not only alludes to his bloody demise but also his descension into Barian World.) 

Now, the past lives of the Barians are often mucky because it’s hard to distinguish the truth from the lie, especially since Don Thousand altered the lives of the Emperors in many different ways (memory change, influencing outsiders, personality alterations, ect. It gets disgustingly messy). But in the case of Alito, it appears to be influencing the advisors to frame Alito, and then a memory alteration to where Alito believes that the prince was against him rather than for him. Because of this, I assume the legend recounted by Gauche (aka the advisors framed Alito + the prince was for Alito’s innocence) is the truth. I believe that if Alito knew the prince thought highly of him and trusted him during the entire trial, this would’ve been enough to allow his soul to pass onto Astral World regardless of the truth.

Therefore, Alito’s resentment exists as a product of Don Thousand going into his mind and changing his perception of reality. 

And this statement is what ties his character together during this arc. 

Now, if you know anything about this blog, you oughta know that I do not believe the Barian Emperors are evil. Except Vector. Vector is evil. He is evil because he feels like it and that’s it; it makes him happy hes a freak. The rest of them act like that because they are living-beings and have some self preservation. If they do not retaliate, Astral World will literally erase them from history. Each of the Barians (vector DNI) exemplifies this concept throughout the show. They are not antagonizing Yuma because he’s the hero. They are antagonizing him because he sides with Astral, and thus he supports the side that wants them dead. (and ngl, aside from Vector, they are incredibly inept at being evil villains, just look at their accomplishments if you take Vector away, gilag ate a live racoon whoop-de-doo these guys are going extinct)  

But this isn’t what this essay is about. This is about the legend and ruins of Alito, who is the most prominent in his lack of evilness. At the beginning of Zexal Second, Durbe ordered Gilag, Alito, and Mizael to defeat Yuma and Astral. From here, these characters acted first on orders, and then on self-motivation (or not at all). Mizael followed this order before getting side-tracked with surpassing Kaito. Gilag followed this order before kinda just joining a bunch of random clubs at school and watching *looks at script* Love Live. 

Alito did not followed that order and was immediately infatuated with Kotori. And by chance BY CHANCE did he run into Yuma, before being infatuated with him too. Alito has zero drive to be evil or follow any orders. He doesn’t hate humans nor does he act on anything malicious. Even with Yuma, his drive wasn’t to defeat Astral but to duke it out with Yuma with as much passion as possible. 

This is a stark contrast to what happens to him (and Gilag) when Vector injects their comatosed bodies with Don Thousand juice. This happens Twice. And each time, he loses his passion and becomes a genuinely evil person. He hypnotizes Gauche and makes him use the adverse effects of “Lion Heart”, he puts Kotori in danger, he wants to kill Yuma, he is filled with so much hate and rage that all the characters point out that “this isn’t the same person” they originally met. 

In essence, he became cruel by coming into recontact with Don Thousand. 

But we all know this. Don Thousand is evil while Alito is not.

So how does this prologue connect to the ruins and the Legend of the Gladiator? It has everything to do with Gauche.

Consider the geography of this again.

Even though it doesn’t appear like it, these images reveal some information about Alito and his proxy, Gauche. Compare the geography of the mountains and the placement of ruins, look at the current location of where Gauche and Droite live in the present and Alito’s home in the past. 

It’s the exact same place.

Neat, yes, but also consider that Alito was a hero to the children of his time and Gauche wants to be a hero to the children of his time. (“A Messenger From The Stars For The Kids”) Not only that, these two have an interesting relationship with Yuma. At first, Gauche dismissed Yuma before seeing that his unbreakable spirit makes him a worthy opponent. Same with Alito. They also get possessed by Barian powers in order to fight without their iconic fiery passion. These two characters are thoroughly similar if you can look past the surface level (also they were opponents during the Barian Onslaught arc if that counts for anything). 

From here, we can draw direct parallels between the fate of Gauche and Alito. 

On a historical note, I assume that Alito is not from Spartan City. Most gladiators in real life consisted of slaves, prisoners of war, or criminals, and if you consider the “Alito’s Theme” soundtrack and his “Farewell, My Friend” soundtrack (which I believe only plays after he frees Gilag from Don’s curse, but correct me if I’m wrong, also these are two of my favorite soundtracks), it sounds like it has vaguely Spanish origins to it. (again, correct me if im wrong, im not good at cultural interpretation of music)

The theory I accept is that Alito was a prisoner of war for some other country, say modern-day Spain. Gladiators in real life, if popular enough, can win back their freedom, and I assume Alito’s charisma, passion, and strength won him the favor of the public and the prince along with his freedom. He still fought, of course, but this may be due to his drive to keep fighting. 

Unlike Alito, Gauche is a native to Spartan City, but he started in the similar wrungs as Alito, although not like, slavery. He was an orphan living in the streets with Droite, and he also used his charisma, passion, and strength to rise as the Dueling Champion of Spartan City. 

Both of these characters are champions of their respective times, but Alito got decapitated while Gauche did not (so far). If Don did not interfere, Alito might’ve received a happy ending like Gauche.

This connection doesn’t go much further until we get into the Ruins Duel with Alito/Gauche vs. Yuma/Droite. And this duel is what I think storytelling through duels should be like.

Earlier, I talked about how the Guardian allows Alito to gain control of the Number. I do not think this is a fluke on the Numbers part. Mythyrian Numbers are the antithesis to Over-Hundred Numbers, and the only way to break the spell of Don Thousand is to use a Mythyrian Number. I believe that the Guardian saw that Alito was under Donny’s influence, and thus gave him the Mythyrian Number in hopes of snapping him out of it. 

This happens with Gilag too, where Ponta hands him the Mythyrian Number before swapping into his body (as well as Ryouga but this was before he was declared an Emperor, and i will get to this when i cover him). The only other Emperor who got close to his Mythyrian card but didn’t touch it was Vector, who made Black Mist deal with it; that said, I wonder what would’ve happened if Vector reconnected with his Mythyrian? 

Back to duel, will you believe me when I say that the actions of this duel tells the story of the Barian Emperors? Maybe, maybe not.

But I do not think it’s a coincidence that Alito is the only Barian that participates in the Mythyrian Numbers duels (mr. Ryouga and ms. Rio do not count for obvious reasons) nor is it that he fights under the full influence of Don Thousand. 

There is a lot that happens in the duel under the text, but the overall message of the duel is the rekindling of the original self. This is in opposition to Gauche and Alito, who lost their true spirits after being possessed. In contrast, Yuma and Droite duel with as much, if not more, passion than ever before. 

The duel, although not spectacular in terms on the plays made, has a lot of interesting imaginary that I appreciate so much. 

I think this scene is the most lovely of this entire duel: a fearsome lion and a tender butterfly facing off against one another. The butterfly is able to move the heart of the lion, and Gache returns to his original soul with Droite’s unyielding passion alone. He isn’t freed, but this action opens the door to his heart. 

Droite’s actions mimics the flow of Yuma returning Alito to his original soul. Instead of responding to his hate-filled dueling with a similar stance, Yuma duels with relentless passion, summoning out “Heroic Champion - Excalibur” and letting in face off against “Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart”. This is enough to save Alito from Don Thousand’s spell.

Furthermore, I feel as though this entire duel is closure for Alito’s past life whether he realizes it or not. As you know, Alito and the prince never had their final match due to Don Thousand’s interference. This duel concludes their fight and put the souls of both parties to rest (figuratively speaking). 

As the duel picks up, the stadium comes to life with the spirits of the spectators. They cheer for the duelists as the fight gets more and more intense. It’s as though the characters are thrown into the past.

The final move of the duel is what gives this “Legend of the Gladiator” the closure it deserves while presenting an amazing end to the narrative of Alito and Gauche. 

As Gauche and Yuma duke it out with “Lion Heart” and “Excalibur”, two monsters that are passionately battling one another, Alito interferes with “Cheat Commissioner”. This is no different than when the advisors cheated in order to murder Alito, thus preventing the final match from commencing. The strength of “Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart” and “Heroic Champion - Excalibur” was able to overcome “Cheat Commissioner” and as a result, Alito is instantly knocked out rather than Yuma or Gauche. 

Alito’s Mythyrian Number and Gauche’s former ace—their passionate souls working together to defeat a common foe, freeing their masters and returning them to their original self.

The presence of “Lion Heart” and the knockout of Alito’s “Cheat Commissioner” (or Don Thousand’s interference with Alito and the prince in the past) was enough for Alito to shake off Don Thousand’s control and revert back to his original personality. He’s confused and baffled as his memories as a human flood into him, but he quickly retreats back to Barian World. 

A similar outcome happened when Yuma faced off against the gladiator version of Michael, who is a character who shares many similar traits with Alito. I talked about this before and I rather post this here than rewrite a decent explanation of my thoughts. 

Yuma was able to free Michael of his hateful and rage-filled state like how he did it during this duel with Alito and their final encounter. 

But from the contents of this duel alone, it is revealed that Don Thousand has the ability to alter the Emperors’ minds; he can also influence even the kindest Barian to act cruel and sadistic. It demonstrates that enough passion and force from their Mythyrian Number is enough for them to shake off the control—if only a little bit—and return them to their true nature. It also cements that the true memories of the Barian Emperors are suppressed and hidden from them, and they are the heroes we suspect they are, but unknown (but probably Don Thousand-based) circumstances sent them to Barian World without their consent.

You can take all of this was a grain of salt or say im looking too deep into it but,

This is what I mean when I said “story-telling through duels” should be something like this. There shouldn’t be a character in the background recounting what’s happening below the subsurface. Seeing a battle between a lion and butterfly, or the knockout of “Cheat Commissioner” through Alito’s Mythyrian Monster and Gauche’s original ace monster, or the awakening of the spectators to cheer for Alito—this should be left for the audience to dissect. I’m not gonna say this is my favorite duel or the plays are amazing, but I truly appreciate the story it shows without the characters looking at the camera and expositioning what this means. 

This analysis is long enough as it is, but I want to end it by talking about “Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart” and and “Number 105: Burning Knuckler - Cestus the Meteor”. They’re both based on fighting, which fits Alito’s personality. These monsters (as well as Vector’s) are unique in that they are the only ones that swap attributes between the Mythyrian and Over-Hundred Numbers. “Lion Heart'' is an Earth Monster while Cestus is a Fire Monster. I’m actually quite stumped on this decision. Lion Heart looks like it should be a Fire Monster based on the colors of its design, the fiery background, and fiery spirit it uses to keep fighting even after death.

However, despite this, I think it’s a cool idea that the Over-Hundred is a Fire Monster. According to the legend, the gladiator is said to “still wander the ruins of the Colosseum” because he “... regrets… not being able to finish his fight with his rival”. 

To “seal the wandering spirit of the unappeased gladiator” the Colosseum was submerged underwater. 

Water suppresses the flames that Don Thousand forced into Alito, and as the water drains away, revealing the earth beneath it, after a thousand years, the lost gladiator wanders through the ancient ruins of the Colosseum once more. And through the cheers and hollers of the spirits that transcends time, the champion and lion partake in their final showdown. With the conclusion of the intense battle, the bantering of the spirits fade away in the glow of rising sun, and gladiator of the legend is liberated.

[im-not-corrupted]

Safi, No (a Witchlands fanfiction) - Chapter One

This chapter was written by @un-empressed

Summary:            

On a rare occasion, Safi knew the answer in geography class. But when Merik Nihar spoke over her, she wasn't so happy. So her and Leopold devised a revenge plan to get back at him, and accidentally got everyone involved.

Vivia Nihar doesn't really have many friends, apart from Vaness. She's mostly focused on her studies - and what's wrong with that? But then she meets theriverstix online.

Aeduan and Iseult didn't mean to get involved in the revenge plan, but it was inevitable. But that's okay. They had each other to talk to.

Also posted on Ao3

Tags: @Iseultdetmidenzi

--- 

Safiya fon Hasstrel didn't know what she had done to deserve such maltreatment. Not only was geography a disaster that morning, her best friend wasn't listening. Or rather, she was until she realised what Safi was talking about. Apparently she was immature for wanting the basic right of speaking. It wasn't her fault that she had an insufferable classmate, and it certainly wasn't her fault that he decided he could speak over her.

It wasn't like she enjoyed geography, but she actually knew the answer. That was a once in a million years occurrence and Merik Nihar ruined it. She didn't even know his name before he so rudely interrupted her.

She wouldn't even have bothered to ask someone - asshole from third row worked just as well for a name - but she was confronted by another classmate after geography. A very pissed off one at that. Safi knew Vaness by name, because everyone knew Vaness. They'd never talked before, though, so Safi didn't know what to expect.

She was definitely surprised when Vaness verbally attacked her. Well, it wasn't an attack, but what she said was just a pretentious way to say "Go fuck yourself" and they both knew it. Apparently Safi's huffing and whispering to her friends that she was going to kill Merik over "an idiotic thing that doesn't even matter" was making it hard for Vaness to take notes. And apparently calling her a "poor dear" was "condescending" and "rude".

Why had she never talked to Vaness before? She knew now. Caden laughed to her face after having overheard the disastrous conversation. Safi found that absolutely unnecessary. At least Zander and Lev laughed at her behind her back. Well, she didn't know for sure that they did, but she hoped that Levs's so-called reassurance of "I've hidden many bodies before, nobody ever misses the ones like him" was a joke.

"Saf, I'm sure he didn't mean to inconvenience you," Iz said, trying to be reasonable. Safi liked that about her best friend; she wasn't as reckless as Safi herself, but she was definitely easy to drag along to stupid adventures.

"You don't know him."

Iseult rolled her eyes. "Neither do you."

"Irrelevant."

Iseult sighed. She was about to say something else, probably about how it was actually relevant, but Corlant came. Safi wasn't sure what his deal was, only that someone ought to push him off that table he liked standing on to feel better than everyone else. But no, the school encouraged free speech, and Corlant claimed whatever absurd shit he said (Safi didn't bother enough to listen) had something to do with his religion.

Safi didn't know who or what he worshipped, but she personally found lunches without him causing a scene holy. Maybe she should start a religion that specifically opposed him. Or maybe she should take Lev up on that hiding a body offer.

"This is ridiculous," Iseult muttered. Safi personally would have yelled it so he could hear, but she already did and he didn't seem to care. Asshole.

Safi didn't even notice Leopold approaching their table until he sat down. And, he wasn't alone. "Girls, this is Aeduan. Aeduan, Safi and Iseult".

The name didn't sound familiar at all, but Safi had talked to the guy once. Well, it was barely a conversation. She asked for a pencil, and he spent five minutes mocking her for not bringing two. Just when she was about to tell him to fuck off, he handed her the damn pencil. Safi made a point of using it only when she lost the pencil Caden had lent her.

She never even returned the pencil. Maybe that made her an asshole, but she needed something to write with for the rest of the day, and he never even asked for it. How was she supposed to know it wasn't meant to be a gift?

Aeduan uttered out an uninterested greeting, hesitantly sitting next to Iseult. They shared commiserating looks as Safi told Leopold about her encounter with the world's biggest asshole that morning.

"Look! There he is, talking to his friends. I bet they're just as rude and inconsiderate-"

"Saf, those two literally mean the same thing," Iseult said. There was a slight difference, but Safi wasn't about to say that. Leopold was willing to hear her complaints, and she wasn't about to waste the potential this conversation had.

"And besides, you're overreacting. That's Ryber Fortiza over there, and she's pretty nice. I'm willing to bet the others are too. You took this way too personally."

Safi had talked to Ryber Fortiza once or twice, and she knew that Iseult was right. She wasn't going to say that out loud, though. Judging by the look on Iseult's face, her best friend didn't care at all. She went back to her probably dry conversation with Leopold's friend.

"Way too personally? It is personal!" Leopold said. Safi was glad that at least someone knew she wasn't overreacting.

"Thank you!"

Iseult rolled her eyes. She did it so much around the two, Safi wouldn't be surprised if her eyes fell out one day. And she had yet to hear about what Vaness said, even though Safi knew Iseult would agree with most things said.

Suddenly, she remembered something that made her groan. Leopold raised his eyebrows. "I have geography again tomorrow."

Leopold grinned. "Why the disappointment? It's your chance to get revenge."

Safi quite liked how that sounded. Even more than that she liked the fact that Iseult obviously didn't approve of the idea, if her face was to be trusted. She could've been making faces at what Aeduan was telling her, but that didn't seem likely. Leopold's friend seemed to have the same opinion. All the more reasons to do it.

Besides, Safi already had a few suggestions for the revenge plan herself.

Safi smiled, making Iseult shake her head. "What did you have in mind?" [x]

"-And she kept staring at me the whole time, whispering something to her friends. I'm telling you, that girl is insane."

The story didn't get reactions Merik Nihar was hoping for from his friends. Ryber pretended she didn't even hear him, and Cam just rolled his eyes. Merik was pretty sure Tanzi wasn't even listening. That didn't hurt him, because she was Ryber's friend. Stix was asking if 'he was done yet' after every word. That didn't hurt either, because she was like that. At least Kullen was on his side.

He smiled, and Merik didn't know what to expect from his best friend. Kullen often heard what he wanted to hear instead of what was being said. "Maybe she likes you! And, you've never talked about this girl before. Why would you even look at her if you didn't like her?"

Kullen was not on his side.

"It wasn't like that!" Merik said, trying desperately to seem like he was telling the truth. Which he was, of course. Kullen just caught him completely unaware.

Stix grinned. "Oh really?" Merik knew she didn't share Kullen's delusion. She just took every single chance to make him uncomfortable.

Cam and Ryber looked at each other across the table, seemingly not surprised at all that the conversation was taking that turn. Tanzi was too busy copying Ryber's homework to listen.

"Really! The teacher called on her and I knew the answer, so I might have possibly answered instead of her. I wanted to see her reaction but she was just glaring at me and I'm pretty sure I heard her friend say something about hiding a body." Merik realised that the story in its entirety made him look the slightest bit bad, but being perceived as rude was better than Kullen getting ideas.

"Can we blame them, though?" Stix asked. She just raised her hands in mock surrender when Ryber shot her a look. "I'm just saying."

"You did speak over her," Cam reasoned.

Ryber sighed. "That really was rude. No one likes people who do that."

Merik was willing to admit that it wasn't his best moment, but it was really not that big of a deal. Sure, his classmate might be pissed for a while, but that wasn't his problem. His only problem was Kullen, who was grinning at him from across the table.

"You could still like her. Maybe you inconvenienced her just so she would talk to you - that seems like the kind of 'I'm bad at admitting my feelings' thing you would do and call flirting if it succeeded," Kullen said, making Stix laugh.

Well, now Merik was offended. He did nothing to deserve the unjust treatment. Even Ryber was against him, and she rarely cared enough to pick a side. Merik needed to start hanging out with Tanzi; She never listened to him, which meant she couldn't mock him for every single thing like the traitors he once called friends.

Besides, Vivia insulting him 24/7 was enough. He didn't need his friends and his sister to have anything in common. He wasn't sure anyone except Kullen even knew he had a sister. Good.

Vivia preferred solitude, but Merik knew that if Ryber found out, she'd make him ask her to join them. That would likely result in either of the three catastrophes he'd rather avoid:

1. Vivia thinks he's making fun of her for eating alone and yells at him.

2. Very awkward lunches because Vivia yelled at him when he didn't tell her what time it was fast enough.

3. Vivia finds out about Kullen's theory and tells the girl.

The last one might have been a bit of a far stretch if it was anyone else. Vivia, however, wanted nothing more than to ruin her brother's life. The amount of love was mutual.

And, she was definitely the kind of person capable of figuring out someone's name and all social media usernames just from a vague description. Merik dreaded of the day Kullen and Vivia talked alone, without him there to filter his best friend. That would be a disaster. For him, that is. For Vivia, it would be a way to accomplish her mission in life.

"Ryber, control your boyfriend," Merik said.

Ryber just rolled her eyes, which Merik found rather rude. It wasn't like he was the one terrorising Kullen, it was the other way around!

"Look, it's not Ry's fault you were stupid enough to mention it to Kullen of all people," Stix said. Merik didn't know if that was supposed to be an insult to him or to Kullen.

"Mention what? I'm not in love with some girl whose name I don't even know!"

Stix sighed. "You don't have to be for Kullen to think you are. You should know that by now. He only sees what he wants to see." Cam nodded in agreement. 

"Look, are you on my side or are you not?"

"I'm not necessarily on your side, I'm just not on Merik's." Kullen nodded, as if that was a completely reasonable answer.

Merik blamed his trust issues on his friend group, which consisted of Kullen, Cam, Stix, Ryber and occasionally Tanzi. All people who tolerated him but didn't dread to tell him when he did or said something stupid. Except Stix, but Merik doubted that she actually hated him. Either way, she, too, was never going to meet Vivia if Merik was to ask. He usually wasn't when it came to his sister and what she did, but he had to hope that Vivia wouldn't want to do anything with a friend of his.

"That's ridiculous. You hate me for no reason."

"Ridiculous? That's it, you've lost your Stix privileges. It's Stacia for you from now on." Merik fought the urge to tell her that what she just said was ridiculous as well. People lost their 'Stix privileges' at least three times a day.

Ryber rolled her eyes, silently listening to the exchange. She occasionally whispered something to Tanzi, who was still doing her homework.

"Thank you very much for doing as I said and controlling your boyfriend," Merik said. He was getting fed up of everyone being against him for a simple mistake.

"You're welcome," Ryber said, turning to help Tanzi read something. Even Ryber, who was usually the responsible one, was seemingly tired of him. Merik was starting to think he had done something wrong.

Kullen probably noticed that Merik wasn't fighting back, because he sighed and said: "Look, Merik, we're only making fun of you because you don't see that what you did was wrong. Just... Try to be nicer to the geography classmate."

It seemed nice enough, and, even though Merik hated to admit it, it was good advice. But Kullen wasn't done. "And then, when you're a couple, Stix and I will pretend we're your siblings and tell her made-up, embarrassing information."

Ryber took one look at the three of them and sighed. "That might not work."

"Cousins, then."

Ryber rolled her eyes. "That still won't work. Just say you're his friends."

"But no one ever takes the friends seriously!" Stix whined.

"No one should take the two of you seriously."

"Bold of you to assume they won't make all of us do it," Cam said.

"See? Cam gets it!"

Sometimes Merik really hated his friends.

------

Read Chapter Two here

[douxreviews]

American Gods - ‘The Greatest Story Ever Told’ Review

"Peace is a beautiful, but sh*tty idea."

A series whose intrinsic premise revolves around new gods forming around things that Americans actually worship finally gets around to the most obvious example. Hello there, Money.

Also, Mr. Nancy brings all the real.

Let's just get this out of the way up front, because otherwise the rest of the review is just going to be me marking time until I can bring it up.

Every single word of Mr. Nancy's monologue is amazingly written, outstandingly performed, and should be played on repeat in every single social studies and civics class in the United States until the country as a whole finally decides to do something about fixing things. I can't imagine that it won't be available to view on its own on YouTube within the next 24-48 hours, and when it does you should absolutely go watch it. Over the course of a few uninterrupted minutes, Orlando Jones lays out slavery, human trafficking, the alt-right, systemic violence and institutionalized failure, the school to prison pipeline, knee taking and the NFL, and more. It's angry, and it's powerful, and I expect high school speech competition judges will get tired of hearing it in a few years.

I've been a little focused this season on noting the things from season one that we lost with the transitions behind the scenes, but I've neglected to mention one thing that the new season has really improved. That's the interactions between the Gods themselves. In the first season, that interaction was almost exclusively limited to Wednesday and whichever old god he happened to be making his sales pitch to that week. We saw Czernobog and the three sisters in their home life together, but they were already from the same belief system and closely intertwined. This season we're starting to see how the other gods relate to one another just on a day to day basis, and it's really been great.

Which is how we get to Mr. Nancy's speech, and its context gives it its real edge. Mr. Nancy, Bilquis, and Mr. Ibis have gathered at the Ibis and Jaquel funeral parlor, and have a good, solid talk about race. This is in itself amazing, as television has a pronounced tendency to avoid a real and messy talk about race. We have three African gods, all played by actors of color, two of which seem to have made the choice to let things in America continue as they are, only to have the third one essentially sit them down and say, 'Here is what is happening, what has always been happening, to the descendants of your worshipers. How can you possibly be all right with this? How can you look the other way? How can you let this happen?' That's just not something you see on television. And I could not look away.

Meanwhile, in the A plot, Wednesday and Shadow head out to track down yet another new American God in order to persuade them to join Wednesday's side in the war. This time they're trying to track down 'Money.' Unfortunately, his trio of security girl scouts won't give them access, because Shadow has never had a line of credit, and Money hates that. Yes, you read that correctly. Security Girl Scouts. OK, technically 'Penny Scouts,' so as to avoid getting sued by the Girl Scouts of America. They are selling candy named 'Payback,' because not all of the metaphors in this show are subtle.

And on the other team's bench, Mr. World sends Technical Boy to find a replacement for the recently murdered Argus. TB goes to Silicon Valley to find someone who isn't named by the show, but is the head of a company called Xie Comm, so one assumes his name is Xie. This same CEO is the boy we saw in the opening sequence, playing video games and practicing Bach, until he realizes the link between music and math, programs software to write new Bach-like music, and apparently brings Technical Boy into being to play electronic classical music at his father's funeral. It's actually a really well structured and meticulously pieced together dissertation on the interrelationship between faith, love, music, and numbers, and it works all the better for throwing us into it without giving us any context or information whatsoever. I'm not always a fan of the cold open on this show, but this was really well done.

Technical Boy refers to this man whose name we have to assume is Xie as his friend. What's more, he refers to himself as being Xie's only friend, and we're given no reason to doubt that statement. Which makes it all the more heartbreaking when World shows up, uses New Media to steal Possibly-Xie's attention, and then leaves Technical Boy to die.

Oh, yeah. Technical Boy dies.

I did not see that coming. But we did have an extended discussion with New Media earlier about whether old Media had died or just been reformed, so maybe that was foreshadowing for New Technology. I hope not though, because Bruce Langley was fantastic in a part designed to be unlikable, and it would take away from his shock death if they just brought him back again. "I was literally your only friend..." he says to Possibly-Xie. But it seems much more likely that what is breaking his heart is that the reverse was also true. Goodbye Technical Boy. I spent a lot of time hating you, and then you made me cry for you, and then you died. RIP. Unless of course I read the situation wrong and he isn't dead. Then I'll feel foolish for writing this paragraph.

So, having 'retired a god' in Technical Boy, World gets past the sinister Girl  Penny Scouts, and he and Wednesday both sit down in front of Money, or 'The Bookkeeper' as he's credited, to make their sales pitch. Money gives a hard pass to both of them and leaves. Neither Wednesday or World seem that miffed about it, so it was probably more about preventing him from joining the opposition than getting him to join the team.

Quotes:

The Father: "This is Grief. And yet, the rising notes of joy shattering his own rules. Can you hear it?"

Ibis: "Like any formative life experience, death changes you."

Bilquis: "A woman’s heart should never be so hidden in God that she cannot hear her own truth."

New Media: "I wonder if the next version of me will feel me inside of her."

Mama-Ji: "You think America was eager to hand over her moneybags to the hungry, the tired, and the poor? We battle for every goddamn scrap."

New Media via a sign on a wall: "You’re only as good as your last win." Technical Boy: "Eat a giant bag of dicks."

Bilquis: "This country has not been kind to my face." Ibis: "You are as perfect and vibrant as the Euphrates."

Nancy: "Y’all done yet? ‘Cause I’m getting bored watching this bullshit."

Bilquis: "Suffering is not sacred."

Bilquis: "This country has done things to us." Nancy: "We have done things to us."

Wednesday: "I’m gonna win this one. People like me more than they like you." World: "I prefer to be feared."

Bits and Pieces:

-- A note for the pedantic. Yes, technically Bilquis is from Persia, and as such is not technically an African God. However, Ibis greets her as his queen, and he's clearly from Egypt, and Nancy refers to all three of them as African Gods, so I'm going with that read. Besides, our understanding of the Persian Empires geography is far from clear.

-- Is it strange that Jacuel/Anubis wasn't anywhere to be found for the discussion of African God's obligation to fight racial injustice?

-- It's strongly implied that Wednesday was instrumental in getting Bast to have sex with Shadow in his dreams, possibly fulfilling his promise that Shadow would wake up feeling great. That felt gross and robbed Bast of her own agency, which is particularly egregious in her case.

-- On that note, this is a rare case where without reading the book it would have been very difficult to know what the Hell was going on during the sex scene. They sort of half-explain it afterwards, but I don't think I would have understood it at all.

-- The direction of the sex scene was telling. In season one it would have been far more graphic, laying everything on screen in a non-exploitative and almost clinical way. See, for example, Salim and Ifrit's sex scene in 'Head Full of Snow.' Here it's directed much more conventionally, right down to Shadow having the sheet discretely draped over his personal business afterwards.

-- I wish they hadn't leaned so heavily into the Asian father who makes his son practice music thing, but it was really the only way to tell the story of how music and math intersected in the boy's life to create Technical Boy, or at least his friendship with Technical Boy. It's just kind of a tired trope.

-- Speaking of, and just for the record; music and math are incredibly connected. In many important ways they're the exact same thing. A software program that can be taught to understand and recreate Bach isn't unfeasible by any stretch of the imagination. It probably already exists, I haven't googled it.

-- It's a little messy, structurally, that Wednesday got Shadow to the funeral home only to take him away on a day trip right away so that Bilquis could stop by and have an important conversation. That feels like a vestigial remnant from the book, i.e he goes from the train to Cairo there, so that's what he does here.

-- No Laura or Sweeney this week. Looks like they're back next week.

-- It also appears that next week we'll see more of Bilquis' new friend Ruby Goodchild. I liked Ruby a lot. She felt like a real person.

-- The actor playing Money was William Sanderson. You might know him from literally every movie and television show ever made.

A really great episode that leaned into the new regime's strengths as opposed to leaning away from the previous ones'.

Three and a half out of four Emmys for Orlando Jones. Please, can we get an Emmy for Orlando Jones?

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

[o-kviii]

The Blind Leading the Blind pt. 2 [Matt x Reader]

>>> Part 1 <<<>>>Part 3<<<

You wake up to the smell of antibacterial soap, a throbbing pain in your arm, and thick cloud surrounding your head. The last thing you remember... did I ever get that sandwich?

“You’re awake.” a chirpy voice rings out. Footsteps approach, and a soft hand pats your hand as she raises your bed to a better sitting position. You blink a few times. You didn’t even realize your eyes were open. “Don’t panic, now.” she says just as the soft tones of the heart rate machine begin to grow more ecstatic. “It’s going to take some time for the swelling in your head to go down, but once things calm down your sight will return. Give it time, (Y/N).”

“So it’s coming back?” your voice sounds dry and raspy. You wonder how long you’ve been here. How long you’ve been asleep or unconscious or whatever happened. Where the man that helped you is.

“Yes honey, the surgeon was confident in your recovery. He will be in here a little later to discuss the procedure and any questions you may have then.”

The nurse checks things around the room, or so you assume from her rustling. Her footsteps grow faded but then she stops.

“Oh right, you do have a guest if you are up to it. A man has been back the past two days asking if you are awake yet.”

“A man?”

 The one that brought you into the ER. He arrived here about an hour ago and has been waiting. Would you like for me to send him in?” 

The entire ordeal, your attack, the stranger, all of it fills your brain. Anxiety presses on your chest, but you agree and give her the go. This man really has stuck by. For a stranger of all people. It doesn’t make sense. You don’t deserve his kindness.

“Hi.” That voice greets you, smooth and surprisingly timid. You can clearly remember his confidence a few days ago.

“Thank you.” You blurt out, and immediately regret. He laughs softly. 

“Please, don’t thank me...You know,” his words trail off and there is some distinct tapping as he sounds to be getting closer and closer. “I do believe we haven’t officially made acquaintance.”

“(Y/N).” you smile, hoping that you are looking in his general direction with some sort of accuracy.

“Matthew.”

“It’s nice to put a name to the voice... I may have died out there or lost my vision permanently if you didn’t come along.”

“So you will get it back?” 

“So they tell me. Not sure when yet, though.”

“You will get it back though, which is what’s important.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence fills the room. You wonder why he’s here. What he wants. Maybe this wasn’t a debt free exchange. Maybe he’s poor, homeless. Wants payment for his deed. Not that you have much to give...

“I uh, do you have family? The nurse said there is no one on file.”

Your heart sinks. 

“It’s for the best they don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” 

“My family is, uh, complicated. We used to live here in Hell’s Kitchen once upon a time. I grew up here. But then I came home to a moving truck and a suitcase packed for me to go off to boarding school without an explanation. I guess that’s why I’m back now.” 

Matthew is quiet, almost seems to be holding his breath. The fact that there is only darkness is really starting to dawn on you. Usually in pitch blackness your eyes adjust and soon the outlines of the geography of the area begins to show itself in faint shadows and tones that are a little darker than the rest. It’s not much, but it’s something. Something you didn’t think you’d miss until you can’t even wave your hand in front of your eyes and sense movement or make out the curves of the end of the bed your toes are propped up against. What you can hear are the steady blips of the heart rate monitor quickening and what seems like someone speaking in the hallway. So faint you can tell it’s words but have no idea what is being said. 

Warmth encompasses your hand and the voice seems louder now, more defined. 

“Breathe.” It says, and the feeling of circles being rubbed on your wrist are consuming your senses now. “It’s overwhelming, I know, but you must calm down if you want it to get better.” 

“I want to see again.”

“You can see. Focus your ears. Listen to the sound of my breathing and match it.” 

Labored breaths get caught in your chest but you focus on trying to calm down out of this horrid panic attack and find Matthew’s breathing. As if you’re tuning a radio the flushing of his exhale and the deep swoosh of his hearty inhale fill your ears. In. and out. In. and out. 

“Good. Now I want you to take a deep breathe in. Tell me what you smell.” 

“What... what I smell?”

“Just try.” 

On your next big inhale you pull in the air. Matthew is standing so close you can almost taste the faint twinge of cologne. Or maybe that’s deodorant. Yes, your ex in high school used to wear that deodorant until he decided to stop using hygiene products all together... Soy sauce. All that sushi you’ve consumed in your twenties is a dead giveaway to that smell. I could really go for a tempura roll right now... 

“Chinese food?” You say softly, and you hear him let out an affirmative chirp. “And do you by chance wear Degree deodorant.” 

“Thai and you are impressively correct on the second one.” 

“How you do know about this? That’s the quickest I’ve ever come out of a panic attack that bad.” 

“Let’s just say I’ve been in a similar position before.” 

“Who are you?”

He exhales roughly, releasing your hand. You worry you’ve upset him, though he was the one asking about your family a few minutes prior.

“There’s many answers to that question.”

“What’s an answer you’re willing to give then? All I know is you must be the Good Samaritan of the year and have nice biceps.” 

“Oh really?” he chuckles. You feel your cheeks grow warm and hope he can’t tell you’re blushing. It’s not often you speak so easily to men, offering flirty comments as he sits on the edge of your bed. Granted, it is a hospital bed and you could be staring at his crotch right now and you wouldn’t know but at least you are feeling fairly confident. 

“But anyways... just give me something about you. So I can paint a better picture in my head.”

“A lawyer.” he says almost immediately. “I run my own law firm with my best friend. My college roommate, Foggy and our office assistant Karen.” 

“A lawyer? What a big shot.” 

“Well, uh, we try our best. We just want to help people. Someone’s gotta stand up for those who don’t have as big a voice.” 

“Noble. Also explains why you’ve come back, you’re hoping I’ll sue or something right?” 

You can hear Matthew shift from foot to foot and pass an object in his hand to his other palm. 

“If you want a lawyer then I would certainly represent you, but that’s not the reason I came back.” 

“Then why?” 

“It’s kind of a long story.” 

You consider dropping it. You don’t want to scare him away, make him think you’re trying to intrude into his life. Yet, there is something he’s holding back. Something he wants to say, but isn’t. You can feel it. 

“Well I am literally all ears if you care to stick around and tell it.” 

*

 Already making blind jokes only a few hours in. Matt didn’t dare get into those for a few weeks at least. Apart from her inevitable panic attack, she’s taking this all remarkably well. Maybe it’s the short term nature of her blindness. She doesn’t have to live with this forever.

If she did though, her senses are sharp. She had it down to the brand on his deodorant. He expected her to pick up on the soy sauce as he accidentally spilled some on his pants during lunch, but the deodorant was a pleasant surprise. 

Matt must now decide whether or not he is going to go into this story with her. He’s told it a million times by now. People are so curious to know of how a disability came about. There were a few times he didn’t feel like going into the car crash and hazardous materials spill story and just claimed he has been like this since birth. It never ceased to amaze him that people were actually disappointed when he would tell them it was congenial. As if he were depriving them of some tale of a tragic accident they can share with their book club friends over black tea and Chips Ahoy cookies. 

Somehow this is different. She isn’t asking about his eyes because, well, she has no idea he sees the same world she does. She’s asking about him. Who Matthew Murdock is. It’s strangely unnerving to separate him from his blindness. 

“I grew up here, in Hell’s Kitchen. My father raised me alone, supporting us on his boxing career up until his death. After he died, I was sent to the orphanage at the church. I had just gone blind at the time--”

“Wait, you’re blind?”

“Yeah, uh, I did say I could relate.” 

“Wow. What are the odds. Sorry, continue.” she says, and Matt is taken aback by how swiftly that was glossed over. Like it’s a story for later, not the main chronicle. He collects himself and continues. 

“I was full of anger in those days. My father left me, my sight was gone. It felt like the world was crumbling around me. I learned a lot though, about myself. About what I truly believe in. What I was meant to be. This nun, Sister Maggie, used to sit by my bed when I would have a nightmare as a kid. She would hold my hand and tell me that God has a plan for me and that all that has happened would make sense one day. As I got older, went to college, got my law degree, that started to make more sense. I opened a firm with my best friend and we began doing what we always talked about-- helping people. So I suppose that’s why I’m here. I was once lying on the street in a dark world. My father was there to hold me, though. Knowing what it’s like to have your vision stolen from you, there is not a part of me that could stand letting you wake up with no one to hold your hand.”

“Or insist I smell the lunch you spilt.” she chuckles. Matt feels her hand slide into his. He curls his fingers over hers, his thumb forming a mind of its own and tracing gentle circles along the back of her hand. He didn’t notice it earlier, but her hand is swollen with tears across her knuckles. Defensive wounds. His chest aches as he ever so gently feels the extend of her injuries. The gashes on her fingers. Hairline fractures in her thumb and wrist. He’s surprised she’s not pulling away, even with the slight pressure he’s applying. 

A thought occurs to him, and he presses a little harder. He can feel them now, the calluses and scar tissue. Parts of the bone that healed stronger than before. 

“Do you know why you were attacked?” Matt asks softly, honing in on the sound of her heartbeat. It quickens slightly, but then slows again. 

“I don’t know for sure, but I suspect they want me to get to my father.” her heart is even, unwavering. She’s telling the truth. 

“Who is your father?” 

*

“[Y/N], it’s time to go.” your father is standing at the door, his keys in hand. It is a strangely domestic scene for your home, as your father is usually not the one home to take you places, let alone be dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. It’s his day off, though, so he told you. He paid for your mother to have a weekend at the spa. You were snooping when you overheard him insisting she take some time to relax. He told her he felt bad for being away from you for so long and wanted to spend some time bonding. She seemed reluctant at the time, but the ease in her walk as she kissed your forehead and got in the car made you think she changed her mind on that stance. You sling your gym bag over your shoulder and exit the house as he shuts the door behind you. 

You’re sitting in the front seat, watching the massive houses pass at the front of the gated community you live in. Your house is smaller, not as extravagant as these, but you’re thankful for that. You like not being like your friends with their butlers and nannies. You feel like you are lucky to have a mother that takes such good care of you and a father that works hard but still makes efforts such as these every so often. It could be worse. 

Sometimes you think about your old home in Hell’s Kitchen. You miss the city noises and the constant activity right outside your door. 

“Your mother lets you sit in the front now?” your father asks, glancing at you as you pause at a stop sign. 

“I’m almost fourteen, I’ve been sitting in the front since I was eleven.”

“Hm.” 

The car turns left, which throws you off. 

“The dance studio is a right.” you correct him, but he doesn’t seem in a hurry to make a U-turn.

“I called your dance studio. Told them you were sick. We have a different activity for the afternoon.” 

“What are we doing?” 

He sighs. You can see his mind working, trying to figure out what to say. You wonder if you should be worried. Maybe you should text mom...

“[Y/N], what is my job?” 

“Uh, you run a bank don’t you? Something with finances?” 

“Very good. I run a private bank. Recently, I have gotten a lot of new clients. A lot of powerful clients.” 

“Well, that’s good.”

“As a businessman, yes it is good. But as a father, I have some worries. I want you to be safe.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” You begin to feel a bit more uneasy. This feels like a scene from a TV show or a book. It doesn’t seem like a conversation you expected to be having with you boring banker father. 

“I don’t want to scare you.”

“I’m not scared, I just want to know. I’m fourteen, I’m not a little kid that doesn’t hear when you and mom are arguing down the hall.”

He looks over at you, and sighs, a glimmer of admiration(?) in his eye. The car comes to a stop and you look up to see that you’re parked in front of a martial arts studio. 

“You’re a firecracker sometimes. Use that, [Y/N].” 

*

She tells Matt about her father, his business and how she took a years of self defense classes because he was worried. He never truly revealed what he was worried for and she began to forget about her teenage worries as she grew older and nothing ever threatened her. 

He listens, realizations dawning on him with each new piece of the puzzle she provides. Karen was telling him about a bank that was pocketed by Fisk. She said it was the hub for white collar criminals to filter their money through. It was happening on a small scale, just the inner office with a corrupt director until the CFO found out and shut down the operation. He reported the criminal activity and pissed a lot of organizations, mobs, crime lords off. The bank’s reputation was trashed in the papers and the CFO went off the grid soon after. Fisk must have chosen it to be one of his banks of choice because of the desperate need for clientele. 

Suddenly, Matt’s ears perk up. There’s noises floors down, muffled yelling and pounding footsteps. The sound of a gun crashing into the side of a skull reaches his ears, and he jumps up. 

“[Y/N], we need to leave immediately.”

“What? I--” He grabs her hands, pulling her out of the bed and gently removing the IV from her arm. She winces and uses him to support her weight as she gains her footing from laying for days. 

“They’re coming. We need to get you somewhere safe.” 

>>>Part 3<<<

[gawaine]

you've been given a chance to have a meal with 6 people. anyone can be invited, past or present, living or not, real or fictional, famous or otherwise. catch is you have to cook a meal for each of them, only one dish. you're allowed to have only 1 fictional character. you can keep 3 for the whole night till next morning, 3 will leave after eating the meal. And no language barrier. Who are those 6 ppl and what will be the dish?

Hmm, this is a really cool question (and excellent final act during my study break) (this got really long. You have so much more than you bargained for. Would place it under the cut but nah, I love these people and this q. Sorry for answering eons too late);

I’m assuming there’s no dietary requirements, so my amazing salmon salad is what I’m cooking. Plus, if they’re from the past, they could potentially do with the protein?

[... I answered this and then realised I was allowed fiction. Fuck.]

[... I have redrafted my reserve list several times. This q is taking me the best part of a half hour.]

[... Fuck. No. Changes to the main list must be made.]

Confirmed guests: Khadija bint Khuwaylid, Akbar the Great, Sansa Stark, Oscar Wilde, Oliver Saks and Hawraa Zakery.

Just dinner: Hawraa Zakery, Oscar Wilde, Oliver Saks.

[... I needed more females than in my original draft. Holding back the rant about the lack of representation of strong females in history and every career ever, as I had to Google these people bc I realised answering this how, even as I as a feminist, know of so little strong historical/written figures.]

Reserves who I’m going to get punched in the face by the universe for bumping; Ibn Sina, Rumi, Leonardo di Vinci, Cristina Yang.

If it were a dinner party, aka additional guests who would be invited before all the other invites (after the reserves) went out and my favourite funky glasses were allocated for (in order); Alexander the Great, Hades (+ Persephone, duh), Cleopatra, Captain Marvel, Rebecca Lee Crumpler.* 

[... FUCK I KEEP THINKING OF MORE PEOPLE.]

Super added bonus round because I’m an indecisive lil’ bitch: King Arthur and Merlin (knights and Lady of the Lake PLUS Morgana would be ideal, but that’s for like... the general list), Fa Mulan, Arya Stark, Ned Stark, the Muskeeters (plus D’Artagnan ofc).

* = I wanted to say Elizabeth Blackwell, but lbr, even as the first female surgeon, her experiences as a white woman would not be as relatable as Rebecca Lee Crumpler.

Who the fuck are these people and why are you inviting them to dinner, Hannah?HMMM SO GLAD YOU ASKED pls prep yourself for salty-ass additional comments (by order of priority) [... okay this is going under the cut bc I’ve been doing this for almost an hour and it’s long and cool ok];

Khadija bint Khuwaylid | Wife of Prophet Muhammad (SWAS), first female follower of Islam.Wealthy, educated divorcee who married a man a significant amount of years her junior in a sexist, ageist patriarchal world? Who was his first follower in what would later become the fastest growing, youngest and tbh probs most controversial religion in the modern world, whilst being a beloved spouse? I feel like she’d have some fucking useful insights to life tbh.Plus, it could never hurt to have a genuine, theological conversation regarding religion, philosophy and being a woman in the modern world (which, after some confusion, I feel like she’d still vibe with tbh) would be... Awesome.

Akbar the Great | Mughal Emperor at the height of its power.Initially first on my list. So many questions. So much advice. I’m also assuming my Dad would be invited and even if not - urgh, it’d be so cool. He was the Original Dude who, via basis of his marriages, formed ‘Desi’ South Asian (e.g large parts of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, etc) culture that has lasted to the modern day, whilst solidifying the Middle Eastern roots of the language and culture as well (e.g Persia - inc. surrounds in modern geography). He helped the expansion of Islam and was a figure of political enlightenment, encouraging acceptance in religious and racial diversity throughout his empire.I wanna know so much. I need to know so. Much. How did he feel about his family’s conversion to Islam? Their assimilation into a culture that, largely through his influence, created the mixing pot of cultures that exists as the Desi identity today? Bearing in mind the current political climate, does he regret that mix - because if that mix hadn’t started, there is an argument that more subtle divisions may have lessened the resentment and tensions between groups over hundreds of years of complicated history (not that that’s necessarily my view)?

Sansa Stark | fictional character from Game of ThronesShe has been through so much, she’s so smart, she’s so underrated and puts up with so much shit inside the GoT universe and outside, she is literally the embodiment of the ‘perfect’ 21st century young woman, with the difficulties attached to that included (though not from lack of abysmally poor characterisation from the male writers. Yes, all of them).Her over Arya because I feel Sansa more relatable and I feel she’d be a useful buffer at dinner and a delight to crack jokes w/ if things went South. Not Ned because idk if he’d walk in carrying his own head (how does this work?) and like... More females pls. She was literally the first female I thought of and now I can’t unsee it.

Oliver Saks | neurologist, authorI can’t believe all this time, I thought he was a brain surgeon and he’s not. What the fuck? But Henry Marsh would be potentially abrasive at dinner.I read my first Saks book at around 8; I then went out of my way to reference my own outdated, battered copy in my first neuro assignment at med school.All of the med talk. He was such a fantastic author and neurologist and did the most amazing research and I need all the career advice I can get.

Oscar Wilde | authorBecause I’m a fangirl and he wrote my favourite book. He’d also bring the fun to the party. And possibly the scandal, which is why I’d sit him near to Sansa.

Hawraa Zakery | human rights activist, mental health & psychology researcher, life coachI actually had to Google women to include and this one screams out at me. So much interesting, cool stuff.So much advice on looking after my messy ass self.

The others (who aren’t well known);

Rumi | famous poetI only chose Wilde out of loyalty to my favourite book, otherwise... Rumi. Famed poet, philosopher and academic. Yes pls. I’d also say Kabir, though Rumi influenced Shakespeare, so... Ya know.

Ibn Sina | ‘the father of early medicine’ aka Avicenna (but that’s not his nAME)Does this need justifying?

Rebecca Lee Crumpler | first female surgeon of colourSo many q’s. So much bowing.

Okay, I have to stop now because it’s an hour later and this was meant to be a fifteen minute revision break and that did not happen, did it?

[emmatrustsno-one]

Brace yourselves A very long essay (like, a thesis) on the British class system with references to Harry Potter Part 2

Let’s continue. Have another comedy clip showcasing how stupid the upper-class is meant to be, to get you going:

A side point: almost all the British actors celebrated by Tumblr went to private or public school and are upper-class, or upper middle-class.Here’s a buzzfeed quiz to give your brain bracing time for part 2. I got it right for the exact same reason the top commenter did! Have a look once you’ve done it! That’s another blog post in itself!

https://www.buzzfeed.com/hattiesoykan/which-of-these-british-actors-didnt-go-to-a-private-school?utm_term=.ylwEEKxnDN#.mfyBBg7oQx

Food and diet

As I mentioned in my post about food in Harry Potter, food is intricately bound up with class. Working-class people have tradtionally had a poor diet, through poverty and lack of education, and also because of the impact of the Second World War, when food was very scarce. Where I am from people were still dying of malnutrition when my dad was teenager, so in the late 1960s. Working-class people then used to cook with beef dripping as they couldn’t afford other fats, and everyone on his street shared the same pan of dripping. I am from a former industrial town with two-up, two-down terraced workers’ houses, just like Snape, so we can assume that when Snape was a child he experienced similar levels of malnutrition around him.

Things are much better now, but in the last century people used to grow a lot of their own food if they had outdoor space, steal or not eat. They could afford to buy very little and then only the cheapest foods, which are often the least nutritious. It meant that they didn’t eat big or regular meals and that there was very little variety in their diets, and no treats. JKR has a story about trying to buy a tin of baked beans, and nothing else, from the supermarket, for her daughter’s meal, and having to put it back because she didn’t have enough money. Then, tins of beans were like 10p.

When my parents were at school, all kids used to get a small carton of milk for free at breaktime to make sure they were getting enough calcium. In the 70s, Thatcher (may she rot in hell) was education secretary (this was before she was prime minister) and she stopped the milk provision, which meant that many working-class kids stopped getting a key part of their nutrition. She was too disconnected from working-class people to understand, or care, that she was taking away critical nutrition. It was a political and social scandal and she got the nickname ‘Thatcher the milk snatcher’.

Best ever comment about that evil bitch is from the comedian Frankie Boyle, who had much to say about her, but the best was on the subject of her funeral: “give everyone is Scotland a shovel and we’ll dig a hole so deep we’ll deliver her to satan personally.”

Since we don’t finish school here until after 3, schools provide a lunch, which most people have to pay for (or you can take your own). The canteens in secondary schools are usually far too small and, certainly until very recently, when Jamie Oliver started a war on school food, served repetitive, low nutrient, processed rubbish. Until the turn of the century you would be lucky to get anything other than hot dogs, turkey twizzlers, chicken nuggets, chips and pizza, and when I say pizza, I mean a square chunk of dense bread with cheese and tomato purée on it. And cake. Now schools usually do at least pasta, salad and sandwiches as well. The main problem is budget. These schools are state-maintained and are given an allowance to spend on each thing. When Jamie Oliver started his campaign against poor quality school food, the school he worked with had a budget of 13p for every child. The ‘better’ the school the better the food: public schools, whose budget comes from fees, serve the kind of food Hogwarts did. Some kids, i.e. those from very low income families, are allowed a free school meal, and for many it is their only meal of the day, even now. I work in a working-class school and trust me, at least half never get a breakfast, and many have a sandwich for the evening meal. I know one boy who is given a Nutella sandwich every evening and that is all. Theresa May, who is a wannabe Thatcher, just announced recently that she is thinking of scrapping the free school meals program. It would be a disaster for the poorest kids.

Buying cheap food isn’t the only issue. Since working-class people work so much they are too tired and busy to cook proper meals, so they often settle for ready-meals, fast-food and takeaways. Lack of education has an impact as well. People eat food for taste and convenience alone, not fully grasping that they need to eat certain things to be healthy, and as a result many go under-nourished or become obese.

There is also the issue of how to cook things – not just in terms of lack of education, but in lack of facilities. Some people don’t have a hob, or an oven, maybe even just a microwave.

Hydration is an issue as well. A lot of working-class people don’t realise how much water they need to drink to be healthy, so they are dehydrated, and their kids are as well, so they don’t have very good concentration, so they don’t do as well at school, and the cycle of lack of education continues. 

Middle and upper-class people have the money, time and mental space to buy and make, or have made for them, varied, healthy foods. They have the education to eat and drink the right things. This means they are healthy and can concentrate at school or at other things and become successful.

Housing and class

Where you live is defined by, and indicative of, class. I am simplifying here, but in a nutshell, the north of England and a lot of Scotland and Wales is predominantly working-class. The further south you go, the higher the dominant class. This is because it was in the north that mills and factories were built in the Industrial Revolution, and because coal mines were up here. Many towns were built purposely to house workers of a certain factory, mill or mine. They all look the same, just with different bricks: terraced rows of small, dark houses with 2 rooms upstairs and 2 downstairs. Many have since been extended by owners to include an indoor bathroom, which would originally have been outside in an outhouse. A few people still had outdoor toilets in the 90s. The film Billy Elliot is an excellent overview of such towns and housing. If you haven’t seen it and you are interested in class, you should definitely watch it. Later on, social housing was built in the form of semi-detached houses and large blocks of flats, but detached houses have only recently become a thing for anyone other than the upper-class.

Working-class people end up living in the worst housing. Many of them rent rather than own, and that’s not as good here as in the rest of Europe. Tenants don’t have many rights and there is little regulation on landlords. Many people, right now, are living in slum housing. I am talking no flooring, unpainted walls, no heating, filth everywhere. You can either rent from a private landlord, who can do as little as he likes to make you comfortable, pretty much, or you can rent from your local council. Council housing is usually either semi-detached houses or in bigger cities flats in large blocks. The abysmal state of blocks of flats has recently been all over the news in the form of the Grenfell Tower block fire, where many people died and have had to be rehomed, simply because cheap cladding had been used on the outside of the building and the fire travelled up it like it was tissue paper. Many blocks have this same cladding on. The residents there had complained about safety many times but had been ignored. To make matters worse, there is a serious shortage of council housing across the country because fucking Thatcher (again) introduced a scheme where council tenants could buy their home if they lived in it for so long, and they could buy it for a crazily cheap price. Loads of people took advantage of it by buying their home for next to nothing, waiting a few years then selling it on for a massive profit, but of course that meant all the fucking social housing disappeared. My sister-in-law got divorced around 12 years ago and she went to the council to put her name on the list to get somewhere to live and the list was so long it took 5 years to offer her anything, and then it was the shittiest house imaginable, because that’s all they’ve got left.

They also ruin what little housing is left by a) putting loads of criminals and drug dealers etc in one place, so you end up with some estate from hell and b) putting foreign immigrants all in one place, so you end up with people who came here for asylum from either side of a civil war living next to each other, or ghettoising them so that they are abandoned and lost.

In Scotland working-class housing was, until very recently, tenement buildings, which were sort of communal flats. Families had their own rooms but had to share some of them. The stairs and communal areas were like something out of a Victorian workhouse. Slums. Here are some pictures, with info, of working-class housing in Glasgow between the 40s and 60s. Glasgow is especially woeful. I actually love the place, but there’s no denying it has been hell on earth for much of its history. I remember doing a geography project at school (mid 90s) and discovering that the life expectancy in the most working-class part of Glasgow was 54. It has gone up since, but is still below the national average: all the factors I have discussed combine to literally knock years off people’s lives.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/hilarywardle/glasgow-housing-crisis?utm_term=.apNOODpKkJ#.wn3BBNXxK4

Regarding the rows of terraces built to house industrial workers I mentioned earlier, this is exactly the sort of place Snape grew up. Here’s an example. They would have had a sitting room and kitchen downstairs and 2 bedrooms upstairs, with an outside toilet, while he was a child, and certainly no plumbed in bath or shower.

Upper-class people live in detached houses, usually historic ones like castles and former estates. They usually have multiple houses.

Middle-class housing is varied depending on whereabouts on the continuum people are. It ranges from townhouses, to large, nicer semi-detached houses, to detached houses to mansions. A key point I want to make here is that it is totally normal to have the lowliest of working-class housing, such as in the picture, and then a few minutes’ walk away, a middle-class area. Upper-class housing is always considerably separate from the other two, but working and middle are near each other. I saw a ridiculous post a few weeks ago claiming that Lily must have been poor because she lived close enough to Snape that Petunia knew who he was, but that is utter rubbish – that person can’t have been British. Nearly all towns have slummy areas and middle-class areas, and our towns are small. Also, he was doing that accidental wandless magic kids do, so no doubt he had a reputation for being a weirdo.

The mere fact that Petunia criticises Snape’s clothes proves beyond doubt that she wasn’t working-class, as in those days, everybody working-class was wearing hand-me-down clothes like that, therefore another “poor” person wouldn’t have noticed/mentioned. The punk movement’s fashion of safety pins in the 70s came about due to the simple fact that the working-class were wearing such old clothes that they were falling apart and they could only fix them with safety pins. As Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols said, “we had to use them – the arse was hanging off your jeans so you just had to shove a few safety pins in it.” So Petunia wasn’t poor or she would have empathised with Snape, not criticised him.

It crops up everywhere and all the time

By complete coincidence yesterday I saw a review on Amazon that completely illustrates how notions of class pervade our conscious in Britain. It was a review for a book about Freud and feminism, an academic work. It was the only negative review amongst quite a few positive ones. I’ll let you read it then I’ll discuss:

I bought a copy for a penny on Amazon and that was over spending. I have worked in the mental health field for over thirty years and have trained as a psychotherapist and am very well acquainted with Freud's work. I was shocked by how badly this author described his ideas. If I didn't already know what she was talking about I wouldn't have had a clue about what she was saying. She really seems to be someone who wants to make a somewhat complicated subject even more complicated. I stopped at the end of her second chapter as I just couldn't take anymore. I wouldn't describe her as providing the reader with an explanation, in fact one could be forgiven for viewing her writing as an attempt at deliberate confusion or if not confusion an attempt to make what Freud had written about sexuality as even more difficult to understand than it was. Perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised by this. The author is essentially taking a Lacanian position towards Freud, a position that upper middle class complicated academics have taken up. Unfortunately these are people who really don't want to accept what Freud actually wrote and instead want to impose on his writings their own wishes for what they would have preferred him to write i.e. that the unconscious is structured like a language and that word representations exist at this level, despite Freud's own writing that this isn't so. What amuses me is that author purports to be a Marxist. Given the way she writes it's clear enough that she wants to keep the uneducated working class at quite a distance. This book is in my opinion pretentious upper middle class trash. I'm giving my copy to Oxfam.

Firstly, the fact that it’s a stream of consciousness rant should tell you enough to know that it’s not trustworthy. The most important thing, though, is the linking of academic analysis with being upper middle-class. The reviewer has taken a stance on psychoanalytical ideas that is typical of the science side of the discipline. They clearly think it’s a waste of time to look for meaning beyond practical application, e.g. for literary analysis, and something only someone with time and money would do.

It goes deeper than that as well. There’s a clear derogatory link between academia and being upper middle-class and the reviewer is offended because, as a result of their lower class, they don’t understand the book. They have tried to blame the author, by throwing around intellectual names like Lacan and Marx, and showing that they are the sort of high-standing citizen that gives to charity, but ultimately, the subject matter of the book is beyond them. They have taken this to be a result of class hindrances, which it probably is. The reviewer isn’t educated or cultured enough to understand the book. This annoys them and so they are attacking those who are.

There is a perception, which is hard to explain, that the most difficult and annoying class is the middle-class. Part of this arises out of the fact that the middle-class is such a long continuum. People who are middle-class often have delusions of being very high class, even though they probably started as working-class. They are constantly competing with each other within the class. This review is, to me, a good example of that, because it’s obvious that the reviewer is lower middle-class themselves. They have a profession, they are educated at higher education level and they are reading books about Freud for fun. They are proud to be middle-class. But then this book comes along and makes them feel alienated from their own demographic. It makes them feel like an outsider; they don’t have the power to understand the book. So they attack the author for daring to show that they aren’t so high up after all.

The perception of middle-class people of being stuck-up also links to a perception that some upper-class people are easy-going and easier to get on with for working-class people than the middle-classes. The idea being, no doubt, that the upper and working classes both understand their place, they are content with who they are. But the middle-classes are always wanting to keep with the Joneses, to get better, to compete with you. Here are 3 comedy clips that illustrate my point. The first is stand-up comedy by Billy Connolly, who’s about as working-class as you can get (it’s just audio), and the others are from a 90s sketch show (bonus: the second one has the actor who plays Mr Weasley in it!)

I always felt like Gryffindor was a bit like the annoying middle-class guy comparing you to him. I can just hear Gryffindors saying “I couldn’t help but notice that I am considerably more perfect/popular than yooouuuuwww”!

In conclusion, feel free to dislike Severus all you want, but if you could stop calling him racist I would really appreciate it.

To finish (at last, I hear you cry) here is a Brief suggested watch/listen list if you interested in representations of class. They should all be accessible online.I am happy to answer questions about any of them.

TV-

Blackadder, but only series 2-4, 1 is shit (Rowan Atkinson plays a middle-class man stuck between the stupid working and upper-classes)

Harry Enfield and Chums, Little Britain (both sketch shows attacking all classes)

Only fools and horses (2 working-class brothers try to make a living by selling dodgy goods at the market)

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet (you will need subtitles – it’s about a group of guest workers in Germany and the main characters are geordies, which means from Newcastle)

The fact that these are all comedies says it all about our views of the situation.

Films – Billy Elliot (2000)

Pride (2014) (both are about the miners’ strike in the 80s, which is the most important event in recent working-class history, and both deal with LGBT themes)

East in East (1999) (about the added struggles for working-class immigrants)

The Full Monty (1997) (about unemployed working-class men stripping for money – it’s a comedy!)

Music – the album ‘Different class’ by Pulp, a band from Sheffield, a very working-class city (which I happen to love as I went to university there) which suffered terribly from the collapse of British industry since basically all the steel was made there. The film ‘The Full Monty’ is set there.

Other – any stand-up comedy (the working-class art) by the comedians Peter Kay or (pre-2000s) Billy Connolly.

Thank you and I apologise for the length!

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 3x05 recap

Aka the one where all my sons are idiots and all my daughters are precious angels who deserve all the hugs.

Late again, because when am I not? Again, I blame the travelling.

So I’m kinda intrigued by this pair; the bleeding, accented woman and the young guy with an American accent in what seems to be a  super-dingy bathroom? What is going on here??

Patterson has been doing some fancy analysing of the adoption records and yeppp, Jane definitely had a kid. And ugh Patterson is so sweet and gentle about it and has done so much research so she could give Jane ALL the info and Jane is just Not Dealing. But hmmm Patterson tells her there’s no way to test if she’s had a child and lbr that’s not exactly true? A good ObGyn could generally tell just by looking at the cervix. Not a perfect measure, but it’s definitely an option. But anyhow Jane is too busy flipping out anyway, and ugh she mentions the Taylor Shaw thing and already having everything ripped away from her multiple times and man my heart just hurts for her rn. And Weller’s so at a loss for what to do or how to comfort her ugh my poor babies

Lol Reade and Zapata and their little Wizardville rivalry is super cute. And then she’s completely open with him and asks him directly about the State Department Guy thing and wow Reade just harshly shuts her down. I’m glad Patterson interrupts this little moment because it was definitely going nowhere good. But speaking of things that ARE good,  omg I love her pun about the ‘backbone’ of the case and Weller being all killjoy about it haha. That’s right, honey, just ignore him. Your humour is too good for him anyway. And so anyhow the tatt leads to a NYPD evidence log number, though Zapata notes that the code is different to what the NYPD uses now, and Reade gets super snarky at her for it. Geez son, learn some manners! Patterson backs Zapata up tho (yaaassss my girls), showing that the code is like 20 years old. Jeller go to check out the warehouse it points to while Zapata is given paperwork by Reade (wow, petty), though tbh Zapata ends up with the better deal since Jeller have to fight some bad guys and literally put out a fire. Ugh the way Jane yells for him as she tries to fight the fire alone-- it’s only when its the two of them together that they manage to extinguish it. Symbolism, much? Patterson calls right at that moment to warn them to get out, and it’s a little late, but well, it’s the thought that counts haha. Other warehouses have been burned, which means someone is trying super hard to destroy evidence but doesn’t know where it is. Jane, because she’s amazing, finds the box they nee-- and in it is a whole bunch of untested rape kits going back 20 years. I love the conversation the guys have about the low priority assigned to sexual assault testing-- it’s some good commentary from the writers about the state of the real world. 

Meanwhile, Stuart’s phone has been found in the river, and both Patterson and Zapata are very suspicious of the way Reade basically tells her to leave it alone. Looking super suss rn, bro, and I do not like it at allll.

However, I really DO like listening to Jane speak in other languages. So damn cool. And as someone who is currently staying in a foreign country and communicating solely in the local tongue, I have a renewed respect for her fluency lol.  Their Russian suspect conveniently elects to speak English though haha. How handy. He’s a bit of a tough guy but through a sneaky move on Jeller’s part, he gives them the info they need-- how he got paid, which gives them a lead on the people hiring him. Patterson also drops another pun, which is three so far this ep and I’m so proud. She also figures out that the the victim was likely linked to Kazarus, which as far as I’m aware is a fake place though tbh my geography is not super great. But anyhow, that narrows their search to two sexual assault survivors. 

And then aww Patterson pulls Weller aside and tries to support him about the whole surprise-kid thing, and ugh she’s just so sweet and wants to help both him and Jane as best she can. But he’s upset bc he knows he can’t fix this; no one can. I guess it all just takes time, right? Meanwhile Jane’s in the locker room, getting a call from Roman, and dude he really knew the whole time??  And ugh if she was sixteen when she had the baby (to her high school sweetheart aww) then he was probably about 14 at the time, just a kid himself who had suddenly become an uncle, and man I’m so sad for them both?? But lol she gets to the bullpen and covers the phone while practically yelling for them to trace the call. Not super subtle, Jane. And he tells her she initially fought Shepherd on giving the baby away and then she just ran away? I’m confused.  I guess we now understand a bit more about why Remi joined the army though I guess. Not sure how she ever went back to working for Shepherd, though, but maybe she saw the memory wipe as a way out? And Beardy was meant to fill her in on everything including the kid.  Idk. Jane’s now having a small breakdown in the locker room and decides she has to go see Shepherd, but Weller’s right when he says that Shepherd would just mess with her head. Don’t give her the satisfaction, Jane! And oh look, a mention of Bethany, haven’t had one of those in a while. And tbh that’s the way I like it, show, so keep ignoring her existence please haha.

In the lab, Patterson admits defeat about Stuart’s phone-- it’s as dead as he is. (Too soon??) But Zapata didn’t spend all that time at the CIA without gaining a few skills in the realms of deception and deviousness, and so they hatch a plan to bluff and lure out the possible mole. And then a lab tech in a headscarf calls them to see something, and the panning shot of the lab also shows another tech in a turban. Firstly, I approve of some diversity happening here, and secondly, I hope that this casting choice was deliberate so there would be people that looked at those characters and went “the traitor has to be one of them” so that when it’s shown that the traitor is someone else, the people watching have to examine just why it was that they thought either of these two background characters were guilty. (Hint: it’s racism!). Anyhow, the rape kit in question has been tested, and it turns out the rapist is the king of Kazarus. Or, the former king, since he died and his brother has assumed the throne. The only spanner in the works being that the rape resulted in a child, who, as per the Kazarussian monarchy, is the rightful heir to the throne. Which naturally means that Scar’s gotta have him taken out. Now we know who we saw at the start of the ep-- the kid and his mother, who was clearly attacked by the assassins but escaped. Now it’s a race for the team to find them before the Kazarussians do. 

And then who appears but Weitz, who is now a congressman, and conveniently an expert on Kazarus. I love that everyone looks at Hirst and she’s all “Don’t look at me, Darlins” and how is someone using ‘darling’ in plural like that so damn endearing??? The accent is what truly makes it though, obviously. But nope, it was Reade who called him, which is just another in the list of things Reade has done lately that we do not like. Weitz manages to make everyone hate him even more within mere seconds of showing up, and tbh I love to hate him. His antagonism towards Zapata is hilarious.  I like that even Hirst gives him some shit lol. Atta girl. Anyhow Weitz informs them that the ex-king’s brother Cyrus is a Bad Dude and there’s a bunch of american soldiers in Kazarus that are now at risk, and yep the stakes have just been raised

Reade gets called into the principal’s office to discuss his little spat with Zapata. How exactly does Hirst know about that, though? Though I guess if she’s paid attention to any of their interactions today then she probably could have figured it out. I’m offended that he calls Zapata a busybody?? But then he does at least say that she’s nothing to worry about and that she’s a friend. What do you two have to hide though??? Meanwhile in the lab, Patterson has found the kid by examining the curtains in a video that the kid sent to his gf. That’s my lil genius. Of course it’s super convenient that this type of curtain is only made for a specific motel chain, but whatevs, I’ll let it slide as I do with many things in this show haha. I love Zapata teasing Weitz though, suggesting that it was all too smart for him and went over his head haha

Jane’s clearly taking this case pretty personally-- and tbh it does seem veeeeeeeery convenient that there’s a case that resonates so closely with her current situation, until you remember that this time around, all the tattoos are specifically designed by Roman to be revealed in a certain order, so it makes total sense that the case matches stuff going on in their personal lives. More sense than when it happened in the last two seasons, so touche, writers. You win this round. Anyway they get to the hotel, and the kid immediately pulls a gun on them. His mom’s not looking too good though, kinda bleeding out a little on the bed, and ugh Jane does her frightened-animal whisperer thing and convinces the kid to let her help his mom. Naturally he chooses to trust her bc lbr wouldn’t you?? They get his mom to the hospital where she’s super well guarded, and he tells them about only learning at 18 about his mother’s attack. And he only learned yesterday about the whole king thing, and tells them he’ll never go to Kazarus. You just know that Jane is thinking about her baby and how the kid probably wouldn’t want to know her as they must think she abandoned them, and ugh it hurts. Why must you do this, show?

Back in the lab Patterson and Zapata have set their trap, and are waiting to see who falls into it-- only they don’t like the answer. According to her computer, Reade logged into the system to delete the files. Patterson is grim; she doesn’t like it, but she’s ready to believe it. When Zapata tries to insist that Reade wouldn’t do it, that he’s family, Patterson just reminds her: Borden was family too. And ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I do not like this at all. I am so done with leaks and moles and traitors and all of it ugh.  I do appreciate Weitz for making me smile here; Zapata is back at her desk and he throws a paper airplane at her, then feigns confusion, looking around for who could have done it. Tbh I actually do ship these two a little bit. All the bickering just does it for me lol. She gives him shit about probably not going to be re-elected, but he says he’s doing great in the polls. She says polls have been wrong before-- and is that some political commentary I hear? Man who was the writer of this ep because they are not pulling punches today. Reade comes over and tries to mend bridges, which tbh tastes a little sour after he was such an asshole this morning... give him nothing, Zapata!

Looks like Yasmine is gonna live, which is nice. She and Jane bond a little over protecting kids etc while Weller and the kid go to get something from the vending machine--- and ugh when they’re coming back Wller notices their guard from the door is gone and pushes the kid behind him. I love protective Weller. I also love Weller throwing an injured woman over his shoulder and carrying her to safety. Damn. He also proved pretty smart-- when they realised that the baddies were on their FBI comms, he bluffed and reported that they were headed for the roof while they escaped out the front door instead. Nice. Though why do I feel like that escape was too easy?

Patterson has figured out that it’s not Reade that’s tampering with their evidence, but someone else using his login. She confesses to Zapata about the backdoor that Wizardville gives her into people’s phones, and says she’s never used it before, which isn’t true though right?? Didn’t she use it on that Lowie guy’s lawyer a few eps ago? Anyway Zapata doesn’t care about the illegal biz, she just wants to hear her best(?) friend’s name cleared.  Turns out he wasn’t even in the building when someone used an FBI computer to access their files, so that’s at least looking good for him, even if it is bad for them as a whole

Weller reports in, and the team tracks their phones and immediately sends backup-- but too late, considering that the baddies have laid out a trap for them. Was this why it was so easy for them to get away?? Jeller manage to take out several bad dudes on their own, but not before one of them manages to molotov-cocktail their car, which blows up moments later. Dude that’s one potent cocktail… but ugh they all make it to safety, with Weller again literally carrying Yasmine, and ugh the mother and son hug and the husband and wife hug and it’s just a very poignant moment okay?? Also there’s just something really beautiful about the way Jane hugs, I can’t even really describe it. Anyhow they all make it back to the NYO, where the rest of the team (plus Weitz, in his own way) are super glad to see them alive. After a minute Zapata and Patterson sneak off, because Patterson needs to tell her the news-- the person using Reade’s login was Hirst. She’s sure because of biometric software that she runs on all of their computers, and again, man I’m super glad that these powers are in the hands of someone trustworthy like Patterson haha. But ugh this means my honey-accented cool aunt is a baddie?? She even knew that Lowie guy from a few eps ago. Well, bummer. Still holding out for the possibility that there’s more to it, but things aren’t looking great...

Oh dear, King Cyrus was murdered, and the Kazarussians are demanding their heir. Which really sucks for the kid, and Jane and Weller try to protect him, but he’s determined to go and to make things better for his fellow Kazarussians. And lbr, to have to go become king is not the worst thing??  

Wow Patterson and Zapata actually went to Reade to warn him about Hirst. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I would have done some more surveillance or something first? But anyway he is really not taking it well, and kinda attacks both of them a bit over it. And wait he’s known Hirst since he was in Quantico??? That’s news to me.  And not good news, either. Please don’t be dirty, Reade. Please…

Jeller are recovering at home after a pretty damn rough day. Jane has changed her mind about finding her daughter-- she wants her just to have a happy, stable life, and that willl be far easier if she never knows Jane exists. And he just hugs her bc what can you do to make that pain better? Nothing, that’s what. She’s going to mourn her connection with her daughter for the rest of her life and ugh it just really sucks

Oh no a time jump, nothing good ever follows a time jump. And oh shit it’s Berlin. Weller’s having no luck with a rude hotel employee, which I find super unbelievable because a) he’s front desk staff at a fancy hotel, b) the person asking him for help is a man clearly traumatised about his missing wife, and c) he’s German. Him being rude makes no sense. But it does give this girl a cool opening to come help Weller out, and man I am jealous of her German speaking skills. Like I said earlier, it’s not easy!! But wait, there’s more. The girl is not only American, but she’s looking for Jane. Her mother, Jane. And oh Weller, you stupid, stupid boy. You foolish, well-meaning idiot. I am sure that your reasons for not telling Jane about this are all purely to protect her (although I also suspect you’re trying to protect yourself from her leaving you again) but dude. DUDE. This is not the kind of secret you should ever keep, and honestly if Jane leaves your ass when she finds out the truth I’m gonna be on her side of the split. Ugh, my stupid son when will you ever LEARN

[gibsongirlselections]

When Half of NYC’s Tax Base Leaves and Never Comes Back

The separateness in New York, and by extension much of the nation curled around it from America’s eastern edge, stands out. There are the hyper-wealthy and there are the multi-generational poor. They depend on each other, but with COVID who needs who more has changed.

It’s easy to stress how far apart the rich and the poor live, even though the mansions of the Upper West Side are less than a mile from the crack dealers uptown. The rich don’t ride public transportation, they don’t send their kids to public schools, they shop and dine in very different places with private security to ensure everything stays far enough apart to keep it all together.

But that misses the dependencies which until now have simply been a given in the ecosystem. The traditional view has been the rich need the poor to exploit as cheap labor—textbook economic inequality. But with COVID as the spark, the ticking bomb of economic inequality may soon go off in America’s greatest city. Things are changing and New York, and by extension America, needs to ask itself what it wants to be when it grows up.

It’s snapshot simple. The wealthy and the companies they work for pay most of the taxes. The poor consume most of the taxes through social programs. COVID is driving the wealthy and their offices out of the city. No one will be left to pay for the poor, who are stuck here, and the city will collapse in the transition. A classic failed state scenario.

New York City is home to 118 billionaires, more than any other American city. New York City is also home to nearly one million millionaires, more than any other city in the world. Among those millionaires some 8,865 are classified as “high net worth,” with more than $30 million each.

They pay the taxes. The top one percent of NYC taxpayers pay nearly 50 percent of all personal income taxes collected in New York. Personal income tax in the New York area accounts for 59 percent of all revenues. Property taxes add in more than a billion dollars a year in revenue, about half of that generated by office space.

Now for how the other half lives. Below those wealthy people in every sense of the word the city has the largest homeless population of any American metropolis, which includes 114,000 children. The number of New Yorkers living below the poverty line is larger than the population of Philadelphia, and would be the country’s 7th largest city. More than 400,000 New Yorkers reside in public housing. Another 235,000 receive rent assistance.

That all costs a lot of money. The New York City Housing Authority needs $24 billion over the next decade just for vital repairs. That’s on top of a yearly standard operating cost approaching four billion dollars. A lot of the money used to come from Washington before a multibillion-dollar decline in federal Section 9 funds. So today there is a shortfall and repairs, including lead removal, are being put off. NYC also has a $34 billion budget for public schools, many of which function as distribution points for child food aid, medical care, day care, and a range of social services.

The budget for a city as complex as New York is a mess of federal, state, and local funding sources. It can be sliced and diced many ways, but the one that matters is the starkest: the people and companies who pay for New York’s poor are leaving even as the city is already facing a $7.4 billion tax revenue hit from the initial effects of the coronavirus. The money is there; New York’s wealthiest individuals have increased their net worth by $44.9 billion during the pandemic. It’s just not here.

New York’s Governor Andrew Cuomo has seen a bit of the iceberg in the distance. He recently took to MSNBC to beg the city’s wealthy, who fled the coronavirus outbreak, to return. Cuomo said he was extremely worried about New York City if too many of the well-heeled taxpayers who fled COVID decide there is no need to move back. “They are in their Hamptons homes, or Hudson Valley or Connecticut. I talk to them literally every day. I say. ‘When are you coming back? I’ll buy you a drink. I’ll cook. But they’re not coming back right now. And you know what else they’re thinking, if I stay there, they pay a lower income tax because they don’t pay the New York City surcharge. So, that would be a bad place if we had to go there.”

Included in the surcharge are not only NYC’s notoriously high taxes. The recent repeal of the federal allowance for state and local tax deductions (SALT) costs New York’s high earners some $15 billion in additional federal taxes annually.

“They don’t want to come back to the city,” Partnership for NYC President Kathryn Wylde warned. “It’s hard to move a company… but it’s much easier for individuals to move,” she said, noting that most offices plan to allow remote work indefinitely. “It’s a big concern that we’re going to lose more of our tax base then we’ve already lost.”

While overall only five percent of residents left as of May, in the city’s very wealthiest blocks residential population decreased by 40 percent or more. The higher-earning a neighborhood is, the more likely it is to have emptied out. Even the amount of trash collected in wealthy neighborhoods has dropped, a tell-tale sign no one is home. A real estate agent told me she estimates about a third of the apartments even in my mid-range 300 unit building are empty. The ones for sale or rent attract few customers. She says it’s worse than post-9/11 because at least then the mood was “How do we get NYC back on its feet?” instead of now, when we just stand over the body and tsk tsk through our masks.

Enough New Yorkers are running toward the exits that it has shaken up the greater area’s housing market. Another real estate agent describes the frantic bidding in the nearby New Jersey suburbs as a “blood sport.” “We are seeing 20 offers on houses. We are seeing things going 30 percent over the asking price. It’s kind of insane.”

Fewer than one-tenth of Manhattan office workers came back to the workplace a month after New York gave businesses the green light to return to the buildings they ran from in March. Having had several months to notice what not paying Manhattan office rents might do for their bottom line, large companies are leaving. Conde Nast, the publishing company and majority client in the signature new World Trade Center, is moving out. Even the iconic paper The Daily News (which published the famous headline “Ford to City: Drop Dead” when New York collapsed in 1975 without a federal bailout) closed its physical newsroom to go virtual. Despite the folksy image of New York as a paradise of Mom and Pop restaurants and quaint shops, about 50 percent of those who pay most of the taxes work for large firms.

Progressive pin-up Mayor De Blasio has lost touch with his city. After years of failing to address economic inequality by simply throwing free money to the poor and limiting the ability of the police to protect them, and us, from rising crime, his COVID focus has been on shutting down schools and converting 139 luxury hotels to filthy homeless shelters. Alongside AOC, he has called for higher taxes on fewer people and demanded more federal funds. As for the wealthy who have paid for his failed social justice experiments to date, he says “We don’t make decisions based on a wealthy few. Some may be fair-weathered friends, but they will be replaced by others.”

What others? The concentration of major corporations once pulled talent to the city from across the globe; if you wanted to work for JP Morgan on Wall Street, you had to live here. That’s why NYC has skyscrapers; a lot of people once needed to live and especially work in the same place. Not any more. Technology and work-at-home changes have eliminated geography.

For the super wealthy, New York once topped the global list of desirable places to live based on four factors: wealth, investment, lifestyle and future. The first meant a desire to live among other wealthy people (we know where that’s headed), investment returns on real estate (not looking great, if you can even find a buyer), lifestyle (now destroyed with bars, restaurants, shopping, museums, and theaters closed indefinitely, coupled with rising crime) and…

The future. New York pre-COVID had the highest projected GDP growth of any city. Now we’re left with the question if COVID continues to hollow out the city, who will be left to pay for New York? As one commentator said, NYC risks leading America into becoming “Brazil with Nukes,” a future of constant political and social chaos, with a ruling class content to wall itself off from the greater society’s problems.

Peter Van Buren, a 24-year State Department veteran, is the author of We Meant Well: How I Helped Lose the Battle for the Hearts and Minds of the Iraqi People, Hooper’s War: A Novel of WWII Japan, and Ghosts of Tom Joad: A Story of the 99 Percent.

The post When Half of NYC’s Tax Base Leaves and Never Comes Back appeared first on The American Conservative.

[revpauljbern]

We can wipe out poverty in 1 generation. So what’s holding us back? Greed, maybe?

How We Can Make God, and Each Other,

Happy by Ending Poverty

by Pastor Paul J. Bern

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Today in the early 21st century, and with 99% of the wealth in America in the hands of 1% of the population, the US has a bigger and wider gap between the richest 1% of American money earners and big business owners and the remainder of working Americans than there is in many supposedly “third world” countries. The widespread and systemic unemployment or underemployment that currently exists in the US job market (including those who have given up and dropped out of the job market) is no longer just an economic problem. It has become a civil rights issue of the highest priority. The US job market has been turned into a raffle, where one lucky person gets the job while entire groups of others get left out in the cold – sometimes literally. I am vigorously maintaining that every human being has the basic, God-given right to a livelihood and to a living wage. There is no such thing under God's laws that say any given person should be unable to support themselves and their families! Anything less becomes a gross civil rights violation. Based on that, I would say those jobless individuals are victims of systemic economic discrimination. And so I further state unreservedly that restarting the civil rights era protests, demonstrations, sit-ins and the occupation of government buildings, or whole city blocks, is the most effective way of addressing the rampant inequality and persistent economic hardship that currently exists in the US.

Fortunately, this has already started here in the US, with the advent of the protests for so many unarmed Black men being killed by police officers. But these protesters are actually somewhat behind the curve. Because, before them there was Occupy Wall St., “we are the 99%” and Anonymous. And before those there was the Arab Spring in Egypt, the summer of 2011 in Great Britain and Greece, plus Libya, Syria and Gaza in the Middle East. So from a political standpoint, the current crop of protesters here in the US have some catching up to do. And yet, that was before the rest of the world got on board protesting globally for the many murdered Americans in Florida, Missouri, New York and elsewhere. So now, like an echo from the fairly recent past, the protests over police violence has echoed across the globe and is still reaching a crescendo.

The least common denominator to all this rage in the streets is that of being economically disadvantaged. “You will always have the poor”, Jesus said, “but you will not always have me” (This was prior to his being crucified). Deuteronomy chapter 15, verses 7-8 state, “If there is a poor man among your brothers.... do not be hardhearted or tightfisted toward your brother. Rather be open handed and freely lend him whatever he needs.” People everywhere find themselves surrounded by wealth and opulence, luxury and self-indulgence, while they are themselves isolated from it. It is one thing to be rewarded for success and a job well done. But it's an altogether different matter to have obscene riches flaunted in your face on a daily basis in order to remind certain people of their alleged inferiority. I think what we really need to do is find a way to end poverty. I can sum up the answer in two words: Free Education. Otherwise those who are poor will always remain so.

Who’s responsible for the poor? Back in the reign of the first Queen Elizabeth, English lawmakers said it was the government and taxpayers. They introduced the compulsory “poor tax” of 1572 to provide peasants with cash and a “parish loaf.” The world’s first-ever public relief system did more than feed the poor: It helped fuel economic growth because peasants could risk leaving the land to look for work in town. By the early 19th century, though, a backlash had set in. English spending on the poor was slashed from 2 percent to 1 percent of national income, and indigent families were locked up in parish workhouses. In 1839, the fictional hero of Oliver Twist, a child laborer who became a symbol of the neglect and exploitation of the times, famously raised his bowl of gruel and said, “Please, sir, I want some more.” Today, child benefits, winter fuel payments, housing support and guaranteed minimum pensions for the elderly are common practice in Britain and other industrialized countries. But it’s only recently that the right to an adequate standard of living has begun to be extended to the poor of the developing world.

In an urgent 2010 book, “Just Give Money to the Poor: The Development Revolution from the Global South”, three British scholars showed how the developing countries are reducing poverty by making cash payments to the poor from their national budgets. At least 45 developing nations now provide social pensions or grants to 110 million impoverished families — not in the form of charitable donations or emergency handouts or temporary safety nets but as a kind of social security. Often, there are no strings attached. It’s a direct challenge to a foreign aid industry that, in the view of the authors, “thrives on complexity and mystification, with highly paid consultants designing ever more complicated projects for the poor” even as it imposes free-market policies that marginalize the poor. “A quiet revolution is taking place based on the realization that you cannot pull yourself up by your bootstraps if you have no boots,” the book says. “And giving ‘boots’ to people with little money does not make them lazy or reluctant to work; rather, just the opposite happens. A small guaranteed income provides a foundation that enables people to transform their own lives.”

There are plenty of skeptics of the cash transfer approach. For more than half a century, the foreign aid industry has been built on the belief that international agencies, and not the citizens of poor countries or the poor among them, are best equipped to eradicate poverty. Critics concede that foreign aid may have failed, but they say it’s because poor countries are misusing the money. In their view, the best prescription for the developing world is a dose of discipline in the form of strict “good governance” conditions on aid. According to The World Bank, nearly half the world’s population lives below the international poverty line of $2 per day. As the authors of Just Give Money point out, that’s despite decades of top-down, neo-liberal, extreme free-trade policies that were supposed to “lift all boats.” In Africa, South Asia and other regions of the developing “South,” the situation remains dire. Every year, according to the United Nations, more than 9 million children die before they reach the age of 5, and malnutrition is the cause of a third of these early deaths.

Just Give Money argues that cash transfers can solve three problems because they enable families to eat better, send their children to school and put a little money into their farms and small businesses. The programs work best, the authors say, if they are offered broadly to the poor and not exclusively to the most destitute. “The key is to trust poor people and directly give them cash — not vouchers or projects or temporary welfare, but money they can invest and use and be sure of,” the authors say. “Cash transfers are a key part of the ladder that equips people to climb out of the poverty trap.” Brazil, a leader of this growing movement, provides pensions and grants to 74 million poor people, or 39 percent of its population. The cost is $31 billion, or about 1.5 percent of Brazil’s gross domestic product. Eligibility for the family grant is linked to the minimum wage, and the poorest receive $31 monthly. As a result, Brazil has seen its poverty rate drop from 28 percent in 2000 to 17 percent in 2008. Data released on December 15th, 2017 by the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE) shows that nearly fifty million Brazilians, or just over 20 percent of the population, live below the poverty line, and have family incomes of R$387.07 per month – approximately $5.50 a day USD. In northeastern Brazil, the poorest region of the country, child malnutrition was reduced by nearly half, and school registration increased.

South Africa, one of the world’s biggest spenders on the poor, allocates $9 billion, or 3.5 percent of its GDP, to provide a pension to 85 percent of its older people, plus a $27 monthly cash benefit to 55 percent of its children. Studies show that South African children born after the benefits became available are significantly taller, on average, than children who were born before. “None of this is because an NGO worker came to the village and told people how to eat better or that they should go to a clinic when they were ill,” the book says. “People in the community already knew that, but they never had enough money to buy adequate food or pay the clinic fee.” In Mexico, an average grant of $38 monthly goes to 22 percent of the population. The cost is $4 billion, or 0.3 percent of Mexico’s GDP. Part of the money is for children who stay in school: The longer they stay, the larger the grant. Studies show that the families receiving these benefits eat more fruit, vegetables and meat, and get sick less often. In rural Mexico, high school enrollment has doubled, and more girls are attending.

India guarantees 100 days of wages to rural households for unskilled labor, paying at least $1.25 per day. If no work is available, applicants are still guaranteed the minimum. This modified “workfare” program helps small farmers survive during the slack season. Far from being unproductive, the book says, money spent on the poor stimulates the economy “because local people sell more, earn more and buy more from their neighbors, creating the rising spiral.” Pensioner households in South Africa, many of them covering three generations, have more working people than households without a pension. A grandmother with a pension can take care of a grandchild while the mother looks for work. Ethiopia pays $1 per day for five days of work on public works projects per month to people in poor districts between January and June, when farm jobs are scarcer. By 2008, the program was reaching more than 7 million people per year, making it the second largest in sub-Saharan Africa, after South Africa. Ethiopian recipients of cash transfers buy more fertilizer and use higher-yielding seeds.

In other words, without any advice from aid agencies, government, or nongovernmental organizations, poor people already know how to make profitable investments. They simply did not have the cash and could not borrow the small amounts of money they needed. A good way for donor countries to help is to give aid as “general budget support,” funneling cash for the poor directly into government coffers. Cash transfers are not a magic bullet. Just Give Money notes that 70 percent of the 12 million South Africans who receive social grants are still living below the poverty line. In Brazil, the grants do not increase vaccinations or prenatal care because the poor don’t have access to health care. A scarcity of jobs in Mexico has forced millions of people to emigrate to the U.S. to find work. Just Give Money emphasizes that to truly lift the poor out of poverty, governments also must tackle discrimination and invest in health, education and infrastructure.

The notion that the poor are to blame for their poverty persists in affluent nations today and has been especially strong in the United States. Studies by the World Values Survey between 1995 and 2000 showed that 61 percent of Americans believed the poor were lazy and lacked willpower. Only 13 percent said an unfair society was to blame. But what would Americans say now, in the wake of the housing market collapse, the bailout of the banks and the phony economic “recovery”? The jobs-creating stimulus bill, the expansion of food stamp programs and unemployment benefits — these are all forms of cash transfers to the needy. I would say that cash helps people see a way out, no matter where they live. Not only that, the Bible condemns those who refuse to help the poor, as it is written in the Book of Proverbs: “He who oppresses the poor shows contempt for their maker” (chapter 14: 31), and again it is written, “Rich and poor have this in common: The same Almighty God has made them both.” (chapter 22: 2).

[jurassicjarrah]

Eastern Europe - Autumn 2015

Croatia:

Here we go again – off to Eastern Europe to visit our Croatian Crew and to set out for new horizons. Lucky, we left Germany when we did, because as it turned out at the border Jarrah had fewer days in the Schengen left than we had calculated. While the Slovenian side of the border was perfectly fine with that we somehow found ourselves confronted with a cranky young wench wanting to bite our heads off at the Croatian side. Obviously, no one had told her that Croatia is OUTSIDE of the Schengen borders and that therefore it made perfect sense for Jarrah to be travelling this way. Later, we found out that this lady has quite the border Nazi reputation throughout Eastern Europe, spanning from Croatia all the way to Bulgaria and Romania!

Our timing to get to Buzet couldn't have been more perfect as its famous Subotina Festival was on when we arrived. This 3-day festival had a lot to offer, including a free open-air concert, as well as two separate street fairs in the new and old town respectively. We learnt that the festival marks the start of the white-truffle season, but at least the main event in the old town looked more like a medieval fair.

Lots of people dressed up in traditional costumes performing traditional crafts such as forging iron or old-school carpentry. The event gave us the opportunity to finally try some of the local truffle produce, which strangely enough did not give us any clarity AT ALL as to whether we fall within the truffle 'lovers' or  'haters' camp. The taste is just too ambiguous, strangely appealing and revolting at the same time. Weird...

In any case, thanks to our good friend Dean who hooked us up with tickets to partake in this event!

On this trip we were stepping it up in the grown-up world, staying with beautiful Enna, Gogo and their son Malik in their apartment in Pazin. Unsurprisingly, this bunch turned out to be exceptional hosts – good company, good climbing, good vibes, what more could we ask for? They also introduced us to a Slovenian crusher Klemen Becan and his wife Anja (which was also when we learned that Istrians and Slovenians somehow manage to magically communicate with each other using different languages- say whaaaaaat?!):

http://www.epictv.com/media/podcast/klemen-bean-runs-out-of-hard-routes-in-slovenia-bolts-new-ones-in-croatia-%7C-the-slovenians-ep-1/600408

We tried to climb on the wall mentioned at the end of this clip, but were shut down on its lowest graded climb. Oh well, back to sending all the nemeses that we'd left on the last trip instead. I also found a new perfect project called Asylantin (23), which I literally sent at the very last minute before driving further east. Happy days!

When we didn't climb, we either pulled the classic – let's party like we're 20 again – all-nighter at our favourite youth club, BUM, in Buzet, went to the beautiful seaside in Rovinj, or explored the area. During one of these trips our friend Luka took us hiking up the Ćićarija mountain range, adding another unforgettable Istrian adventure to our list.

Oh, how we love these Istrian folks; their kindness, generosity and unbelievable hospitality! Not to mention the world class climbing destination that lies right at their doorstep! This is why we're happily missing out on other planned Eastern European destinations on every trip and had we not made prior plans with Chris in Bulgaria, we'd probably still be in Croatia! Thank you Enna, Gogo, Malik, Antonio, Melani, Dean, Noan, Luka, Marin, Ivana, Klemen, Anja and everyone else I forgot to mention for showing us your beautiful part of the world – you guys are AMAZING!

Bulgaria:

After once again saying goodbye to our Istrian friends, we raced off to Bulgaria to meet our Australian friend Chris in Sofia. On our way, we caught up with our previous couchsurfing host Dario in Osijek. You can probably see a repeating theme here – i.e. us visiting all of the great people from the first trip once again! It is thus not surprising that we decided to add Vladimir in Sofia to that list, who was happy to have all three of us surf his couch (or rather hand over his bed in classic hospitable Eastern European fashion).

Jarrah and I did our best to pick up Chris from Sofia airport on time, but there were some complications. First, our tyre burst in the middle of the highway somewhere between Belgrade and Nis. Lucky we had brought a spare, so that was an easy fix. However, what we were not able to do was to turn back time – yes, as it turns out there is a one hour time difference between Serbia and Bulgaria. Damn! Of course, this was also the first time during our trip where there was a big line-up at the border. Poor Chris learnt a lesson that day, that is 'don't trust vagabond travellers with time'. Luckily, Vladimir was there for the rescue and gave Chris a hand in navigating his way around Sofia and after a small city search we actually found Chris right in front of Vlads apartment. After that we pulled an all-nighter involving way too much Rakia for those of us with a competitive edge driving them 'to drink like the locals'.

In retrospect, it would have been advisable to listen to Vlad who did mention that some Bulgarians have a habit of 'choosing beer as a hangover cure and for sobering up'! You spew you learn...

Thanks Vlad for having us and helping us out with new tyres, logistics, etc. - you are a living legend!

Vratsa: Being one day behind schedule, we finally made it to Vratsa, where we spent a few days climbing before the rain chased us out.

We were in good company with a bunch of other climbers being out and about, which made for good evening get-togethers. Amongst them was an older English guy who seemed genuinely committed to the dirt-bag climbing lifestyle, which is good to see for those of us that just don't want grow up... yet! :)

Prohodna Cave: Following the same path as on our last Bulgaria trip we escaped the rain in Vratsa and made our way to Prohodna Cave, which offers a dry, outdoor climbing despite heavy rain. That is, unless you're planning to climb directy into 'the eyes of god' or 'Oknata' in the middle of the cave's roof. Chris and Jarrah sent and on-sighted a few amazingly hard and beautiful climbing routes here, and I, well I tried really hard to do the same continuously falling off the wall with a hint of terror. Hopefully, the mental training will pay off eventually, fingers crossed!

Of course, Ivan the crazy cow Shepard was also out and about, greeting us with his cows' bells every day.

The three of us managed to build a pretty good rain shelter for our tent at the foot of the cave, so we stayed cozy and dry at night. Chris had moved into our tent at this point, which left me sleeping next to two smelly, snoring boys - thank god there is wine! To be fair we probably all stunk after trying really hard every day in an ever wettening cave, with the rain being too damn cold to shower in it. Showers are overrated anyway...

We had good company during our time here. First, there was a group of cavers exploring the area; then Jarrah made some new Romanian friends while Chris and I had passed out in the tent from exhaustion (I swear it was not a wine-exhaustion), and finally we ran into Yavor and Katharina from Sofia like on our last trip. Those two were indeed a lucky encounter for Chris in particular, because without them he he might have had to walk back to Sofia. As it happens when you go somewhere rural in Eastern Europe, the infrastructure can be a bit of a navigational challenge. In our scenario the problem was that the train station that was supposed to get Chris back into Sofia just wasn't there. Yes, there was a sign for it; and yes it lead us down an albeit very questionable path; and there even were train tracks at the end of it; but unfortunately for Chris that was it. So instead of getting Chris to jump the train Wild Western style he enjoyed a nice and cozy ride with Yavor and Katharina to Sofia. Thanks for another good trip Chris, always a pleasure to catch up!

Romania:

Bucharest: Upon invitation of our new Romanian friends Andrei, Catalina and Ania we decided to have a stop-over in Bucharest. As so many times before on our journey we let the people guide our path to the next destination and – you guessed it - good people make for good experiences. Andrei was super generous and left his brand new apartment to us as a place to crash. From this base we explored the city and its people with our new friends. We even went on a guided city tour to quench our thirst for historical knowledge of which you find so much of in Europe. We might not remember it all, but a view fun facts always remain. So we learned that engineers managed to roll entire churches to saftey to preserve Bucharest's architectural heritage for generations to come when Nicolae Ceaușescu redesigned the city in the 80s. We also learned that Bucharest's Palace of Parliament is the 2nd biggest administrative building in the world after the Pentagon and that there were many inappropriate jokes going on after 9/11 when all of a sudden Bucharest had the biggest one intact. Lastly, we learned that Michael Jackson may have been the 'king of pop' but a 'peasant of geography', which he proved in 1992 when he  came on stage in Bucharest screaming to his fans “how are you doing, Budapest?” Apparently, he is not alone, so just to reiterate:

Of course, we also did a little bit of climbing, however, back in Bulgaria where we found a very questionable ARMED saint sculpture embellishing the entrance of a country church and crossed an even more questionable bridge under construction across the Danube. I guess the Bulgarian's are honest about organised religion and total safety is overrated when crossing a 'tiny' river, we can all swim right?!

We really enjoyed our time in and around Budapest,... eh I mean Bucharest. It's a lovely city with lovely people, beautiful old buildings, nice surrounds and very chaotic traffic (although our friends insist that there is method to this madness).  

Thank you Andrei, Andrei's mum (for all the good homemade Ajvar), Catalina and Ania you made our stay AWESOME!

Brasov (Kronstadt): Next stop in our Romanian adveture – Brasov! Here we stayed with Florin, another last-minute couch-surfing saviour. Jarrah was determined to find some bears in the forests surrounding Brasov, but instead we found beautiful mountainside, covered in lush, green grass and trees with stunning views. I'm sure there were bears around somewhere, but due to our constant habit of 'forgetting the bear spray' I'm kind of glad we did not encounter them. We also had a look at Bran castle (more commonly known as Dracula's castle), which is nestled in a beautiful little country town, however, decided to give the inside of this major tourist attraction a miss. We figured if Vlad Țepeș aka 'Vlad the Impaler' (1448-1476) who was Bram Stoker's historical inspiration for his Dracula novel could give it a miss, so could we.

Instead we had yet another free city tour where we learned about Brasov's German colonist origins as Kronstadt and more about good old Vlad the Impaler. Apparently, Vlad was held hostage in the Ottoman Empire when he was a kid, just to return the favour by massacring tons of Turks with their own punishment of choice (i.e. longitudinal impalement – yes it is what you think it is) later in life. We were told that he erected posts of impaled humans along the path of invading soldiers to break their spirit and weakening their strength. Dracula seems like an angel in comparison.  Another fun fact about Brasov is that to this day you will find the letters 'ALIN' imprinted into the forest surrounding the city - a tribute to Joseph Stalin after whom the city was renamed in the early 1950s, when Brasov became Orașul Stalin.

Through the Carpathians on the Transfăgărășan road : When we left Brasov, I was a little confused by Jarrah's constant peaking into the forest instead of keeping his eyes on the road. I was just about to yell at him to regain his focus, when it dawned on me that Jarrah had never seen a beautiful autumn forest and this one was particularly beautiful. A good time to swap drivers, but not for long... cause there it was - the crazy Transfăgărășan road, also known as Ceaușescu's Folly. This picturesque mountain road with it's many twists and turns is every racer's dream – so you guessed it we swapped spots again! I was glad Jarrah's 'race car' was a VW Polo and not a Porsche 911, although he probably thinks otherwise. No wonder the English TV-show Top Gear used this road in one of its episodes. A stunning road with stunning views indeed and definitely a must-do when travelling in Transylvania. Also, if you do it towards the end of the season a nice 'ice bath' awaits you at the top which I definitely had to take advantage of (to cool down from JT's driving mostly). While we did not see any bears here either, we were rewarded with the most beautiful fox I've ever seen for our persistence in spotting wildlife along the way. What a killer of a day, which ended with us camping somewhere on a field just outside Sibiu in classic gypsy fashion.

Arad: The last stop on our trip was Arad, which we mostly picked due to its proximity to the Hungarian border to shorten our trip back home to Germany. Here Jarrah had his first church experience when it turned out that our couch-surfing hosts were practising Seventh-day Adventist. I wish I could describe to you the look on Jarrah's face when our CS Benji greeted us by letting us know that 'he would go to church now and that we were welcome to join'. It was hilarious. Jarrah quickly realised that he would not understand a word anyway and so experienced his first church service at almost 30. Not sure what to think of this church, but the people were very nice and accommodating, plus there was free food!

Benji, his brother Pratricius and his wife Eunice, as well as the rest of the family turned out to be amazing hosts. We got a couple of insider city tours, one of which included a special visit to Arad's Administrative Palace, where we literally got to sit in the mayor's chair. Benji also took us to a local hot spring to soothe our battered bodies from weeks of travelling and climbing which was just what we needed. Upon learning that we were vegans, Benji's mum decided to stay behind that day to cook us up a vegan feast, of course this happened without our knowledge – still it was good!!! Benji had many talents and his piano playing just blew us away. According to him, the trick to success in many areas of his life was to have had very strict parents. Interesting...

Before we left, Benji showed us his little (or rather big) work shed where he restores old bikes and as a perfect end to a perfect stay we cruised around the city at night on our stylish bikes. Thank you family Lazar for our amazing stay with you guys!