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brandstifter-sys · 5 years ago

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Since I missed Remus’ birthday x_x please take this dukexiety mess as an apology

Dead?

Word Count: 1944

Pairings: Dukexiety (background royaliceit)

Rating: T

Warnings: death mention, intersex enby remus, sex mention, frog mention, spider mention, sibling rivalry

Virgil is just an ordinary necromancer with friends in high places. He goes off exploring on a quest to find a white stag and finds something, well someone, who looks like they’re sleeping in the middle of a tomb that’s been sealed off for a century. It’s one heck of a shock to accidentally raise the dead, if that’s the case, and even more of a shock because Remus is....themself.

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There were legends and stories that circulated the kingdom, all of them fantastical and hard to believe. Most of the time there was some sort of inaccuracy in the legend, like the story of the princess cursed to sleep for a hundred years with her whole kingdom, only to be woken by true love’s kiss. She woke up after a hundred years and went ballistic, screaming at her father for not inviting the thirteenth fairy to her first birthday party, but that was ages ago, and like her parents, she angered the fae as well. Her two children were hit with a similar curse, but unlike her, her children would sleep for eternity until their true loves came. She never told them.

The legend got marred over time, so that people only remembered one of the children. No one believed that legend until recently, when Prince Janus, recently married to the man who he saved from his own curse, found the old tower and investigated. He found Prince Roman and woke him, not giving details on how he did it. It was fine because Janus and his husband, Patton, were madly in love and madly in love with Roman. Too bad Roman didn’t mention that he wasn’t the only one cursed in that tower.

...

It was a rather overcast day when Prince Patton suggested his oldest friend go investigate reports of a white stag in the forest. If change was afoot, Virgil would be the first to tell if it was a blessing or a curse. Virgil reluctantly agreed, if only because Patton made puppy-dog eyes at him. Those puppy-dog eyes were going to kill him someday, and he was the only person he couldn’t resurrect. The things he did for his friends.

That’s what led him deep into the woods, beyond where most people dared to tread. He hated the looming feeling of foreboding nipping at his heels, the way the wind whispered his name. But he kept going, always glancing back, and always moving on when there was no threat. He only considered turning back when he found the tower where Roman was sleeping before. There was no reason to go beyond the boundary of the kingdom, especially with a crumbling ruin in the way.

The door was still open, hanging on its hinges, just as Janus left it. Virgil neared it, just to see what level of stupid Janus reached when he found the tower. But something caught his eye. There was a trap door at the foot of the spiral stairs. Something about it called to the nervous necromancer, and he couldn’t fight the urge to investigate.

Virgil coughed when he opened the door and a cloud of dust hit him in the face. Covering his nose with his cloak, he descended the stairway he revealed, using the magic gem on his walking staff to light his way.

The walls were lined with bones, artfully placed to scare the average person away. Virgil worked with death, it was more of a comfort to be surrounded by it, even if he accidentally reanimated a few bodies when he was startled. If this detour didn’t reveal something new and useful, it would still be fun to tell Prince Roman that he was asleep over a tomb for however long he was there. He would probably cringe at that information.

Something was certainly there, a door that looked ancient with dark hinges and an even darker stain. It radiated magic, making Virgil’s hair stand on end. He could handle a few zombies if he had to, so he flipped his bangs out of his face and pressed forward.

He opened the heavy door with some effort and stepped inside. The room was simple stone with old green tapestries and a stone slab in the center. The green curtains around it were drawn, displaying a body that showed no signs of decay. The person looked like Roman, but they had a mustache and longer hair. Virgil stared at them, wondering what kind of magic kept a dead person so well-preserved. They had to be dead, Roman was trapped for over a century, sure, but he had some kind of air flow at the top of the tower. This person, they didn’t, and they weren’t breathing or twitching like a normal sleeping person. Virgil was confused.

BAM!

“Holy shit!” Virgil yelped and spun around when the door slammed shut. He hastily tried to open it and breathed a sigh of relief when it moved.

“Ack! What the hell!?” a voice yelped from behind him. Virgil’s heart stopped. Not again. He turned around to see the person, sitting upright, glancing around the room. Their eyes landed on Virgil, and a smile crossed their confused features.

“Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where we are, would you?” they asked with way too much enthusiasm.

“We’re in a crypt under a cursed tower,” Virgil answered slowly, gripping his staff tightly, “and I accidentally disturbed your resting place.”

“I was dead!?” they gawked, “And I don’t have any maggots to show for it!?”

“Yeah I thought that was weird too. But it’s probably been over a hundred years for you so I’m gonna go ahead and put you down again.”

“Aw, do you have to? You’re the first person to talk to me since my brother before he got cursed! And he yelled at me for putting a frog in his shirt! Can I stay undead just a little while?” they pleaded and fluttered their lashes. Virgil blinked twice as their words hit him.

“Who are you?”

“Me? Well I’m Princex Remus! Second in line for the throne! Who are you?”

“I’m Virgil, a necromancer, but you probably figured that out already. You said your brother was cursed.”

“Oh yeah, him,” Remus pouted, “He turned 18 and then he went into a major coma. Mom said it was her fault and we had to keep him safe. Let’s not talk about him, I’d rather know about you, VeeVee.”

“I hate that nickname,” Virgil deadpanned.

"Virgilicious?"

"I'm not responding to that."

“Scare Bear?”

“Sure,” Virgil huffed, expecting the list to go on if he didn’t stop it there and then.

“Okay, Scare Bear! So what is a snack like you doing in a place like this?”

“I was on a mission for the three princes–Patton, Janus, and Roman–and then I stumbled across this place and got curious.”

“Roman!? He woke up!? Okay you gotta take me to him right now! I’ll come back and stay dead but I gotta see him! I owe him a century’s worth of ramblings!”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Nope! He got cursed and passed out and wouldn’t get up until his true love woke him! I set him in the tower and came down here to relax with the decomposed after that workout!”

“And then?”

“That’s the last thing I remember! That guy had some nerve getting cursed at the bottom of the stairs, I might be strong and nimble but mommy’s favorite is as heavy as he is whiny!”

“Shit," Virgil grumbled as he tried to put the pieces together, "Let me try something." Remus watched him expectantly. The gem in his staff glowed a bright purple, as did his eyes. Remus couldn't understand the words slipping from his lips but that double voice was doing something for them. He was trying to put Remus back. It wasn’t working!

“That was cool! Can you magic me a pair of big ol honkers?” Remus cheered and clapped their hands. Virgil’s shoulders sagged and his face fell, his eyes losing the purple glow.

“I’m a necromancer, I can only raise the dead.”

“And my dick!”

“Right, yeah, okay, point is you’re not dead, you were asleep for a century.”

“Just like Ro-hoe?! Then that means—”

“Oh no,” Virgil groaned. He did not sign up for this. He was too aro for this. Remus was cute and hyper but he wasn’t sure how they’d handle a full on rejection. It could get ugly.

“Oh yes!” Remus giggled, “It was the same curse, you woke me up, you’re my true love! This calls for a celebration! No one should love me so it’s a huge deal!”

“Wait, what?”

“We should definitely make out!”

“You have near-death breath, and more self-hatred issues than me. I'll pass."

"Self-hatred issues? Me!? No! I just don't do that romance shit and I was born in between! That's why I didn't think I would be cursed like Prince No-Bone! But I was and you woke me! We’re gonna be bestest friends! With benefits!”

“I know Roman, if you’re like him, there’s no benefits whatsoever.”

“Ha! I like you! We’re gonna be besties! Let’s go so I can show off that I got a hot soulmate and make Ro jealous!” Remus cheered and jumped to their feet full of life and running on sibling spite.

“Don’t. Just tell him I raised your corpse. He’ll shit himself," Virgil countered and leaned on his staff with a dastardly smirk. Remus had never had someone come up with something else to torment the precious firstborn. It was too good to be true.

“I’m starting to think I did die and went to heaven,” Remus mumbled. Virgil shook his head and stood up.

"Sorry to disappoint but if I'm here it's hell."

"You are selling me on this whole soulmate business! C'mon let's go get some embalming fluid and really sell it! And some frogs! Ooh maybe there’ll be some mama frogs out there with their eggs in their backs! Trypophobia and even more frogs! Roman’ll shit a brick."

“The frogs aren’t gonna cut it this time. He’s got two husbands, and one of them was a frog for most of his life.”

“No frogs?” Remus pouted.

“If you can give up the green, salamanders would work,” Virgil shrugged and pushed the door open with just as much effort as when he opened it. He didn’t catch the bright grin that crossed Remus’ face, but the body slam to his back when he got that damn door open, he didn’t miss that!

“You’re right! Or maybe I could use worms! Or spiders!”

“Just don’t touch mine. Gigi just finished molting,” Virgil grunted and balanced himself.

“You have spiders! Ooh! You have to show me! Spiders are so cute!”

“Don’t eat them.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, that would be awful!” they laughed, then purred “But if you wanna give me something better to eat---” Virgil jolted and stumbled back when the frisky little whirlwind grabbed his butt.

“Give me a good enough reason once we’re out of here, and I’ll consider it,” he huffed and led Remus to the stairway.

“Really?”

“Yeah, if you can convince me. But don’t hold your breath.”

“You know if I die and you want some action all you have to do is bring me back! You look like you’d enjoy some zombie fun, and I’m just a rotten kind of cute when I don’t get startled awake!”

“Don’t you have some sibling scheming to do?”

“Yeah, and I have to get back to arting and training and pranks and making people uncomfortable with my existence, that last one is my specialty!”

“Then let’s go. You need to get started on all those things soon.”

“I’m not making you uncomfortable?”

“I know, I’m just as surprised as you are. Maybe it is that soulmate bs,” he teased and led Remus into the world again. Maybe the soulmate thing wasn’t bs, and maybe it was the best day of either of their lives, they just hadn’t realized it yet.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #dukexiety #royaliceit mention #roceit mention #moceit mention #royality mention #sex mention tw #death mention tw #frog mention tw #spider mention tw #sandyscribed

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alexsmitposts · 4 years ago

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The End of Days Is Coming Fast and It’s Ugly The average citizen of Earth is all tied up these days. Scarcely anyone has free time to take on one more task, to truly understand what goes on in the world, or glean any meaningful benefit from world affairs. Life goes on, albeit in a more chaotic sense, as it always has. The rich get richer, as they say, and the poor get poorer. There’s a simple reason to explain it all, but humanity is never allowed to come to terms with it. The solution to all our problems is patently simple. But the choice? Well, we’re conditioned to shun revolutions of thought and deed. Now that I have opened a misty veil into the nebulous unknowing of world affairs, let me reveal once more, the dastardly cause of all our strife. The powers that be, whether, in the north, south, east, or west, want everything for themselves. You knew this since that first overheard conversation between old men, in Athens, Beirut, Charleston, or Dublin. And if you’ve dared to rear your head and lift your voice with the newfound freedom of digital means, beware, for they will soon smash you back down into the dark chamber of servitude, where you and I belong. Today’s case in point? The sister of billionaire Warren Buffett, Roberta Buffett Elliott, and an institution painted philanthropic, to cover a deceitful ghastliness. In this report, I have included Tweets from some of the panel that the Buffett Institute has assembled. The gist of these Tweets will further enlighten you. In my email this morning there was a message from Annelise Riles, Executive Director of Northwestern University’s Roberta Buffett Institute for Global Affairs, a school I was not even familiar with before. The subject of the email was a Foreign Policy – Northwestern broadcast entitled “How to Stop Fake News” The tagline reads: “Stopping fake news is the big problem we have to solve before we can more effectively address the global challenges facing humanity.” The story of Roberta, Warren, and her fascinating husband David Elliott, is a subject worthy of a book, but for the sake of brevity, a $100 million dollar gift to create the Northwestern institute in 2015 was no charitable donation. The now-deceased husband David, was head of the largest Peace Corps operating in the world about the time J.F.K. was assassinated. Just to tweak the reader’s interest in how “agents” of liberal change are created. Returning to the latest Buffett Institute initiative, it’s important to note that like every other supposed philanthropic gift by billionaires, there was a windfall beyond a tax writeoff. And now, with brother Warren and his elite colleagues pressing hard to dominate our world, the rebelliousness of independent thought must be squashed. The elite accomplishes our quietness via the same old methods. They not only own almost all the newspapers and TV stations, they also donate billions to cultivate journalists, scientists, politicians, bureaucrats, educators, and military leaders who will propagate their agendas. Now, independent traditional and social media are a huge problem for those who want utter control. Now that the term “conspiracy theory” no longer has weight in light of exposed real conspiracies, the danger for the Warren Buffett or George Soros types of the world is acute. This “How to Stop Fake News” should be a wake-up call for every citizen of our world, a call to action to prevent the complete takeover of freedoms and elusive democracy. Make no mistake, the US President declaring war on Russia and Vladmir Putin in recent comments, the hardcore language aimed at Iran, China, and many other “perceived” threats to American hegemony, are the other warning signs. This new initiative involves high-ranking members of the European Commission, Putin hater Olga Yurkova (Co-Founder, Stopfake.org), Marwan M. Kraidy (Dean and CEO, Northwestern University in Qatar), Justine Isola (Facebook), and others. One look into the backgrounds of these people will tell you the Roberta Buffett Institute is already presenting a narrative to students that is mightily skewed in favor of the liberal order. With Biden in charge now, and after Trump succeeding in destroying conservatism for good, Buffett and his fellows are ready for the push to subdue Russia or anything standing in the way. At least, this is my analysis. Here in Greece, the Prime Minister just declared social media the “enemy of democracy” because the people are losing confidence in the government’s ability to immunize and protect citizens. This is not “fake news” Prime Minister Mitsotakis is on record saying this. For a few years now, institutions like Freedom House have been trumpeting the notion that social media is rotting democracy from within. The so-called “left’ has blamed this supposed decay on conservatives and the far-right. A Politico piece before the 2020 election suggested that Americans were becoming “superspreaders of misinformation.” At the other end of the spectrum, Annelise Riles, the lady in charge of the Buffett Institute, writes for Times Higher Education (THE); “Universities can help the US retake its seat at the global table.” Must I continue, or is the writing on the wall here? Riles was the recipient of a Marshall Scholarship herself, so what we are seeing is the most effects of replanting neo-colonialism, and the latest in the ongoing war for this world. We must understand fully what former President Donald Trump’s role was in all this. Trump’s Tweets, the bombastic and often ridiculous content he spread, the sheer callousness and narcissism he foamed at us with, it set the stage for his colleagues to silence all moderators. Now, the liberal order Trump was supposed to expose, the Deep State and the Swamp he was sworn to unseat, has complete control (almost) of media, business, and even academia and medicine. Currently, there is nothing whatsoever standing in the way of their turning us all into slaves. Putin and Russia represent a huge problem for them because the capitalistic systems they created will soon fail without new resources to leverage. Russia means growth for these people, and without the treasures of Russia, Iran, Venezuela, and other nations, the Warren Buffetts and Rothschilds of Earth cannot go forward. Their empires of Wall Street hot air will collapse within a decade. They must, you see, either command all the world’s mineral and human wealth or control us utterly and completely. The inevitable is unarguable. There is no bottomless vessel, from which to pour milk or honey endlessly. This liberal order that reshaped its power, will transform every freedom into a task that serves them. Much of our life is already dedicated to them, they take a piece of every move we make. It will only get worse. But humanity must be left standing. End of story. By the way, this is not fake news, it is my real opinion based on decades of study, research, and inside information

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vydante · 5 years ago

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Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 9

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Long- 5.29k words. Lmao did y’all miss me? Also, completely in POV of future timeline, so no actual (Name) ‘till next chapter. Granted, next chapter we get to meet someone pretty chill, so there’s that. So... yah.

It's safe to say that it's been a complete shit storm on Earth, Carol muses behind her cup of coffee.

Of course, it's not just Earth that's undergoing complete mass hysteria from the reversed blip. Other planets and societies beyond the Terran solar system were facing the after-effects of what had happened, too- and it doesn't help that Earth was so cut off from the intergalactic systems, so nearly everyone else didn't know of what had happened.

So least to say, she was quite busy trying to maneuver her way through the galaxies (with help, of course) to try and spread the word of what had happened.

Regardless though, she'd thought that after weeks and weeks, perhaps maybe the news would've slowed down a little bit. And it seemed to have, just a little bit, but for every time news slows, another wave comes in.

The first wave was about, obviously, the reversed blip. Of course, that one didn't have enough time to slow down as the next wave came around. The death of Tony Stark was announced a week after the fight- just so his family and friends had enough time to mourn in privacy. Then the next one about the sacrifice Natasha Romanoff made- though it was a smaller wave, it was one that still had a huge impact. And for a while, it seemed like that was that- weeks pass, and just barely had the craze around the reverse blip (Lord, there's got to be another name for this, Carol thinks) lessened.

And then (Name) Stark is pronounced dead.

To say the headlines erupted once again in a mad-dog-like frenzy would be an understatement. Hell- Carol would even dare say that it was almost as talked about as his father's death. Of course, it was in part due to, well, (Name) fucking Stark being pronounced dead. A man of his status was bound to capture the headlines with his passing for weeks, just like his old man.

But it was also in part credited to something else: the timing and nature of his death, or lack thereof.

Carol remembers watching the SI press conference a couple of hours ago, just as it finished broadcasting. She was a few light-years away from Earth as she heads back for check-in.

(New message, 3 hours ago: Maria R.

'Hey, I think you might wanna watch this before you come back to Earth. Just broadcasted. It's about (Name) Stark.'

Carol pauses, midway through drying her hair as she's about to put her uniform on. She'd be lying if curiosity wasn't eating at her, so she still clicks on the link Maria had sent her.)

(Name) was... A prominent figure within Earth's society. Being the CEO of Stark Industries (a massive company, so she's been told), a superhero/ Avenger, and the world's 'longest-running most eligible bachelor' (Carol scoffs- why is that one of the main things the public likes to point out so much?) definitely lands you underneath the people's microscope more often than not.

They'd pick at every nitty-gritty detail one by one and shred into it without mercy.

And even in his death, they did the same thing. Unsatisfied, they practically crucified Stark Industries and the Avengers after SI’s press conference.

She glances around her, the local tavern loud with nothing but one word on their lips: Stark.

'Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he died from like, an inside job or something.'

'Died too young, man. The kid had so much potential to be great... May God rest his soul.'

Carol shakes her head. They weren’t wrong- from what she’s seen working with (Name), he was a hard worker, that’s for sure. Sighing, she left a tip at her table and quietly left.

Hopefully, for Earth, they’ll come to find some peace soon.

"You okay, punk?”

'No,' Steve fiddles with nail absentmindedly, 'I'm not.'

That's his honest answer to the question. He wants to scream and shout to the world that no, he is not okay whatsoever, but he knows that's one of the many luxuries he'll never get to have anymore- even to the people closest to him. Too much of a burden no one would want to carry.

So, instead, he smiles at Bucky with more teeth than necessary, face straining ever so slightly.

"Sure thing, Buck'. Are you?"

The brunette offers him a small, sympathetic smile back. It's not the same as Steve had remembered- it used to be confident and relaxed, but nowadays it's always tense and careful. But then again, it wasn't like Steve was the same man either, so he'd be hypocritical to expect the same man from his memories from his old pal.

"I'm managing."

It was always something along the lines of that. Never an okay, never a not okay. Just... managing. Short and simple.

It's scary how much Bucky's reserved presence reminds him of how Steve himself used to be, back when he was wide-eyed and naive to what the world has become without him. He didn't really feel like he was actually there and knowing how separated he and the rest of the world were made him want to close in on himself.

On one hand, he'd never wish that feeling of emptiness on anyone. But on the other hand, he's almost relieved he's not the only one who's felt so completely alone in this world anymore.

Almost.

Steve doesn't say anything as Bucky comes over to where he was in the living room and sits adjacent to him on the couch. For a brief moment, they say nothing as the TV plays the news station. Steve pretends to watch the news, but he can't find the energy to care about what's going on in the news. It's all the same thing nowadays: Blip, Blip, Avengers, Blip, Starks...

Settling down in his seat, he lets his mind drifts off other places instead.

It drifts to a cramped, moldy apartment that was too small and cold for the average person, but just enough for him.

It drifts to an ugly tower, placed right at the epicenter of one of the most beautiful yet terrifying cities he's ever been in. Charming, and in every way a wonderful representation of the future.

It drifts to the loud yet comforting hum of the inside of the quinjet, sailing ever so smoothly into the night sky after a successful mission. Bruised, but satisfied.

It drifts to a sly redhead with one too many daggers slipped around her person, sitting next to a tired brunette wrapped up in blankets. Deadly, yet delicate. Open, yet intimate.

It drifts to a mystical long-haired blonde and an erratic billionaire, sitting together and joking about as if they hadn't just fought neo-nazis no less than an hour ago. He remembers a rush of fondness glossing over him as he passively observes them.

It drifts to a pair of warm, mirth filled eyes as they listen attentively to Steve ramble on and on about the war as if he had hung the moon. He relishes in the spotlight of their monopolized attention.

It drifts to the nights where life's not as unbearable as it usually is, as he sits across from a usually aggressive young adult quietly chatting about books they've read together: their own secret club. Warm, he reconsiders, comfortable. Content.

It drifts to quiet nights where he tries to focus on the ceiling rather than the erratic beats of his heart, images of his own teammate grinning tiredly at him, lips bruised, split, and inviting. Guilt courses through his veins, but so does heat.

Steve's mind drifts through lots of things before Bucky murmurs into the air nonchalantly.

"It's about Stark, isn't? The son?"

Steve holds back a flinch, praying that Bucky doesn't notice the red crawling up his neck. He wouldn't have been embarrassed if Bucky had meant Tony- of course, Steve misses him dearly- but for Bucky to go straight to you instead is mildly humiliating, to say the least. He can feel Bucky's eyes burning holes into his skull. It'd be no use trying to deny it, so Steve conceded with a reluctant nod.

"That obvious?"

"It's written all over your face."

Steve doesn't offer to say more, so Bucky continues, quieter this time.

"He seemed like a great kid."

Steve huffs with a small amused smile. He thinks back to when you two spent Valentine's Day together- not as a couple, obviously, but you claimed that the two loners on the Avengers team should have each other's backs. He chuckles absentmindedly. You two did nothing but watch movies and critique them all night.

Granted, it was more one-sided as he spent the whole night listening to you go on and on about how objectively, the Hunger Games books were far better than the movies, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It was nice to hear you talk, especially when it's about something so trivial but important to you.

"One of the best," Steve half-heartedly offers.

"Tell me 'bout him." Bucky isn't looking at the TV anymore as his eyes are trained on Steve's.

Steve shrugs with a sigh.

"What more can I say that hasn't been said already?"

Ever since the SI press conference, countless of people came out to say great things about you, as they did with Tony. Countless of people praised you, especially with your efforts to help society get back on their feet ever since the blip. Even random people gave their one anecdote with you, whether it be a barista that had served you or folks at Morgan's daycare center whenever you picked her up.

Nothing but words of praises and kindness for you.

Bucky hums, understanding what he means. It wasn't like he hadn't looked at the news as of recently, either. For every 10 headlines that are published, chances are 9 of them have at least one mention of a Stark, whether it be the senior or junior.

They sat in silence once more, something Steve noted as a reoccurring theme between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it did make Steve's skin crawl, hoping for the other to say something just once.

"... You were sweet on him, aren't you?"

Though, maybe this was the one time he wished Bucky would've just stayed silent.

It would be horrifying to hear someone accuse him of being in love with his own (ex-) teammate if he hadn't already come to terms with it. Still, it's unnerving to hear someone pinpoint his feelings within a matter of a week or two when it had taken him up until it was too late to figure it out.

"Did it matter?" Steve runs a hand through his hair, almost as if it were a defense mechanism, but he insists it's not, "It's not like he was interested in me, anyways... Not especially after..."

Steve laughs quietly, almost bitterly so. If he thought he had any chance with you before, he sure as hell threw that chance straight in the garbage the moment he locked eyes with you at the airport. And it sure as hell didn't help when he had practically rag-tag teamed up against your own dad.

"Besides... He's a man of the future, Buck. He's so... so bright compared to everyone else. I can't- I don't have much to offer. I'm just- all I'm good for is fighting."

He sighs, and he'll deny it if anyone comments on how resigned it sounded.

"Not to mention, there're other people that he'd be happier with. People that wouldn't- wouldn't hurt him," 'Like you did,' his subconscious bitterly reminds him. And he wasn't wrong- there were other people you could be wonderful with.

You and Queens already had some chemistry, from what Steve's heard in the air. There was never anything substantial, but he'd pass by a few newspapers mentioning you and Spider-Man spotted together more often than not. You two would've been cute, Steve reluctantly admits. He wouldn't even be surprised if you two were dating.

Then there were a few others, too. Surprisingly enough, he saw you and King T'Challa, of all people, together too often in the New York Times, and even Wakanda's own news websites. His Highness' explained it was only ever about the Accords, but Steve wasn't so blind as to not notice how much more genuine T'Challa's smile seemed when you were brought into the conversation.

There was also Thor, too. You stopped talking to the rest of the Avengers save a select few after the initial blip in 2018, so there wasn't any new thing between you and Thor, but Steve reminisces when he'd catch you joking around with Thor and teasing the poor God. If not lovers, you two were most definitely good friends. Steve hates the fact that he's exceptionally happy at the prospect of you and Thor being just friends.

Not to mention the other seemingly boundless amount of people who you'd make a great couple with. Maybe it was just Steve being excessively attentive when it came to you, or maybe it was because everyone's eyes just seemingly happen to gravitate to you, no matter if there's hundreds of people in the room at the same time.

Bucky sighs and mutes the TV. Steve gives him a questioning look, but Bucky only raises an eyebrow back as he looks at him straight on.

"Those just sound like excuses. Never took you for a coward."

Steve bristles.

He'll admit that he's a lot of things. Frustrating, thick-headed, and quick to anger. And knowing other people, they have a whole list to add on to those too, whether it be positive or negative. But one thing he's never been was a coward.

"I'm not- look, I just know a lost fight when I see one, okay? He just- wasn't interested in me, and that's fine. Hell- he's probably not even into men."

Steve's mind lingers back to a picture lying in your old room, back when he used to come visit you just to say goodnight, or to ask you to join him in his morning jog. He never brought up the picture, rationalizing that it was too invasive of a question. You were with a girl- both of you seemed quite young- but it was obvious that you two were more than friends judging by the way you held her and the very obvious hickey on your neck.

His ears burn, and he's not sure if it's with embarrassment or envy.

"But you don't know that, though, do you? You ever asked him any of that? If he was into fellas? If he was into you?'"

Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky's stare, feeling his eyes burn into his skull.

Sure, he never asked you outright anything Bucky had mentioned, that much was obvious. And sure, even entertaining the (pleasant) idea that you were into men, it didn't take a genius to guess that you absolutely loathed Captain America. It was obvious, too. Especially ever since the 'scandal' of you deleting any tweets or photos you had uploaded that Steve was in.

(Of course, you deleted any photos the Rogue Avengers were in, but that didn't make the stinging hurt any less when Steve had found out.)

Bucky sighs and turns the sound back on. There was a tension in the air between them, but Bucky beat Steve from saying something as he speaks up.

"And the whole thing 'bout you knowing a lost fight when you see one?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. Bucky half-smirks.

"Not the Steve Rogers I know."

He gently punches Steve's shoulder and ruffles his hair, much to Steve's amused annoyance.

"The Steve Rogers I know would've charged headfirst into a battle, even if it was just him against the world. Oh wait- you already tried doing that."

Steve rolls his eyes and playfully shoves Bucky. The amount of razzing he had gotten from Bucky- and others, too, like Sam and Bruce (his heart curls, knowing that Natasha would've been among them as well, telling Steve off for trying to pull a 'bull-headed' move)- was more than enough for Steve to feel bad anymore at this point.

"Shut it." Steve jests.

They fall into a comfortable silence again, though this time Bucky turns back on the TV to a low volume. Steve glances at Bucky, who's got his chin rested absentmindedly on his hand.

"You know... You're taking this awfully well."

Bucky pauses, peering at Steve with a raised eyebrow.

"Taking what?"

"Me bein'," Steve pauses, trying to find the right words before giving up, "Er, into ladies and fellas."

Bucky doesn't say anything for a solid minute, and before Steve was about to start rambling, trying to just get Bucky to say anything, the brunette speaks up, but timidly so.

"It's... not somethin' I ever thought about, y'know? You bein'- bein' into guys, I mean."

He sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy hair. He keeps his eyes glued onto the TV with a soft gaze, so distant that Steve wants to know what he's really thinking about.

"We just... Never talked about it. Never... Never gave it a thought. I'd be lying if I said I was 100%, er, up to speed with it."

Bucky pauses mid-sentence. He waves his hands and flickers his attention to Steve for just a split second, almost as if he's nervous about what he's saying.

"Not the bein' gay thing, or whatever. Just... How open people nowadays are with that stuff."

Steve unclenches his jaw, not even realizing it had been clenched this whole time. It wasn't something that Steve had thought would be new to Bucky, and he almost feels dumb for not realizing it sooner. Hell, even when Steve himself had been defrosted, it shocked him that something as gay relationships were accepted now. Not that he was against it- but to see that the world had progressed like that without him made him hurt less whenever he thought too hard about the old times.

"Oh, Buck..."

Steve places an encouraging hand on Bucky's shoulders, and he almost seems to sag into it.

"Back then, you'd practically be crucified if you were caught."

Bucky's eyes are unfocused, lips pressed in a firm line. Steve doesn't say anything since he doesn't even know what to say to that.

Bucky, seemingly haven snapped out of it, smiles; though, it looks more like a grimace in Steve's opinion.

"Just- give me some time, 'kay? I'll come round sooner or later. Just... It's all still a lot, even after years of bein' here..."

'To the 21st century,' the words lingered on his tongue. Steve sure knows how that feels, to be overwhelmed by the new world. It's almost suffocating, knowing how much you've missed out on, and how different everything is now. It's like drowning, really.

Surrounded by so much, too much, and at one point it even feels like Steve's being dragged down further and further away from the surface no matter how much he tries swimming up. There's no one there to save him, either. No one to dive their hand down into the waters, no one to hold onto as they pull him back up to the surface.

It's just Steve, alone, in a bottomless ocean, drowning. And it's constantly filling up and up and up and God all Steve just wants to do is get away from there and be able to breathe.

Steve pats his shoulders, pulling him in for a side-hug as Bucky returns the gesture. He playfully ruffles the blonde's hair, much to Steve's annoyance, and gives him a lopsided smile that makes the tension in Steve's shoulder loosen.

"B'sides, you're still my Stevie. Not like you've sprouted horns and started killin' people."

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't comment on that. Once again, they fall into a comfortable silence, though Steve's shoulders feel unexplainably lighter than it has in days.

The sun's almost gone by the time Steve gets home from the group therapy session he was at. It was the same old, same old. Go in, talk about your feelings, and listen to other people afterward. Sure, it helped, and it felt great to empower people to get back up from a great fall, but it just...

It doesn't really fulfill him nowadays.

Hell, he's not sure what can fulfill him now.

Settling in, he notes that Bucky's room is dark; chances are, he's probably out right now. Before, Steve used to be worried about him, but now it's not uncommon for Bucky to be gone every now and then. Steve doesn't really ask where he's going, so long as Bucky doesn't tell him. One day, maybe he'll ask.

Regardless though, Steve rummages around in the fridge to see what he has to work with in terms of dinner. But before he could even take out anything, his phone buzzes with a notification.

Taking out his phone, still halfway into the fridge, Steve glances at the display name.

It's from Rhodes.

Raising an eyebrow, he taps on the notification. It's rare that Rhodey texts, and it's even rarer for him to text Steve of all people. Nowadays, other than any Avenging business, they don't really talk. Granted, Steve also never finds the energy to talk to anyone these days, save a select few and those at the group therapy sessions, but that's beside the point.

So if Rhodey is texting him, it's gotta be important.

And judging by how fast Steve had bolted out the door and onto his motorcycle, it sure as hell was important.

From: Col. James Rhodes.

To: Capt. Steve Rogers, Dr. Bruce Banner, +3 others.

"Dr. Strange's back. He has new information about (Name), and it's major. He's not staying for long. - James."

Pepper doesn't want to be here.

There was no going around it- as composed as she was and had to be, she knew she could only take so much before she would snap. And sitting in the compound once again, she wouldn't be surprised if what she was about to hear would be the final straw.

She had plans today, too. She was supposed to take Morgan to go see the neighborhood fireworks festival, and she remembers distinctly looking forward to taking Morgan on the ferry-go-round, too. And yet, here she is, at the compound which once used to be lively, but only whispers of her husband and son echo in the hallways.

She had already been sitting in here for an hour before Steve had finally made it. By then, Bruce and Strange had already explained why they were here.

Just like Tony and Natasha, it seemed like your fate had already been set in stone the moment Stephen had spared the time stone for Tony's life.

But that wasn't what they were called in here for; or at least, in a way that Pepper had initially thought.

Bruce was talking, and as if he was concluding his monologue, he spares a sympathetic glance at everyone in the room, especially at Pepper. She just wishes he'd stop throwing glances at her as if she was a fine piece of China ready to tip over from the cupboard at any moment now (She knows she almost is, but she'd rather be caught dead than to have an emotional breakdown at a time like this. What was it- Stark men are made of iron?)

"And besides... We've retrieved video recording of what happened that day. From DAHLIA."

The only thing in her vision is red. But she doesn't raise her voice. ('Am I going to have to watch it?' She thinks) She doesn't move from her spot as she stares at Bruce, eyes dilated ('Yes, of course, you want to know what happened,' her subconscious betrays her). Her ears are pounding and she doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry.

"And why did it take you so long to get the recording?"

She watches like a hawk as Bruce and Stephen grimace. They glance at each other with uncertainty, but it's Bruce who bites the bullet and speaks up.

"Because, ah... We didn't think about it...?"

Suddenly, all she wants to do is scream. Lifting a shaking hand to her head as there's now a pounding at her skull, she clenches her eyes shut.

Breathe in, breathe out.

She opens her eyes and boy, does she hate the way that everyone's avoiding her gaze. Even the ever so elusive Sorceror Supreme (In her head, she knows he's not at fault. In her heart, she wants to spit on his name.) pretends to be busy, but she knows.

She knows.

She sighs, ignoring the tremble of her lips, and dismissively waves her hand at Bruce.

"Just play it. Please."

Bruce silently nods and pulls up a recording. It's dated back to the day of the reversed blip, a quarter past afternoon.

Pepper crosses her arm, praying that no one sees her hands quake as the recording starts.

It's dark and decrepit, with a good portion of the screen glitching out. There are charts and tables everywhere, and Pepper now recognizes them as his health stats. The walls all blur together as she tries to bite back the tears.

There's rubble everywhere. In the distance are lights from fires, but you're so far down there's barely any light at all. Your face isn't in view, and rather what she sees makes her heartache even worse than before.

A gleam of metal jutting out of your stomach is front and center of the camera. It's huge- about the width of her thigh- and it's stained red. Your breathing is labored and short, obvious signs of a panic attack as the sounds of you gasping echo in the room. No one says a thing as an Australian voice speaks up in a frantic.

"Doll! Doll, I need you to breathe! You're going into shock!"

There's no response from you as you continue to hyperventilate. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Steve's jaw clench and Bruce covering his mouth. She doesn't react to Rhodey's hand squeezing her shoulder as they all watch on.

There's a weird sound coming out of you. Pepper's heart clenches, and at this point, she doesn't even care that she's crying now- because she knows what that sound is.

That's the sound of you hiccuping.

You're crying.

You- one of the strongest men she knows, an Avenger, a hero, her baby- are crying, alone, and she was none the wiser to your suffering.

You're moving- oh God, your arm- and the video feed pick up scuttering and growling. Her stomach drops even further. Chitauri.

Your other arm grasps all over your lower body, barely gliding past your wounds (oh God, please tell her that's not a steel beam) and into your pockets. There's an orange tint, barely there, but in your hands as DAHLIA speaks up again.

"Don't move! You've been impaled by a steel beam and your prosthetic arm has been dislocated- any more movement will result in an increased blood loss! I am attempting to contact Mister-"

There's the sound of glass shattering before the video camera shuts off. The charts suddenly spike unnaturally, going practically haywire as the only thing left coming from the screen is the sound of DAHLIA's voice glitching.

"-er-er-er!"

It was a horrific way to go if Stephen's being honest.

Of course, as both a doctor and Sorcerer Supreme, he's seen- and even experienced- his fair share of gruesome injuries and deaths. It was par the course, so it wasn't enough to make him want to empty his guts.

But he'd be lying if he said that he didn't at least feel his stomach curl in when he had to witness your 'death' the first few times.

Seeing you crushed under debris, your prosthetic arm hanging by a few strings, and literally impaled by a steel beam wasn't a pleasant sight whatsoever. Add on watching your scared form hyperventilating and hearing your A.I. trying to calm you down with heartbreakingly real panic in her voice, and it was downright unbearable.

And that was the best of it: there were ones where the steel beam had sliced through your skull or where you had been straight up mauled by the Chitauri as you didn't have your suit on hand, for whatever reason. There were other scenarios where the chitauri had mobbed-up your decapitated head, and Thanos had presented it to the older Stark, just as he was about to grab the stones. That one move proved fatal for everyone, as even Stark had lost his composure at the sight of his dead son.

As much as Stephen doesn't want to say it, he knew that what had actually happened to you was the best possible route that had been chosen for you.

The video ends, and the Captain leans away from the wall he was positioned on.

"What the hell happened? One moment- he was trapped under rubble, the next, nothing? Suddenly we lose all contact with him? What- did he just- pop out of existence?"

He's frustrated, angry. Stephen would be lying if he didn't feel an inkling of the same emotions as him. Stephen runs a shaky hand through his hair.

"You're not entirely wrong, Captain. What happened to him was similar to that of St- Tony," He corrects himself prematurely, "and Romanoff."

"You telling me he was meant to- to die too? Like Tony and Natasha?"

Stephen shakes his head, ignoring the seething anger in the captain's voice. In the corner of his eyes, he sees Rhodes wrap his arms around Pepper, who's sat still in her chair, staring blankly at Stephen. It's almost as if she's seeing past him for a split second as if she's looking at someone else behind him.

There's only a wall next to him. He ignores her, skin prickling at her unwavering attention, yet eery silence.

"It's a means to an end. I can't pick their fates, Captain. That's not how my powers work."

'Though, it would've been better for the sake of everyone had it did work that way.' Stephen bitterly remarks.

"Besides that, I never said he's dead, Captain. Or, shouldn't be, anyway." Stephen carefully avoided answering if it was a necessity that you were to go.

Stephen internally sighs, knowing immediately that wasn't the right thing to say judging by the 'oh God' Pepper just muttered.

Rhodes speaks up with a clenched jaw. He had been silent this whole time, but Stephen wasn't foolish enough to not recognize how even he had been bothered by the film. Whether it was because of the gore, emotional connection, or both, Stephen doesn't care enough to ask.

"Then what exactly are you saying?"

Stephen, once again, ignores how confrontational his tone is. He doesn't blame Rhodes for his frustrations; being a doctor, it's inevitable that he'd come and get used to people like this.

'They're mourning,' he hears imaginary Christine chiding him.

Stephen sighs. He's not even sure how to break it all to them, as even he's not too sure of what has become of you after the film. But regardless, Stephen reels himself back in and composes himself.

He pulls back the need to add any fluff words and says what he's been inching to say ever since he had attended Tony's funeral.

"Stark's traveled back in time; the only problem is, is that we don't know when and where."

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit

#avengers #avengers x male reader #avengers x reader #male reader #male reader insert #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x male reader #male!reader #stephen strange x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #carol danvers #pepper potts #james rhodes #rhodey #bruce banner

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nomolosk · 4 years ago

Text

Snapshots (AU Yeah August 2020)

read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655623/chapters/63153622

Day 18- Bookshop

Hawkmoth was getting impatient. Universal had been at large for two days, heading into three, and so far there had been no results whatsoever, except for the mother of all backlash headaches resulting from that momentary ‘star-crossed lovers’ universe, or whatever she’d called it. Moreover, he’d had to spend most of his time transformed, which was putting him rather glaringly behind on the designs for his newest line. Of course, he was also getting some excellent inspiration from all these different universes, but…

He decided enough was enough. If Universal couldn’t draw out or find Ladybug and Chat Noir in the next twelve hours, he would pull the akuma and try again. Activating his link to Universal, he readied what he was going to say.

“Universal,” he began in his patented Intimidating Voice, “I am growing tired of this endless parade of universes, none of which bring the miraculouses or their bearers any closer to me!”

“You promised me the power to change reality itself, Hawkmoth!” Universal started to complain.

“But only if you would do the work to find my nemeses so I can finally defeat them and take their miraculouses,” Hawkmoth reminded her. There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then she spoke again.

“I actually think I may be close,” she said in a quieter tone. “Of all the pulls between two people, this has been the strongest I’ve felt, and… it’s quite strong, Hawkmoth. It can only be because these two have also got miraculouses.”

Hawkmoth narrowed his eyes, somewhat surprised that she’d actually fulfilled her side of the bargain. After all, there were only a few of his many hundred akuma who had even come close- so many had been utter failures, and the rest had not been up to the challenge, even with the powers he gave them.

“Let me see,” Hawkmoth commanded, and the link between them strengthened enough for him to see what she was seeing. It robbed her of agency, stopping her in her tracks, but that hardly mattered. It wasn’t like she was a particularly offensive akuma. Her strength lay in not being noticed. In fact, with the masquerade ball universe she’d currently got going, the glowing butterfly symbol might well have simply been a part of her mask and no one would take notice.

Hawkmoth peered through the gloom until he could see two people wrapped in a passionate embrace. However, even with the darkness, the masks, and the costumes, he could tell they weren’t the ones he was looking for. Their skin tones were too dark, the heights didn’t match, and moreover, he recognized them. They had borne miraculouses a few years ago, but after Miracle Queen had exposed their identities, Ladybug had never called on them again.

“That’s not Ladybug and Chat Noir! That’s the Ladyblogger and her boyfriend!” Hawkmoth yelled. Fury roared through him and into the link, making Universal seize up with pain. He didn’t care. She’d raised his hopes only to dash them again. She should feel his wrath.

“You have twelve hours,” he threatened. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

----

Universal shuddered in relief as the pain vanished along with Hawkmoth’s presence in the back of her mind. She cast a sullen look at the pair of lovers who had inadvertently caused this pain. It wasn’t their fault, but she hadn’t been akumatized for being rational. She decided to get back at them by making them star in the most boring universe she could think of. And just to make it extra mind-numbing, she extended the same Paris-wide effect as she had for the university life universe.

The headband on her head pulsed in time with her thought, and an indelible sphere of change spread out from her. She smiled grimly as the two before her were transformed from the mysterious and alluring masked couple into two average bookstore workers. She’d put a little more power into the memory editing part of the spell, trying to make sure that the two people in front of her wouldn’t remember what they’d been doing or why they were in the same part of the store. The two of them broke apart under the influence of the mind wipe, and found themselves apparently manning the counter of a large chain bookstore.

“You let the magic and mystery of the universe I gave you carry you away, but you’ll see… Romance doesn’t last long when confronted by the horrifying mundanity of everyday life,” she muttered under her breath. She was on a timer now- she had to make every second count. But first, she was going to ensure at least one of these people had a bad day.

She marched up to the counter, determined to act like the most disgruntled and entitled customer she could be. She would give him hell, and then she would track down that snake and mouse couple.

----

Alya blinked. For a moment she could have sworn… but then reality reasserted itself and she noticed that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

“Alya, what are you doing here? Get back to work!” Nino hissed at her, then pasted on a smile for the evidently quite disgruntled customer stomping up to the counter. Alya smiled but turned away, a little hurt at Nino’s insistence. He’d managed to score a coveted customer service position lately, but he’d spent more time in the warehouse where all the books came in than she had. Had he just forgotten what it was like to escape the mindless drudgery even for only as long as her break? It wasn’t like she didn’t know not to interrupt when there was a customer to help, and she could have tidied the gift bags, or something while she waited.

It honestly baffled her why the grand bookstore that was practically its own city by now, couldn’t keep more than one person on a counter at a time. It seemed so counterintuitive, she thought. She came back around the counter and hopped on the off-brand segway used by store employees who couldn’t afford to spend a good half-hour walking from one section to the next. She glanced back at Nino, only to see his smile grow strained as the Karen at the counter ranted at him. She spared him some pity- the backroom might be boring and dull, but at least she didn’t have to put up with harassment. She took careful note of the woman, the purplish headband she wore, her... questionable clothing choices, and the way her manicure was so cheap the colors had actually leached onto her fingertips.

Wait...

----

Marinette giggled as Adrien spun her out, narrowly avoiding the bookshelf to her left. He tugged her hand and she obligingly spun back, crossing her arms over her torso to hold his hands as they swayed together, back to chest. She giggled again, bright and happy. Still, they were at work.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” she said, grinning up at him. “But shouldn’t we get back to work? I mean, what brought this on?”

“It’s quirky and fun,” Adrien replied promptly. “Plus, we both need a break from shelving overpriced textbooks, and... I like dancing with you.” He smiled.

She felt herself blushing, but fortunately she was currently too relaxed and into the moment for her overzealous anxiety to rear its ugly head and ruin everything. She sighed and closed her eyes, just for a moment, enjoying being so close to her crush and hearing him say he liked dancing with her.

The approaching whir of one of the store scooters made her eyes shoot open again and she tore herself away from Adrien, heart pounding. If it was one of the many managers and they got caught doing anything but their actual job…

She got to work, making room on the shelf before hefting a stack of heavy textbooks into the cleared space, making sure the spines were right side up. When she glanced over at Adrien- just to see if he was hurt or offended by her sudden leap away from him- he was working away at the next shelf over. His expression was neutral, but when he saw her looking he took the time to smile and wink at her. She smiled back.

Marinette really hoped he didn’t think she suddenly hated him, or was ashamed to be caught dancing with him. But he probably didn’t. Stocking the shelves was one step up from unboxing and labeling the books back in the warehouse, and no one who had escaped that wanted to go back to it.

Marinette hoped that the scooter would pass them by, but unfortunately it came to a stop at the end of their aisle of shelves.

“Pssst!”

Marinette looked up to see, not an overbearing manager, but her friend Alya, who had started working there a lot more recently than any of her other friends and was consequently still stuck in the warehouse. She must be on her break, Marinette thought. I wonder why she’s not with Nino?

Curious, she went over.

“I can’t talk right now, Alya, I’ve got all these to shelve and there are more where those came from.”

“Nino just got chewed out by the weirdest customer guys,” Alya said, and only then did Marinette realize that Adrien had joined them. “You’ve gotta come check it out!”

Alya zipped away, and Marinette and Adrien shared a look of mutual mischief before tearing after her.

@auyeahaugust

#mlauyeahaugust #auyeah2020 #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #bookstore #bookshop au

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bustedbernie · 5 years ago

Link

Oh hai. Lately there have been a slew of think pieces about Bernie Sanders being the front-runner, discussing how his movement has threatened to withhold their votes from Democrats if Bernie isn’t the nominee. Hidden between the lines is the idea that Democrats, in general, owe their votes to Sanders if he is the nominee, regardless of the fact that his voters do NOT owe Dems their votes if he is not. So, rather than call them out for using the same tactics that lost the 2016 election, there is a faction in the media that is growing more and more permissive to the idea that Bernie and his Revolution are somehow the victims in all this, and that mainstream Dems have done them wrong time and time again when picking a candidate that appeals to the Dems masses.

Let me let you in on a little secret.

I don’t owe Bernie Sanders or his fucked off revolution of stanerific emo-marxist cyber-terrorists a goddamn bit of shit the fuck all. When these utter fucking geniuses in the media reflect on how energized and dedicated his enthusiastic fans are when engaging in their harassment of the average Dem, they seem to think the people who have been abused don’t fucking matter. These Dems are people who have never done anything whatsoever to deserve the constant bullying, cyber-stalking, targeting, threats, or in my case, being falsely reported to the FBI by fans of Bernie who seek to silence dissent. What these media personalities don’t understand is that the abuse by Bernie fans, in his name, actually causes the gap between MAGA and Berners to shrink to the point where it is non-existent. There is no real difference between the abuse from either side, and since Sanders isn’t the warm and fuzzy type that reaches out to the people who have been abused, often there appears to be no real difference between Sanders and Trump.

Slate:

Still, the Bernie-or-Busters, small as they may be, have spun their position into an argument for why others should vote for Bernie Sanders too, regardless of the platform they prefer. As efforts in political persuasion go, this contingent puts forward an openly hostile argument. Sanders is the only electable candidate, they suggest, not just because of his policies, but because of the single-mindedness of his followers. The reason you should vote for Sanders is that we won’t vote for anyone else. You don’t want Trump to win again, do you?

No. But I also don’t want Bernie Sanders to win. In a case of one not liking either candidate, people look to see which movement they feel most comfortable with, Bernie’s or Trump’s. If it turns out that both movements engage in racist behavior, sexism, and homophobia, it really doesn’t matter what they profess to be in favor of as far as policy is concerned, what matters is how they treat their fellow citizens by and large. We all know that unless we take back the Senate with a large majority that can defeat Republican attempts to stop legislation from hitting Sanders’ desk, nothing will pass anyway. So, if you’re not in favor of Bernie’s policies in the first place, and do not like him or his movement, why would you be enthusiastic about showing up for the guy who leads the movement that engages in attacks on you?

Yes, it sounds like ugly hostage taking—not a brilliant persuasive strategy but a crude ego-boosting exercise for a group of leftists who can’t resist the impulse to lord some power over an electorate that doesn’t normally consider them relevant. But that’s exactly what makes it so normal, even understandable, in a depressing “we’re all human” sort of way. [NO.] Because the truth is this: Every threat these Sanders stans are explicitly making is one the venerated Centrist Swing Voter makes implicitly—and isn’t judged for. The centrist never even has to articulate his threat.

Excuse me, it IS ugly hostage taking, it is NOT normal, and no, it doesn’t make me see them as more human.

Another thing is this: not everyone opposed to Bernie Sanders is a Centrist, Moderate, or a Swing voter. Many of us are as far left or to the left of Sanders, I for one am definately to his left, and had supported him in 2015. That was until his racist abusive Bern Mafia targeted me for expressing concern about his lack of outreach to black voters. I noticed his lack of history in hiring black people (D.C. is Chocolate City, we could not find one black staffer in 2015; I am open to correction on this point; if he had black staffers prior to 2015, please send me receipts because I have been looking for them.), lamented and mocked his poor showing at Netroots, fumed over his constant MLK appropriation, jeered at his white ass crowds, and felt humiliated by his inability to discuss black people in ways that were not centered on Poverty or Prisons. It is HIS FAULT that his voters have no clue how to engage Black people without resorting to stereotypes and outright bigotry, because he does the same thing.

Buzzfeed:

Sanders, seated across the table, a yellow legal pad at hand, responded with a question of his own, according to two people present: “Aren’t most of the people who sell the drugs African American?” The candidate, whose aides froze in the moment, was quickly rebuffed: The answer, the activists told him, was no. Even confronted with figures and data to the contrary, Sanders appeared to have still struggled to grasp that he had made an error, the two people present said.

No. He did not apologize for spreading this stereotype, and yes, it shows how he views black people in general.

Slate:

One of many disorienting factors in this election cycle is the fact that the left is more popular and more viable than it has been in a long, long time. They have not one but two exciting candidates, and both are offering policies closer to what leftists actually want than most presidential contenders in U.S. history have.

I wanted the party to move to the Left towards the direction of where I stood too. I can’t really name my ideology because it’s so far left I am almost hitting the wall. Additionally, I am more Libertarian than Sanders, who trends more authoritarian. Yet, I instinctively know that playing a game of “my way or the highway” won’t lead to a place where poverty programs are expanded up and out, ensuring all necessities of life are provided. It will lead to gridlock and we will make zero progress.

Because folks at the center tend to be wooed by multiple candidates, they’re used to having options, and they’re used to the experience of their vote determining who ends up with the nomination. This means that they usually like the candidate they vote for, in the primary and in the general. Not so for leftists, who get to merely tolerate the candidates they end up having to vote for in order to mitigate the damage from a worse result.

Here’s the rub… I’m Black. None of this shit applies to me, because as a Black person, I rarely even LIKE or TRUST any of the candidates I have been voting for over the years. I also usually, especially in State and Locally, don’t have any say so in determining the nominee of any race. I am always stuck voting for whoever White People choose as the candidate, and as such, am merely tolerating whoever is chosen to prevent a worse outcome, which usually means preventing a racist shitmonger from winning a race.

Speaking of race… Progressives refuse to address race as a factor in anything; they like to ignore race in everything they do and allow Prison Policy to stand in for Racial Policy, so it’s impossible to get them to see my reality. They get this shit from Bernie.

From Buzzfeed:

“The real issue is not whether you’re black or white, whether you’re a woman or a man,” he said in a 1988 interview. “The real issue is whose side are you on? Are you on the side of workers and poor people or are you on the side of big money and the corporations?”

Not much has changed with Bernie, as you know, Bernie never changes, because he was born as a 72 year old yelly man, just like Benjamin Button, but louder and not as cute.

“It’s not good enough for someone to say, ‘I’m a woman! Vote for me!’” No, that’s not good enough. What we need is a woman who has the guts to stand up to Wall Street, to the insurance companies, to the drug companies, to the fossil fuel industry,” the Vermont independent senator and former Democratic presidential candidate said in a not-so-subtle rebuke to Hillary Clinton”

Bernie’s attacks on Identity Politics filtered down to his base, causing them to feel confident in their attacks on Blacks, LGBTQ, and Women who brought up issues of race, sexuality, and gender over the past few years. They love to say shit to black people online that they would never say to an actual Black person IN PERSON, because they are scared as fuck of Black people. Kinda like Bernie. The refrain of “that’s identity politics, not real policy’ rang out constantly on social media the past few years to the point where pointing out racism, homophobia, and sexism was met with swarms of white men attacking Black people, All Women Who Dared To Be THAT Bitch, LGBTQ, and really, anyone worried about social justice issues that focused on identity. The attacks were and ARE bigoted in the extreme.

This is racist as fuck and is one of the ways the Bernie Titty-Babies managed to marginalize Kamala Harris and drive a wedge between her and Black Voters. Somehow they thought keeping it going would make us like dusty ass Bernie more, but they’re stupid, because we don’t even like that geriatric Bernadook now.

This is homophobic.

Bernie’s supporters are engaging in a hate campaign against Mayor Pete and are trying to convince the world that they are not being homophobic, they are just saying Pete is suppressing his dangerous serial killer nature by being so straight laced. This is fucked up because they are attacking a gay man for being “straight appearing” in spite of the fact that his seeming straightness is how he interacts with a world that hates gay people, and has at times (and Still Does) MURDERED men and women who are gay for not assimilating or conforming to hetero-normative stereotypes. Bernie ignores this behavior from his fans like he ignores all of their nasty hate campaigns. I blame him.

This is misogynistic. No explanation needed.

Racist and fat shaming. Black hair is not your fucking business, bitch. Back the fuck up.

This is just blatantly false and caused people to harass Kamala Harris supporters until they stopped using the Yellow Circles she asked supporters to wear, it stems from the misogynoir his fans engaged in towards Kamala. Bernie has never said shit, so I blame him.

Bigotry. Also erasure of Biden’s Black support in a effort to make it seem as if Bernie is the candidate of diversity. Bernie is at fault, he also erases minorities.

Sexist. Also, damn near all of his fans seem to hate Obama on the same level and with as much heat as MAGA. Why the fuck would we want to join in unity with this man when his fans HATE the first black President. Oh, you think Bernie has nothing to do with setting the tone?

“The business model, if you like, of the Democratic Party for the last 15 years or so has been a failure,” Sanders started, responding to a question about the young voters who supported his campaign. “People sometimes don’t see that because there was a charismatic individual named Barack Obama, who won the presidency in 2008 and 2012.

“He was obviously an extraordinary candidate, brilliant guy. But behind that reality, over the last 10 years, Democrats have lost about 1,000 seats in state legislatures all across this country.”

Bernie doesn’t fucking like Obama either.

Sexism. Racism. Bernie does the worst with Black Women, and is often dismissive when asked a question by one of us. So, his fans see nothing to lose by targeting us in particular, and we in turn are likely the largest group of people willing to sit this one out if Bernie manages to come out on top. The media is no help whatsoever to marginalized people, because they ultimately weave a narrative where Bernie comes out the victim.

We can already see it happening amongst the Children of the Bern, where they have taken to labeling K-Hive, a movement started by a Black Woman (Me) for a Black Woman (Kamala Harris), “Liberal ISIS” for our resistance to Bernie and willingness to defend the other candidates from the attacks levied by the Berner Swarm.

Oh, cry me a fucking river! We don’t dox, cyberstalk, harass, abuse, try to get people fired, engage in bigotry, we learn from our mistakes, and we never make it our mission to ruin someone’s life.

We simply turn the tables on the bros and ask tough questions, like Kamala Harris. If that breaks you down, you were already broken before you found us. Oh, yeah. That’s another thing. We don’t go looking for Berners to abuse; we wait until they come to abuse US and refuse to play along.

Regardless of what poor Peter Daou says, there is no “Unadulterated Hatred” in asking if someone has checked on him.

So, yes, I can blame Bernie for the nastiness of his movement and choose not to ever join it no matter what. Progressives love to play forever victims, even while they engage in their vile abuse, but I do not have to empower their movement or help them elect Bernie. Maybe if enough people sound the alarm and let him know we will not be helping him in November while suffering constantly at the hands of his Branch Bernidians, then he will have no choice but to be a leader and fucking lead these assholes into being decent people. I don’t expect the abuse to magically end if Bernie becomes President or loses to Trump, and I also don’t expect him to do shit about it, so I guess I’m just Never Bernie. What I am now stuck with is the same as always; White States get to vote first and create the narrative that Dem voters are in favor of whoever these powerful white voters choose, and I am sick of it and sick of Sanders. I didn’t become a Democrat to not only be marginalized by the White Moderate, but to also suffer abuse from the punk ass White leftist bitchmade humdinger of a Revolution. I’m not here to empower shitfucks that search me out no matter where I am just to heap abuse on me, threaten me, or report me to the FBI as a possible MASS SHOOTER, all because I think Bernie is an old bigot who minimizes Black oppression to appease the white voters he thinks he’ll need to win the General.

I’m just Never Bernie, deal with it or die mad about it. I don’t care which.

#neverbernie #bernie #berniesanders #bernie sanders #berniebros #bernie bros #notmeus #feelthebern #long post #longpost #faq

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recycledmovies · 5 years ago

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‘Parasite’ shows the ugliness of Koreans dealing with their hierarchical society in very high detail. Unlike many other interpretations I’ve seen, I will not deal with the details and the mise en scene, but the overall story, characters and their roles. The details are stunning, but I don’t think that’s an excuse to look away from the main story to focus on the little things. Also, there are two dimensions from a macro and meso point of view that I think are more relevant than finding hidden foreshadows or symbols.

Please note that I am Korean and know enough about Korea to point out the flaws of our society and people, including myself. I know very well that Koreans hate being criticized (just as Gitaek shows signs of anger when Mr. Park points out that he has an weird smell), but the truth is the truth and nothing will improve if we cannot see ourselves objectively. So if you’re pissed at my interpretation because you are a proud Korean, think again about what good pride will do.

The Hierarchical Society

Hierarchy has always been part of Korean culture. But as the movie shows, hierarchy is not based on traditional values anymore but overridden completely by economic status. You can see this in the scene where the young pizza box collector speaks down to the Kims. Traditionally, speaking in this manner to people who are even a year older would be considered absolutely unacceptable. This scene sets the stage as a society where economic values have become the new standard for hierarchy. In reality, money justifies everything in Korea and I’m sure it’s the same in a lot of places around the world. Basic ethics and philosophy is forgotten, or something only the naïve remembers anymore.

Although the Parks have higher economic status, a number of scenes demonstrate that in essence, they are also just human beings and have the same flaws as anyone else. Mr. Park and Yeon-gyo uses Gijeong’s underwear as prop during their role-play intercourse on the couch after criticizing the former driver for indecency and accusing him of drug abuse without any evidence whatsoever. Although the Parks are respectful towards the Kims, they still smell the difference. This is another trait of the Korean middle class. While they act like decent people in general, deep down, they still consider the Parks different. Koreans know very well that this is not a trait of the upper class, but more a trait of the middle class. We like to think that we are different from those that are of lower class in our hierarchy. We may act like we respect others, but deep down, the concept of hierarchy prevails. Even today, when two Koreans meet for the first time, questions go back and forth to subtly reveal the status in hierarchy of the two people. Sometimes this is age, sometimes social status and sometimes economic status, but we always establish the hierarchy. When a difference in status is found, the language that we use suddenly changes. The higher class can speak down and the lower class has to speak the polite version of Korean and show respect in almost every word, gesture and even posture.

Another fascinating feature of Koreans and our hierarchical society that also appears in Parasite is the fact that rather than the middle class cooperating with each other to make their lives better, individuals try to move up to the higher class by stepping on their fellow middle class people. The goal is always to make our own lives better by being better than others rather than making everything better. Choongsook demonstrates this when she finds out that Moon-gwang has been hiding her husband in the cellar. Immediately, Choongsook decides to side with the higher class family and fails to see that Moon-gwang’s family and her own would benefit from a partnership. An example in reality? Although most Koreans get outraged when owners of Korean conglomerates or their family members mistreat and deceive the public, most Koreans would do anything to get a job at Samsung, LG or Korean Air. No matter how inhumanely the upper class treats the lower classes, people will jump at any chance to join the higher class and look down on those that are considered lower once they get there, regardless of how many ethical or philosophical values they have to give up.

The dominance of competition in the Korean mentality is emphasized by the fact that both the Kims and the Parks had gone bankrupt from trying to run a franchise store of a ‘Taiwanese Castella’ chain. Even though the Kims hear that Moon-gwang’s family had gone through the same financial difficulties for the same reason, they fail to feel sympathy and only think about competing with those that can be considered their closest fellows. Sadly, another common characteristic among Koreans.

The Absence Of A Middle Class Family

The middle class is the essence of capitalism. The large portion of middle class sets the norm in most modern societies and creates a barrier for the upper class preventing upheavals from inequality. But there is not middle class character in the movie that influences the plot. It’s hard to see this as accidental and for me it was the single most impressive aspect of the plot.

I have two explanations for this absence of the majority. First is that in a strictly hierarchical society, nobody feels like the middle class. Apart from very close friends, everyone else is either in a higher class or a lower class than myself. In one on one interaction with other I’m either the upper class or the lower class. When two Koreans meet for the first time, we ask questions that can lead to answers which give clues to who is higher in the hierarchy. Usually age, social status or financial status is asked indirectly to establish the hierarchy. Once it is established, it dictates the language, gestures and even postures of the two people. Even if one person is a couple of months older than the other, the hierarchy unfolds.

Another reason I think the middle class was left out was because the majority of the audience would be middle class Koreans and Koreans are terrible at taking criticism. If the plot had a middle class family, most of the audience would related themselves to that family. And if the movie showed any criticism towards them, it would instantly become personal to the audience and Bong would have had a hard time both financially and reputation wise.

The Deranged Husband

Moon-gwang’s husband acts like a crazy person and shows unconditional respect towards Mr. Park, who doesn’t even know that Moon-gwang’s husband exists. But is this really that weird for Koreans? Most Koreans work for tycoons that brainwash their employees to show unconditional obedience while not even knowing their names. We arrive at our desks before our superiors do and leave after our superiors leave even if we have nothing to do at our desks and have to kill time watching Youtube videos. Can we really say that Moon-gwang’s husband is that much different from the average Korean? And just like Moon-gwang’s husband, the middle class does nothing about being forced to show fake respect everyday. We actually encourage it by investing years of studies to pass the company employment exams. Yes. Korean companies have exams because there are so many people trying to become employees. One of them is called SSAT. Guess what the first ‘S’ stands for?

Moon-gwang goes on further by impersonating the North Korean national news caster. The North Korean news caster is a symbol of manipulation and oppression for South Koreans. Are South Koreans really in the position to think that North Korea has extreme issues and we are free from oppression and manipulation?

The Hero

Like in reality, there are always exceptions. The exception in this movie? Gitaek. Gitaek is the only character in the movie that acts against the hierarchical system for values that are innate to humans. As a result, he is forced down into the cellar that Moon-gwang’s deranged husband once lived. This also directly reflects the Korean society where being different is unacceptable. Maybe reality is not as severe as in the movie, but going against popular sentiment brings similar consequences. I remember growing up, people who would had tanned skin were called ‘tanning jok,’ meaning ‘tanning tribe.’ During the cryptocurrency boom, people traded cryptocurrency were called ‘coin choong,’ meaning ‘coin vermin’. Such framing isolates people who show any difference from the majority, regardless of whether the difference is positive or negative. Of course, heroes, who act against the wrong when others don’t, are also often isolated by the majority. Gitaek, the hero of the lower class who couldn’t stay put when Mr. Park showed no concern for other people’s lives than that of his son, ends up in the place where a deranged man once lived. The peer pressure to act the same way that others do in Korea is so strong that they can no longer tell the difference between a deranged person and a hero but can only regard them as misfits.

Socially Acceptable Deception

Although the title ‘Parasite’ has a negative vibe, it must be noted that no character in the film ever shows signs of excessive greed or bad intentions. People might debate that the Kims were greedy, but in reality, lying and pretending is everyday life for average Koreans. It is especially considered acceptable when it’s done for profit. Hell, it’s usually considered clever and smart. You’d get a pat on the back if you were working in Korean company and you showed better performance by deceiving others. The lies can be justified further in the movie considering that the Kims were desperate in terms of finances and they had to deceive in order to survive. Giwoo shows no signs of remorse about deceiving the Parks and justifies his lies by saying that he will enter university once he gets his funds together. Things a lot worse than small lies are justified everyday in reality and this is hardly considered a problem among people that have not been educated properly in ethics or philosophy. Do it long enough, and it becomes a way of life.

When Philosophers Are Considered Failures

There are a lot of interpretations about the rock and what it symbolizes. Overall, the rock was the boundary between cleverness and wisdom. Kiwoo, who had the strongest ties to the rock, was no doubt an intelligent character. He was clever enough to deceive the Parks and actually demonstrated knowledge about teaching high school students. But his obsession over the rock implies the boundaries of his intelligence. The power of the rock is a myth and the rock came to Kiwoo with his new job as a tutor. The reason Kiwoo’s friend came over at the beginning of the movie, was to offer him a job. While doing so, he brought the rock as a gift. But as the story progresses, Kiwoo goes on to believe that the rock brought him the new job and good fortune to the whole family. Such myths are still common in Korean culture and often lead to irrational decisions though not as extreme as the case in the movie. A lot of Koreans still read interpretations about dreams everyday and visit fortune tellers before big events such as marriage, buying an apartment, moving jobs etc. The rock is the hope and last resort that Giwoo chose without any logical reasoning.

When Giwoo first meets Dahye, he captures both Dahye and Yeon-gyo’s attention by saying “I don’t care whether the answer to question 24 is right or wrong. In reality, it’s the attitude that’s important.” It’s a great motivational speech, but at the same time, it shows that Giwoo is focused more on handling situations than the basic truth behind the situations.

The study that focuses on the latent truth is philosophy. In Korea, majoring in philosophy is considered a huge failure. Even if you study philosophy in the most prestigious Seoul National University, people laugh and your degree is a mockery. Giwoo’s attachment to the rock, his short term plans and failure to tend to the truth mimics such aspect of Koreans. Without philosophy, we focus on the wrong things. We live in cramped apartments that cost close to a million U.S. dollars and buy exotic cars to show off. A lot of us focus on the top portion of Maslow’s triangle while sacrificing the bottom portions. In other words, we make our lives better by creating fundamental problems. It’s not just Giwoo.

Mr. Park’s ‘Line’

Mr. Park complains about Gitaek’s smell, but he doesn’t fire him for the fact that Gitaek doesn’t cross the ‘line’ that is so important to Mr. Park. From the moment Mr. Park mentions the ‘line’, the line becomes a big deal not only for Mr. Park, but also for the audience as this line has the potential of becoming the tipping point of a major conflict among characters. This mysterious line becomes so important that the audience forget about the basic moral values or philosophical lines of human society and only focus on trying to understand Mr. Park’s line and whether Gitaek crosses it or not. Ironically, it is Mr. Park that crosses the more important line of basic human ethics at the climax of the story. He reveals that he has no respect for human life other than that of his own family when faced with dramatic situations in reality. In spite of having two people in his garden with critical stab wounds, Mr. Park is only worried about his son who had passed out and manages to show disgust towards Moon-gwang’s husband’s smell rather than being worried about his life. Finally it is Gitaek that snaps, not Mr. Park.

“Your Plan Can’t Fail If You Have No Plan”

This is the life philosophy of Gitaek. I’ve seen reviews saying that this is the basic mentality of losers in society. But is it? How many middle class Koreans have made plans themselves that actually worked out? We show hatred towards the owners of Samsung, Hyundai and all those Jaebols, but most of the middle class try so hard to work for them and become a part of their establishments. Was that the plan so many middle class people had that worked out so well? How many Koreans you know currently work at their dream jobs? Gitaeks philosophy isn’t a sign of his inability. It’s his observation of life as a lower class citizen in a hierarchical society. When absolute powers above us make all of the decisions, your plans often get swept away and you are forced to adapt to whatever those higher class people have in store. In other words, Gitaek knows that ‘plans’ of the powerless are merely dreams in a hierarchical society.

Throughout the movie we laugh at the ridiculous plans that Giwoo makes. But in the end, he comes up with a plan to save his father that makes more sense. But how do we feel about that one? It feels closer to a dream than a plan. This is what plans of the powerless look like. Either short sighted plots or unattainable dreams.

So Who Is The Parasite?

Everyone and no one. All three families leech on another family. Moon-gwang and her husband had been leeching on the Parks while traumatizing Dasong. The Kims leeched on anyone with money. And the Parks leeched on the lower class. Despite the whole family working for the Parks, the Kims couldn’t even afford a motel when their underground apartment got flooded. Moon-gwang and her husband couldn’t afford a home either and had debt problems.

More importantly, both the Kims and the Parks scattered like cockroaches when the light switched on and people appeared. The Kims scattered from the Parks’ house when the Parks returned early from their failed camping trip. The Parks and their wealthy friends scattered when the true face of the capitalist hierarchical society appeared in their garden. The Parks had also been hiding in their dens while leeching on the lower class and accumulating wealth. But when the consequences unfold and real people of the society appear, all they can do is run.

When Koreans get tired of these conflicts among one another, we use the term ‘Hell Chosun.’ It’s a word that represents how Koreans leech and step on one another to get ahead of any and all kind of competition. Maybe this is the real parasite in our minds. It eats away at our rational minds and guides us towards irrational decisions. In the end, Mr. Park, Moon-gwang, her husband and Gijung lose their lives, Giwoo gets impaired and Gitaek has to live like an actual cockroach.

I’m sure there are other interpretations that have different views. I especially found the detail oriented explanations very interesting since by myself, I tend to focus harder on the forest rather than the trees. It would be fascinating to see how people from other cultures interpret the movie as well and whether other hierarchical societies have the same problems. Let me know what you think of my perspective and I hope I’ll soon come across another movie that I can’t resist writing about.

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curestardust · 6 years ago

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if you want: mediocre idol anime with a lot of missed potential

It had a promising start and a letdown of an execution.

The first episode is actually quite interesting. We’ve an idol group called “Ongaku Shoujo” aka Music Girls who’re quite unpopular. At one of their busking events in the airport, our main character Hanako runs into them. She is the daughter of two musicians who’re there for their Japan tour. After the girls do their performance they find out that Hanako has an extraordinary ability of learning dances just by seeing them once. However, when she gets on stage it turns out that she is absolutely shit at singing.

So you’re probably thinking: aaahhh, so she will join the group and work hard to improve her singing and then they get popular in the process? Well, no. Hanako is immediately shafted into a staff position and...that’s it. So what IS it about then?

The group getting popular. Obsviously, this is an often used schtick in idol anime but the way they went about it was horrible, you know why? Cause WE DON’T SEE IT!

Ongaku Shoujo has 11 members and this anime has 12 episodes. Each episode advances the “plot” a tiny, tiny bit while it also puts one or two of the members in the spotlight. This formula is fine. I can at the very least list one personality trait of each girl even if I don’t remember their name.

Back to the plot, we’re barely shown them getting popular. It’s obvious from the fact that they’re invited to shows ans given CF opportunities but besides a few moments it really doesn’t come off as them being a “popular”.

Even worse is the second main character of the anime, Ouri who is the leader and the center for the group. She has an incredibly annoying personality. Has a really short fuse, likes to shout at people and act on impulse and doesn’t discuss her problems with her members.

Aaaand the finale episode. Without spoilers: the biggest bullshit of a deux ex machina I’ve ever seen.

Technical side isn’t even worth talking about. Average to laughable art and animation and mediocre music, of which there’s few anyway.

So, yeah. The majority of the cast is kinda lovable but it’s really just. Lame. Not worth watching if you have any standards whatsoever. [4/10] (x)

BONUS: Ongaku Shoujo’s “origin” is worth a few words. A 25 minute long OVA by the same name aired at the Anime Mirai in 2015. And it’s pretty good! The animation is fluid and the artstyle is soft and nice to look at. They manage to fit all the highs and lows of the story, which IS a quite typical idol anime themed but it’s not too jarring. I honestly thought that the TV version was going to rework the story we saw here but unfortunately besides 2 of the characters resembling and having the same names as the 2 protagonists of the OVA, there is no further connection between the two. But if you want something short and sweet idol stuff, I’d recommend. [7/10] (x)

Recommend: HELL Yeah! | Yes | Eh??? | Nope | This anime killed my parents

if you want: family movie / interesting take on the flow of time

Mirai no Mirai is a movie with an interesting basis.

Our main characters are a family, the Ootas. At the start of the movie we find out that the mother has given birth to their second child, Mirai. We mostly follow around their first child, Kun.

The movie presents an idea: what if time was not linear but fluid where characters from other times could visit you and you could visit them? We’re shown this idea through Kun. He is goes through the many problems a boy his age would go through. Jealousy because of his new sister, the frustration of not being pampered 24/7, trying to learn new skills for the first time etc. Each time he dashes out into the yard out of impulse where the tree would light up and throw us into the fantasy side of the story. The first few times he meets the personified version of the family dog and her sister from the future but as the movie goes on these time jumps become more extreme. Kun meets multiple of his relatives in numerous points of their lives where he learns something related to the problems he is facing...or he is supposed to.

The idea of the movie is fascinating and was the reason I decided to watch it, but multiple problems plague Mirai no Mirai which can drastically take away from the enjoyment of the movie.

The most drastic one is Kun’s personality. Making an impulsive, loud, rebellious and rude 5 year old boy the main character of the movie was a questionable desicion. However, this wouldn’t have been as annoying if he showed improvement. Each time he comes back from the other world the tree took him to, he seems like he learnt a lesson. But when we cut into the next scene that’s all gone and he is acting as annoying as ever. It doesn’t really show that his meetings with his other relatives left any long-lasting impression on him.

The others are more technical. Many of the voice actors are rookies and it shows, especially on Kun which is another questionable decision, considering that we have to listen to him throughout the whole movie.

The animation and the art direction are both quite well done, with the background being expecially gorgeous. However, they used CGI with certain scenes and it’s quite obvious due to the different movements of those scenes. When used sparingly, they were fine, but there was a scene near the end with a HEAVY use of quite ugly CGI that didn’t really fit the tone or the look of the movie and it was...weird.

I’m pretty sure that I’m simply not the target demographic for this movie. People who could relate to the struggles of the parents trying to balance work and kids while also being able to find Kun and Mirai’s constant whining adoring would most likely enjoy this more. [6/10] (x)

Recommend: HELL Yeah! | Yes | Eh??? | Nope | This anime killed my parents

if you want:an amazing magical girl anime / one (1) actual healthy romance / nice cast of main characters

Haying reached another milestone, I yet again decided to rewatch one of my childhood favourites and this time I settled on Tokyo Mew Mew.

TMM, Mew Mew Power in English and Vadmacska Kommandó (Wildcat Commando) as I personally knew it, still holds up surprisingly well.

Having aired in 2003, Tokyo Mew Mew sticks to the magical girl themes mostly present at the time which is the story putting just as much emphasis on the romance as the magical girl aspects. The latter of which uses formulas that are still in use today: monster-of-the-week, colour coded characters, the Big Bad etc.

While we have 5 Mew Mews in the team but Ichigo, our leader and pink magical girl, gets the most airtime our of all of them. The other girls get a few episodes mostly focused on them here and there but it’ll be kinda a letdown for those who’re HUGE fans of one of the other Mew Mews.

Which is why it’d be quite a big problem if Ichigo was insufferable but she isn’t! She does have the usual tropes: ditzy, noisy and all-over-the-place. However, she is also loyal, kind, hardworking and strong.

Now I’d like to say a few things about the romance. It’s incredibly rare to get that right in magical girl anime. Almost every relationship I’ve seen was unhealthy or annoying. But not here, oh no! In the very first episode we find out that Ichigo has landed a date with the school’s most popular guy, Aoyama. This makes it so that we don’t have to suffer through the “will they, won’t they” and we arrive when their relationship begins to take root. They go through highs and lows but they support each other all the way and I just love them.

But as good as the Aoyama romance is, the others are....not so much. As usual the romances center around our main character, aka Ichigo. The 2 culprits are Ryou and Quiche. Ryou is the brain behind the Mew Mew Project so he’s sort of like Ichigo’s boss. He doesn’t outright pursue her nor seems too interested in her however he has a bad tendency of kissing Ichigo a few times and NO. I very much didn’t like that. However, while he kinda exists the picture toward the end we have the rapey romance aka Quiche. He is an alien aka the enemy. He become infatuated with Ichigo for seemingly no particular reason and is just generally uhhhh...rapey. Unfortunately, his character doesn’t really go through much of a development which is a shame.

Anyway, before I finish, let me bring up the transformations. U G H. Yes they are much more simple than the ones today but I’m still in love with them. My favourite was Minto’s. The fluidity of her movements, the angles used, the material of her clothes and the pure creativity....they’re just gorgeous.

So, my true score of this is a 9/10 but my nostalgia would kill me if I gave this anything other than a perfect score so there’s that, If you’re a magical girl fan, Tokyo Mew Mew is a MUST! [10/10] (x)

Recommend: HELL Yeah! | Yes | Eh??? | Nope | This anime killed my parents

#dusty reviews #Mirai no Mirai #Mirai of the Future #Mirai #Ongaku Shoujo #music girls #Ongaku Shoujo (TV)#Tokyo Mew Mew #Mew Mew Power

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itsswimmingtragedycollection · 6 years ago

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Kylie Jenner annoys the shit out of me. I generally stay away from kylie related news and information, mostly because I like my brain cells and don’t want to put them in harms way, but, she’s everywhere, so I still end up hearing about her all. the. fucking. time. Which I wouldn’t really mind if all I was hearing wasn’t ‘omg what a queen! such a role model! A TRUE BUSINESS WOMAN A FUCKING FASHION ICON A SELF MADE BILLIONAIRE!!!!’ And that’s also why I’m ranting about her on tumblr to my one follower, hi there buddy. But what pisses me off about her the most, are actually her fans. The fact that she has any, that is. I mean, this girl was born under a very blessed star. Her family is wealthy, famous, and influential which means that anything she wanted to do in life could have been handed to her on a silver platter. Anything at all. And this bitch chose the laziest possible option. ‘I’m just gonna look pretty on instagram and tell morons my fans to give me their money by selling dumb shit like fit tea and gummy bears that don’t really do shit other that feed into the toxic how-pretty-you-look-is-your-value-in-life culture.’ Not to mention her transition from looking like an ironing board to this thicc, curvy, hourglass, full lips, big eyes, doll-like person, which is not, in itself, that problematic, but the way she presented it, is. She basically said that the world made her feel ugly because she didn’t fit into the beauty standard, sobsobsob, so she went ahead and endured god knows how many procedures and surgeries to become, in essence, every straight man’s wet dream, and of course, that allowed her to finally love herself. So, you know, if you feel like shit because you’re not pretty enough and you don’t have the money to fix it, fuck you, but feel free to spend a hundred or two on a waist-slimming torture device that will make you feel like your life might be as good as mine one day xx. And people celebrated her for it like a fucking icon of self love and inspiration. Are you all okay?? Also, she’s one of the people who stole borrowed from black culture the most. That entire family is. Whether it’s the ‘I wish I was black, but not actually black, I’m just gonna cherry pick the cute shit’ aesthetics, or blatantly stealing black people’s work. And not once suffering any actual consequences. In fact, her fans were ready and willing to attack anyone who dared say a bad word about their beloved KingKylie. And now, we come to the part where she becomes actual trash. Kylie cosmetics. That’s right. Allegedly, she spent a lot of time working on all of her product, the formulas, designs, packaging, the whole shabang. She put her heart and soul in it and blablabla whatever. In reality, none of that happened. First of all, the launch was a very low risk, low input, high payoff type of thing. She didn’t have to worry about money, she had teams of people working on it, her job was to basically just put her face and name on it, and even if it burned to dust, she still would have been just fine. Like I said low risk, low input. Secondly, it was bad form the start. There was, and still is, always a problem with her products. A bad brush, a shit formula, a stolen formula form and affordable brand, people actually getting empty boxes, shit customer service, repackaging old stuff and presenting it as new, overpricing average quality brushes (and having the audacity to compare yourself to brands that have been there for decades and are giants in the field, step off bitch)...just to name a few. The only reason it became a huge success, are her dumb fans, and their parents, probably.This is what I genuinely do not understand. She made a BILLION off of you dumb fucks buying the same thing 2-3 times because her team had to ‘fix the mistakes’( that shouldn’t have been there in the first place if you worked as hard as you say you did, love). Repeat after me: Kylie Jenner is trash. Actual trash. SHE MADE A BILLION DOLLARS BY RE-BRANDING ALREADY EXISTING PRODUCTS AND FORMULAS AND TAKING YOUR MONEY FOR THE SAME THING MULTIPLE TIMES. People need to stop celebrating her. I can fuck with the fact that we live in a society that shoves very shallow, regressive views down our throats, but at the same time you legit have to give up a huge chunk of your brain to, not only, not be bothered by, bur full on support, like and give money to Kylie. Stop it.

And, if you feel the same way, pass this on, let’s spread the good word.

Also, a side note, she has no fashion sense whatsoever. She wears whatever she’s paid to. That’s literally it. They all do. What happens is, majority of people experience fashion through ig, fb, pineterest, magazines etc. So I get how you might think Kim or Kylie started a certain trend, but, I promise you, fashion doesn’t live on instagram, it’s presented to us there. They didn’t start any single trend, you just saw it on them first, there’s a huge ass difference. And, if you ask me, for a person in her position, meaning she can buy any single piece of clothing in existence, she has ridiculously bad taste, or lack there of, better said.

#kyliejenner #kyliecosmetics #kylie #kylie is trash #kim kardashian #kkw #kylie makeup #kendall jenner #kendall and kylie

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gaycrouton · 6 years ago

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Devotion

Words of Love 4/27

Devotion: (noun) love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity, or cause. [Mulder was nothing, if not devoted to his partner...which was probably why he was carrying her drunken, sleeping body right now]

Mulder never hid from the facts, even if they framed him in a less than favorable light. He was well-aware of the fact he was a man driven by obsession. For as long as he could remember, he could never just casually like something; he would become wholeheartedly devoted .

In the years prior to Samantha’s abduction, he spent his days in fanboy splendor. Each week when a new Star Trek episode came on, he would sit in front of the screen, absolutely enamored with the lavish fantasies of galaxies undiscovered. He would methodically spend the days between episodes rewriting the one he just saw. Exploring everything from the dynamics of the crew to the cultures of the creatures. He could still remember the Spock costume he spent hours creating, wearing it beyond what was deemed appropriate.

He was able to multitask though, just as many hours spent in the fantasy world, he spent an equal amount grossing over the recent baseball scores. From the major league to the local junior league, he was absolutely captivated with the performances and would spend hours recreating the games in his mind, only using the score sheet as a guide.

However, after Samantha’s abduction, his obsession moved onto finding her, and finding out what happened, almost exclusively. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but it was all he could focus on. Well, it was all he used to be able to focus on. It was an irony he was having a hard time grasping. His most recent point of focus, constantly at the forefront of his mind, was the one thing helping him to become less obsessive and compulsive. He was finally able to look at the world through more than a cryptic lens. Is this a new obsession, or is this what love is? Regardless, all he knew was that he was hopelessly devoted to Dana Katherine Scully.

The petite powerhouse came into his life six years ago and he has never been the same. Whenever he thought about the man he was before meeting her, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in himself. He wouldn’t take back a moment he spent searching for Samantha, regardless of how much he had lost, because inevitably it was what led him to Scully, but his life had been so monotonous. He had been living solely for the purpose of chasing, what he now felt to be, a ghost.

He didn’t know when his life’s purpose switched from sulking in the past into investing in the future, but he knew Scully was at the heart of the change. He thinks it was when he first saw her cry after he pulled the trigger during the Modell incident. It dawned on him that, for what seemed like the first time, someone would truly be upset if he died. He didn’t mean to sound morose. He knew the Lone Gunmen and maybe even Skinner would be sad, but Scully’s life would change. She would be devastated. Since then, when he wakes up in the morning, he wants to be a better man for her. God, that sounds so cheesy.

He would do absolutely anything for her; which is probably why he was carrying a completely inebriated Scully to her apartment right now.

Scully asking him for a favor was rare. In fact, aside from this singular instance, he didn’t know if it had ever happened before. When she initially asked him, he couldn’t hide his amusement at how flustered she was about it. Her friend was getting married, and she needed a date.

“Are you asking me to go with you?” Her gaze in response to him screamed ‘tease me and you die.’

“If you aren’t busy, I would really appreciate you accompanying me.” She was trying to hide the fact she was asking him on a date under a veil of professionalism. The only signal she was nervous was the blush she couldn’t shake off her cheeks.

Deciding not to make her recant her request by teasing too much, he readily agreed, “I’d love too.” She gave him a 100 watt Scully-smile and he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

She gave Mulder the time and instructions and he spent the rest of the week fantasizing about their impending date. He knew it was a date in the platonic sense of the word, but it didn’t stop the pride that welled up in his chest every time he remembered she chose him. Scully was a very beautiful woman. He had been present to witness men flirting with her more times than we was comfortable with. He knew it would be so easy for her to ask anyone she wanted, but she wanted to spend the occasion with him.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he fussed over his appearance. He wanted to make the most of this occasion, and he didn’t want her to regret asking him. Mulder didn’t think he was ugly by any means, he knew he was at least average and his suits were always nice and presentable, but now knowing he was about to pick up Scully, he could only focus on the crease that wouldn’t even out on his shirt and the pronounced nose that had been a grievance to him since puberty. He sighed, figuring this was the best it was going to get, and left to go pick up Scully.

When she opened the door, he was positive this had to be an elaborate plan to get him into an early grave. Mulder was not well versed in the terminologies of women’s fashion. She was wearing, what he could best explain to be, a very sexy sundress. It was a dark emerald, beautifully contrasting her hair while simultaneously highlighting her eyes. The dress plunged down her breastbone and it was near backless. The simple straps over her shoulders became an elaborate criss-cross pattern on her back, going so far down it revealed her tattoo.

Her hair was in a similar style to what she wore to work, the only difference being that she allowed her natural curls to be present instead of straightening them out. She was absolutely radiant and it made Mulder want to cry.

They spent the ceremony in comfortable companionship. Though with the added benefit of her occasional touches and hushed whispers. He was glad to know that she knew just about as many people here as he did. It was a dear friend’s wedding, but a dear friend she hadn’t seen in over a decade. So she used him to pass the time in between events. Asking him different odds and ends questions as he returned the same to her. He realized it was humorous halfway through; they could describe how each other’s moods would shift after x-amount of time in a car, how much energy one cup of coffee could provide the other, provide a detailed list of each other’s medical histories, but they didn’t know any of the basics.

While they were sitting in the pews, waiting for the bride and company to get to the chapel and for the wedding march to organize, they took turns asking each other things they didn’t know. Mulder reveled every minute of it, cherishing the new facts he learned like he cherished those baseball scores all those years ago.

Her favorite season was autumn because she loves watching the trees change colors and hearing the leaves crunch beneath her feet. She has an eclectic taste in music, but if she had to choose, her favorites would be Tori Amos and Radiohead. When she was young, she had an irrational fear of clowns. One of his favorite new tidbits of information was that when she was fifteen, Scully let a friend pierce her belly button. She was able to hide it for a year, but when her dad found out, he made her take it out. She’s always wanted to get it redone. Mulder couldn’t shake his amusement at the thought of a rebellious, teenage Scully.

He listened to her words in complete rapture as if she was reciting scripture. Each new anecdote helped him understand his enigma of a partner. He offered answers to her questions too, not wanting to be unfair, and he was flattered to see her equally as interested. It was during the reception when she took him by surprise.

He wouldn’t say Scully never drank, he definitely had seen her indulge in a glass of wine or two in the past, but never had he seen her drink to the point of slurring and stumbling. Retrospectively, it was kind of his fault. She had teased him that she could drink him under the table any day. He insisted that, even though he never drank, his body mass compared to her petite frame would make it easy for him to beat her in a drinking contest. As she sat the first pair of shots down in front of them, she reminded him she was Irish, and the rest was history.

He had to admit, the woman could drink. Every time he flicked his head back and let the amber liquid poor down his throat, it took every fiber of his pride to keep from visually wincing. She, on the other hand, took each shot like a champ, displaying no discomfort whatsoever. Initially the only sign she actually took the shot was the flush that spread across her chest.

After the sixth shot he was feeling pretty buzzed, when he turned to tell her so, he saw she was resting her head on a bended arm, giving him a lazy smile.

“I think I’m ready to concede Scully, I don’t want to let myself get too forgone.”

“I toldja I’d w-win,” she gloated, adorable hiccups breaking apart her slurs.

Mulder felt a grin spread across his face when he realized his normally-reserved Scully was absolutely drunk.

“I may have conceded, but if we evaluate who the drunker is here, I believe that would be you my dear,” he mused, earning him a girlish giggle.

“Whatever you s-say Muldy.” She raise herself from her slouch and moved to rest a hand on top of one of his own. “Muldy, will you dan-ce with me. Just this once? Pleeeassee,” she drew out the last word and jutted her bottom lip out in a pout.

He laughed at his new nickname and couldn’t say no to that face. He grasped the hand that had been clutching onto his and prompted her to stand with him. As soon as she stood up, he was supporting most of her weight. Her head rested on his chest and she swayed on unsteady feet.

“I’m not sure if dancing is in your ability range at the moment,” he laughed, relishing in the normally forbidden contact.

“That’s-s okay. We can jus’ rhythmically hug. I like this,” she disentangled her hand from his and hugged him around the middle, grinning into his torso.

“Rhythmically hug?” He laughed, but didn’t put up any resistance. He crossed his arms on her shoulder blades and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. He was enjoying the swaying even though he wasn’t sure whether it was the ‘rhythmic’ part or the hug or if it was just impossible for her to stay still.

They stayed like that for a while until he felt her drooping more and more in his grasp. Taking a glance down to look at her face, he noticed she was starting to fall asleep.

“Scully?” He nudged.

“Hmmm?”

“Let’s go outside, I’ll get us a cab so I can take you home.”

“Okie dokie Muldy.”

Now, here he was carrying a very inebriated Scully, bridal style, up to her apartment. She was out like a light as soon as they got into the cab, and it took some skill and balance to get her out without waking her up. Mulder had to admit, of all the times he’s imagined a scenario like this, she wasn’t a limp sack of potatoes in his arms. And he wasn’t taking her to bed for sleep.

It took a bit longer than usual, but he was able to unlock the apartment door, pull back the covers, remove her heels, and tuck her into bed. He didn’t know if she’d be mad that she slept in her dress, but he wasn’t going to violate her privacy by changing her.

“Goodnight, Scully,” he whispered after pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss.

As he turned to leave, he felt a small hand reach out and grab onto his fingers. Turning around he met her gaze through sleep-hung lids.

“I love you,” she sighed with a smile.

His heart jumped to his throat and he brushed some stray hair behind her ear. “I love you too Scully, and I always will.”

He left the room with a final smile that took hours to leave his face.

He couldn’t help it. When it can to Scully, he would be eternally devoted.

#msr fanfiction #x files fanfic #x files fanfiction #mulder and scully #dana scully #fox mulder #words of love #gaycrouton #onlytheinevitable #my fanfiction

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elliemuze · 2 years ago

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I do agree and completely understand you're not actually defending him. (I despise him, too.)

The ugly truth is that, yes, upbringing plays a huge part in shaping the person we become. And your post by no means excuses his behavior (because there is no excuse), but rather ponders potential explanations. And I do feel like what you've mentioned is a completely valid explanation.

Before Alicent completely poisoned him, Aegon II seemed to be your average douchebag teenager, which is a stage that most people tend to grow out of. But because of that poisoning, because of neglect and straight up abuse, it's like he dug his claws in deeper and held fast, desperate for any validation whatsoever, to the point he began taking that affection by force. That's the clinical analysis of it, of course, while the very blatant, layman reality is that he's become a monster who rapes girls, seeks entertainment through child fight clubs (of which some of his own illegitimate children are enslaved), ignores his sister/wife and their children, and treats everyone in his vicinity like offal.

I do find it gutwrenchingly tragic that he's retained some level of self-awareness. (Tragic in the archaic sense, not "aw, poor baby!") Because when even the weasely little rapist man finds the whole affair to be contemptibly stupid and knows his father would've never changed his mind to name him heir, much less last minute, that's gotta be SOME kind of wake-up call. (Alas, it isn't.) He is viscerally aware of how broken he is - that he's become the embodiment of human fecal matter and needs help/intervention, but no one is listening to him and frankly just enable him. This includes his mother most of all, despite how she's occasionally disparaged him for his actions. Viserys is also accountable in many ways, of course, not just Alicent. No matter how much fans loved him, myself included, he dropped the ball in a big way. That being said, we the audience never really got to witness those exchanges. Like what came first, chicken or egg? Or, in this case, did Viserys actually try to impress noble qualities upon his son, saw it was to no avail, and so threw in the towel while unofficially disinheriting him? We're to presume he neglected his newest children from the start, which imo is a fair presumption, given how even Aegon II knew his father didn't like him and even Viserys himself refers to Rhaenyra as his only child (granted, he's eyeball deep in Poppy Milkshakes at the time). But Viserys did seem proud and delighted with his son when Aegon II was a toddler. Then again, it's easy when they're babies and you have a team of people helping you raise them. Perhaps much of it was simply performative, too, who knows? Because again, we the audience were never really privy to any of that nuance with our own eyes, and must rely on these few characters to paint a picture for us.

What really irks me is that, while Alicent also unofficially disinherited him, saying he was no son of hers, in the end it meant literally nothing. Ignoring how she herself is partially responsible for the man he's become, when you disown your child for doing something truly heinous (objectively a good thing), but then turn around and move heaven and earth to break law, usurp the throne, and crown that same child King, you possess no righteousness at all, actually. Your scruples are conditional and you're a hypocrite. Like, if you're gonna be a traitor, at least install the better son?? I don't like Aemond (I do think he's a great character), but he's obviously the better choice by a landslide. Even Otto's bullshit line of "we do this for the safety of the realm" falls flat, because yeah we know it's a lie and the Hightowers are just power-hungry dicks, but Aemond would clearly be better for the realm in every possible way rather than his brother. Like y'all couldn't control him before, and now you put a crown on his head and hand him the keys to the kingdoms? How tf do you think this is gonna go?

At the end of the day, it remains a fine line, the way I see it. The dichotomy surrounding upbringing, or nature vs nurture. Parents are, in some fashion, responsible for the actions of their children and how they behave. (Just look at how Alicent's children act compared to Rhaenyra's. Although I don't count Helaena in this, because she seems to be a genuinely good if lonely person who keeps to herself.) That being said, there does come a point when that child is a full-grown adult, responsible for their own actions.

And because I do think there's a degree of correlation, I understand why many fans are upset over the moral-whitewashing of Team Green, too (particularly Alicent). While it does add more nuance, it's still a double-edged sword imo. Because then you run into the problem of victimizing abusers. The truth is that, yes, people are complex and often never just black and white, and you can absolutely run with that because it's compelling af. But on the flipside of that is just as I said - it feels like the narrative itself is trying desperately to give Alicent/Team Green, and even Aegon II a foothold. Because from what we the audience have seen... morally and lawfully it's no contest, even though the writers and some fans would love for you to believe otherwise. (To clarify - in terms of overall "teams," not necessarily individual characters.)

My point is, in pushing this angle (clumsily, at that), really all they did was make her more of a hypocrite and repugnantly complicit. The writers seem to be focusing on the wrong nerve bundles, even if their intentions may be sincere. The message that should be made abundantly clear: "just because you're not wrong doesn't mean you're right" is getting lost. Instead, they focus on emotional torture porn to garner shock and sympathy, then gloss over the fact that these characters are still enabling reprehensible things. Both narratives can respectably coexist, but the balance needs a lot of work. Cuz yes, at the start of the series, Alicent was absolutely a victim, that's indisputable. But instead of blaming the person(s) actually responsible, she took it out on other people and hit the ground running, barreling whole-hog into civil war. The victim became the abuser. In fairness, that does happen. Constantly. It's devastating. But so far, I've personally been unimpressed with how the narrative has handled these complex issues. (I will give Alicent credit tho for ep. 9 in realizing a lot of her mistakes and trying to protect Rhaenyra's family, even if, just like with Aegon, those words end up carrying little to no weight.)

And some will certainly argue that Team Black has been "sanitized," too, which may very well be true. I haven't read the book myself as of yet, but my perspective is built upon the collective reports of those who did (on both sides). Given the unreliable narrator(s), I really don't believe the in-show sanitization of both Houses are comparable. Because those narrators, if I understand correctly, are the enemies of Team Black. Of course they're going to make Rhaenyra and her supporters look hellish and unsavory. But those same narrators would have no reason to make Team Green out to be villains. So if most readers are under the blanket perception that all of Team Green are categorically the "bad guys," to me, that not only speaks for itself, but says a whole hell of a lot.

When your own allies retell a war with rose-colored spectacles firm in place and you're still somehow the most hated/criticized House rather than the one your allies had every reason to paint like nasty gremlins?

Fucking yikes, bestie!

Anyways, fuck. I rambled for way too long and tripped down too many tangents, I'm ever so sorry. I didn't mean to derail from your original message, OP. I sincerely agree with your interpretation. 💜

(In fact, I'd say it's just canon fact, but these shows have so many leftfield twists, I'm covering all my bases lol.)

Aegon II Rant

I am sorry to be that person because anything relating to SA is non-defensible to me, but I feel like this needs to be said. Is it possible Aegon's behaviour is just a cry for attention?! I mean he is in constant need of reassurance ("Do you love me?" "You imbecile") as well as feeling undervalued ("I did not ask for this. I've done everything you've asked me to… It will never be enough for you or father."), and he is constantly being pushed into something he KNOWS he's unfit for. Furthermore, everybody keeps telling him in subtle ways he's not right for it too (his mother disinherits him, his father doesn't give two s*its about him, his sister/wife detests him in the sweetest way because Helaena and one of his brothers YES THERE ARE TWO OF THEM agrees that he's unfit). He knows that the crown in a death sentence saw the way it absolutely destroyed Viserys. And yet he has been pushed towards it, has done anything and everything to forget his existence and how he is inching closer and closer to a destiny he wishes he can run away from. It's like watching a live-action trainwreck, an interesting one, but a trainwreck nonetheless. Moreover, he is constantly in a fight or flight response thanks to being force-fed this narrative that his nephews and older sister will kill him just because he exists. He is forced to marry his younger sister despite not being attracted to her whatsoever, actively ignores her (as she tells us during the feast scene) and probably could not care less about his children, all to reach a goal that is not his?! He has been telling us, since ep 5 I think, that he does not want the throne. And although he does pull a Jon Snow *insert 'I Don't Want It' gif here* Jon had something that Aegon II does not have, which is some sliver of support, a family who loves him and actual friends. This boy is so isolated and had absolutely no self-confidence whatsoever that it makes me sad at times. Because if Alicent really wants to say he is no son of hers when he SA's that girl, then she has to acknowledge that every step she took, every horrible thing she has whispered in his ear during his entire life, has led him here, has made him this shell of a white dude who I couldn't hate more.

It really brings forth the concept of nature vs. nurture for me, because we've seen him be a relatively normal boy, joking around with his nephews and playing pranks on his brother. But then he evolved into this, and it breaks my f*cking heart and makes me mad as hell. (I will refer you to this Philip Larking poem).

Yet, I find myself feeling somewhat sorry for him sometimes, despite him being a horrible, rancid human being. Shoutout to the actor, because as soon as people started cheering for Aegon I saw the flicker of somesuch emotion in his eyes and it made me shiver, because yes, this boy just wants acceptance despite being horrid. Thank you Tom Glynn-Carney for making me hate you and love you at the same time!

#anti team green #anti alicent hightower #using anti tags to be safe #i may not agree with green fans and find many to be lowkey abhorrent but im not a barbarian #respect your peers folks!#even if some of their takes are truly rancid lol #personal

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top40gordy · 6 years ago

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Twitt https://twitter.com/share?text=Everything%20You%20Know%20About%20Obesity%20Is%20Wrong&url=https://highline.huffingtonpost.com/articles/en/everything-you-know-about-obesity-is-wrong/&via=HiSEPTEMBER 19, 2018

For decades, the medical community has ignored mountains of evidence to wage a cruel and futile war on fat people, poisoning public perception and ruining millions of lives.

It’s time for a new paradigm.

STORY BY Michael Hobbes

IMAGES BY Finlay MacKay

From the 16th century to the 19th, scurvy killed around 2 million sailors, more than warfare, shipwrecks and syphilis combined. It was an ugly, smelly death, too, beginning with rattling teeth and ending with a body so rotted out from the inside that its victims could literally be startled to death by a loud noise. Just as horrifying as the disease itself, though, is that for most of those 300 years, medical experts knew how to prevent it and simply failed to.

In the 1600s, some sea captains distributed lemons, limes and oranges to sailors, driven by the belief that a daily dose of citrus fruit would stave off scurvy’s progress. The British Navy, wary of the cost of expanding the treatment, turned to malt wort, a mashed and cooked byproduct of barley which had the advantage of being cheaper but the disadvantage of doing nothing whatsoever to cure scurvy. In 1747, a British doctor named James Lind conducted an experiment where he gave one group of sailors citrus slices and the others vinegar or seawater or cider. The results couldn’t have been clearer. The crewmen who ate fruit improved so quickly that they were able to help care for the others as they languished. Lind published his findings, but died before anyone got around to implementing them nearly 50 years later.

This kind of myopia repeats throughout history. Seat belts were invented long before the automobile but weren’t mandatory in cars until the 1960s. The first confirmed death from asbestos exposure was recorded in 1906, but the U.S. didn’t start banning the chemical until 1973. Every discovery in public health, no matter how significant, must compete with the traditions, assumptions and financial incentives of the society implementing it.

Which brings us to one of the largest gaps between science and practice in our own time. Years from now, we will look back in horror at the counterproductive ways we addressed the obesity epidemic and the barbaric ways we treated fat people—long after we knew there was a better path.

I have never written a story where so many of my sources cried during interviews, where they shook with anger describing their interactions with doctors and strangers and their own families.

About 40 years ago, Americans started getting much larger. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, nearly 80 percent of adults and about one-third of children now meet the clinical definition of overweight or obese. More Americans live with “extreme obesity“ than with breast cancer, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s and HIV put together.

And the medical community’s primary response to this shift has been to blame fat people for being fat. Obesity, we are told, is a personal failing that strains our health care system, shrinks our GDP and saps our military strength. It is also an excuse to bully fat people in one sentence and then inform them in the next that you are doing it for their own good. That’s why the fear of becoming fat, or staying that way, drives Americans to spend more on dieting every year than we spend on video games or movies. Forty-five percent of adults say they’re preoccupied with their weight some or all of the time—an 11-point rise since 1990. Nearly half of 3- to 6- year old girls say they worry about being fat.

The emotional costs are incalculable. I have never written a story where so many of my sources cried during interviews, where they double- and triple-checked that I would not reveal their names, where they shook with anger describing their interactions with doctors and strangers and their own families. One remembered kids singing “Baby Beluga” as she boarded the school bus, another said she has tried diets so extreme she has passed out and yet another described the elaborate measures he takes to keep his spouse from seeing him naked in the light. A medical technician I’ll call Sam (he asked me to change his name so his wife wouldn’t find out he spoke to me) said that one glimpse of himself in a mirror can destroy his mood for days. “I have this sense I’m fat and I shouldn’t be,” he says. “It feels like the worst kind of weakness.”

My interest in this issue is slightly more than journalistic. Growing up, my mother’s weight was the uncredited co-star of every family drama, the obvious, unspoken reason why she never got out of the car when she picked me up from school, why she disappeared from the family photo album for years at a time, why she spent hours making meatloaf then sat beside us eating a bowl of carrots.

Last year, for the first time, we talked about her weight in detail. When I asked if she was ever bullied, she recalled some guy calling her a “fat slob” as she biked past him years ago. “But that was rare,” she says. “The bigger way my weight affected my life was that I waited to do things because I thought fat people couldn’t do them.” She got her master’s degree at 38, her Ph.D. at 55. “I avoided so many activities where I thought my weight would discredit me.”

Chances of a woman classified as obese achieving a “normal” weight:.008%Source: American Journal of Public Health, 2015

But my mother’s story, like Sam’s, like everyone’s, didn’t have to turn out like this. For 60 years, doctors and researchers have known two things that could have improved, or even saved, millions of lives. The first is that diets do not work. Not just paleo or Atkins or Weight Watchers or Goop, but all diets. Since 1959, research has shown that 95 to 98 percent of attempts to lose weight fail and that two-thirds of dieters gain back more than they lost. The reasons are biological and irreversible.

As early as 1969, research showed that losing just 3 percent of your body weight resulted in a 17 percent slowdown in your metabolism—a body-wide starvation response that blasts you with hunger hormones and drops your internal temperature until you rise back to your highest weight. Keeping weight off means fighting your body’s energy-regulation system and battling hunger all day, every day, for the rest of your life.

The second big lesson the medical establishment has learned and rejected over and over again is that weight and health are not perfect synonyms. Yes, nearly every population-level study finds that fat people have worse cardiovascular health than thin people. But individuals are not averages: Studies have found that anywhere from one-third to three-quarters of people classified as obese are metabolically healthy. They show no signs of elevated blood pressure, insulin resistance or high cholesterol. Meanwhile, about a quarter of non-overweight people are what epidemiologists call “the lean unhealthy.” A 2016 study that followed participants for an average of 19 years found that unfit skinny people were twice as likely to get diabetes as fit fat people. Habits, no matter your size, are what really matter. Dozens of indicators, from vegetable consumption to regular exercise to grip strength, provide a better snapshot of someone’s health than looking at her from across a room.

The terrible irony is that for 60 years, we’ve approached the obesity epidemic like a fad dieter: If we just try the exact same thing one more time, we'll get a different result. And so it’s time for a paradigm shift. We’re not going to become a skinnier country. But we still have a chance to become a healthier one.

A NOTE ABOUT OUR PHOTOGRAPHS So many images you see in articles about obesity strip fat people of their strength and personality. According to a recent study, only 11 percent of large people depicted in news reports were wearing professional clothing. Nearly 60 percent were headless torsos. So, we asked our interview subjects to take full creative control of the photos in this piece. This is how they want to present themselves to the world.

“As a kid, I thought that fat people were just lonely and sad—almost like these pathetic lost causes. So I want to show that we get to experience love, too. I’m not some 'fat friend' or some dude's chubby chasing dream. I'm genuinely happy. I just wish I'd known how possible that was when I was a kiddo.”— CORISSA ENNEKING

This is Corissa Enneking at her lightest: She wakes up, showers and smokes a cigarette to keep her appetite down. She drives to her job at a furniture store, she stands in four-inch heels all day, she eats a cup of yogurt alone in her car on her lunch break. After work, lightheaded, her feet throbbing, she counts out three Ritz crackers, eats them at her kitchen counter and writes down the calories in her food journal.

Or not. Some days she comes home and goes straight to bed, exhausted and dizzy from hunger, shivering in the Kansas heat. She rouses herself around dinnertime and drinks some orange juice or eats half a granola bar. Occasionally she’ll just sleep through the night, waking up the next day to start all over again.

The last time she lived like this, a few years ago, her mother marched her to the hospital. “My daughter is sick,” she told the doctor. “She's not eating.” He looked Enneking up and down. Despite six months of starvation, she was still wearing plus sizes, still couldn’t shop at J. Crew, still got unsolicited diet advice from colleagues and customers.

Enneking told the doctor that she used to be larger, that she’d lost some weight the same way she had lost it three or four times before—seeing how far she could get through the day without eating, trading solids for liquids, food for sleep. She was hungry all the time, but she was learning to like it. When she did eat, she got panic attacks. Her boss was starting to notice her erratic behavior.

“Well, whatever you're doing now,” the doctor said, “it's working.” He urged her to keep it up and assured her that once she got small enough, her body would start to process food differently. She could add a few hundred calories to her diet. Her period would come back. She would stay small, but without as much effort.

“If you looked at anything other than my weight,” Enneking says now, “I had an eating disorder. And my doctor was congratulating me.”

Ask almost any fat person about her interactions with the health care system and you will hear a story, sometimes three, the same as Enneking’s: rolled eyes, skeptical questions, treatments denied or delayed or revoked. Doctors are supposed to be trusted authorities, a patient’s primary gateway to healing. But for fat people, they are a source of unique and persistent trauma. No matter what you go in for or how much you’re hurting, the first thing you will be told is that it would all get better if you could just put down the Cheetos.

Emily went to a gynecological surgeon to have an ovarian cyst removed. The physician pointed out her body fat on the MRI, then said, “Look at that skinny woman in there trying to get out.”

This phenomenon is not merely anecdotal. Doctors have shorter appointments with fat patients and show less emotional rapport in the minutes they do have. Negative words—“noncompliant, “overindulgent,” “weak willed”—pop up in their medical histories with higher frequency. In one study, researchers presented doctors with case histories of patients suffering from migraines. With everything else being equal, the doctors reported that the patients who were also classified as fat had a worse attitude and were less likely to follow their advice. And that’s when they see fat patients at all: In 2011, the Sun-Sentinel polled OB-GYNs in South Florida and discovered that 14 percent had barred all new patients weighing more than 200 pounds.

Some of these doctors are simply applying the same presumptions as the society around them. An anesthesiologist on the West Coast tells me that as soon as a larger patient goes under, the surgeons start trading “high school insults” about her body over the operating table. Janice O’Keefe, a former nurse in Boston, tells me a doctor once looked at her, paused, then asked, “How could you do this to yourself?” Emily, a counselor in Eastern Washington, went to a gynecological surgeon to have an ovarian cyst removed. The physician pointed out her body fat on the MRI, then said, “Look at that skinny woman in there trying to get out.”

“I was worried I had cancer,” Emily says, “and she was turning it into a teachable moment about my weight.”

Other physicians sincerely believe that shaming fat people is the best way to motivate them to lose weight. “It’s the last area of medicine where we prescribe tough love,” says Mayo Clinic researcher Sean Phelan.

In a 2013 journal article, bioethicist Daniel Callahan argued for more stigma against fat people. “People don’t realize that they are obese or if they do realize it, it’s not enough to stir them to do anything about it,” he tells me. Shame helped him kick his cigarette habit, he argues, so it should work for obesity too.

This belief is cartoonishly out of step with a generation of research into obesity and human behavior. As one of the (many) stigma researchers who responded to Callahan’s article pointed out, shaming smokers and drug users with D.A.R.E.-style “just say no” messages may have actually increased substance abuse by making addicts less likely to bring up their habit with their doctors and family members.

Plus, rather obviously, smoking is a behavior; being fat is not. Jody Dushay, an endocrinologist and obesity specialist at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston, says most of her patients have tried dozens of diets and have lost and regained hundreds of pounds before they come to her.

Telling them to try again, but in harsher terms, only sets them up to fail and then blame themselves.

89%of obese adults have been bullied by their romantic partners Source: University of Connecticut, 2017

Not all physicians set out to denigrate their fat patients, of course; some of them do damage because of subtler, more unconscious biases. Most doctors, for example, are fit—“If you go to an obesity conference, good luck trying to get a treadmill at 5 a.m.,” Dushay says—and have spent more than a decade of their lives in the high-stakes, high-stress bubble of medical schools.

According to several studies, thin doctors are more confident in their recommendations, expect their patients to lose more weight and are more likely to think dieting is easy. Sarah (not her real name), a tech CEO in New England, once told her doctor that she was having trouble eating less throughout the day. “Look at me,” her doctor said. “I had one egg for breakfast and I feel fine.”

Then there are the glaring cultural differences. Kenneth Resnicow, a consultant who trains physicians to build rapport with their patients, says white, wealthy, skinny doctors will often try to bond with their low-income patients by telling them, “I know what it’s like not to have time to cook.” Their patients, who might be single mothers with three kids and two jobs, immediately think “No, you don’t,” and the relationship is irretrievably soured.

When Joy Cox, an academic in New Jersey, was 16, she went to the hospital with stomach pains. The doctor didn’t diagnose her dangerously inflamed bile duct, but he did, out of nowhere, suggest that she’d get better if she stopped eating so much fried chicken. “He managed to denigrate my fatness and my blackness in the same sentence,” she says.

“There is so much agency taken from marginalized groups to mute their voices and mask their existence. Being depicted as a female CEO—one who is also black and fat—means so much to me. It is a representation of the reclamation of power in the boardroom, classroom and living room of my body. I own all of this.”— JOY COX

Many of the financial and administrative structures doctors work within help reinforce this bad behavior. The problem starts in medical school, where, according to a 2015 survey, students receive an average of just 19 hours of nutrition education over four years of instruction—five hours fewer than they got in 2006. Then the trouble compounds once doctors get into daily practice. Primary care physicians only get 15 minutes for each appointment, barely enough time to ask patients what they ate today, much less during all the years leading up to it. And a more empathic approach to treatment simply doesn’t pay: While procedures like blood tests and CT scans command reimbursement rates from hundreds to thousands of dollars, doctors receive as little as $24 to provide a session of diet and nutrition counseling.

Lesley Williams, a family medicine doctor in Phoenix, tells me she gets an alert from her electronic health records software every time she’s about to see a patient who is above the “overweight” threshold. The reason for this is that physicians are often required, in writing, to prove to hospital administrators and insurance providers that they have brought up their patient’s weight and formulated a plan to bring it down—regardless of whether that patient came in with arthritis or a broken arm or a bad sunburn. Failing to do that could result in poor performance reviews, low ratings from insurance companies or being denied reimbursement if they refer patients to specialized care.

Another issue, says Kimberly Gudzune, an obesity specialist at Johns Hopkins, is that many doctors, no matter their specialty, think weight falls under their authority. Gudzune often spends months working with patients to set realistic goals—playing with their grandkids longer, going off a cholesterol medication—only to have other doctors threaten it all. One of her patients was making significant progress until she went to a cardiologist who told her to lose 100 pounds. “All of a sudden she goes back to feeling like a failure and we have to start over,” Gudzune says. “Or maybe she just never comes back at all.”

60%of the calories Americans consume come from “ultra-processed foods” Source: British Medical Journal, 2016

And so, working within a system that neither trains nor encourages them to meaningfully engage with their higher-weight patients, doctors fall back on recommending fad diets and delivering bland motivational platitudes. Ron Kirk, an electrician in Boston, says that for years, his doctor's first resort was to put him on some diet he couldn't maintain for more than a few weeks. “They told me lettuce was a ‘free’ food,” he says—and he’d find himself carving up a head of romaine for dinner.

In a study that recorded 461 interactions with doctors, only 13 percent of patients got any specific plan for diet or exercise and only 5 percent got help arranging a follow-up visit. “It can be stressful when [patients] start asking a lot of specific questions” about diet and weight loss, one doctor told researchers in 2012. “I don’t feel like I have the time to sit there and give them private counseling on basics. I say, ‘Here’s some websites, look at this.’” A 2016 survey found that nearly twice as many higher-weight Americans have tried meal-replacement diets—the kind most likely to fail—than have ever received counseling from a dietician.

“It borders on medical malpractice,” says Andrew (not his real name), a consultant and musician who has been large his whole life. A few years ago, on a routine visit, Andrew’s doctor weighed him, announced that he was ��dangerously overweight” and told him to diet and exercise, offering no further specifics. Should he go on a low-fat diet? Low-carb? Become a vegetarian? Should he do CrossFit? Yoga? Should he buy a fucking ThighMaster?

“She didn't even ask me what I was already doing for exercise,” he says. “At the time, I was training for serious winter mountaineering trips, hiking every weekend and going to the gym four times a week. Instead of a conversation, I got a sound bite. It felt like shaming me was the entire purpose.”

All of this makes higher-weight patients more likely to avoid doctors. Three separate studies have found that fat women are more likely to die from breast and cervical cancers than non-fat women, a result partially attributed to their reluctance to see doctors and get screenings. Erin Harrop, a researcher at the University of Washington, studies higher-weight women with anorexia, who, contrary to the size-zero stereotype of most media depictions, are twice as likely to report vomiting, using laxatives and abusing diet pills. Thin women, Harrop discovered, take around three years to get into treatment, while her participants spent an average of 13 and a half years waiting for their disorders to be addressed.

“A lot of my job is helping people heal from the trauma of interacting with the medical system,” says Ginette Lenham, a counselor who specializes in obesity. The rest of it, she says, is helping them heal from the trauma of interacting with everyone else.

“My weight makes me anxious. I'm constantly sucking my stomach in when I stand, and if I'm sitting, I always grab a pillow or couch cushion to hold in front of it. I'm most comfortable in my bathrobe, alone. At the same time, my brain starves for attention. I want to be onstage. I want to be the one holding a microphone. So, I decided to split the difference with this photograph: to perform and to obscure. The worst part is that intellectually I know that I have worth beyond pounds and waist inches and stereotypes. But I still feel like I have to hide.”— SAM (NOT HIS REAL NAME)

If Sonya ever forgets that she is fat, the world will remind her. She has stopped taking the bus, she tells me, because she can sense the aggravation of the passengers squeezing past her. Sarah, the tech CEO, tenses up when anyone brings bagels to a work meeting. If she reaches for one, are her employees thinking, “There goes the fat boss”? If she doesn’t, are they silently congratulating her for showing some restraint?

Emily says it’s the do-gooders who get to her, the women who stop her on the street and tell her how brave she is for wearing a sleeveless dress on a 95-degree day. Sam, the medical technician, avoids the subject of weight altogether. “Men aren’t supposed to think about this stuff—and I think about it constantly,” he admits. “So I never let myself talk about it. Which is weird because it’s the most visible thing about me.”

Again and again, I hear stories of how the pressure to be a “good fatty” in public builds up and explodes. Jessica has four kids. Every week is a birthday party or family reunion or swimming pool social, another opportunity to stand around platters of spare ribs and dinner rolls with her fellow moms.

“Your conscious mind is busy the whole day with how many calories is in everything, what you can eat and who’s watching,” she says. After a few intrusive comments over the years—should you be eating that?—she has learned to be careful, to perform the role of the impeccable fat person. She nibbles on cherry tomatoes, drinks tap water, stays on her feet, ignores the dessert end of the buffet.

Then, as the gathering winds down, Jessica and the other parents divvy up the leftovers. She wraps up burgers or pasta salad or birthday cake, drives her children home and waits for the moment when they are finally in bed. Then, when she’s alone, she eats all the leftovers by herself, in the dark.

“It’s always hidden,” she says. “I buy a package of ice cream, then eat it all. Then I have to go to the store to buy it again. For a week my family thinks there’s a thing of ice cream in the fridge—but it’s actually five different ones.”

Ratio of soda and candy ads seen by black children compared to white children:2:1Source: UConn Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity, 2015

This is how fat-shaming works: It is visible and invisible, public and private, hidden and everywhere at the same time. Research consistently finds that larger Americans (especially larger women) earn lower salaries and are less likely to be hired and promoted. In a 2017 survey, 500 hiring managers were given a photo of an overweight female applicant. Twenty-one percent of them described her as unprofessional despite having no other information about her. What’s worse, only a few cities and one state (nice work, Michigan) officially prohibit workplace discrimination on the basis of weight.

Paradoxically, as the number of larger Americans has risen, the biases against them have become more severe. More than 40 percent of Americans classified as obese now say they experience stigma on a daily basis, a rate far higher than any other minority group. And this does terrible things to their bodies. According to a 2015 study, fat people who feel discriminated against have shorter life expectancies than fat people who don't. “These findings suggest the possibility that the stigma associated with being overweight,” the study concluded, “is more harmful than actually being overweight.”

And, in a cruel twist, one effect of weight bias is that it actually makes you eat more. The stress hormone cortisol—the one evolution designed to kick in when you’re being chased by a tiger or, it turns out, rejected for your looks—increases appetite, reduces the will to exercise and even improves the taste of food. Sam, echoing so many of the other people I spoke with, says that he drove straight to Jack in the Box last year after someone yelled, “Eat less!” at him across a parking lot.

“I don’t want to be portrayed; this is not about me. It’s about that guy you always see on the far treadmill at the gym. Or the lady who brings the most beautiful salads to work every day for lunch. It’s about the little girl who got bullied because of her size and the little boy who was told he wasn’t man enough. It’s not about me but had it been about me when I was that chubby little girl, maybe I wouldn’t be standing here, head against the door, wondering if I’m enough.”— ERIKA

There’s a grim caveman logic to our nastiness toward fat people. “We’re attuned to bodies that look different,” says Janet Tomiyama, a stigma researcher at UCLA. “In our evolutionary past, that might have meant disease risk and been seen as a threat to your tribe.” These biological breadcrumbs help explain why stigma begins so early. Kids as young as 3 describe their larger classmates with words like “mean,” “stupid” and “lazy.”

And yet, despite weight being the number one reason children are bullied at school, America’s institutions of public health continue to pursue policies perfectly designed to inflame the cruelty. TV and billboard campaigns still use slogans like “Too much screen time, too much kid” and “Being fat takes the fun out of being a kid.” Cat Pausé, a researcher at Massey University in New Zealand, spent months looking for a single public health campaign, worldwide, that attempted to reduce stigma against fat people and came up empty. In an incendiary case of good intentions gone bad, about a dozen states now send children home with “BMI report cards,” an intervention unlikely to have any effect on their weight but almost certain to increase bullying from the people closest to them.

This is not an abstract concern: Surveys of higher-weight adults find that their worst experiences of discrimination come from their own families. Erika, a health educator in Washington, can still recite the word her father used to describe her: “husky.” Her grandfather preferred “stocky.” Her mother never said anything about Erika’s body, but she didn't have to. She obsessed over her own, calling herself “enormous” despite being two sizes smaller than her daughter. By the time Erika was 11, she was sneaking into the woods behind her house and vomiting into the creek whenever social occasions made starving herself impossible.

And the abuse from loved ones continues well into adulthood. A 2017 survey found that 89 percent of obese adults had been bullied by their romantic partners. Emily, the counselor, says she spent her teens and 20s “sleeping with guys I wasn’t interested in because they wanted to sleep with me.” In her head, a guy being into her was a rare and depletable resource she couldn’t afford to waste: “I was desperate for men to give me attention. Sex was a good way to do that.”

Eventually, she ended up with someone abusive. He told her during sex that her body was beautiful and then, in the daylight, that it was revolting. “Whenever I tried to leave him, he would say, ‘Where are you gonna find someone who will put up with your disgusting body?’” she remembers.

Emily finally managed to get away from him, but she is aware that her love life will always be fraught. The guy she’s dating now is thin—“think Tony Hawk,” she says—and she notices the looks they get when they hold hands in public. “That never used to happen when I dated fat dudes,” she says. “Thin men are not allowed to be attracted to fat women.”

The effects of weight bias get worse when they’re layered on top of other types of discrimination. A 2012 study found that African-American women are more likely to become depressed after internalizing weight stigma than white women. Hispanic and black teenagers also have significantly higher rates of bulimia. And, in a remarkable finding, rich people of color have higher rates of cardiovascular disease than poor people of color—the opposite of what happens with white people. One explanation is that navigating increasingly white spaces, and increasingly higher stakes, exerts stress on racial minorities that, over time, makes them more susceptible to heart problems.

But perhaps the most unique aspect of weight stigma is how it isolates its victims from one another. For most minority groups, discrimination contributes to a sense of belongingness, a community in opposition to a majority. Gay people like other gay people; Mormons root for other Mormons. Surveys of higher-weight people, however, reveal that they hold many of the same biases as the people discriminating against them. In a 2005 study, the words obese participants used to classify other obese people included gluttonous, unclean and sluggish.

Andrea, a retired nurse in Boston, has been on commercial diets since she was 10 years old. She knows how hard it is to slim down, knows what women larger than her are going through, but she still struggles not to pass judgment when she sees them in public. “I think, ‘How did they let it happen?’” she says. “It’s more like fear. Because if I let myself go, I’ll be that big too.”

Her position is all-too understandable. As young as 9 or 10, I knew that coming out of the closet is what gay people do, even if it took me another decade to actually do it. Fat people, though, never get a moment of declaring their identity, of marking themselves as part of a distinct group. They still live in a society that believes weight is temporary, that losing it is urgent and achievable, that being comfortable in their bodies is merely “glorifying obesity.” This limbo, this lie, is why it’s so hard for fat people to discover one another or even themselves. “No one believes our It Gets Better story,” says Tigress Osborn, the director of community outreach for the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance. “You can’t claim an identity if everyone around you is saying it doesn’t or shouldn’t exist.”

Harrop, the eating disorders researcher, realized several years ago that her university had clubs for trans students, immigrant students, Republican students, but none for fat students. So she started one—and it has been a resounding, unmitigated failure. Only a handful of fat people have ever shown up; most of the time, thin folks sit around brainstorming about how to be better allies.

I ask Harrop why she thinks the group has been such a bust. It’s simple, she says: “Fat people grow up in the same fat-hating culture that non-fat people do.”

“I think some folks are genuinely surprised that a man who looks like him is with a woman like me. As a fat person, I'm very aware of when I'm being stared at—and I have never been looked at this much before. So I thought that taking the photo in public would be a good idea. It feels subversive to show my fat body doing regular stuff the world believes I don't or can't do.”— EMILY

Since 1980, the obesity rate has doubled in 73 countries and increased in 113 others. And in all that time, no nation has reduced its obesity rate. Not one.

The problem is that in America, like everywhere else, our institutions of public health have become so obsessed with body weight that they have overlooked what is really killing us: our food supply. Diet is the leading cause of death in the United States, responsible for more than five times the fatalities of gun violence and car accidents combined. But it’s not how much we’re eating—Americans actually consume fewer calories now than we did in 2003. It’s what we’re eating.

For more than a decade now, researchers have found that the quality of our food affects disease risk independently of its effect on weight. Fructose, for example, appears to damage insulin sensitivity and liver function more than other sweeteners with the same number of calories. People who eat nuts four times a week have 12 percent lower diabetes incidence and a 13 percent lower mortality rate regardless of their weight. All of our biological systems for regulating energy, hunger and satiety get thrown off by eating foods that are high in sugar, low in fiber and injected with additives. And which now, shockingly, make up 60 percent of the calories we eat.

Draining this poison from our trillion-dollar food system is not going to happen quickly or easily. Every link in the chain, from factory farms to school lunches, is dominated by a Mars or a Monsanto or a McDonald’s, each working tirelessly to lower its costs and raise its profits. But that’s still no reason to despair. There’s a lot we can do right now to improve fat people’s lives—to shift our focus for the first time from weight to health and from shame to support.

The place to start is at the doctor’s office. The central failure of the medical system when it comes to obesity is that it treats every patient exactly the same: If you’re fat, lose some weight. If you’re skinny, keep up the good work. Stephanie Sogg, a psychologist at the Mass General Weight Center, tells me she has clients who start eating compulsively after a sexual assault, others who starve themselves all day before bingeing on the commute home and others who eat 1,000 calories a day, work out five times a week and still insist that they’re fat because they “have no willpower.”

Acknowledging the infinite complexity of each person’s relationship to food, exercise and body image is at the center of her treatment, not a footnote to it. “Eighty percent of my patients cry in the first appointment,” Sogg says. “For something as emotional as weight, you have to listen for a long time before you give any advice. Telling someone, 'Lay off the cheeseburgers' is never going to work if you don't know what those cheeseburgers are doing for them.”

4% of all agricultural subsidies go to fruits and vegetables Source: Environmental Working Group, 2014-16

The medical benefits of this approach—being nicer to her patients than they are to themselves, is how Sogg describes it—are unimpeachable. In 2017, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, the expert panel that decides which treatments should be offered for free under Obamacare, found that the decisive factor in obesity care was not the diet patients went on, but how much attention and support they received while they were on it. Participants who got more than 12 sessions with a dietician saw significant reductions in their rates of prediabetes and cardiovascular risk. Those who got less personalized care showed almost no improvement at all.

Still, despite the Task Force’s explicit recommendation of “intensive, multicomponent behavioral counseling” for higher-weight patients, the vast majority of insurance companies and state health care programs define this term to mean just a session or two—exactly the superficial approach that years of research says won’t work. “Health plans refuse to treat this as anything other than a personal problem,” says Chris Gallagher, a policy consultant at the Obesity Action Coalition.

The same scurvy-ish negligence shows up at every level of government. From marketing rules to antitrust regulations to international trade agreements, U.S. policy has created a food system that excels at producing flour, sugar and oil but struggles to deliver nutrients at anywhere near the same scale. The United States spends $1.5 billion on nutrition research every year compared to around $60 billion on drug research. Just 4 percent of agricultural subsidies go to fruits and vegetables. No wonder that the healthiest foods can cost up to eight times more, calorie for calorie, than the unhealthiest—or that the gap gets wider every year.

It’s the same with exercise. The cardiovascular risks of sedentary lifestyles, suburban sprawl and long commutes are well-documented. But rather than help mitigate these risks—and their disproportionate impact on the poor—our institutions have exacerbated them. Only 13 percent of American children walk or bike to school; once they arrive, less than a third of them will take part in a daily gym class. Among adults, the number of workers commuting more than 90 minutes each way grew by more than 15 percent from 2005 to 2016, a predictable outgrowth of America’s underinvestment in public transportation and over-investment in freeways, parking and strip malls. For 40 years, as politicians have told us to eat more vegetables and take the stairs instead of the elevator, they have presided over a country where daily exercise has become a luxury and eating well has become extortionate.

“My son and I both like to play the hero. There wasn't necessarily any intentional symbolism in the costumes we chose, but I am definitely a member of the rebellion, and I see my role as an eating disorders researcher as trying to fight for justice and a better world. Also, I like that I'm sweaty, dirty and messy, not done up with makeup or with my hair down in this picture. I like that I'm not hiding my stomach, thighs or arms. Not because I'm comfortable being photographed like that, but because I want to be—and I want others to feel free to be like that, too.”— ERIN HARROP

The good news is that the best ideas for reversing these trends have already been tested. Many “failed” obesity interventions are, in fact, successful eat-healthier-and-exercise-more interventions. A review of 44 international studies found that school-based activity programs didn’t affect kids’ weight, but improved their athletic ability, tripled the amount of time they spent exercising and reduced their daily TV consumption by up to an hour. Another survey showed that two years of getting kids to exercise and eat better didn’t noticeably affect their size but did improve their math scores—an effect that was greater for black kids than white kids.

You see this in so much of the research: The most effective health interventions aren't actually health interventions—they are policies that ease the hardship of poverty and free up time for movement and play and parenting. Developing countries with higher wages for women have lower obesity rates, and lives are transformed when healthy food is made cheaper. A pilot program in Massachusetts that gave food stamp recipients an extra 30 cents for every $1 they spent on healthy food increased fruit and vegetable consumption by 26 percent. Policies like this are unlikely to affect our weight. They are almost certain, however, to significantly improve our health.

Which brings us to the most hard-wired problem of all: Our shitty attitudes toward fat people. According to Patrick Corrigan, the editor of the journal Stigma and Health, even the most well-intentioned efforts to reduce stigma break down in the face of reality. In one study, researchers told 10- to 12-year-olds all the genetic and medical factors that contribute to obesity. Afterward, the kids could recite back the message they received—fat kids didn’t get that way by choice—but they still had the same negative attitudes about the bigger kids sitting next to them. A similar approach with fifth- and sixth-graders actually increased their intention of bullying their fat classmates. Celebrity representation, meanwhile, can result in what Corrigan calls the “Thurgood Marshall effect”: Instead of updating our stereotypes (maybe fat people aren’t so bad), we just see prominent minorities as isolated exceptions to them (well, he’s not like those other fat people).

What does work, Corrigan says, is for fat people to make it clear to everyone they interact with that their size is nothing to apologize for. “When you pity someone, you think they’re less effective, less competent, more hurt,” he says. “You don’t see them as capable. The only way to get rid of stigma is from power.”

This has always been the great hope of the fat-acceptance movement. (“We’re here, we’re spheres, get used to it” was one of the slogans in the 1990s.) But this radical message has long since been co-opted by clothing brands, diet companies, and soap corporations. Weight Watchers has rebranded as a “lifestyle program,” but still promises that its members can shrink their way to happiness. Mainstream apparel companies market themselves as “body positive” but refuse to make clothes that fit the plus-size models on their own billboards. Social media, too, has provided a platform for positive representations of fat people and formed communities that make it easier to find each other. But it has also contributed to an anodyne, narrow, Dr. Phil-approved form of progress that celebrates the female entrepreneur who sells “fatkinis” on Instagram while ignoring the woman who (true story) gets fired from her management position after reportedly gaining 100 pounds over three years.

“Fat activism isn’t about making people feel better about themselves,” Pausé says. “It’s about not being denied your civil rights and not dying because a doctor misdiagnoses you.”

And so, in a world that refuses to change, it is still up to every fat person, alone, to decide how to endure. Emily, the counselor in Eastern Washington, says she made a choice about three years ago to assert herself. The first time she asked for a table instead of a booth at a restaurant, she says, she was sweating, flushed, her chest heaving. It felt like saying the words—“I can’t fit”—would dry up in her mouth as she said them.

But now, she says, “It’s just something I do.” Last month, she was at a conference and asked one of the other participants if he would trade chairs because his didn’t have arms. Like most of these requests, it was no big deal. “A tall person wouldn’t feel weird asking that, so why should I?” she says. Her skinny friends have started to inquire about the seating at restaurants before Emily even gets the chance.

Hearing about Emily’s progress reminds me of a conversation I had with Ginette Lenham, the diet counselor. Her patients, she says, often live in the past or the future with their weight. They tell her they are waiting until they are smaller to go back to school or apply for a new job. They beg her to return them to their high school or wedding or first triathlon weight, the one that will bring back their former life.

And then Lenham must explain that these dreams are a trap. Because there is no magical cure. There is no time machine. There is only the revolutionary act of being fat and happy in a world that tells you that’s impossible.

“We all have to do our best with the body that we have,” she says. “And leave everyone else’s alone.”

From <https://highline.huffingtonpost.com/articles/en/everything-you-know-about-obesity-is-wrong/>

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thedenimdentist · 4 years ago

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Benzein TDD-02 Derby GMTO

Introduction

This past July, I received my first pair of custom designed boots from Benzein Shoes (@benzeinshoes), deemed the TDD-01 boot. Long story short, I was quite satisfied with how these boots turned out. (See my detailed photo review of these TDD-01 boots here.)

Not long after, we began to discussing the design for a second pair—this time, a derby. And while the stitching on the first pair wasn’t the absolute cleanest, and the vamp leather creased a little more than I would’ve liked, Benzein still produced a very nice boot at a great price. Plus, the guys at Benzein are super chill and easy to work with, and it’s not everyday that one has the opportunity to help develop the pattern for their own boots. Thus, discussions on a second pair began, and the TDD-02 derby was born.

(Disclaimer: I will admit that I cannot be completely unbiased in my “review” of these derbies, as I played a role in their pattern and design. However, as with all my other reviews, I took as many photos as I could so that you can judge for yourself the quality of the TDD-02 derby.)

Specifications & Price

After settling much of the details with Benzein, I did a rough photoshop job combining all of our ideas together using various photos off Instagram. I’ve also included the exact order specifications below. The initial design included using brown Badalassi Carlo Minerva leather for the upper. However, Benzein later informed me that they came up with a limited supply of black teacore Shinki horserump and I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.

Article: TDD-02 derby

Size: 44

Last: Kujang

Upper: teacore horsebutt Shinki Hikaku

Upper stitching: dark brown

Lining: tan calfskin

Hardware: 6 rounded antique brass eyelets + rivets

Toebox: unstructured

Half gusseted tongue

Midsole: single

Outsole: Vibram Sole 2340 Explosion Half Sole & 5340 Explosion Heel

Edge trim: natural

Construction: Veldtschoen 270° (no stitching around heel)

Welt stitching: white

Heels: Cuban heels

Laces: jaguar maroon leather laces

Based on these specifications, the TDD-02 derbies cost a total of $440 USD, including shipping. However, Benzein is offering to drop the price to $400 USD for this GMTO, which for teacore Shinki horsebutt is an amazing deal.

Being completely honest, I can’t remember the exact date I placed my order on these TDD-02 derbies. But according to Benzein their average wait times are about 4 months. My pair was completed on 10/17/2020, shipped out of Jakarta, Indonesia on 10/19/2020, and was delivered in San Jose, CA on 10/23/2020.

Branding & Unboxing

I said it in my first review and I’ll say it again: Benzein has some of the best branding I’ve seen. The navy blue box with it’s champaign emblem is very clean and classy, and it exudes quality and professionalism. Each derby was packaged within an individual boot bag, and also included an extra set of waxed cotton, round laces.

360 Degree View

Since the TDD-01 boots fit so well, I decided to have the TDD-02s built on the same custom wide kujang last. I admit, the kujang last is fairly polarizing. It’s definitely the sleekest, most angular toe shape in the Benzein last collection. In combination with this derby pattern, the kujang last gives the shoe a uniquely modern dressy vibe, and I feel it suits it well.

Again, similar to the TDD-01 boot, we built the TDD-02 on Vibram explosion half soles and heels. They don’t seem to be very popular or common (at least on Instagram), but I really like them. With the derby’s more formal design, I didn’t plan on doing much outdoor hiking in these derbies, so grip and traction weren’t a big concern. If added traction were an issue, I’m sure these derbies would look just as amazing on the more popular Dr. Sole half soles.

Leather

While brown Badalassi Carlo Minerva leather would’ve looked beautiful on these derbies, I have no regrets switching to teacore Shinki horsebutt. This leather is absolutely stunning. The leather is a clean even black, with very subtle marbling texture (most visibly seen on the quarter leather panels). I can’t wait to see how this teacore leather wears in and the stark blacks give way to well-earned teacore browns.

I admit, one of the biggest issues I’ve seen/heard coming out of Benzein is unsightly creasing and loose grain. I can’t be sure if this is an issue with clicking, lasting, or simply not buying top quality hides to begin with. Whatever the case, I’m happy to say I haven’t noticed any issues here. Though it may still be early, I haven’t noticed any loose grain or unsightly creasing yet, which I’m very happy about (see video below).

Stitching & Finishing

I always hate when a boot maker takes some gorgeous leather and constructs a boot with sloppy, half-assed stitching. Luckily, Benzein did not sh*t the bed with this beautiful Shinki horsebutt. The stitching is so good. I’ll admit that while the stitching on the TDD-01 was pretty good, it was a little underwhelming. However, the finishing and stitching on these TDD-02 derbies are significantly cleaner. I can’t put into words why I feel this way, if it’s a slightly thicker thread, a change in stitch count, or something else. But what I can’t say, I’ll let these photos say for me.

Significantly cleaner than the stitching on my TDD-01s, as well as on boots coming out of most other boot factories, both domestic and abroad. The front corners of the quarter panels is a very common place for sloppy stitching. With Benzein, that’s not the case. They have really stepped up their game when it comes to stitching and finishing, and I’m glad for it.

Slight inconsistencies in the placement of the antique brass rivets within the stitching windows, but nothing egregious.

Very clean heel stay stitching. I like it.

The same personalized engraved insoles as my TDD-01s. I’ve always appreciated this little personalization option Benzein offers complementary to its customers. It’s small, and has no bearing on the overall quality of their shoes, but it really it feel like your boots were custom built just for you—which they were already, but still. lol

Pretty neat 270° double row veldtschoen welt stitching. The stitch density on these isn’t the most clean and uniform I’ve seen, compared to the welt stitching by other boot makers such as Onderhoud, Role Club, or Renavgoodsco. However, the spacing between the two rows of stitching is consistent and the stitch lines are straight, which is more than what can be said for many of the very reputable boot brands based in the United States.

As I said in my TDD-01 review, I really like Benzein’s Cuban heel style. (As I noted last time, this style of heel is actually called a woodsman heel, as a Cuban heel actually doesn’t curve as it angles from welt to sole. However, for strictly ordering purposes, if you ask Benzein for their “Cuban heel,” this curved heel is what you will receive.) The majority of the curved “Cuban heels” coming out of Indonesia are extremely bold and “in your face.” However, Benzein’s curved Cuban heel is subtle yet strong, and exudes confidence and character without going overboard.

Try On & Comfort

Not gonna lie, and I know comfort is very subjective, but these derbies fit my ugly bunion feet absolutely perfectly. They were super comfortable right out of the box. As I mentioned earlier, one of the most common issues I’ve seen coming out of Benzein is loose grain and unsightly creasing. Unfortunately I can’t speak on behalf of those people, but at least on this pair I’ve seen no leather issues whatsoever.

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This is my first time recording a video so please forgive the focus inconsistencies and the baby wailing in the background. But as you can see, this leather is gorgeous, and I can’t wait to see how it’ll break in.

GMTO Details

As I stated earlier, the normal price for these derbies is $440 USD. However, Benzein is offering to drop the price for this GMTO to $400 USD (including shipping). Unfortunately, Benzein told me that they only have enough teacore Shinki horsebutt for 6 pairs total, so don’t sleep on this gorgeous leather.

If you have any other questions regarding these TDD-02 derbies or the GMTO, please don’t hesitate to reach out via Instagram to Benzein (@benzeinshoes) or me (@thedenimdentist).

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83gigsof90semocore-blog · 6 years ago

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Post 4: The letter C

Welcome back! It sure wasn't yesterday, how have you been? I'm fine thanks, been a little busy myself and had to put this project on the backburner as you can probably tell. I alluded to being really busy in the last post and that's been pretty much true for all of the past year. Luckily, things are looking a bit better up ahead so I might actually start posting regularly soon!

Much has happened outside of the blog too. I toyed with the idea of moving this beuat over to blogspot (where all the real emo blogs are anyway) when it looked like tumblr was self-destructing for a hot minute. But in the end cooler heads prevailed and it looks like tumblr is just gonna keep existing albeit with less popularity. In the emo world, 125, Rue Montmartre, the first band I covered about a year ago are releasing their discography on vinyl and are now on spotify. All thanks to my blog, I'm sure. Don't be fooled by my modest follower count

I actually have quite a few prestigious readers. Most notably perhaps being Prof. Anders Ahlén, a man important enough to have his own wikipedia page.

C has been the longest letter so far by far clocking in at a mighty 6.56 GB as opposed to the average of 2.8. I've been listening to it in phases with sometimes a month or more in between so it hasn't really been a coherent experience. It has been a real slog though, which is part of why I gave up several times. This has also been a letter with a great number of "famous" emo bands. Because part of the purpose of this listening experience is to experience 90's emo "as it was" rather than colored by nostalgia or what is deemed worthy of attention by the internet discourse I'm disqualifying bands that are prominent in the emo canon from best name, song or image. I will however still do a quick write up on them for those of you not as familiar with emo, chances are I'll reference them in the future so do take notes.

Emo classics

Cap'n Jazz

It's almost impossible to tell the story of 90's emo without Cap'n Jazz. Among their members they have Tim Kinsella, who would later go on to play in Joan of Arc and Owls, his brother Mike Kinsella who would later play in American Football as well as Owls, Their/They're/There and Owen and also Davey von Bohlen who would later play in the Promise ring. When they formed in '89 they where just a bunch teenagers, Mike being just 12. They released their first album 6 years later which goes by the title Burritos, Inspiration Point, Fork Balloon Sports, Cards in the Spokes, Automatic Biographies, Kites, Kung Fu, Trophies, Banana Peels We’ve Slipped on, and Egg Shells We’ve Tippy Toed Over, but is simply referred to as Schmap'n Schmazz by fans. Most of the lyrics where supposedly written by Tim one night while high on mushrooms. They have a wonderful surreal dadaist quality to them with lines such as Hey coffee eyes, you've got me coughing up my cookie heart or You are colder than oldness could ever be. The music is chaotic and full of a warm messy energy. I am personally absolutely enamored with their cover of Aha's Take on me which I insist on putting in as many playlists where it makes some sense whatsoever. As you can hear, Tims vocals do absolutely not Morten Harkets heights (not an easy feat in Tims defense) and you can plainly hear a teenagers voice falseto-cracking and it's absolutely amazing somehow.

Cap'n Jazz really hit the spot of this awkward sensitive yet punk energy that from the start was very central to emo. Although Cap'n Jazz are a big helping sillier and more pubertal than, say, Rites of Spring.

One popular quip about the Velvet underground is the following:

The Velvet Underground didn't sell many records, but everyone who bought one went out and started a band.

I suppose Cap'n Jazz is a bit like that for emo although their presence was perhaps felt as strongest around 2010 with bands such as Snowing, Glocca Morra and in particular Algernon Cadwallader aping their style.

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Christie Front Drive

I think part of the reason for Cap'n Jazz's status as a cornerstone band stems from their originality. Christine Front Drive is in contrast a very prototypical 90's emo band. They have a sound that borrows heavily from both post-hardcore and indie-rock with the slightly whiny vocals typical for the genre and era. On their song November they sing Still the same // Fucked for what you've done // Still over // Staged over // November's almost done // Still the same which I think is a nice cross section of their lyrics (most of the rest of the song are just variations on the same words with "remember" also thrown into the mix). The overall sound is slow, moody and a bit dreamy, very typical of their brand of emo. As easy as it is to find bands that sound similar to CFD, I dare say that they did it better than most and that this is what has earned them their spot in the emo cannon.

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Cursive

Cursive formed in 1995 and has since been together on and off up to the present day, the drive only has music up to 2005 though. This includes their 2003 release the Ugly Organ which was released by Saddle Creek and is the only one I've heard before starting this project. By that point they had already moved away from their emo roots though, and I'm glad to finally have gotten around to their earlier stuff. The Ugly Organ is artsy, catchy and a bit baroque, but also definitely on the outskirts of emo to the point where I'd perhaps describe it as an indie/alternative album if I wasn't talking about them in the context of emo. This doesn't mean that it isn't worth a listen because it absolutely is. Their early stuff is more typical of what the rest of the drive is like with a sound more in the ballpark of CFD but much more punk, with a higher tempo and angrier vocals while still maintaining a somewhat whiny voice, introspective lyrical content and the cold, big guitar sound typical to this branch of emo.

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My favorite band

Car vs Driver

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So far I've generally picked bands that stand out a bit because in a long stream of relative sameness, that's what you end up paying attention to. Car vs Driver is however not one of theses bands that stand out but rather pretty typical of the emocore sound. They do it pretty well though. They are undeniably punk, but with more introspective lyrics and a slightly melodic edge, which is exactly how emo was first conceived. One some of their tracks like the featured Without A Day day even flirt a bit more with an alt-rock sound but they also have songs that are a lot more hardcore like Livid Step.

When researching them I half expected them to be a pretty substantial band that I had somehow managed to miss, but they're actually very unheard of, something which I consider to be a shame.

I did however find that the drummer of the band has a blogspot at beyondfaliure.blogstopt.com where he catalogs various bands he's been a part of. There is a collection of Car vs Driver flyers as well as two live recordings and this summary he wrote for their discography

Car vs. Driver began when I was 17 years old. By the time we played our final show, I was 19. This band was the music of my life during a period when people usually experience the greatest amount of freedom, which is what I think of whenever I listen to this music now. There were so many new experiences: living on our own, meeting new people, getting a new perspective on life. Our lifestyle in turn gave us a new perspective on expressing music, and we poured all of our energy and emotion into it. Music that now seems a world away – music from a different life. It’s hard to remember that everything about being in a band at that time was simply making a 7”, buying the cheapest van you could find, and touring the country for the summer. There was no infrastructure to build your music around, which also removed its barriers. Instead of running our band like a corporation, we played peoples living rooms and basements, engaged in kickball tournaments, made record covers out of manila envelopes, slept on top of our van, cooked pasta, and played with some of the most amazing bands in the process. Bands that epitomized the time – like Spirit Assembly, Policy of 3, Friction, Current, The Yah Mos, Assfactor 4, Frail, Hoover, Freemasonry, Scout, and Inkwell. The experience we had is something that could never be recreated, and I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been a part of that moment in time. Thank you Matt, Steve, and Jonathan for bringing this to me.

James Joyce August 2004

This compilation is dedicated to our faithful roadies Ashley Lawrence Moore and William Anthony Nation.

We froze, sweat, bled, argued, and laughed.

Amazing stuff in all, I can highly recommend clicking around their for a while if you, like me are a bit obsessed with the 90's emo scene.

My favorite band name

Christopher Robin

Christopher Robin is a screamo band that go pretty hard. The name is a funny contrast to this and the juxtaposition between childhood nostalgia and angsty screaming works really well.

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My favorite picture

Featured is the cover to a demo tape by french screamo band Cather Mathra, which features songs such as Ils M'ont Oubliés (they forgot me) or Leur Révolution (their revolution). You can read more about them on psychoviolence, a blog dedicated to French punk & violence. I think that using a medieval (?) drawing for a cover is pretty cool, especially if you're a french screamo band.

Curiosly they don’t have any music on youtube, you’ll have to check out the drive if you want to listen to them. Tumblr has a limit of 5 embedded videos anyway, so that worked out nicely I suppose.

#emo #emocore #cap'n jazz #cursive #christie front drive #car vs driver #christopher robin #cather mathra

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