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opinions-about-tiaras · 1 year ago

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One of the major problems with trying to do this as a modern person living in a developed country is that we’ve all got the capitalism, and its incredibly, almost impossibly difficult to put ourselves into the mental and social position of people operating in a pre-capitalist society.

The mere act of buying something or of employing skilled labor is, in my understanding, incredibly fraught in a society that has not established free markets in land, labor, and capital. We’re used to damn near anything being for sale. If I want to buy a parcel of land for my new model experimental farm, and I have money, I can probably find something that suits my needs.

This might have been very hard even for someone with considerable financial resources back in the day. You want to buy land? From whom? The smallfolk working it probably don’t own it, they have use rights to it but the land isn’t theirs to sell. The nobleman they pay rent to? That’s part of his fief, and his rights to it are considerably more robust than his renters, but he does homage for that land and may not be able to simply dispose of it. The king? Well, kings are perennially poor and want money, but now you’re asking him to strip land from a nobleman, which usually pisses them off. You buy off the king AND the noble? Well, that could work, but now you’re paying twice, and the king is going to expect homage and a vassalage agreement.

It is probably literally not possible to purchase land as a freehold. A sovereign might be alarmed by the very suggestion, which places that land much further outside his authority than he cares to have it, even if he’s an English sovereign who has allodial title to the whole realm. Your land is going to be encumbered somehow.

And even once you get your hands on the land, the smallfolk living there still have use rights and likely cannot simply be summarily dispossessed. They are also likely to resent you coming in and telling them to change how they’ve always farmed because you have fancy ideas about the three-field system and agricultural optimization you’d like to test. You can offer to support them financially if they agree to your terms even if your farming ideas fail, but now you’re paying more money to more people, again.

Once you’ve jumped through all these exhaustive hoops, you still aren’t done. Now you have to get learned people and engineers out to that land to do things like test your ideas for an irrigation system or for more robust kinds of wheat or better crop rotation methods. Such people are in short supply and high demand, and so charge a premium; they and may not want to trek out into the boonies when they can find more remunerative employment in the cities.

Then you find out that you CAN’T build the irrigation project you’d planned on because the baron in the fiefdom downstream from you gallops up, brandishing an old piece of parchment from a king who has been dead for a hundred years granting his family water rights on the stream you’re diverting. Now you’re embroiled in a lawsuit that might take ages to resolve.

Many of these problems are a lot more manageable if you’re a sovereign, of course, who can wave his hand and get a lot done because of course he’s the king anointed by God. But the larger problem is that our modern economic system, for all of its seeming lumbering bureaucracy and unending regulations and restrictions on commerce that libertarian types like to complain about, is designed to smooth transactions and encourage development. A modern capitalist economy wants you to buy and sell. It wants you to develop land. Part of the entire point of things like property taxes aren’t just to raise revenue, but to goad people; either transform that property into something that generates revenue in excess of your tax burden, or transfer it to someone who will.

Pre-capitalist economies sort of don’t care nearly as much about this. They have other priorities.

And this is just with something like “get your hands on a little land to demonstrate how to improve farming.”

What texts would you recommend to develop the sort of general knowledge needed to write something like your economic development plans? I am currently trying to write a setting which has a few major reformist leaders with big plans, and it would really help to know a bit more about how to come up with a workable economic development plan for a fantasy region - I really admired your work on the subject, and thought you were the person to ask.

This is a great question!

Something I've discussed before wrt economic development, is the need to avoid presentism as much as possible. So I've always taken as a central limiter of my economic development proposals that they have to fit within the boundaries of what was known/technologically feasible during the Late Middle Ages through to the Early Modern period.

In this fashion, I try to avoid the Connecticut Yankeee in King Arthur's Court scenario where all of the sudden steam engines appear hundreds of years early out of nowhere - because we shouldn't be assuming that economic development is some teleological process that has to go through the same stages as Western European economic development did in our timeline. The result is that I got really into reading about the Commercial Revolution and the technologies that drove economic development during that period - hence why I became obsessed about canal-building, because canals were a key technology that the Early Modern nation-state used to create and reshape markets.

So here is a meta-list of books I'd recommend on economic development in the Middle Ages through the Early Modern period:

books about medieval and Renaissance governments.

William Cronon’s Nature’s Metropolis, Lawrence Goodwyn's The Populist Moment, and Will and Wong's Nourish the People on the making and remaking and regulating of agricultural markets.

books about Medieval and Renaissance urban development.

books about medieval guilds.

Robert S. Lopez' Commercial Revolution of the Middle Ages.

Joseph Gies' Merchants and Moneymen: the Commercial Revolution.

Pamela Smith, Paul Findlen ed. Commerce, Science, and Art in Early Modern Europe.

Ralph Davis' A Commercial Revolution.

Anthony Burton's The Canal Pioneers and The Canal Builders.

John Blair ed. Waterways and Canal-Building in Medieval England.

A.E.J Morris, History of Urban Form Before the Industrial Revolution.

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usercelestial · 3 years ago

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In the early hours of the morning, while the golden sun streams through their apartment window, Mickey stirs at a knock on the door.

He shakes Ian, whose limbs are wrapped tight around him, his drool pooling on his chest. Ian grumbles something but doesn’t move.

“Someone’s at the door, shithead, go get it,” Mickey shakes him again.

Ian yawns and stretches his arms, laying flat on his back now, “Who the fuck is here this early?” Ian turns back to Mickey, smiling, “You know what day it is?”

Mickey scrunches his eyebrows, trying to remember, “Uh, shit, a Tuesday?” He searches his brain for the date but he doesn’t get very far before Ian jumps on him, pressing kisses to his face.

“It’s your birthday!” Ian says, far too loudly in Mickey’s opinion, in between kisses.

Oh.

Mickey knew Ian would want to celebrate. He’s been getting better at the whole self-love thing. Instead of sulking in their room, remembering all the times he was punished for his excitement until he figured out his existence isn’t something to celebrate, they would go out and get dinner and come home drunk on both alcohol and love. Though he can’t help but feel an ache in his chest for his forlorn upbringing.

“Christ. I forgot,” Mickey places his hands on Ian’s hips, “I’m getting old.”

Ian scoffs, “Don’t say that. You’re still in your twenties, doofus.”

Mickey rolls his eyes and pushes Ian off his lap, “Go get the door.”

Ian complies, leaving one last kiss on his cheek.

He overhears a soft conversation, hushed and excited.

He barely makes out what sounds like a woman’s voice paired with Ian’s. Mickey rubs his eyes, trying to rack his brain for any neighbor they might have pissed off last night who would come over to complain. He quickly throws on clothes and walks out to the living room to see Ian standing in the kitchen with Tami.

She makes eye contact with him, “Fucking finally.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘finally.’ It’s nine in the fucking morning.”

“For normal people with healthy sleep schedules, it’s late,” she cocks her hips out, “Came to drop off your present, asshole, say thank you.”

He punches her shoulder lightly, “Thanks, dick.”

She holds out a small box, wrapped neatly in green wrapping paper. He haphazardly rips it off and opens it.

There's an assortment of gifts. The first thing he pulls out is a Mickey Mouse plushie with a card taped to the front. The writing is messy, scribbled crayon, it reads:

“hapy birth day, uncle mickey

freddie.”

“Cool,” Mickey’s voice breaks, Tami and Ian snicker.

“Lip helped pick out the toy,” Tami adds.

“Fucker,” Mickey gently places the gift on the countertop.

He goes back in and grabs a package wrapped in plastic. He realizes it’s soap and shampoo, a certain kind he told Tami he wanted a while ago, “How the fuck did you remember this?”

Tami shrugs, “You’re my friend, stupid. There’s also a cookbook, Lip got that for both of you since Ian’s getting into growing his own food.”

Mickey grabs the book that’s sitting on the bottom of the box, glancing at it before tossing it to Ian, “Thank you,” he nods and before he realizes it, she’s hugging him and pulling away.

“Happy birthday, Mick. Love you guys,” Tami kisses Ian’s cheek, “I gotta go, see ya.”

“Bye, Tami,” Ian waves, turning back to Mickey, who’s still standing, staring at the gifts that Tami dropped off.

“Hey,” Ian says softly, rubbing his shoulders, “You good, baby?”

Mickey nods, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just-you know-”

Ian does know. Not only because Mickey told him how weird it is, how uncomfortable he gets when people do things like this for him-nice things-but also because Ian experiences it himself. Maybe not to the same degree as Mickey, but he’s seen the way Ian malfunctions when one of his friends gets him something nice. He knows he has the same sort of wary confusion when they get to have good things.

Mickey leans into Ian’s touch, “Wanna go back to sleep.”

Ian rests his chin in the crook of Mickey’s neck, turning his face to plant a kiss on his cheek, “We can do that, baby.”

They go back to sleep until one, Ian wakes him again gently, whispering in his ear that they have to get up because Kev and Vee need help in the Alibi.

“It’s my fucking birthday, they should helping me!” Mickey yelped as Ian poked his side.

“Come on. The minute they’re done, we’ll come back here and sleep to your heart's content.”

“So forever?” Mickey asked from underneath a pillow.

Ian made an alarmed sound from the back of his throat, Mickey threw a pillow at his head, “Not like that, asswipe. Just tired today.”

Ian nods, sympathetic despite Mickey’s attack, “I know, honey. I promised them we would both go. So get your birthday ass up.”

Mickey does in fact get his ass up. After thirty more minutes of complaining, they’re off to the Alibi.

Ian pulls up to the bar and parks right in front of the doors. Mickey’s about to get out when Ian grabs his arm, “Okay, cards on the table, we planned a surprise party for you.”

Mickey tilts in his head, perplexed by Ian’s definition of surprise, “I don’t think you know how surprises work, lover.”

Ian picks at the skin of his lip, his eyes narrowed at the hollow of Mickey’s throat, “I just know you don’t like surprises.”

Mickey sits back in his seat, watching as Ian nervously gnaws at his chapped lips. They’ve had this talk before, mainly about Mickey’s sleeping. Ian’s learned from experience after sleeping in the same bed with him for five plus years that no one should ever shake Mickey awake. Or yell to wake him up. Or sneak up on him. Mickey’s always been hyper aware of his surroundings, it was never something he concerned himself with, ignoring the panic that reached up his throat with surprises. Though recently, Ian told him he has symptoms of PTSD rather than just being cautious.

“Alright,” Mickey nods, “How many people?”

“Just my family. I called Mandy but-”

“She’s working, I know.”

“She said happy birthday. Kev and Vee obviously. Tami,” Ian squirms in his seat like he’s nervous.

“Right, well, can’t sit out here forever.”

The minute they step into the bar, everyone screams surprise.

Ian was right, that wouldn’t have been good for anyone had Mickey not known.

“Uncle Mickey!” Franny screams and hugs his legs, “I made you a card!” She presents a card covered in glitter, depicting two stick figures holding guns and bags of money.

For the second time today, Mickey has to stop himself from crying. Bending down to hug her, he pats her hair and tells her he loves it.

“Uncle Ian helped!”

“Did he now?” Mickey raises an eyebrow at his husband, who nods proudly at his niece.

“Happy birthday, Mick!” Tami calls out, rocking Freddie in her arms.

Mickey nods and immediately gravitates to the bar, sitting down next to Lip, who’s playing with Freddie’s fingers.

Kev sets down a beer, “On the house for family, dude.”

Mickey takes it, trying not to show his unease, he grumbles, “Thanks,” before turning his attention to Ian who’s bending down and talking to Franny and Liam.

“Hey, Mickey,” Lip greets, distracted.

“Yo,” Mickey’s about ready to comfortably sit in silence, just enjoying watching on the outskirts as his in-laws mingle.

“Ian tell you about the party?” Lip asks nonchalantly.

“Uh, yeah. Right before.”

“Knew he would. While we were fucking putting it together, he-”

“Wait, hold on,” Mickey interrupted him, “You helped plan this shit?”

Lip deadpans, “Uh, yeah. Well, obviously Ian said he wanted to do something for your birthday but I figured we should have it here, you know. With family.”

Family.

He remembers the kitchen conversation, it feels like it happened so long ago. The sinking feeling in his stomach when Lip told him he wasn’t family. To a degree, he understood what he meant, but he still felt the words hit his chest like a bullet.

“Thought I wasn’t family,” Mickey teases, watching as the realization dawns on Lip, recognition enveloping his eyes.

“Shit, Mickey, that wasn’t-” Mickey cuts him off by waving a hand.

“It’s alright, shithead. Don’t give a shit,” Mickey lies, he does give shit, many in fact, but he doesn’t need Lip knowing that.

“Sure, but you are family, you know that, right?” Lip doesn’t make eye contact with him, just continues playing with his son's fingers.

Mickey sits on the bar stool, trying to cope with the knowledge that all of these people-these stupid fucking Gallaghers and Balls and Tamiettis-care about him enough to throw him a surprise birthday party.

His fucking family.

Ian apparently takes notice of his discomfort and walks over to him, Franny on his hip, “Hey, you good?” With the hand that isn’t holding up a six year-old, he rubs his back, eventually resting his palm on the nape of his neck.

Mickey nods, “It’s just a lot, man.”

Ian nods, “I know. Do you wanna go?”

Mickey shakes his head, staring at the sleepy Franny who buries her head into Ian’s shoulder, her cheek squished on his collarbone.

“Nah, I’m good,” Mickey says as Franny stretches out her arms, opening and closing her fists.

“You wanna go with Uncle Mickey instead?” Ian asks her.

When she nods, he kisses the top of her head and passes her to Mickey. Ian giggles as Mickey’s eyes go wide then soften, his shoulders relaxing as Franny peacefully transitions from one Uncle to the next, blissfully unaware of Mickey’s internal panic.

“Happy birthday, Mickey,” Ian kisses his cheek and leans into his side, sliding an arm around his torso.

“I think it might be.”

#summary: it's mickeys birthday and his fucking family throws him a party #uhh i did another thing #mickey my love you have a family who loves you so much #i had another version of this where liam tells mickey he's family but i think lip works cause of the whole family only thing ?? idk #everything else is the same tho so probably not gonna drop the other one #at least until mickeys next birthday >:)#shameless #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #lip gallagher #tami tamietti #franny gallagher #gallavich #ian x mickey #gallavich fanfiction #margo writes #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICKEY #my sweet boy #goodnight <3

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joshjacksons · 3 years ago

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Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

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defensefilms · 4 years ago

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European Super League Is Everything You Hate About Modern Sports

“A wolf should be beaten first, so that the other wolves will smell it’s blood and know what might happen to them and so never come again”- The Heart Gently Weeps by Wu-Tang

I don’t talk about soccer/football much on this blog. I mostly save that for Flex Files TV and this is a topic we’ve talked about on our Youtube channel.

On Saturday the 17th of April, a news story broke that the top teams in European football were planning to break away and start their own competition to replace the annually contested UEFA Champion’s League.

They essentially want to eliminate the little guy. They are essentially trying to monopolize the sport and divide the pie amongst only the elite teams in European football.

The teams named as co-conspirators in this treason are AC Milan, Inter Milan, Juventus FC, FC Barcelona, Real Madrid, Atletico Madrid, Manchester United, Manchester City, Liverpool FC, Arsenal FC, Chelsea FC and Tottenham Hotspur.

What do I believe should be done?

First and foremost, there must be punishment. Severe punishment.

I want FIFA, UEFA and all the world’s top football associations to collaborate and crush this act of greed, insolence and rebellion. I want them to do what parents used to do back in the day. Which is just lay in the cut and wait until you watching tv or sleeping, and then proceed to hand out beat downs.

A three year transfer ban for all the teams involved would do the trick. A lot of the teams named have ageing squads so forcing them to sit three seasons with the same players, would teach them a lesson and restore the balance of power in each of the various leagues they play in.

Then you need to limit their exposure by giving them live television broadcast times that are out of left field. Want to watch Real Madrid live in the three next years? Prepare to stay up until 1AM at the earliest.

Another way is to start opening the avenues for players to do business ventures independently of the clubs that they play for. This would change the business landscape but would hurt the big clubs the most, especially at the beginning. You’d also likely have to talk to jersey manufacturers like Nike and Adidas to implement it well but all you’d be doing is creating a revenue stream that the clubs won’t be allowed to share in.

If you think about it, corona virus is a perfect excuse to hit the big teams live game attendance as well. Big teams draw bigger crowds don’t they? Shouldn’t there be heavier restrictions on them because of this? Start limiting how many fans the likes of Liverpool and City can have in their venues. Only you allow the smaller clubs to sell more tickets to the same fans. So the likes of Leicester City, Napoli FC, Valencia can sell more tickets because they don’t have the same capacity but they’re selling to more fans than they would otherwise.

You get the drift. Start hitting them where it hurts. Start taking away the things that allowed them to become the major conglomerates they’ve become.

Heads have got to roll, gentleman. Preferably roll on to the end of a pike that should be placed at the entrance of every football venue, for fans in attendance to throw rotting vegetables at.

I grew up with this sport. The idea that some owners in suits and ties, living in the ivory towers somewhere, think that they have the right to alter and change this game because they can and because their greedy enough to do it, is a low-down, dirty, filthy, shame.

What should be happening is a mob-justice, French Revolution style ting but the veneer of civility, modernity and money, allow people to get away with things.

Let me address Manchester United, before I jet.

I’ve rooted for this team since I was 13 and you know, this team hasn’t given me much to celebrate lately. We were once a symbol of excellence. We were once the standard bearers of the entire sport. We were once the most revered football culture in the world.

Now look at us.

Docile. Greedy. Incompetent. Scheming, Backstabbing. Manipulative.

We once stood front and center of the sport. The one team you could always trust to raise the bar in a big game.

Now we’re defined by boardroom meetings where guys with bald spots try to influence and bend an entire sport to their will, and our ownership is right there trying to do the same thing.

The Glazer family are the worst thing that ever happened to Man United. Their influence is the single biggest thing behind Manchester United becoming the annual, season-long comedy show we’ve turned in to. I wasn’t surprised at all that we were involved. Our ownership are not high integrity people and it shows in how they run the football club.

Make no mistake the Glazers are the failsons of football ownership. The team they inherited (they bought the club in the 00′s) was in such a great place as far as on-field results and they have completely wasted it away. One dumb executive decision and coaching hire after another.

See anyone can buy a football club. Believe it or not, there is no shortage of people who would be willing to take on the financial risk of a team like Man United, especially when you look at how commercially viable the team already is and how many revenue streams they have built over the last three decades.

Billionaires have pulled off the trick of making you think they are special. They’re not.

This is what this once-great sporting institution has devolved into. An abomination/golem slowly devouring itself and now clutching at everything else around it, including the league that helped make them the television draw that they are and the money they’ve made along with it.

Former Manchester United right-back and now Sky Sports pundit/presenter, Gary Neville, had a heartfelt speech live on-air on Saturday afternoon that definitely put my feelings across.

Football fans feel betrayed by this and we have every right to feel that way.

#football #treason #super league #european super league #the end of football #disgusted #soccer #esl #manchester united #man united #gary neville #sky sports

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Ducktales Shadow Into Light (Lena Retrospective): Friendship Hates Magic! (Commission by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! And welcome, and to some of you welcome back to Shadow Into Light, my fully paid for but gladly done Lena retrospective, covering everyone’s faviorite lesbian emo shadow’s personal jounrey through all three seasons and some brucey bonuses.

So this time we pick up in mid-season 2.. yes MID season 2. Though for once taking so long to adress things had valid reasons. It dosen’t make the 8 month wait for Lena to return and for Violet to show up, her concept art having been shown off shortly before Shadow War aired during San Diego Comic Con, any less aggravating, especially since the episode did air overseas before that but never leaked anywhere properly. So I knew she’d be okay but not HOW.

As I said though.. they had their reasons. The episode was set for episode 8 in production order, right behind whatever Happened to Della Duck? which answered the other big cliffhanger from season 1, Della’s exile on the moon. So while this episode was back in the queue, along with Della’s, which had to wait till after the christmas episode to air because said episode takes place before it. So waiting on this episode was fair on the crew’s part even knowing it was a hiatus.

It ended up getting pushed back by a week once the episodes started airing.. but as outlined last time, THIS TIME Disney actually moved it for good reason instead of just doing so because shut up. See the problem with moving episodes around in season 2.. is Della’s return. Several episodes that in theory could’ve easily been pushed back instead of this one, Depths of Cousin Fethry, Treasure of the Found Lamp... couldn’t because they take place BEFORE Della came back and it’d be weird to air them after. One features Donald, the other dosen’t but still lacks Della and it’d be weird if it did> While this episode takes place before Della comes back or was at least meant to, no one appears in person, and Beakly mentoning “the boys and scrooge” at the bin could simply be her forgetting Della’s a part of things for a second. It’s not entirely in character, but it’s much easier than explaning why Della’s not there and Donald is.

They also moved one episode ahead of this.. but it’s one I approve of. See from episode 7 onward the episodes were aired in week long duckbombs, woo-ooo. I I don’t fault disney for it or the reason I suspect they had for doing this: while it wasn’t the intended way of airing, they likely did this airing style to get shows on Disney Plus quicker for it’s debut and given they’ve sunk a LOT of money into the streaming service and it’s a key part of their future, I can’t blame them for wanting the entire series thus far on the platform at launch. It’s one of if not their most popular show at the moment. They wanted it front and center.

So this one took an extra week to air, and an extra day as they aired raiders of the doomsday vault right after Della’s return in “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!”.. which is also not a bad move. Fans wanted more of Della and her bonding with the kids, I wanted more of that so while the wait was grumble inducing, it was worth the tradeoff to get more of this character and her bonding with Dewey.. and let’s face it Glomgold. You know what i’m about at this point.

So there were delays but not the mind boggling ones that reshuffled the season last time and by next season there’d be zero reshuffling with both holiday episodes designed to go anywhere. So with the history and the agonizing wait out of the way join me under the cut as a snark knight returns, a new fan faviorite debuts and Beakly gets sucked into Launchpad’s awful fandom.

We open our story at the Duckburg Library. Man I fucking miss the library. I mean you can go by apointment and what not but I also have library card debt and stuff, and it’s just not the same.

Anyways naturally Webby is going there to research the Shadow Realm in hopes of finding something to bring Lena back. Last week was “Children’s Card Games, Dark Magic and You! by Professor Yugi Moto which while enlightening got her nowhere. Next up is “Shadow Games on Motorcycles!: How a Crimson Dragon defeated a giant Shadow Monster and brought the dead back and I helped by Doctor Yusei Fudo”.

But that one’s not in yet so she instead goes to the Librarian to get another book.. and it’s Quackfaster! Horay! As for why she’s working two jobs, she’s saving up for a retirement condo in BIRDDDBAAADDOOOSSSSS. I had to type it that way it’s ape law.

But her next book “I Went there and it Sucked, My Time in the Shadow Realm by Mayor of New Jersey Joey Wheeler” is taken by “another strange little girl”. Quackfaster, you chase people around with a scimitar. Just accept your the weird one and live with it like me. You’ll be happier that way.

And so we finally meet Violet whose introduced pitch perfectly. Webby gives out her usual “Hi I”m Webby”.. and Violet simply holds a finger up, finishes her page and gives a simple “Yes?” It demonstrates her quite nature, her love of reading and her lack of social skills all in one fell swoop. The ensuing dead language off is also pretty damn adorable reminding me of that scene from “Lisa’s Wedding” where she and Hugh fight over a book and reading it before making out.. minus the making out because these are children, no one wants that, and Webby is taken. .and even then again children. Most we get is an innocent peck and some blushing.

So Violet, finding out Webby needs it and is researching the arcane too offers to research together tonight, bringing a sleeping bag just in case it goes on long... to Lena’s unheard objections as she’s rattled by the break in her normal routine with Webby, and the possibility of Webby falling for someone else. I mean this i framed as a friendship thing... but you can only say “friend” so many times in a work before you sound like a retired grandma in denial about their granddaughter.

Later at the Mansion, Beakley is enjoying a nice quiet afternoon to herself. Turns out once a month Scrooge has “Binventory Day” where he and the boys catalogue the bin for hours giving her a night to herself and Webby. Webby loudly interuppts the peace as is Cartoon Law, but Beakley is pleased Webby is getting back on the friendship horse.

Bentina ends up ruining it a bit though by bringing up her previous slumber party disasters... which even Lena at her most jealous admits were her fault and only agrees to in the hopes Webby’s going to cancel. Instead Webby decides to make this the most normal sleepover ever! The one where her new friend is coming to specifically help her with magic.

Bentina tries to back her grandaughter/daughter down from this insane logic, but Webby does, if innocently clap back well to her being the one to give her “Be yourself” advice. “I’m not like you Granny, I need to have friends”

And while Webby quickly flees after Beakley tries to deny it.. she’s not wrong. She has exactly one friend who she works for and no social life to speak of.. and as far as I can tell she’s fine this way. Beakley is happy with her work and raising Webby and has someone to talk to in Scrooge. She has everything she needs, while Webby is a social butterfly.. a socially inept social butterfly. She needs people and loves meeting new people and needs friends and not just her family. One’s an introvert the other’s an extrovert. I’m both at times, and before you ask why yes it is a living nightmare thank you so much for asking. I get where both are coming from. And Beakley clearly had friends at one point it’s just a long war with FOWL and a sudden granddaughter probably whittled it down to just Scrooge. It’s okay to be yourself.

So this is where the plotlines split off, so as usual, i’m splitting the up.

Launchpad and Beakley in Getting To Know You And Getting Sucked INto Your Strange and Lovely Fandom

So Beakley naturally cries out “name one person I don’t get along with.. and in walks Launchpad , Nature’s Perfect Himbo, having destroyed the gate and at least being honest he probably will again. Why he’s here when the boys and Scrooge are all gone?

But I don’t care as this subplot is just.. a nonstop delight. Starting with Beakly inviting Launchpad to sup with her.. which just confuses him. Look Bentina you have to use small words.. it’s a miracle he gets up in the morning, dreses himself and hasn’t died in a tragic gasoline fight accident. You have to know your audience. Still funny.

And “not knowing your audience” continues as Beakly serves them pea soup but Launchpad is intimidated by the spoons and while she does offer to help instead tries to use all of them then a straw and then falls facedown in his soup. And this is the SECOND TIME Beakly’s left someone living at the mansion to die. I mean that’s not a lot but it’s still weird it happened twice.

Finally they sit quitely, Beakly reading the Scarlet Pimpernell, and Launchpad doing a coloring book. And besides the odd couple energy what I really like about this subplot.. is that it fleshes Beakly out> This is one of her ONLY plots in the entire goddamn series, yes really. 70 episodes and she only got five spotlight episodes/plots. But it does at least show her off: her upperclass pedigree we really don’t see often, showing that while she applied to the job as maid out of necisity she knows her stuff, her love of classic literature and her being out of touch with the common person. It’s not a ton but it’s more than ninja butler or “stop having fun with your kids della and be a parent”. I mean she wasn’t wrong but she could’ve been nicer about it given the circumstances.

So Launchpad, given Beakley’s never shown any interest in him as a person before, assumes she’s going to fire him and was just softening him up. I mean Scrooge himself outright said he never would and if he did he’d do it to your face, hard as it’d be. But that aside, he’s fine with getting to know her once he knows that no he’s not being fired she just wanted to hang out, he’s everyone’s friend. But naturally an upperclash british former super spy and a dumb as a bucket with a heart of gold pilot have nothing in common, not even aircraft as “plane go up, plane crash going down’ is about the extent of his actual knowledge on aircraft that isn’t instinct or dumb luck.

He does manage to break the ice though, mistaking her book for a Darkwing Duck book and deciding to show her the show since it might be something they have in common. At first she’s as unintuhsed as you’d expect a british lady who never watches the telly watching a 90′s kids show would be.. but by the end she’s gotten all the way into it.

It’s really endearing, showning that two vastly diffrent people with nothing can common can be brought together by something as simple and glorious as liking the same show. I’ve had it happen with me. She naturally is all for filiming his fanscript after the finale provides no answers, being the one to suggest it and the two end the episode shooting it with her in full darkwing duck cosplay. I’ts a cute and entertaining subplot and a nice contrast to the main plot which while not super dark, does have a fog of tension over it. Speaking of which.

Webby, Lena and Violet: In Two’s Company, Three Accidently Creates Monsters That Nearly Take Your Girlfriend Off Into The Shadowy Abyss So the slumber party gets underway with Webby shooing away Duckworth after clearing out her room to greet Violet herself and violet having brought pie... a great callback to an earlier joke where Webby wondered if pie was normal at a sleepover. No but it should be. So Webby welcomes her in to her totally normal room devoid of anything. Nothing suspicious about that.

So Violet tries to get her into research, specifically Tulpas, an actual magical concept, a mental construct of some kind created out of desire, imagination or what have you. Gee I wonder if that will come into play this episode. Webby.. wants to play baggle or what have you or do makeovers and drags Violet along to do the second thing after Violet asks about Magica. Lena then finds something glowing in Violet’s bag...specifically, her old amulet, cracked but still working and flowing with Magica’s power.

Lena assumes Violet is Magica and goes to warn Webby only to find her HORRIBLY MUTATED! Naturally it’s a misdirect, as it turns out Violet is just REALLY good at special effects makeup. It’s something I honestly forgot about her... i’m betting one of her dad’s is an effects artist. Just saying that’d be neat. But Webby gives the “i’m normal really even though I live in a giant mansion with my dad I don’t know is my dad and my grandma whose actually my adopted mom” game away by pointing out the demon’s fang is crooked and Violet is curious and heads to Webby’s room finding a picture from said demon. He signed it and everything. Good man that Rakshaka.

Webby is worried Violet will be freaked out by all the weird but nope, she enjoys it. And it’s not a suprise: violet is actively researching the shadow dimension. Why WOULD she be scared off. The conflict was in Webby’s head all along.. and partly out of PTSD, but we’ll get to that. Webby still tries to get her to baggle but they settle on ancient rune dice baggle and summoning some spirits. Lena scoffs.. until it actually works. It does make sense though: As we’ll see in her last starring role, Lena is kinda like Wanda Maximoff: she has an extreme amount of power but she has no idea how to use it and is simply making up most of her magic as she goes along or took magica’s lead. But the spell means Lena can touch the dice so she spells out don’t trust her.. but forgets she’s dealing with two nerds who love unlocking puzzles and assume the message is on the dice themselves.

Webby and Violet decide they need more clarity and resume the seance.. which summons mysterious white shadow creatures Lena saw before.. .some now taking Magica’s shape. And Lena’s panicked “Oh not again” says it all. So Lena tries the tried and true bedsheet ghost cliche, grumbling about it but showing up as a ghost without any abillity to speak or talk to webby dosen’t do anything and Violet tackles the sheet before deciding to grab the amulet to dispiate the spirit.. only for Lena to show up for a breif second before she does show making the panicked child look incredibly supscious.

Webby naturally tackles and interrogates Violet wanting the full story. And it turns out the big secret is.. Violet is entirely normal. Nothing to do with Magica, no possesions or secretly being her or a minon of hers... she was just a logic obsessed 12 year old who thought magic was a myth.. until the Shadow War proved “Nope it’s real everything you know is wrong. Up is down black is white and short is long”. She just happened to be close to the bin and found the amulet when the remains of the staff fell near her and compacted back into it.

It’s a brilliant reveal. See first watch around your genuinely unsure if Violet is a real person or not.. unless you went in knowing she is, but semantics. Point is most first time viewers didn’t know she’d be a beloved member of the supporting cast and didn’t know what to expect. But looking back... it makes no sense. If Magica had the amulet.. why would she need to infiltrate the mansion. Revenge? Possibly but she’d want Scrooge there too. Even being evil on her own Violet had valid opportunity to pilfer Webby’s magical items, she has an entire box of magic rocks right there and then simply zap her with the amulet. But she didn’t.. because Violet is a person. When she DOES use it she’s utterly terrified, and we can see her breathing heavy, scared.. something Magica has NEVER been of Lena. To Violet it was just a ghost. Webby hadn’t told her about lena and any information she had about her was second hand from newspapers and the like.

Webby is sympathetic, as Violet’s feeling of being sheltered from this greater world naturally resonates and while Lena is still supscious, having reincorperated, it’s clear Webby trusts violet and simply dosen’t want to loose another friend to magic. Here trying to hide it now takes another tone.. she knows Lena was behind it.. but is so afraid of it consuming violet the way it did Lena, she forgets almost ALL of the weird magic stuff in sleepovers was magica’s manipulation, and that Lena died because her creator was a monster, not because of magic. Magic is not inherently good or bad, it just is, and that will come back as a theme in a few episodes. It allowed Magica to ravage the town and kill Lena.. but it allowed Lena to exist in the first place and while the terrible events with Magica clearly shook her.. it also shook violet out of her complacency and got her to research a world she never would’ve considered. Good can come from bad.

And it’s with this in mind that Violet.. does not give up. She’s stayed in her box enough.. and now she knows the spirit is a friendly one.. she figures they can bring Lena BACK using the amulet. After all it was lena’s and the source of her powers.. it might be the key to reiviving her. And while Lena, if invisibly as always, remarks it’s dangerous.. Webby, with no hesitation agrees to get her girlfriend back. It’s risky sure.. but what Lena hasn’t gotten is she’s WORTH the list. She’s so full of self loathing from both her manupations of webby and Magica’s gaslighting and abuse that she can’t see herself being worth anything even as Webby spent MONTHS trying to save her, clearly still loves her, and only didn’t want violet getting hurt because she misses her. Webby still loves and needs her for who Lena is.. Lena just can’t it and it hurts to think about that.

So the girls once again try to summon Lena and it starts to work.. but also summons the Tulpa’s back... this time taking Magica’s form and causing a suspcious lena to panic.. and suck both of them into the shadow realm. We get the reunion we’ve been waiting for as Webby tackle hugs her happily.

But it’s soon cut short as Lena still thinks Violet is just manipulating Webby, lying to her and that “she’s mine!”

For the record Joss Whedon sucks, not taking that out on Anthony Stewart Head or the guys who actually wrote the episode. Moving on.

I feel Lena’s jealousy comes from the aformentioned self loathing, mixed with a life of having to live just to surivive at the beck and call of a throughly awful person who didn’t consider her a sentient being worthy of anything especially love. She can’t fathom anyone else loving Webby the way she does because she feels once webby has anyone else.. she won’t need her. It’s toxic and wrong.. but it’s easy to see why that’d happen when sh��es only had one healthy relationship. She barely knows the boys, Beakly only grew to tolerate her and she was only friends with Scrooge for like.. a minute. Webby is the only person she knows, loves and trusts and she just can’t risk loosing that and can’t convince herself to share.

In a realistic scenario Lena would have to simply learn to trust and let her girlfriend have other relationshps and that hogging her all to herself is inhernetly toxic and bad. And while she still does we’re talking about a living pile of shadows smooching a clone, so yeah instead the tulpas come out and drag her off..and take Lena’s form. While Lena tries to blame Violet, Violet has absolutley none of that and makes Lena see the hard truth: Lena is so worried about being forgotten, she created the tulpas by accidnet. As I said her power is raw and unfocused.. so she didn’t do it on purpose nor did she realize how toxic she was being. This finally snaps Lena back to reality, and see Violet geniunely cares about Webby and any ulterior motives were just in her head, so the two agree to work together, using a similar chant to the one from Jaws to destroy the Tulpas and save Webby.

So the shadow realm is disapated and our trio are returned to the human world.. but Lena, not being part of it and no longer having a tether.. starts to disolve, with a really heartbreaking scene of Webby holding her hand, as does violet. But.. then a miracle happens. Since the Bracelet was Lena’s link to Webby, and to her own magic, with it and the amulet close by.. both swirl around Lena, and the power of love.. for a new friend and a first love... revivies her. Mist parts.. and we get one heartwarming sign that after all this time “I’m back?!” Lena is confused.. but once again part of this plane of reality. She’s free and WEbby triumphanthly hugs her with Violet joining in. By letting go of her hate.. Lena returned to who she loved. They also run into the end of the other subplot and Launchpad’s casual hey lena is just great.

So our heroes are reunited and doing horror makeup and I really love Webby’s updo here and wish more works fan nd otherwise used it. WE get a final fakeout as Lena seemingly disovles and Violet reveals herself as magica.. only for it to be a prank and Webby to just be glad the love of her life and her new best friend get a long. We get one last hearwarming image and we close out.. with Lena finally having what she always wanted freedom. And while she may not know it yet in accepting violet.. she’s finally found family. More on that in a few weeks.

Final Thoughts: This episode is excellent. It’s not the best of the Lena arc, that comes next and it does drag once or twice.. but overall it’s a really great character piece, with a nice ballance betwen the tense main plot and the funny and goofy subplot. It adds more to Lena’s character, finally brings her back, while giving us a new and throughly fascenating new character to rave about in Violet, as well as giving Webby her own personal squad. It’s a great episode.. and only leads to a better one. But we’ll get to that in a week or so. First we have a bit of a detour and my plug.

If you liked this review, follow for more, spread it around, and join my patreon. It’s almost time for new patreons to pay up and if you hit my stretch goal i’ll review a darkwing duck episode next month and every month! We’re just five bucks away people! And if you’d like to just comission a review directly it’s just 5 bucks an episode and avaliable via my dms, ask or discord.

Next Time on Shadow Into Light: We take a break from the last two Lena episodes to go to one of her sources as we head back to Ducktales 87 with Magica’s Shadow War! I know almost nothing going in so... Shadow betrayals and stuff? Yay?

Tommorow: It’s Fenton’s birthday! And since i’ve done a LOT of ducktales recently and can’t do super ducktales till I hit my next stretch goal at 25 bucks, we’re going back to ST Canard at long last for Gizmoducks second apperance.. which can’t possibly be worse than the first so i’m excited. Let’s get dangerous tommorow!

#lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #ducktales #weblena #violet sabrewing #shadow into light #friendship hates magic #great title by the way #bentina beakley #launchpad mcquack #darkwing duck

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

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Christmas: LIVE (for charity)

Description: You’re a middle-of-the-road youtuber, not super famous, but not unfamous. Golden Closet and V are much more famous, and they’ve agreed to meet up and do a charity live-stream with you!

“For the Christmas requests would you be able to do a Youtuber au? Where like Tae or Kookie do a charity stream with Y/n? Sorry it came so late it 😭😭”

Warnings: Fluff and stuff

Posted: 12/22/2020

Tags: taekook x reader

2,159 words

A/N: For anonny, here’s your request! Hope you like it! and it didn’t come late!

You kept working on your streaming setup, preparing for your guests for the charity stream. You figured more people were coming for them than you, since you weren’t as big as them on YouTube.

First was V, from Tiger Vante: real name of Kim Taehyung. He did gaming streams with your other guest, and published music now and then that he had quite the following for. Thoughtful videos and compilations of photos, and videos of projects he worked on. He even had a fashion line and made videos about other fashion things, like his fashion through the week. Other fashions, reviewing music and such, as well as doing projects using antique equipment. He was doing a photo study with different old cameras as he was able to, and he posted a lot of inspirational videos.

Your second guest was Jungkook from Golden Closet productions. He did a lot of gaming, was technically a professional gamer, and he also did music and video production. He did everything: art, singing, dancing, gaming, photography, video production--and he was constantly experimenting with new things. But his gaming was the big ticket.

You were a smaller YouTube channel. You had a few covers, and you did a parody song a year or so ago that garnered some attention. You did reactions, and you did some gaming streams, though not as many as your guests. You did a lot of chill games, with other games interspersed. You also did some makeup stuff, mostly stage makeup stuff that you carried over from college. Cooking. You did cooking streams, and sometimes you failed, other times you were successful. But cooking streams were some of your favorites.

You’d started doing the videos as a sort of...accountability. Your therapist recommended it to help you feel like you were doing more, because despite working eight hour workdays five days a week, you still struggled feeling like you were getting anything done and you sometimes lost track of days. It had helped, you were able to keep better track of things and you’d tried new things because of it. And somehow your fanbase had grown to let you cut your hours at your office job and relax a little more.

But today’s stream was to raise money for kids in the hospital, which was why you had V and Jungkook coming. The three of you would be doing various activities together and doing challenges to raise more money.

You arranged the snacks as well as you could, and then put on your elf hat. You’d already raised two hundred dollars just by wearing an elf costume for the stream.

“Hello?”

You stood up and smiled. “Hello! Nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

“I’m Taehyung when I’m offscreen, I’d be happy if you called me that. Offscreen anyway. Thanks for inviting me today! Oh, this is Jungkook!” V introduced the other gamer.

Jungkook sort of dipped his head, looking awkward.

You smiled at both of them. “Nice to meet both of you. Thanks for agreeing to do this with me. I know you probably have better things to do.”

“No way, this is for charity!”

“It’s a good cause,” Jungkook added, sort of looking at you strangely.

“Oh, the outfit. Someone donated 200 dollars if I would wear an elf costume for the stream. My choice for the costume, look okay?” You asked, reaching up to adjust the hat.

“It’s super cute,” Taehyung gushed, then looked over at the setup. “Ooh! Nice! That looks great! Can I set up over there?”

“Go ahead, do you need help bringing in equipment?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Our hyungs are here to help us set up and carry things. We’ll be ready to go in no time.”

“Great, I’ll just stand out of the way.” You backed up and they signalled their group to bring in their equipment.

Between the seven boys, all of the equipment was set up in no time and the three of you were settling down for the stream.

They wished you three a good stream and then scattered.

The three of you sat down, syncing and getting your own set ups going.

“So, we’re going to start, give it five minutes, and then we’ll start playing that game you suggested over chat?” You asked, making sure you had that linked and setting things up so that you wouldn’t have to worry about anything once you were actually streaming.

“Yeah, sounds good. That camera is filming all of us, and then we have our individual ones, right?” Jungkook nodded to the carefully mounted and angled camera.

You nodded, handing cords to both of them for the camera connection. “Took me a while to figure this set up out. Here.”

Taehyung eagerly took it and plugged it into his computer and then let you quickly set it up.

Jungkook had it set up before you finished with Tae.

“Alright, it’s almost time. Ready?”

“Yeah, so...who’s starting things?” Taehyung asked, looking at you.

“My idea, so I can open it if you prefer,” You offered, checking how you looked on camera and then sighing. You couldn’t do much about it now.

“Ok, now, do you have any extra fun holiday stuff?” Taehyung asked, flicking the bell on your hat.

“A santa hat and reindeer antlers headband, and various other more girly things for me to alternate with throughout the stream.” You gestured to a bag and got everything ready. “Set the stream to start on the hour?”

Jungkook nodded then grabbed the santa hat. “Solidarity.”

Taehyung happily put on the antlers headband. “So cute! Okay, now it feels even more festive. How long did it take you to make the background?”

“Oh, I spent a couple hours, no biggie. I did something similar last year for my christmas stream. I just spiced it up a bit this year. One minute.”

They pushed their chairs closer to yours, all three streams using the camera that got all three of you.

You watched the timer tick down, hoping that it was successful and that you raised a lot of money for the charity.

The first fifteen minutes were nothing too special, it was interesting playing with other people while they were in the room and Jungkook kept mumbling thanks for donations in between decimating you and Tae, and Taehyung had a constant conversation going--partially with you--while he played.

You gave everyone a brief update since you hadn’t streamed in a couple days and people were asking about your puppy. “He’s fine. He’ll be home soon.”

“What happened to your puppy?” Jungkook asked, not missing a beat and decimating you in the meantime.

“Nothing serious, he got hurt while we were walking in the woods. They removed his dewclaw on the one leg and stitched him up. He’s already almost ready to come home. I’ll have him home for Christmas. Thank you for your donation, bluegrey613!”

Jungkook glanced over. “Hey, we probably have some requests right now. Since you’re dead can you check the chats?”

“Sure. Let’s see...they want V to do aegyo.”

Taehyung quickly did some, just barely escaping death.

“We don’t have mistletoe, sorry, guys,” You told Jungkook’s chat. “Besides, I kind of doubt they’d want to--”

“Who needs mistletoe?” Taehyung asked, pausing the game.

Next thing you knew donation signals were popping up on all three screens as the boys planted kisses on either of your cheeks.

You stared at the screen, blinking rapidly and trying to recover as both of them went back to their game like nothing had happened.

You swallowed hard and tried to focus on the requests that were flying up your screen. “Um...thank you...agustD for donating...after that request. Um...hopeworld requests that we...all do cutesy poses? He’s offering 50.”

“Make it 100 and it’s a deal,” Taehyung responded, finally getting annihilated.

You scanned the comments, waiting for a response from the same and making faces as requested. “Ooh, while we’re waiting they want to know how we met. Tae, you should tell them that saga.”

“If they’re going to make us do something cutesy, then they better be offering more than a hundred,” Jungkook grumbled.

“So...we started talking online, played a couple of games together recently--offstream so that we could discuss the fundraiser, I think we all have some clips from that game that we’re compiling and that will be posted later,” Taehyung started explaining, checking you and Jungkook for affirmation. “Then we actually met in person today! That’s about it! It’s not much of a story, but it’s a good start, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a curious look with Jungkook after witnessing the wink Taehyung threw the camera. “Snack time?”

Jungkook nodded. “Before he calls himself a snack.”

Your nose scrunched up before you could stop it.

Taehyung laughed, booping your nose. “Not me. But she definitely is.”

You shook your head. “No snacks for you.”

“Hey, hopeworld agreed to 100. Pose,” Jungkook intervened as Taehyung started to fake pout.

All three of you managed to do some cutesy pose and hold it for a couple of seconds until the donation alert popped up with many names.

“Ah...okay...that was popular,” Taehyung said, looking a little stunned as more notifications rolled in.

“Blame Jungkook, he avoids it usually so it’s rare,” You informed him, smirked at Jungkook.

He shrugged. “If I didn’t hold back the world would fall to my cuteness.”

You snorted and turned back to the comments. “RM is requesting that you guys...and I lost it. Whoops.”

“Ooh, here’s one from JinJinJara, he wants us to make couple-y poses--like exaggerated couple pictures!” Taehyung chuckled. “Lets do it!”

“I don’t need to relive prom, thanks, I was fine missing it the first time,” you joked.

“It’s for charity,” Taehyung pouted.

You groaned and then complied.

Not that you were complaining internally about two hunky guys taking mock couple-photos. There was something nice about being held by someone stronger.

The rest of the stream passed by pretty quickly, doing requests from the boys channels since only four people were requesting on your stream--the same five. It was hard not to feel like it was out of pity, the longer the stream went the viewer count on yours went down, and went up on theirs. You double checked your stream but it was fine.

But it was for charity. You didn’t mind being less popular as long as you raised enough money to do some good.

“We should do this next year, and more often! Ooh, could we do a New Years stream?” Taehyung enthused toward the end. You guys had reached your goal while playing another game, and were trying to casually close the stream.

“We…can discuss it…later. Anyway, thank you everyone who was watching and who donated. The donation links for all three of our channels will be open until the 26th! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas from Santa’s workshop!” Taehyung added brightly. “Remember to have all grandmas avoid reindeer crossing sites!”

“And be nice to the elves! They’re doing their best,” Jungkook added, cracking a smile as he flicked your hat.

You rolled your eyes and waved to the camera, then all three of you ended your streams.

“Man. That was intense,” Jungkook murmured.

“So, my five requesters, they’re the friends waiting outside, aren’t they?” You guessed, having done the math.

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Why would you think that?” Jungkook asked.

“Because you guys jumped at every request they gave, usually egging them on for more money, but you were more reserved with every other request given to us. That usually indicates a personal relationship.” You leaned back in your chair, taking off the hat and smoothing your hair.

Taehyung shrugged. “They were going to donate anyway. They just wanted to get their money’s worth. They were technically on all of our streams, but you’re better at reading comments and playing the game so requests on your channel got through better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Boys.”

“We did really well,” Jungkook said softly. “We make a good team. We just need to improve your playing on a couple games.”

You smiled. “Maybe. Alright. So, as far as new years goes, I’ve got a few games we can play while being in different places if that would work better. But also do it at a different time than when people would normally be partying because otherwise it would be a bust.”

“Okay!”

“Sounds good. Want to go grab some food with us? My treat?” Jungkook offered, smiling at you.

You pause, but then nod. “Sure. That sounds great. We can come back after to get your stuff if you like.”

“Sounds like a magical plan to me!” Taehyung grinned at you and then kissed your cheek again. “You really should have put some mistletoe in here. That would have made it extra festive. I’ll go tell hyungs the plan.”

You definitely weren’t blushing.

#Christmas story madness #christmas story #taekook x reader #taekook #youtuber!au #Reader x Jungkook #reader x taehyung #reader x bts #bts fic

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comeoncomeout41 · 4 years ago

Text

I could wax poetic all day about the many issues with supergirl, those who know me well know I am incredibly wordy and can rant all day about anything but supercorp specifically. With the most recent dumpster fire we’ve dealt with I want to keep this as short as possible (wish me luck) and just mention a few key things scs, not the show but the fans, have done for this show in terms of media buzz, audience engagement, etc.

1. Supercorp consistently trends on tumblr. Which, tumblr, with all of its fault, is a fandom space more than more popular social media. But even bigger than tumblr, supercorp has trended on twitter constantly. NO OTHER SHIP on supergirl has done this besides maybe s*nvers, but not with the same consistency that supercorp has over 4 seasons now. I don’t even think any of kara’s canon relationships have ever trended? At least not at number 1. Even on tumblr.. Fan buzz online is FREE advertising for these networks. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started watching a show because I saw other people talking about it online, and LGBTQ tend to gravitate towards shows that represent them (in this case, a show that claims to give LGBTQ representation.)

2. Supercorps are organized and there is a LOT of us. We are also loyal. During the extended hiatus happening now between s5 and s6, there are many supercorps who have been live tweeting and streaming older episodes of the show every single Sunday. Even in the off season, scs have been dedicated to this show. And streaming on netflix is huge revenue for the CW as a whole which is why all of their programs are on Netflix, even though they have their own app for streaming. But I will also mention that Supergirl was the only arrowverse (cwverse) show that didn’t reach trending this year with the release of s5, probably due to poor reception not just from fans but reviewers as well. But netflix also streams theCW internationally the way theCW app does in the US, so fans using this platform to create watch parties, is a way for them to reach viewers globally. So just looking at the supercorp fandom, we are helping this show to reach viewers outside of their target demo to give them even more money.

3. I always bring up the zine but honestly, in the midst of all of the hurt feelings today and yesterday, the top posts in the supercorp tag are artists and writers sharing their hardwork which they used in order to donate money to charity! All in the sake of something they love! THREE years now scs have raised money for charity, and to me that will always be an amazing act. But I bring that up to say that scs have proven that we will give money, our time, our creativity to a show just because we love it.

In the midst of just these three things I’ve highlighted (there is so much more,) scs have dealt with so much detest from other parts of the supergirl fandom, from writers, from actors, from producers, and still, we’ve stayed the course. We’ve hoped for better from a show that has promised to care for the LGBTQ community. We’ve given this show more than it even deserves and still, when we ask for the show to deliver on a promise, not even a promise of supercorp endgame, but simply for them to CARE for the viewership, we are bullies, we are gaslighters, we are delusional, and we get blocked. And let’s be honest, most shows in their sixth season aren’t getting new viewers so as far as I’m concerned, the show needs us, they always have, but they can’t afford to lose us at this point which is why the queerbait in s5 was WAY more than they’ve ever done before. There is no doubt it was intentional, and it was harmful if they truly are never going to make supercorp canon.

#supercorp #my rants

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leerongrong · 5 years ago

Text

College Student!Jeno -

part of the NCT DREAM living the Y/N life collection.

full name: lee jeno

age: 20 [international]

height: 177cm

lets meet the infamous lee jeno

jeno’s a cutie with an eye smile, tall, and handsome

he has passion for multiple things; loves helping people, feeding stray cats, being an all around sweetheart

his love for cats got him a job at the local pet shop in his hometown

he works 2 hours a day after school, immediately going straight to work

the owner, who’s a lovely grandma, loves him to pieces

treats him like her own grandson; squishing his cheeks, gifting him snacks to bring home and even adding a little more to his monthly paycheck

she tells him people visit their pet shop more because of him and jeno always smiles and declines the thought

“this pet shop was already busy even before i worked here.”

although she’s 100% sure its because he smiles at everyone that passes by

so its not a shocker that the guy has his own batch of admirers at school

seniors, juniors, the lunch lady- you name it

everybody who’s anybody knows and adores this prince charming

most of the girls in school even go out of their way to watch him when he plays soccer or dances

people stare at him with literal heart eyes and they’re confused because he never seems to notice anyone??

the most popular girl in his class once confessed her feelings and asked him out a date

but got turned down by jeno

“i’m sorry, i don’t like you that way. maybe we could just be friends?”

the whole school went into chaos,, because lee jeno just rejected the queen bee- and no one’s ever done that before

and they’ve been hunching its because jeno already has a girlfriend

a secret girlfriend who jeno doesn’t admit to anyone

lmao truth is-

it’s because jeno’s a fanboy who’s heart has been taken by an idol

who’s none other than you

you’re the sixth member of red velvet

lead vocalist, lead dancer and song writer

born and raised in california before you decided you wanted to be a kpop idol

your heart breaks everytime you remember that your parents never showed you their support

they kicked you out the moment you told them about becoming an idol

you worked yourself to the bone, working at 4 different places just to save money for yourself to fly to korea

and when you do, your spirits were dimmed

audition after audition you were cast out, companies rejecting you left and right

the only company that hasn’t called after your audition is SM Entertainment

and by now you’re just about ready to give up because you know there’s no way SM’s going to accept you if the other smaller companies didn’t even bat an eye

until your phone rings

you initially thought it was the landlord, calling for the umpteenth time demanding you pay your bills

picking up and noticing right away that it wasn’t the landlord, instead one of the higher ups from SM

you cried tears of joy when they told you that you passed

you train your hardest everyday, along side seulgi and debuting together after 6 years of being a trainee

okay you, yourself know and adore jeno

yes you read that right, a kpop idol who remembers and love her fans with all her heart

well its because jeno’s been there since the very beginning

he’s been there when you first debuted, he’s been supportive and he’s never left

and you know him by name because he’s ALWAYS been there

fansigns, concerts, showcases, you name it

jeno’s always been there to support you and your group as you grow

you’ve always had a little piece of him in your heart because he’s different from the usual more older male and female fans

how could he not?

you’ll never forget that summer after you went MIA because of your health issues

you saw jeno again after months and in your eyes, he wasn’t a boy anymore he was a man

yeri and joy teased you a hell lot after you said it

“of couse you love reveluvs and what’re the odds! jeno’s a reveluv too.”

despite their teasing, you’re sure his eyes were locked on you the whole concert

and jeno would agree.

he remembers being brokenhearted after receiving news that you were going on a hiatus because of your health

he spammed your twitter and instagram accounts with so many ‘get well soon’ wishes

and jeno’s a loyal guy, he would never leave the group he stans just because his bias is missing

although he can’t say it feels the same without you on the stage but he still continued to cheer you on through social media along with streaming your group

he was over the moon when they’d announced that you’re coming back with a full album and concert no less

going straight to his piggy bank and breaking it open just so he could watch your concert

time skip to a few months after

today’s a very special fansign for you

it may or may not have smth to do with the fact that today’s jeno’s birthday and you may have pulled some strings just so the fansign happens today

you hope and pray that you’‘ll get to meet him today of all days

its because you have bought him a few presents for his birthday and you hope to give it to him

you bought him a cartier love necklace along with some perfume, multiple polaroids of you with the members and a very special handwritten letter

the members supported you all the way, they knew of your infatuation with jeno and you can’t bring yourself to care if you lose some fake fans along the way

you know the other reveluvs saw the gift and you’re glad nobody complained

the fandom p much knew how jeno’s literally the first ever to stan your group

they ALL know his love for you

and they all agree that he deserves your presents

although you heard some girls whispering dirty things about him and you

“shouldn’t she love us all the same? what’s so special about him?”

“inconsiderate to her other fans”

they were shushed by true reveluvs, the ones that that knew about jeno and his story

besides,-most reveluvs go to fansigns in hopes of running into him because that boy his HANDSOME and they’re lowkey staning him too by this point sjksjsgd

your fist clenched so hard when said girls came up to you and asked for your autograph

your fake smile is as clear as day, and irene tuts at you when she sees you rushing them away to the other members

which you knew was very petty of you and could ruin the career you’ve worked hard for

and you’re scared of what it might mean for you but you won’t tolerate anyone talking about jeno like that

you try to hide your disappointment when you don’t see jeno, the fansigning almost coming to an end

the gifts you preapared for him are still on your right, untouched

yeri nudges you on your hand and you’re sure your face lit up when you see jeno at the end of the line

a fansite took a picture of the exact moment and it clearly showed your wide smile, you looked like a fan who’s going to meet her bias and not he other way around

you wait and are filled with jitters when jeno finally stands in front of you

you give him the normal greeting, smiling at his newly dyed brownish hair and hand him the gift

you giggle when you see his face bright red and he’s ducking his head trying to hide his smile and your heart literally melts at the sight of his smile

while jeno’s literally dying inside because- you? his ultimate bias just gave him a gift? on his birthday? which you remembered? even after all these years?

he tries so hard to hold in his smile and tears because in no way is he going to cry in front you and plenty other people that are ready to take pictures

and his heart jumps when you, the members, and the people around him sing him a happy birthday while clapping their hands

even the manager behind you is smiling a little

while your agency’s in mock panic because multiple hashtags are trending on twitter

along with the footage of you and jeno

#y/nxjeno

#youandjeno’sshipname

and while jeno couldn’t wish for a happier 20th birthday, he’s not sure he should be relieved because now he’s famous too

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niallercanons · 4 years ago

Note

niall headcanon where he proposes to you in an empty arena <3 i love your work!!

This is such a cute request and I’m so glad you like my writing! This request also works so well with Niall’s upcoming live stream concert at the Royal Albert Hall that I had to fit that in with this.

(TW: None!!)

(Word count: 538)

So Niall and his team have been planning a live stream concert coming up soon to raise money for touring crews affected by tour cancellations due to the pandemic and give the fans an opportunity to donate while enjoying a show.

After some meetings and negotiations, things were set and confirmed: Niall would be having his concert at the Royal Albert Hall, a gorgeous and prestigious venue to play at.

Niall was super excited about this concert and you were so happy for him.

During lockdown, Niall had been so gutted to have to cancel his upcoming tour and not be able to perform in front of his fans.

He felt even worse when he realized that meant that his touring crew would be out of work until tours started again which would take a while at this rate.

Now, he’d be able to do both while remaining socially distant.

The concert would be pre-recorded and then streamed in all the different time-zones so people wouldn’t have to wake up at odd hours to watch.

On the day of recording, you accompanied Niall to the venue and watched him perform with his band.

You could see it in his eyes how much he had missed performing and cheered him on through the entire setlist.

After finishing his setlist, he thanked everyone for watching and making donations and the cameras stopped rolling and people began to clean everything up and leave for the day.

Niall stayed behind and talked to almost every crew member, helping them put away equipment and thanking them for the work they’ve done.

Once he was done doing so, it was just you and him left at the venue as everyone had gone home.

You left the stands and went to him, hugging and congratulating him for the concert.

“I’m glad I was able to do this, hurts my heart that crew isn’t being taken care of by the government so I wanted to try and help them.”

You agreed with him. You’ve had friends and family that worked as touring crew who had no idea where their income was coming from during this pandemic.

“This year has put a lot of things in perspective for me. Plans change quickly and people will just have to roll with the punches to survive. Another thing is that life’s short and we have to make the most of it in hard times.”

Niall got down on one knee, his hands reaching behind his back and you knew what was coming next.

That didn’t stop the tears from flowing down your face so freely, happy tears to be specific.

“Y/N L/N, I don’t want to spend another single day without you by my side. I love you so much and if there’s anything I’ve learned during this mess of a year is that I don’t want to ever live without you so will you do me the honour of-”

You didn’t let Niall finish his speech before you tackled him to the ground, screaming yes over and over again.

The sound of your happy sobbing and Niall’s laughing reverberated off the concert walls, as Niall slipped the ring onto your third finger on your left hand.

Here are the links to buy Niall’s live stream show tickets and the link to donate to the We Need Crew relief fund UK if you’d like to see Niall’s show or donate to the fund. Whatever you can give helps out touring crew across the UK. If you’re not from the UK, this is the global relief fund for touring crew. Without them, concerts would absolutely not be the same and we wouldn’t even be able to have them, pandemic or not. So once again, please give what you can to those links and if you can’t (which is absolutely ok), try spreading the links around and raising awareness about them.

#niall horan imagine #niall horan blurb #niall horan fanfic #niall horan headcanon #niall horan oneshot #niall horan x reader #niall horan #niall james horan #njh #solo niall #niall imagine #niall horan fluff #one direction imagines #one direction imagine #one direction x reader

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xhxhxhx · 5 years ago

Text

Thinking about Ross Douthat’s “The Age of Decadence” this morning:

“Do people on your coast think all this is real?”

The tech executive sounded curious, proud, a little insecure. We were talking in the San Francisco office of a venture capital firm, a vaulted space washed in Californian sun. He was referring to the whole gilded world around the Bay, the entire internet economy.

That was in 2015. Here are three stories from the five years since.

A young man comes to New York City. He’s a striver, a hustler, working the borderlands between entrepreneurship and con artistry. His first effort, a credit card for affluent millennials, yanks him into the celebrity economy, where he meets an ambitious rapper-businessman. Together they plan a kind of internet brokerage where celebrities can sell their mere presence to the highest bidder. As a brand-enhancing advertisement for the company, they decide to host a major music festival — an exclusive affair on a Caribbean island for influencers, festival obsessives and the youthful rich.

The festival’s online rollout is a great success. There is a viral video of supermodels and Instagram celebrities frolicking on a deserted beach, a sleek website for customers and the curious, and in the end, more than 5,000 people buy tickets, at an average cost of $2,500 to $4,000 — the superfluity of a rich society, yours for the right sales pitch.

But the festival as pitched does not exist. Instead, our entrepreneur’s plans collapse one by one. The private island’s owners back out of the deal. The local government doesn’t cooperate. Even after all the ticket sales, the money isn’t there, and he has to keep selling new amenities to ticket buyers to pay for the ones they’ve already purchased. He does have a team working around the clock to ready … something for the paying customers, but what they offer in the end is a sea of FEMA tents vaguely near a beach, a catering concern that supplies slimy sandwiches, and a lot of cheap tequila.

Amazingly, the people actually come — bright young things whose Instagram streams become a hilarious chronicle of dashed expectations, while the failed entrepreneur tries to keep order with a bullhorn before absconding to New York, where he finds disgrace, arrest and the inevitable Netflix documentary.

That’s the story of Billy McFarland and the Fyre Festival. It’s a small-time story; the next one is bigger.

A girl grows up in Texas, she gets accepted to Stanford, she wants to be Steve Jobs. She has an idea that will change an industry that hasn’t changed in years: the boring but essential world of blood testing. She envisions a machine, dubbed the Edison, that will test for diseases using just a single drop of blood. And like Jobs she quits college to figure out how to build it.

Ten years later, she is the internet era’s leading female billionaire, with a stream of venture capital, a sprawling campus, a $10 billion valuation for her company, and a lucrative deal with Walgreens to use her machines in every store. Her story is a counterpoint to every criticism you hear about Silicon Valley — that it’s a callow boys’ club, that its virtual realities don’t make the world of flesh and blood a better place, that it solves problems of convenience but doesn’t cure the sick. And she is the toast of an elite, in tech and politics alike, that wants to believe the Edisonian spirit lives on.

But the Edison box — despite endless effort and the best tech team that all that venture capital can buy — doesn’t work. And over time, as the company keeps expanding, it ceases even trying to innovate and becomes instead a fraud, using all its money and big-time backers to discredit whistle-blowers. Which succeeds until it doesn’t, at which point the company and all its billions evaporate — leaving behind a fraud prosecution, a best-selling exposé and the inevitable podcast and HBO documentary to sustain its founder’s fame.

That’s the story of Elizabeth Holmes and Theranos. It’s a big story. But our third story is bigger still, and it isn’t finished yet.

An internet company decides to revolutionize an industry — the taxi and limousine market — that defines old-school business-government cooperation, with all the attendant bureaucracy and unsatisfying service. It promises investors that it can buy its way to market dominance and use cutting-edge tech to find unglimpsed efficiencies. On the basis of that promise, it raises billions of dollars across its 10-year rise, during which time it becomes a byword for internet-era success, the model for how to disrupt an industry. By the time it goes public in 2019, it has over $11 billion in annual revenue — real money, exchanged for real services, nothing fraudulent about it.

Yet this amazing success story isn’t actually making any profit, even at such scale; instead, it’s losing billions, including $5 billion in one particularly costly quarter. After 10 years of growth, it has smashed the old business model of its industry, weakened legacy competitors and created value for consumers — but it has done all this using the awesome power of free money, building a company that would collapse into bankruptcy if that money were withdrawn. And it has solved none of the problems keeping it from profitability: The technology it uses isn’t proprietary or complex; its rival in disruption controls 30 percent of the market; the legacy players are still very much alive; and all of its paths to reduce its losses — charging higher prices, paying its workers less — would destroy the advantages that it has built.

So it sits there, a unicorn unlike any other, with a plan to become profitable that involves vague promises to somehow monetize all its user data and a specific promise that its investment in a different new technology — the self-driving car, much ballyhooed but as yet not exactly real — will make the math add up.

That’s the story of Uber — so far. It isn’t an Instagram fantasy or a naked fraud; it managed to go public and maintain its outsize valuation, unlike its fellow unicorn WeWork, whose recent attempt at an I.P.O. hurled it into crisis. But it is, for now, an example of a major 21st-century company invented entirely out of surplus, and floated by the hope that with enough money and market share, you can will a profitable company into existence. Which makes it another case study in what happens when an extraordinarily rich society can’t find enough new ideas that justify investing all its stockpiled wealth. We inflate bubbles and then pop them, invest in Theranos and then repent, and the supposed cutting edge of capitalism is increasingly defined by technologies that have almost arrived, business models that are on their way to profitability, by runways that go on and on without the plane achieving takeoff.

Do people on your coast think all this is real? When the tech executive asked me that, I told him that we did — that the promise of Silicon Valley was as much an article of faith for those of us watching from the outside as for its insiders; that we both envied the world of digital and believed in it, as the one place where American innovation was clearly still alive. And I would probably say the same thing now because, despite the stories I’ve just told, the internet economy is still as real as 21st-century growth and innovation gets.

But what this tells us, unfortunately, is that 21st-century growth and innovation are not at all what we were promised they would be.

I wonder if we’ll think about Silicon Valley the way we think about Texas wildcatters and Florida real estate hustlers.

It’s not that there isn’t innovation in California. There is innovation in California. There was oil in Texas and real estate in Florida too. But their dilemmas are the same: the market has matured. The frontier is a confidence game, but the core is stagnant.

Facebook and Google monopolized social and search. They have the profits that newspapers used to have and broadcasters still do. Apple sells luxury products to the affluent, like the LVMH of Cupertino. They are not growing and innovating. They are insulating.

They acquire smaller firms that might threaten their business: Instagram, WhatsApp, Waze, DoubleClick. They do just enough to insulate themselves. They do no more. A little while ago, they challenged one another: Apple tried search, Google tried social. They don’t do that anymore.

It would be nice if they tried something new.

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kieraswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Coffin Chapter Eighteen

Masterpost

“Sir, Liam Hart’s house has been attacked by vampires.”

“I assume he has it handled?”

“No, sir. We have some video, but as far as I know everyone that was living there is dead.”

“Oh? I’m surprised. Do we know where the vampires went?”

“No, sir. But I do have the video. We are working on identifying them.”

“Well done. Once you’re done send out an alert. I want them shot on sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

•^*^••

Roman turned his head for a second when he heard the whimper.

“Please… Please no! I-I didn’t…” came Virgil’s weak voice.

Roman had to watch the road. He wished now he wasn’t the one driving. “Is he ok, Pat?”

“No.” Patton said bitterly. Then his voice came again, a bit more normal. “He’s having nightmares. But if we wake him up he’ll be hurting even worse.”

Patton was in the backseat, cradling Virgil’s head and shoulders so that he could lay down. Roman could barely look at Virgil. He had no idea how Patton was managing it.

A stream of broken pleas fell from Virgil’s lips, interspersed with sounds so pitiful they pierced Roman’s heart.

“Shh, Virgil, I’ve got you now. It’ll be ok,” Patton soothed.

Roman spared another glance backward. Patton was running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, and his face was wet and shiny from tears.

Roman leaned a bit heavier on the gas pedal, wanting to get to their destination as quickly as possible, though he knew that even with speeding it would be several hours.

It was maybe an hour later that Roman heard a sharp gasp, and rapid breathing, that quickly became hyperventilating.

“Virgil, it’s ok, I’m here. I’ve got you now. No one is going to hurt you anymore.”

The breathing slowed down gradually, becoming ragged in the way breathing does when someone’s trying not to cry.

“Oh, Virgil, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” Patton started crying.

And then they were both crying. Virgil’s crying was interspersed with gasps and pained noises, and Patton’s with teary reassurances.

Roman didn’t know what to do. He pulled out his phone and called Logan.

“Roman? I’m sure you know I’m very busy right now.”

“I know, I know. But Virgil’s awake.”

The sigh of relief was plain through the phone.

“He’s in a lot of pain and I don’t know what to do.”

“Ok. Try feeding him. Vampires heal quickly just after they’ve eaten.”

“Ok.”

There was some muffled talking that Roman couldn’t make out. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call again as soon as I can.”

Logan hung up.

“Patton, Logan said to feed him. It’ll help him heal.”

“O-ok,” Patton said shakily. “Ow! No, no, Virgil, it’s ok, I’m fine. I’m sorry. It’s ok. Please, just get better.”

Roman again cursed that he was the driver. He knew it was better for Patton to be back there than for him, but he still wanted to be there!

It was a good two hours later that he pulled over, needing gas and to use the bathroom.

•^*^••

Patton also would’ve liked to go inside, but he was not going to leave Virgil alone, and by the time Roman got back Virgil had drifted into a kind of semi-sleep. Patton just could not justify waking him up.

His wrist ached a bit, and it was still bleeding a little. For some reason it wasn’t healing up very quickly this time. Patton wouldn’t have minded except that seeing the blood was turning his stomach.

He ran his hand gently through Virgil’s hair, trying to give what little comfort he could.

Roman cranked the car. “You doing ok?”

Patton nodded. “Yeah. It’s, uh, it’s been a long day. A really, really long day.”

“How—“ Roman started driving. “How soon did it, start?”

Patton swallowed heavily. “Pretty soon.” He looked out the car window at the setting sun. It had been late last night, or maybe early in the morning, when his dad had started banging on their door. His day had felt stretched into a week, and he couldn’t bear to imagine what it had been like for Virgil.

“Oh,” Roman said, the same heaviness sitting in Patton’s stomach apparent in his voice.

Patton nodded, and tears started slipping down his face again. Surely he’d run out soon. There was no way he could cry this much. And it didn’t do any good! He could cry all he wanted but it wouldn’t help Virgil!

But that thought just made the tears come faster.

•^*^••

“There’s the last of them,” Logan said. “Unless you want me to drop you off somewhere.”

“Nah,” Remus said, leaned back crookedly over the seat, completely unbuckled. “I think I’ll go with Dee Dee and Thomas.”

Logan nodded. “That would make sense, if it’s really what you want to do.”

“Eh.”

It didn’t take them long to meet up with the other car, though Remus was almost disturbingly quiet during the ride.

Thomas traded with Logan, and Dee went with him and Remus. Logan got into the backseat of the car Emile was driving, and Remy was in the passenger seat.

“We’ll contact you in a week,” Logan said, and was met with a firm nod from Thomas.

Logan still didn’t like this plan. While it might keep them safe, it also weakened them in case of attack, and there was nothing they could do in terms of helping any other vampires. But it did keep them safe, probably. So it was their best bet. At least until someone came up with anything better.

•^*^••

There was almost certainly an ambush both at their house and at the farmhouse. There was no way to return to get anything.

Thomas just drove. He didn’t know where they’d be staying that night, aside from the car, but he couldn’t chance being anywhere near Liam’s house. Probably not even in the same state. Hopefully crossing state lines would be enough. Hopefully. But it might well not be.

As it turned out, Remus wasn’t the absolute worst person to have in the backseat. He kept talking almost constantly, usually about things that Thomas hoped didn’t relate to vampires. Dee scoffed and rolled his eyes at every other sentence, but Thomas caught a hint of an amused smile more than once.

•^*^••

It hurt.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

It hurt .

Everything hurt.

Virgil was constantly holding back whimpers and other sounds. He didn’t want them to know. They could see him, but silver never looked as bad as it felt.

Even after he’d eaten, and could just barely distinguish the itch of healing within the sea of pain, it still hurt.

His one anchor was Patton’s hand carding softly through his hair. The only thing on his whole body that didn’t hurt.

And then the car stopped again. Virgil was hazily slipping in and out of a semi-sleep. He didn’t catch the words Patton and Roman were saying, until they tried to lift him.

Virgil let out a pained yell. His arm flailed, reaching for Patton.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok, Virgil. We need you to be quiet, ok?”

“Can’t,” Virgil choked out.

“Ok, ok. Um.”

“Here, let me, Pat. You get the other end.”

“No! Please.” Virgil started crying and pleading with them to not pick him up. It hurt. It hurt so bad!

“I’m sorry, Virgil, I’m so sorry,” Roman said, and then put a hand over his mouth. “Now, Pat.”

They lifted, and Virgil screamed against Roman’s hand.

They carried him inside somewhere, and laid him on a bed.

“There, it’s done. I’m sorry, Virgil. I am. I’m truly sorry.” Roman left a thousand apologies before the exhaustion took over the pain, and Virgil slipped again.

•^*^••

They were in a tourist town.

“Why would you pick this place?” Logan asked, when he realized that Remy was turning in to a driveway.

“Because everyone’s a stranger here babe,” Remy said quickly. “Now I’ll hop out and work my magic, you two don’t watch.”

He took off his sunglasses and slipped them on Emile, and then got out of the car. Emile immediately turned up the music.

It was a while before Remy came back out, and was followed by a small family with heaps of bags, who piled into their car and drove away.

“What is it that you tell them?” Logan asked.

Remy flashed a smile, “They've won a cruise! I am here to personally give them the address and they have to leave right away for a ninety day cruise in the Bahamas!”

“Isn’t that… needlessly cruel?” Logan asked. “They have to drive a long way for nothing, and then they’re left with no house, and less money.”

“Who said it’s nothing?” Remy said with a wink, taking his sunglasses back.

“He really does own a cruise ship somewhere,” Emile explained. “It’s not the Bahamas, but it’s pretty nice. The ship is called Remy too.”

“Have you been on it?” Logan asked.

Emile nodded. “It was a long time ago, but yeah. That’s where I met him. I actually bought my ticket, though.”

Logan nodded slowly, though, to be honest, this just raised more questions.

•^*^••

“Well, I guess it’s better than nothing,” Thomas said.

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect!” Remus was out of the car and running around like a hyperactive child.

“I don’t know what you see in it,” Dee muttered, putting the seats all the way back.

Thomas just sighed. Sleeping in his car at a state rest stop wasn’t his idea of comfortable, but it was empty, and thus probably safe. And he still had Dee. And Remus, but Remus was more a wild card than a comfort.

There were bathrooms, and a vending machine for ‘breakfast’ in the morning. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

•^*^••

Patton didn’t sleep. He almost didn’t dare touch Virgil, for fear of hurting him. He sat on the edge of the bed, gently running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, and keeping a damp washcloth for his forehead. The poor boy was hot with fever, which Patton had hoped vampires couldn’t get, but apparently they could.

“Well, silver is poison to them,” Roman had murmured. “It burns, but too much will kill them. I just hope we got him in time.”

Patton couldn’t think about what if they were too late. They had him now. Surely that was enough. They were doing everything they could. Surely. Surely he’d get better.

#sanders sides #vampire au #vampires #blood #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #emile picani #remy sleep #my own work #coffin #violence #speciesism #vampire virgil #platonic moxiety

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livingdeadinsideyourhead · 4 years ago

Text

Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

#iggy pop #idk if anyone posted it here already #I'm just too lazy to look up so #here it is!

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livesincerely · 4 years ago

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it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 2 (END)

Also on Ao3. Chapter 1 here.

00000

“Jack is such a dumbass.”

Davey blinks his way out of his stupor. Tony is staring towards where Jack disappeared out the front door, his expression a mix of exasperation, annoyance, and sheer bafflement.

“Like, I forget sometimes, but he’s actually just a complete fucking moron, isn’t he?” Tony says. “I can’t believe he’s what counts as responsible adult supervision.”

Charlie heaves a massive sigh, shoving his math textbook to the side. “Yeah, that wasn’t his best moment.”

“Not his best moment?” Tony asks, incredulous. “How many years has it been at this point? Seven? Eight?”

“Eight,” Charlie gloomily confirms, shaking his head.

“Eight years we’ve been tryin’ to convince him to pull his head outta his ass and make a move and this is the shit he pulls? Really? He’s lucky that Davey’s basically a sure thing because Jesus Christ—“

Davey’s never been so confused in his entire life. Tony gears up into a full-on rant, splotches of red creeping further and further across his face with each word; Charlie clearly commiserates, chiming in with his own grievances every now and then.

And Davey’s listening, he’s doing his best to follow along, but he must not be understanding correctly. He can’t be. Because it sounds like Tony is implying that Jack…

“—I mean, he’s been in love with him for ages, so he musta had a plan, right? Some sorta idea, even if he’s too chicken shit to do anything with it? Well, I guess somethin’s better than nothin,’ but come on, you’d think he could do better than plantin’ one on Davey by accident—“

Davey’s heart does a series of pirouettes around his chest. He croaks out, “Wait, what?”

“I said, Jack shoulda done better than kissing you, then takin’ off—“

“No, I mean—“ Davey pauses, swallowing around a sudden dryness in his throat. “Go back to the part where you said Jack’s in love with me.”

“Uh, okay, what about it?” Tony says, brow furrowed—like he doesn’t understand what Davey’s getting at.

Davey stares at him. “Jack isn’t in love with me.”

Tony and Charlie exchange a loaded glance.

“Yes, he is, Davey,” Charlie says cautiously. Davey thinks he’d be more irritated with the gentle handling if it weren’t for the fact that his world is tilting off its axis.

“Jack isn’t in love with me,” Davey repeats. The words feel numb as they leave his lips, but he says them anyway. To think otherwise seems unfathomable. “Jack isn’t— Jack can’t be in love with me. I’d know if he was.”

“Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t ya?” Tony mutters.

“No, he is,” Charlie insists. “He’s, like, ridiculously in love with you.”

Davey doesn’t know where to even begin processing that statement. He leans back heavily in his chair and a small, distant part of his brain is grateful that he’s already sitting down, as this revelation would have sent him to the floor. The larger part of his brain is screaming.

“What makes you so sure?” he eventually asks, once he finds the words.

Tony throws him a look. “I have functional fucking eyes.”

“We’re sure, Davey,” Charlie cuts in patiently. “We are absolutely, definitely sure.”

The possibility rattles around Davey’s mind, then starts to take a more solid form. Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“He never said anything,” Davey says.

“Yeah, no shit. If it was up to him he woulda taken that one to his grave,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “But you don’t really need him to say anything—you can just tell.”

“I can’t tell!” Davey disagrees, the tone of his voice edging towards shrill.

“But that’s just you,” Charlie says, like that explanation makes any kind of sense. “Trust us, it’s really obvious to everyone else. Like, painfully obvious.”

“You do realize that the two of you have basically been married for years, right?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows. “You’re, like, disgustingly domestic and you flirt with each other all the time. Like, all the time.”

Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“Please get together already,” Charlie pleads. “I can’t take it anymore, and obviously Jack can’t be trusted to make good decisions—” Here he and Tony exchange a commiserating look; Davey can only imagine what they’ve been privy to when he isn't around. “—so it’s gonna hafta be you.”

“What do I do?” Davey asks, completely overwhelmed. “I mean, he ran away! Should I go after him?”

“What, are you gonna chase him down in the rain?” Tony says with a snort. “Just talk to him when he gets back.”

“Give him a chance to calm down,” Charlie advises. “And, uh, maybe you should calm down a bit too—you kinda look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Well, that was kind of a lot,” Davey retorts, but the words have no heat behind them.

“Besides, it’s not like Jack can hide from you forever,” Tony adds with a shrug. “You know where he sleeps.”

Davey can’t decided if he loves or hates how reassuring that is.

00000

The streams of sunlight that cut through the blinds wake Davey up the next morning. A glance at the clock tells him that it’s nearly nine; he’s surprised he slept through Charlie and Tony leaving for school, but after the emotional upheaval of last night, they must have made a point not to wake him.

He lays there for a long time, blinking up at the ceiling and watching the overhead fan spin in lazy circles. Jack had sent him a single text last night, warning him that his phone was about to die and he had to stay late at work; Davey had tried to wait up for him, but finally fell asleep a little after three am. There’s a flicker of worry at the thought of Jack—wondering if he was making up excuses to avoid him, wondering what to say when he sees him next—but the anxiety of last night has transformed into something hazy and distant.

Davey’s been in love with Jack for years; he’d long since resigned himself to living with that love quietly. The only thing that’s changed is there’s a possibility that Jack loves him back, so really, what’s there to worry about?

Eventually, he throws back the covers and hauls himself upright. He pulls a sweatshirt on over his pajamas, disregarding the way it makes his already tousled hair even more of a disaster, and shuffles slowly down the hall.

The growl of his stomach reminds him that it’s well past his usual breakfast time. Davey wanders into the kitchen and begins pulling supplies out of the cabinets by route, and before he knows it, he’s got the beginnings of a breakfast going.

Everything takes on a different aspect in the light of this new day—details that Davey’s always known, but has never been fully conscious of. The skillet he grabs is a hefty cast iron monstrosity that belonged to his Bubbie—it lives at Jack’s place because Davey’s dorm’s kitchen is the size of a shoebox and hasn’t been renovated in decades, and also because Davey’s never been in the habit of cooking for one.

The coffee maker is new: he and Jack had to get a new one last month after their old one finally crapped out. They’d spent the better part of an hour at the local Bed, Bath & Beyond, bickering back and forth about which one to get until a salesperson finally took pity on them and pointed them towards a sturdy model solidly in the middle of their price range. Davey grabs his favorite mug—a pale blue one with a chip on the handle from where Tony dropped it one time—and fills it with the first pour of a fresh brew. The coffee, of course, is from his favorite place around the corner, a blend that Jack always claims is too expensive, but keeps on buying for him.

It’s scattered all around him, the countless ways that his and Jack’s lives are intertwined. Davey almost can’t believe that it’s taken him this long to notice, but maybe that’s just it: this has been his normal for ages, so why would he notice it?

Davey hums softly to himself as he works, the quiet punctuated only by the buzz of the refrigerator and the hiss of the coffee maker, which is why it’s so surprising to glance up and notice Jack standing in the doorway, his expression a little pinched around the edges and still dressed in his clothes from yesterday, though noticeably rumpled.

“Jack!” Davey says, startled. “I didn’t hear you come in. When did you get— wait, did you spend the night at the office?”

Jack looks at him funny, like he was expecting Davey to say something else. “I missed the last subway and I didn't have money for a cab.”

“Maybe you should start keeping some things at work,” Davey says, frowning slightly. “Like, a pillow and a toothbrush and stuff like that. You’ve been having a lot of night shifts recently and that couch in your break room looks like it’s older than I am, so I know it can’t be comfortable to sleep on—“

“Are you making breakfast?” Jack interrupts, one hand braced against the doorframe. There’s something pointed about the question: accusing and disbelieving and conflicted all at the same time.

Davey looks at the assortment of ingredients gathered around him—milk, flour, butter, eggs, blueberries—then down at the bowl of pancake batter he’s in the middle of whisking. “Uh… yes?”

Jack barks out a laugh, but it’s tinged with a hint of hysteria. “I thought you’d be— But instead you’re— Why?”

“I always make breakfast on Fridays,” Davey says, because it’s true. He beckons Jack forward with a nod of his head. “Here, come help me with this, you’re better at flipping the pancakes than I am.”

Jack scrubs a hand over his mouth, then seems to rally himself.

“Okay,” he mutters, clearly not intending for Davey to hear him. “Okay… so it’s like that. Okay.” Then louder he says—with an incredibly lackluster attempt at his usual grin that wouldn’t fool anyone, let alone Davey—“Yeah, sure Dave, I gotcha.”

Davey lifts himself up to sit on the counter next to the stove while Jack steps up to the cooktop. He watches silently as Jack pours the batter into the skillet, nudging at the edges with his spatula until they start to firm up. It should be an easy, simple moment together—something they’ve done countless times before. Instead, the space between them is thick with unspoken tension.

Davey considers his options. He takes in the stiff line of Jack’s shoulders and remembers the look on Jack’s face yesterday—soft affection burnt away by panic. He waits for just the right moment, then says, “So, Tony and Charlie seem to think that you’re in love with me.”

The reaction is immediate. Jack jerks in surprise—a full-body flinch—and the pan slips out of his hands. It hits the burner with a clattering bang and the half-cooked batter goes flying halfway across the kitchen, then hits the floor with a splat.

“Yeah,” Davey comments mildly, taking in the mess with no small measure of satisfaction. ��That’s about how I felt too.”

Jack makes a strangled noise: like he’s going to deny it, like he thinks he has to deny it, like it’s never occurred to him to do otherwise. And sure, Davey had never considered broaching the topic either, but Davey’s not the one that kissed and ran.

“No, don’t even start with that,” Davey begins before Jack can say anything. “You’re in love with me, I know you’re in love with me. The boys finally told me last night—apparently it’s obvious, but I never would’ve guessed if they hadn’t said something. And if you hadn’t kissed me.”

He gestures at the remnants of breakfast. “That’s for leaving me to freak out last night, by the way. Also, Tony told me to tell you that you’re the World’s Biggest Dumbass, and I can’t say I disagree with him.”

Jack’s eyes have gone very wide. An assortment of emotions flit across his face, but none remain long enough for Davey to identify them.

“Sorry about that,” Jack eventually says. The words come out slow and a little jagged, like he’s having trouble keeping his voice steady. “I shouldn’t have done that—I didn’t mean to kiss ya, it just kinda happened—but I understand if you’re mad at me or if ya need me to—“

“Oh my god,” Davey says, shaking his head even as a surge of affection rushes through him, “you really are a dumbass.” He jumps down off the counter and holds out a hand. “Jackie, come here.”

Jack stumbles forward, visibly unsure. Davey can’t imagine what he’s thinking is about to happen, can’t imagine how Jack can stand here with him in their kitchen in their home and not know that they’re in this together, just like they always are.

Davey threads their fingers together, tugging Jack those last few steps so that they’re standing chest to chest. He brings his other hand up to Jack’s face, dragging his fingers over his forehead until the furrow in Jack’s brow relaxes, until his expression begins to brighten with tentative hope, then down around the curve of his jaw to tilt Jack’s head that much closer to his own.

Jack moves easily, immediately, when Davey touches him—only the slight hitch in his breath indicates that this is unexplored territory—and it’s so simple for Davey to just lean up and kiss him.

Soft. Sweet. It feels brand new. It feels like they’ve done this hundreds of times.

“Just in case that wasn’t clear enough,” Davey murmurs as they part, impossibly happy and feeling like his heart might burst with it. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you.”

Jack’s answering smile seems to light him up from the inside out. “Oh yeah? Well, word on the street is, I’m in love with you too.”

#newsies #javid #Jack Kelly #davey jacobs #*final cut #*the writing desk #the one where it's domestic #wow more self-indulgent romance #*editor's note

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fedeipox · 4 years ago

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The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 3 (1/2)

I don’t think you actually care about it, but I’ve chosen to write my Bachelor’s Degree Thesis about “Anglo-American Travel and Travel Writing in Italy”. Anglo-American folks, do you see? This is how much I love you guys!

Previously on TWoT: The thaw finally gives the VdL gang the possibility to move from Colter. Emily jumps on a wagon and enjoys the ride southward. In the meantime she gets the chance to know some of the members better. She finds more about their past, about their personalities, she is more and more interested in Arthur, the grumpy cowboy with the fairytale name, and she starts to appreciate them despite the fact that they are criminals. Now it is time to understand how things in their camp work.

Chapter 3 (1/2) - On the road

Words: 3k

On the road to Valentine, Emily found more than her love for the country, she found out she had new friends, some new kind of family, an uncommon family, a crazy family, a family of outlaws. She didn’t see it in these terms, of course, but we all know how it works with the Van der Linde gang: once you start getting attached, you’ll never let them go.

Anyway, at that moment, she couldn’t believe her own feelings. She had alway despised criminals: she believed laws were made for a reason, which is being followed, she hated thieves because she thought they took away the product of honest people’s work, not to mention murderers, who were nothing more than the worst kind of thieves, because they stole our most precious thing, our life.

So, how could she feel that way? She felt pity for them, for their stories, she felt emotionally attached to Hosea, who talked to her like a father, even better than her real father actually, she had to admit shamefully, because she had never had that kind of talk with him and he had never made her feel that way. In her house, her mother was the backbone of the family.

And then there was that Mr. Arthur, with his sarcasm and “tough and rough”way to do things, and handsome, again she had to admit that too. And Mary-Beth, she looked like the perfect friend, when she would open up a little - she probably was a little shy. And little Jack, she liked that kid too.

So, on the road to Valentine, Emily found more than her love for the country, she found out that people are people, no matter what they’ve done in their life, and that good and evil sometimes overlap.

“What’s this place called again?” asked Arthur.

“Horseshoe Overlook” answered Hosea.

“It’s a good place to lie low?”

“It’ll do for now. And how long do you think Dutch is going to lie low?”

“W-wait, I though you said we were going to Valentine” Emily stepped in.

“It’s a place near Valentine, yes” replied Hosea.

“But… we won’t stay in the city?”

“How do you think we can make twenty people stay in the city?” asked Mr. Morgan.

“And we have to hide, the law is still looking for us, we can’t risk to catch too much attention” added Hosea.

“I don’t understand, why are they looking for you?” she asked.

“On the left here, Arthur. Up the hill” Hosea said pointing at the left path at the crossroad. Then, he sighed and made a little pause before he explained her their situation.

We all know about the ferry job in Blackwater, how it all went to hell and how Dutch killed an innocent girl “in a bad way”, how Javier tells it. And we know how they had to flee from Blackwater because of the Pinkertons, and how some of them didn’t make it.

Emily remained silent after Hosea told her all this. She was thinking not about the fact that they had stolen a lot of money from that ferry, but about the amount of people who died for that theft. That girl on the ferry, that Davey and that Jenny in the mountains, not to mention all the people they had to shoot to get out of Blackwater. And from the way Hosea was talking about it, she could tell he wasn’t proud of how things had gone.

“Why you do that? Why are you criminals? Can’t you just… change your life?” she asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to do. Make enough money so we can buy some land out in the West and start a new life” answered Hosea.

“But why you have to steal it, can’t you take a loan from the bank or something like that?”

Hosea and Arthur chuckled.

“You’ll soon learn Dutch isn’t fond of the American government, and the bankers, and the industrialists, and everybody else who has just a little power on this land.”

Emily couldn’t understand what Hosea was telling her, she couldn’t understand what Dutch really wanted. He wanted a new life? He wanted to be a criminal? He wanted to fight the government? He reminded her of Robin Hood, but instead of taking from the rich to give to the poor, he took from everybody to give to his family.

After the climb up the hill, they found themselves in a plain ground where the path was surrounded by trees, and the more they followed it the thicker the trees became, until Arthur pulled the reins and made the wagon stop.

“There you are brother.”

Emily raised her head and looked at the man who had spoken, the one with the parted mustache and bowler hat, laying his back on a big rock at the edge of the road.

“Head in there and follow the track for a bit” he said pointing to a little side path among the trees.

Then, he reached the back of the wagon and hopped in.

“Okay, let’s go” he said with a gesture of his hand.

Emily looked at him and smiled. From close up, she could perfectly tell he came from some place in the South, like Colombia, or Mexico, or maybe Brazil. He also had a strange accent when he spoke, so she was pretty sure he wasn’t from there.

“Where do you come from, Mr…?”

“Javier, Escuella. Mexico.”

“Oh, I would’ve said something like Cuba. Do you like in here?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s a good country.”

“Are you gonna ask everybody about their lives?” said Mr. Morgan with annoyance.

Again, Emily couldn’t understand why he had to be so grumpy. She was just trying to have a conversation, know better the people she was gonna spent some time with.

“Why do you care, Mr. Morgan?” she laughed.

“I’m just afraid you’ll start make me insistent and annoying questions” he replied.

“Don’t worry, from now on I’ll avoid you like the plague” she joked.

Both him and Hosea chuckled.

“So, any trouble getting in here, Javier?” asked the latter.

“No, it went well. This is a good spot” he replied.

“Excellent. I think this will work for us, for now anyway.”

“Were are we going to sleep?” asked Emily as the thought of another night on the ground was starting to worry her.

“We got tents. It’s not like sleeping in the best hotel in town, I know, but it’s not the worst, either. You’ll get used to it” answered Hosea.

“Tents like… like camping?”

In that moment she understood what Dutch meant by “camp” when they had rescued her the day before. And yes, her fear had just been confirmed: she had to sleep on the ground, again.

“See for yourself. Here we are, home sweet home” Hosea said and at the same time the path into the woods ended and a clearing opened at their sight.

Mr. Arthur made the wagon stop again and Emily took a deep breath before standing up.

Javier was waiting for her, with his hand ready to be taken to help her getting down. It was the most courteous thing anybody had ever done for her and she looked at him with surprise for a moment before taking it.

“You weren’t wrong, Hosea. This place is perfect!” she heard the loud and thundering voice of Dutch saying.

“I hope so” replied Hosea.

“Hey, were have you been?”

She had just jumped down the wagon and she turned around to meet Mary-Beth’s eyes: she had removed the heavy coat and headscarf and she was wearing a pink shirt on a mauve long skirt.

Actually, the weather there was way better, the temperature warmer, and Emily didn’t felt anymore in need to wear that bottle-green woolen coat.

“I stayed behind with Hosea. You’ve already settled the camp” she stated looking at the tents around her.

“There’s still a lot to do. Come, I’ll show you around” said Mary-Beth taking one of the crates from the wagon and leading the way.

...

They walked through the tents, passing right in front of Abigail, who was bringing another carpet inside of hers.

“Hi Abigail!” Emily exclaimed.

Abigail answered with a smile before entering her tent, where she opened and left the carpet among the others on the ground next to John, sleeping on the cot thanks to the reverend’s morphine.

“We’ll sleep here” said Mary-Beth showing her their place, with the four bedrolls on the two big carpets.

“What, here?” she heard Emily ask as she left the crate under the tent.

“Yes.”

“We don’t have a tent?”

Mary-Beth looked at her and then pointed at the large piece of cloth above their heads.

“This is our tent.”

“I mean a real tent. Like that one” Emily said pointing at John’s tent.

“Only Dutch and John have those.”

“Why?”

“Because they are… they are…”

Emily and Mary-Beth looked at each other in the eye, exchanging a meaningful look. They both knew it wasn’t exactly right to leave the women sleep on the ground and out in the open air while they had all the privacy and comfortable cots they wished, but there were rules.

“So there is some kind of hierarchy here, like… they are on the top and all of us down here?”

“No, Dutch is the leader, and then Hosea, Arthur and John, then the men, then Miss Grimshaw and then us.”

“So it’s a patriarchal totalitarianism?”

Mary-Beth frowned, not understanding what she wanted to say with those big words.

“Never mind. There is a place I can wash?” Emily asked taking off the coat she had given her.

“If you want to have a bath, we have to go to town, or if you aren’t squeamish you can wash in the stream, but you won’t have much privacy there.”

Emily opened her mouth in astonishment and Mary-Beth was pretty sure she was about to say something outraged, but right at that moment Dutch called them all.

“Come it’s time for the speech” she said to the new girl.

“The speech?”

“I know that things have been tough, but we are safe now and we are far too poor” was saying Dutch as they both reached his tent quickly, where the rest of the group had gathered.

The speech was the same as always: we all need to work, no more passengers, bring some food, share what you got with the gang, be careful, don’t catch too much attention.

They had almost finished with the usual bunch of encouraging words when Mary-Beth felt the sleeve of her shirt pulled and turning her head she saw Emily looking at her with an expression she couldn’t make out.

As the speech ended and the people scattered, going back to their works, trying to make that place livable, she turned to face the new girl.

“What?” she asked.

“I have to pee.”

...

She hadn’t drunk a single drop of water, and the extreme cold of the mountain had forced her body to keep all on the inside, but when she removed that coat it was like every single muscle relaxed and it came altogether. She needed a bathroom.

That speech was nothing more that a series of rules they apparently had to follow: go around, make some money - even though she had no idea how to do that - put some in the box, bring some food…

What the heck did “bring some food” mean? Couldn’t they go to the market and just buy things like all normal people do? It was 1899, so she supposed markets and stores already existed.

She couldn’t restrain herself anymore, so as soon as they finished with that dictatorial shit, Emily pulled Mary-Beth’s sleeve.

“What?”

“I have to pee.”

“Well then, go in the woods.”

Emily widened her eyes and for a moment she was about to laugh, but then she understood Mary-Beth wasn’t joking.

“But…what about a toilet? Don’t you…” but she stopped halfway of her sentence.

How were toilets in 1899? Did they have them?

“If you have to go, go in the woods” repeated Mary-Beth.

“What about toilet paper?”

Mary-Beth raised her eyebrows and nodded.

“Yes, come” she said and leaded her back to her tent, their tent, how she had to call it from now on.

She went to the back of the wagon right behind the place they were going to sleep and opened a box from which she took a roll of paper very similar to the one they used in 2020, just a little different in color and consistency.

“Here, don’t use too much, this thing is expensive” said Mary-Beth as Emily took a couple of sheets.

“Are you sure you have no toilets?” she asked still full of hope.

“I have no idea what that means.”

Emily looked at her freckled face trying to find another word to make her understand, when it suddenly came to her mind.

“Restrooms” she exclaimed with a snap of her fingers.

“Restrooms?” asked a voice from behind her.

She turned around and met Karen’s bewildered expression.

“Where men go to make their things?”

“And women don’t?” asked Emily.

“I’m afraid not. Only men can use them” Mary-Beth informed her.

“And we don’t have one, you can find it…”

“In town. Yes, I got it” Emily said with a puff.

There was one reason why she never went camping with her friends: lack of bathrooms.

Sleeping on the ground for a couple of days, she could endure that. Cooking things on a campfire, that could be fun. Bugs and wild animals, unless it was something extremely disgusting like cockroaches, it was fine. But bathrooms… No place to wash properly, no private space to do her things, she couldn’t stand that, and yet there she was.

“I can’t believe I just did that” she murmured to herself walking out of the woods.

As the shadow casted by the trees ended and she stepped in the sunlight, Emily looked at the camp in front of her standing against the endless background of the Heartlands. She had heard of that place, one of the most beautiful of all the States, but she didn’t expect it to be like that, and the tents they had settled fitted perfectly with the general view. The rurality and simplicity of that sight made her feel like she was in some kind of movie, and made her curious to see how those people lived their everyday life.

She started wandering around: she exchanged a smile with Javier Escuella, asked to Mary-Beth what she was reading, peeked inside Dutch’s tent, the most articulate and comfortable of all the tents, which sight made her a little angry, then she stopped for a while to watch Charles Smith chopping the wood for the campfire, and in the end she approached a table, where Uncle and the big man with the long brown beard were seated.

“Hello” she said sitting next to them on one of the upside-down barrels, and noticing they both had a bottle of what seemed to be beer in their hands, she thought it was a little too early for drinking.

“Hello, dear. Oh! I got something for you” chuckled Uncle standing up and leaving.

“W-what…” she stuttered moving her eyes from Uncle’s back stumbling away to the other man, who shrugged.

“Isn’t it a little too early for that?” she asked pointing at his bottle.

“Mind your business!”

He had a growling angry voice that made her jump on her seat when he snapped in that way.

“Hey, I was just saying. Sorry if I offended you.”

“Your the one who says you come from the future, right?”

Emily sighed and looked away.

“Yes” she murmured.

“So you know how things will go? Like, what will become of the West?”

Emily fixed her eyes on the man’s face, asking herself what were his intentions, if he was just playing with her, or if the beer he was drinking had already gone way up to his head.

“I mean” he whispered leaning forward on the table and as a reflex Emily did the same so that now their faces were really close and she could smell the alcohol in his breath.

“Will it stay untamed?”

Emily considered what she had to reply to him: the truth, the hard truth, or a lie?

“We’ll we have the chance to live free?”

He looked like he was truly believing in the fact that she came from the future.

“For the first question: no, the West will be tamed in the end. For the second, I don’t know what to tell you, I’m not a fortune teller.”

The man withdrew from her, looking at her with wary eyes and the same did she, still not sure if he was drunk or anything else.

“Here, my dear.”

Emily turned to Uncle as he sat down again.

“You forgot these on the wagon this morning” he said giving her the oatcakes tin box. “What was Mr. Williamson here telling you?”

“I’m not sure” she replied narrowing her eyes to look at the big man, while he took a sip from his bottle.

“Anyway, thank you for these, Uncle” she said standing up.

“No big deal, no big deal at all.”

Emily headed to what she supposed to be the camp kitchen since Mr. Pearson the cook was there with a big pot on a table putting things inside it. She smiled as he noticed her, but she didn’t stop to talk and opened the tin box to take an oatcake from it.

Chewing happily for the recover of her source of nourishment she kept walking around the kitchen until she found something that took her smile away. There was a man, someone who she had never seen before, tied to a tree like he was some kind of prisoner. She walked closer, pushed both by the curiosity and the pity for that figure.

“Please, please, water” he whispered without looking at her and she immediately turned around looking left and right and asking herself where could she find water.

Then, she stopped, thinking about the reason why that man was tied, why he was a prisoner. Maybe he was a bad man, a dangerous man, and the fact that she was in a camp of criminals could only make her wonder how dangerous he had to be, if they were so scared by him that they had to tie him up. Emily decided that she didn’t want to find out and taking another bite from her oatcake she walked away as fast as she could.

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