#but hers in specific are in another level lately they put her on this pedestal this type of parasocial relationship needs to be studied

[meguyummy]

pls see the vision lets have a reddit love story guys! reader owns a book store, izuku's a nerd, pt 1.

--

Internet anonymity is something that you abuse often. Who could really blame you, though?

It's late evening, almost closing time. Sat behind the counter in your small antique bookstore, the only noises you hear are the occasional rustling and crunching of autumn leaves. Today was a slow day, and you're insanely bored. Pulling out your phone, you wonder which app to kill time on before closing up shop. Twitter has been uninteresting, and YouTube has irritatingly long unskippable ads. So recently, you've turned to Reddit. More specifically, r/HeroSnark.

Initially, all your critiques on heroes were posted on Twitter, long and profane rants that got you suspended multiple times. You gained a following for being an outspoken "hero hater", but the sheer amount of die-hard All Might fans who almost found your location deterred further posting. Hating in peace was way more fun than getting swatted.

Has anybody else noticed how sloppy Pinky is getting with her acid recently? Public damage is out the fucking wazoo. Istg if I see another hole in the sidewalk I'll riot.

After posting to the subreddit, you turn off your phone and stand up, ready to flip the sign on the door to "closed" and head home. That's when the work phone rings. Of fucking course that's when the phone rings.

Plopping back down with a groan, you yank the phone out of the receiver and greet the caller, wondering if they've ever checked your closing time (or have, and were just shameless enough to not care).

"Hi! I noticed you have a copy of Captain Cosmos' special edition autobiography and I was wondering if you could hold it for me. I'll pay extra!"

You cringe, scrunching up your face at the phone. The voice on the was certainly.. enthusiastic. The caller was a guy, with a deep, but still somewhat boyish voice. He must be a fanboy on a different level if he liked Captain Cosmos, an ancient and mostly irrelevant hero. Your store offered all kinds of obscure old books, and despite your personal dislike, you knew better than to hurt business by not selling hero media.

"Yeah... I could do that if you're planning on coming to pick it up within the next two days. Are you?" You hope your exhaustion isn't too obvious from your voice.

"Yes! Yeah, I am. Thank you so so much I've been looking all over for it. I'll be there tomorrow!"

You say both say parting words, and you put the phone down, closing up quickly so no other last-minute calls can stall you. Walking up the stairs you retire to your apartment.

Living above the shop was a dream come true, allowing you to thrive without the possibility of an annoying downstairs neighbor. The space was cozy, designed perfectly to your liking after years of living there. After a relaxing shower, you slump into the couch. Checking the post, you read replies from others who have noticed the exact same issue and are equally frustrated by it, some even bringing up more problems you hadn't even noticed yet. You upvote a couple responses, reply to others, and turn on a sitcom.

The amount of bitching done online doesn't mean you're an asshole to people in real life too. Not to normal people, at least. The fact that heroes act like celebrities instead of the crucial emergency workers they really are grinds your gears. Who needs to see Can't Stop Twinkling's annoying ass on TV for something that isn't a rescue? There's a pedestal that they always put themselves on, like they're all-mighty and amazing and need to be praised, but their actions never speak enough for your liking.

A new reply catches your attention, and your brows furrow reading it. This is probably because she's been suffering injuries from her last mission and has still been pushing herself to work and save civilians! We should all be a little bit nicer :)

You frown, blinking hard down at your phone at the reply. Why the hell is.. u/minimight on here to spread positivity? Wrong place for that, bud. You pause the sitcom and sit up from your slouching position on the couch, readying your thumbs.

First, the downvote button gets smashed. Hard.

Dude, I honestly couldn't give less of a fuck that she's injured. If she can be a guest judge on The Masked Singer while injured, she can try a little harder to not make the sidewalk in my area look like Swiss cheese.

Why would anybody who likes heroes spend any time in that subreddit? The whole point is being able to dunk on them freely. You're not going to let some random guilt-trip you.

A reply comes in a minute later. The sidewalk is going to be fixed soon, it was just a minor inconvenience that came during her battle to save a life!

Way to make it deeper than it was supposed to be, u/minimight. You send another quick downvote.

Don't care lol save it for a hero-dickeating subreddit, not this one. You type.

While I understand your frustration, we should give more grace! I know how inconvenient and annoying things like this are, but not everything turns out as planned.

Holy shit they're not done. You don't really feel like arguing with a hero stan tonight, so you reply with a photoshopped picture of All Might in a clown suit.

They quickly reply. I just wish more people would have an open mind on these issues.

Yeah, u/minimight is gonna feel the banhammer soon. After swiftly downvoting their reply, you click on their account. They're a member of a couple All Might subreddits, which are expected, but also some more snark ones as well. They've written a couple of long posts written about random obscure heroes and their 'impact on hero culture'. Seeing that, you decide to write them off another annoying hero superfan and turn your phone off, changing the TV to a movie you've wanted to watch for a while.

Disappointed, (the movie was way worse than you expected) you switch off the TV and head to bed. As you lie there in the darkness, the image of All Might in a clown suit comes to mind, bringing a slight smile to your lips. Maybe tomorrow will be a less annoying day, free from hero fanatics.

[couriersiccs]

finished alex hera's slenderverse docuseries and i just want to.. i don't know, collect my thoughts and share them, because the slenderverse had been a huge part of my emotional abuse-ridden adolescence and it was as much a saving grace as it was yet another source of trauma. and it's been really difficult to reconcile that! so here's a long fuckin chunk of text if you wanna read a personal memoir that's mostly just for me ngl.

I can't promise this will be coherent, and it won't have a place in the History of The Verse because it's just my personal experience, but yeah. Wow.

First off, the documentary was beautiful. Well-crafted, impeccably researched, and just very informative and enjoyable to watch overall. Kudos to Alex for the time, passion, and attention to detail that they put into it, because it's exactly what the topic deserves.

Ten years ago, I was an eighteen-year-old just finishing my first year of art school. I was out of my parents house, understanding for the first time that my upbringing was abusive, damaging, and actually pretty shitty. Not "the shittiest," which allowed my parents (specifically my mother, enabled by my father) to downplay it for so long. But it left me deeply scarred. It stunted my development in ways I've only, in recent years, been able to untangle - my ability to recognize and process emotions, my self-worth, how to understand what I need, the value of my wellbeing and basic health, the ways I'm capable of hurting people in my desperate, clawing need to avoid abandonment. Just to name a few key areas, off the top of my head.

I knew none of this when I discovered Slenderman and Marble Hornets when I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. Eventually, I discovered the fandom on Tumblr, and, most importantly, formed the Skype-based chatroom with my friends, known as Hornetcon.

Literally even just reading the name of it, my throat twists up and tears start to form. When I was in high school, as my mom's abuse got worse and worse, my social connections floundered. Nobody knew what I was really going through, because I didn't even know what I was going through. All I knew was that I felt bad about myself because I only ever seemed to make my mom upset. I couldn't understand how wrong it was of her to treat me the way she did until I had distance.

I became isolated. I stopped seeing the friends I'd had that were close to me. The friends I had at school were my friends, but we didn't hang out very often outside of school hours. I loved them and still cherish the fact that they enjoyed my company at all, but I didn't connect with them. My time was mostly spent on my laptop, hiding from whatever batshit alcoholic mood my mom was in that night, and I joined Tumblr at the behest of my school friends.

When Hornetcon started, I was a couple of days away from turning sixteen. I made very good friends there. I met people I connected with, for the very first time as a developing teenager, on a deep, understanding, accepting level. We bonded over the series, excitedly rapid-fire spammed the chat whenever there was an update, joked about shipping, shared fic and fanart, talked about queerness and transness and polyamory and everything my Good White Catholic Suburbs had shielded me from. The Internet was the gateway for my development, now, since I wasn't going to get it in "real life."

(That's probably it's own form of stunted development, but it was the best tool available to me at the time. shit was dire, folks.)

I got close to lot of people there. I loved talking with them, meeting up on tinychat, catching up with them when I got home from school, happily staying up WAY too late just to chat with friends in different timezones. I wasn't being shown, outside of that chatroom, that I was valuable as a person. That my interests were valuable. That people could find me interesting, funny, and even cute. Those were revolutionary concepts to me.

Alex talked about the pedestal the Slenderverse Creators stood on, and I remember how easily we put them there.

Some of them were in our chatroom! We got to talk with them, ask them questions, shoot the shit like fellow creative minds. We spoke with them like we were all on equal ground, but in reality, they really weren't. We showered them with love, with praise, with reassurances when they were having a bad day. We were all friends on Facebook, which signified a level of trust. We got to know them, or thought we did. Started closer, private friendships with some of them.

In retrospect, it's kind of hilarious that the most predatory of them frequented the chat most often. It isn't, but looking back, it's like...... of fucking course they did. Some were cool! Some were very fucking uncool!

I couldn't tell the difference. I didn't even know my own mother was harming me - how was I supposed to know that a friend I trusted, who was part of my refuge from her, was harming me, too? Harming my friends, who only came forward once I did?

How was I supposed to know that when, while visiting the Creators friends I'd made for New Year's 2016, I spent an evening drunkenly cuddling with one who was also a predator? The only reason nothing more happened is because I was unwillingly partnered (complicated for unrelated reasons. lmfao.) at the time, and he decided not to target me.

It wasn't limited to the Creators, though. Non-creators friends I made in that chatroom hurt me, too. When I think of the Slenderverse as a painful part of my life, I include them. And, most importantly, I include myself.

I hurt people, through no intention of hurting them, because I was scared and in pain and had no idea how to communicate with another human being. I had no idea how to handle relationships, how to express myself in my friendships with others. The time I was supposed to have spent developing those skills, I was instead being emotionally slingshotted back and forth by my parents, the people who were supposed to have set an example for me to follow and support me when I made mistakes. I tried to search for that support elsewhere, and I found people who were better, people who were worse, and I only knew the difference after it was too late.

I can only say that I was not capable of being a better person when I wish I had been. It is the only way I've been able to forgive myself and move on with my life, even if I still taste guilt and embarrassment in the back of my throat at the memories. If I were to ever speak to the people I hurt again, on a real, raw emotional level, I wouldn't expect them to forgive me based on "well, see, I was right fucked up and didn't really know it yet."

Thinking about the Slenderverse makes me think about the messy, reactive, depressed, and frankly manipulative person I have been. Being a "people pleaser" is, in my experience, a version of an emotional manipulator. Not for particularly nefarious reasons, but because when someone reached out to offer to me love, a desperate little girl with claws reached back. I didn't mean to hurt people, I didn't abuse a power structure to get what I wanted out of them. I was just utterly graceless with how I handled the emotional wellbeing of both myself and anyone who tried to show any care for me.

Another thing I've been working on is challenging my pattern of "black and white" thinking. Some people really were innocent, and I really did hurt them because I was messy. Some people may have started out innocent, but along the way I realized they wanted what I couldn't give, and I had to let them go. Some people may not have intended to hurt me, but did. Some people may truly have never valued me as a person, and only acted as if they did.

It's all grey. Kind of in a fog, really. I have few clear memories of that time, and I'm grateful that they are mostly good ones. Trying to dig them up by going back through my blog feels like performing open heart surgery on myself. I think it's worth revisiting, even though it feels like retreading over ground that is not a place of honor, where no highly esteemed deed is commemorated, where nothing of value lies.

I don't regularly speak to anyone from that era of my life. Even the friends that I love dearly, that helped me through some of my worst moments. It's like there's ooze all over my thoughts of the Slenderverse, due to the actions of both others and myself, and it's all over anything or anyone tangentially related to it. It isn't their fault. I just needed to move on, get some distance from it. Maybe now's a good time to revisit it, but I don't think I get to just walk back into anyone's life like I never quietly excused myself. I don't even think they see it that way. We all just have our own lives.

But I'm thinking of them, a lot. And I wish I could show them how much better I'm doing beyond the occasional social media post. I'm not living in a utopia or anything, but I'm sure as fuck doing better than I was before. I'm learning how to not hurt people, especially not like I used to, and how to apologize and make things right when I do.

I'm still kinda fucked up and probably always will be, in some ways. But I talk kinder to myself, now. I try to value my wellbeing as often as I can. I point out to myself when something should be communicated. I have fewer, but more solid, sources of support.

I'm doing my best out here. I hope they are, too. All of them.

It would have been funny to see Hornetcon mentioned in the doc. It wasn't a doc about the fans, though, so I get it. But it would've been funny to tell my perspective of the Verse at that point. And I was in it, technically! Behind the camera during the clips they used of the WhisperedFaith BTS video, and one or two of the Shamhouse! I had a place in the Verse solely due to the compassionate, if tumultuous, friendships that were built and later left to decay. I never created a Slenderseries, but I created fanworks, memes, co-created a big fangroup chatroom (though it wasn't an entirely successful or able-to-be-inclusive chatroom, all things considered. imagine a discord server of like a hundred people, dozens active every day, with only one channel. god the days of skype were dark.) I supported, I visited, I loved, I cared deeply. But my experience was only a microcosm of the big picture, and that was already captured quite well. I know where my place in the artistic collaboration was, however extraneous.

And I hope Tharol is doing okay. I was mean to him when he messaged me last, in like 2015, in a furious attempt to rid my life of that Slenderverse-tainted ooze. I wish I could tell him, along with so many others, that I'm sorry.

alright that's all i got, no editing no beta we die like jeff, send post

[pompadorbz]

*Insert Monkey Emoji*

OK SO IVE BEEN PUTTING THIS OFF FOR A WHILE SINCE I KNOW THERE ARE A LOT OF TAKA AND MONDO LINES THAT MAKE ME SO SO CRAZY. in other words, it'd be SO difficult to actually choose just ONE. So I'm gonna try and drop two lines per character! Some serious lines that make me think way too in-depth, and then some of my favorite, sillier lines (there are a lot of those). We'll start with Mondo for a change! Favorite serious line:

I ACTUALLY GOT SCREENSHOTS OF THIS ONE! This is the line I've been so so crazy about lately because where Mondo did obvious harm to Chihiro, Chihiro also caused harm to Mondo. If her OWN actions didn't hurt him, then he wouldn't have phrased it like this. While Chihiro obviously wouldn't know the specifics, she still absolutely knew that everybody was under the pressure of their secrets, and due to the severity of her own secret there was know way she couldn't have guessed that Mondo's may also carry a level of severity. This is Mondo at his literal breaking point. He has another line later where he describes his anxiety over his secret as "A rock in my stomach". This is a guy whose entire perception of himself is hanging on a thread, and I think the revelation that Chihiro is his definition of strong (AKA capable of violence) is what makes everything completely unfurl. The façade can't remain stable if it's lost all meaning.

Favorite silly line:

HES SO STUPID also there are so many lines in school mode about how he NEEDS TO GO OUTSIDE so fucking bad like he has GOT to get out of here. I think you have adhd queen OK now for la Smackas Favorite Serious Line: Ok so my favorite is less of a singular line and really just. The BULK of his final FTE. We learn SO much about Taka in that last event obviously, and it all contextualizes him as a person, but one thing I NEVER see people discuss is the implication that he and Makoto are direct OPPOSITES of eachother. Where Makoto feels ordinary and even somewhat wishes she could be put on a pedestal, Kiyotaka is put on a pedestal against his will by Hope's Peak, and DESPERATELY, more than ANYTHING, wants to be viewed as normal. A task that is made damn near IMPOSSIBLE because of his past with Toranosuke, as well as the path he decided to go down on his own accord. It's kinda like this self-fulfilling prophecy that he is destined to NEVER have the normal life that he so desperately wants. Meanwhile, here's Makoto, who is living his dream before he ever gets a CHANCE to realize it.

Favorite silly line:

Everyone likes to point to trial 1 or the endurance battle for the funny Kiyotaka lines but he spits out some fucking DIAMONDS in school mode. This guy has so much wrong with him its insane...

[ghirahimbo]

Are you open to prompts? I would suggest Link picking out new bangles for Revali's braids or something, if you'd like to use that!

Apparently I am open to prompts and would like to use that, because I went and wrote a whole post-Pinesong oneshot for it :D Here you go!

--

“Topaz,” Link said decisively, his voice slightly muffled by the thin blue veil that hid his just-too-angular jawline. “Definitely topaz. I assume it works for a Rito the same way it does for Hylians?”

“Of course.” Isha, the Gerudo jeweler, nodded eagerly. “Topaz harnesses the power of lightning to protect its wearer from electricity, no matter who wears it. A wise choice if your friend plans on traveling the desert for much longer—and the color would suit her nicely.”

“Do you think so?”

Revali couldn’t help but shift defensively under the somehow identical stares of consideration that turned his way, though in every other aspect the two humans examining him could not have looked more different. With her glowing dark skin and fiery hair worked elaborately beneath finely crafted ornaments that were no doubt proof of her skill as a jeweler, Isha was the very definition of put together beauty, so that Link looked almost drab and washed out in comparison. Some other Hylian might have disappeared completely in her presence—Isha would have towered head and shoulders over Link even without her golden heels, and the muscles that rippled beneath her sparse outfit were as hard and defined as any Gerudo’s Revali had ever seen—and yet… well, Link was still Link, even halfway hidden behind colorful silks. With one hand propped against his waist and the other scratching thoughtfully at his chin, Link inhabited his Gerudo clothing with a confidence that Revali had not expected from the way he’d blushed when he first pulled it out—a confidence that left Revali unaccountably flustered. He himself was not nearly so comfortable with his own feminine disguise, as evidenced by his constant prodding at the two looped braids that hung to either side of his face. How did Rito women function with those heavy braids dangling like that?

“You’re right,” Link agreed, and Revali raised an eyebrow as Link reached beneath his beak to push it up, examining his raised profile intently. “The jade went well with her eyes, I think, but the topaz…”

“The topaz will make her sparkle,” Isha insisted from his other side, holding an uncut yellow stone up against Revali’s face and squinting at them together. “You see it now, don’t you? What do you think, Vali?”

Revali rolled his eyes over the nickname Link had chosen as Revali’s impromptu alibi.

“I think that this place might be a waste of rupees after all,” he griped, jerking his head away. He might have reluctantly agreed to let Link buy him a gift from here if only because it made practical sense—there were an alarming number of creatures in the desert intent on shooting volts of electricity through his body—but he hadn’t agreed to being treated like an ornament himself, pushed and prodded and stared at.

Isha’s jaw snapped shut as she withdrew the gem, outrage sparking to life behind her eyes, and Link was quick to wave a dismissive hand.

“I’ll worry about my own rupees, thank you,” he said lightly, though Revali recognized the note of reproach in his voice. It was an effort not to stick out his tongue in response. “I told you, this is a gift. Besides,” he added impishly, “I’ll feel better knowing you have some form of protection if another electric keese sneaks up on you in the night.”

Revali bristled. “That was one time!”

“I assume you’ll want it crafted into a ring shape like the jade you showed you me earlier,” Isha interjected, addressing Link exclusively now as she turned towards him. “To hold back her hair, is that right? Earrings will not do her much good.”

“If you can,” Link said, fishing one of Revali’s large jade beads from his pouch and offering it to her as a sample. Revali watched it pass into her hands longingly, his unbound hair damp against the back of his neck in this dratted heat. “It’s fine if it costs a bit more than normal. This isn’t the sort of thing I usually ask you to make.”

“Nonsense,” Isha said briskly, brushing his concern aside. “It’s not as though I’ve never made rings before, and this is quite similar. I assume you brought the necessary materials?”

Link nodded, plunging his hand into his pouch again, although something he found there made him hesitate.

“Do you think…” Withdrawing a large, clear stone, Link half-glanced at Revali before avoiding looking at him altogether. “I know it’s not as practical, but… would a diamond be more traditional?”

Isha frowned. “Traditional in what way?”

“Well…” Link’s voice lowered to a whisper, and abruptly Revali realized that he’d been cut out of the conversation completely—an impression that Isha immediately encouraged by turning her back on him. In retrospect, he might not have needed to insult her entire livelihood earlier. The oppressive heat of this desert had left him admittedly snappish, with even less inclination to temper his tongue than usual.

With nothing to do but wait for them to finish, Revali wandered aimlessly around the dim storefront, looking around. The warm, recessed lighting and mismatched rugs kept the small room on the charming side of elegant, though the isolated pedestals that displayed the shop’s wares atop velvety pillows left no doubt of its luxurious nature. Running a reluctantly curious eye over the glittering pieces of jewelry, Revali noticed with surprise that he recognized most of them from Link’s collection. Perhaps Isha had not been exaggerating after all when she had lovingly called Link her shop’s patron.

Stopping in front of a pair of topaz earrings identical to the ones Link had put on that morning, Revali inspected the neatly penned price tag beneath them. And choked.

“I would still suggest the topaz,” he heard Isha say, the volume of their conversation rising to discernible levels once more. “It is more important for the final piece to suit its wearer than to cling to some tradition that neither of you cares for, I think, and your girlfriend… there is a spark to her.” Isha glanced back at Revali with a smile that showed too many teeth. “Yes, I think topaz will do very nicely.”

“You don’t think ruby would fit her better?” Link said dryly as Revali frowned, still wrapping his head around the thought that here he was Link’s girlfriend, and Isha threw back her head and laughed.

“Perhaps you should wear ruby, to guard against a scalding tongue,” she quipped, bowing her head in thanks as Link passed over a small handful of yellow gems. “Sarqso, my friend. This should be ready for you in about a day or so.”

“Link,” Revali hissed, drawing him aside as Isha wandered towards the back of the shop, still chuckling to herself over whatever joke they’d made at his expense. “Link, listen to me. You cannot spend this kind of money on a… a gift! A silly trinket!”

“What?” Link looked blankly up at Revali, then at the price tag he was gesturing towards furiously, and his expression cleared. “Oh, that! No, don’t worry about it. Isha gives me a good discount because I helped her get started with supplies.” Revali relaxed, somewhat mollified, until Link added casually, “I think she’ll only ask for about half that much.”

“That… is still a hefty sum of money,” Revali argued tightly. “I doubt that I even have that many rupees to rub together.”

Too late, Revali realized that he’d maybe revealed more about the nature of his misgivings than he’d intended to, because Link’s eyes were suddenly understanding above his veil.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said again, grabbing the tip of Revali’s wing to stroke gently. “I’m the one dragging you around, remember? That means it’s my job to make this worth your while.” As an afterthought, he added, “And it’s not a silly trinket. It’s a very serious trinket, and Isha is never going to forgive you for implying otherwise.”

Revali snorted.

“How shall I ever live on?” he asked sarcastically, prompting Link to bury his elbow in Revali’s side. Still, Revali resolved to be nothing but complimentary when they returned to pick up the finished product. Ever since meeting Urbosa, he’d suspected that only a fool would make an enemy of a Gerudo lightly. “Why were you asking her about diamonds, anyway? I thought we were here specifically for the topaz.”

Link hesitated for just a second too long before shrugging.

“No reason,” he said casually. Far too casually, and Revali raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Just a… thought I had. Doesn’t matter.”

“What’s the tradition?” Revali insisted, following as Link headed for the shop’s exit. “It must be something Hylian. I would know if it was Rito.”

“It’s…” Link sighed, and though the veil he wore hid most of his ears, the part Revali could see had turned a sudden, burning red. “I’ve heard that Hylians who are… in love… might sometimes give each other diamond jewelry as a symbol of that. I don’t know, really. It’s just something that I’ve heard.”

Revali’s brow furrowed, and he shot out a wing to catch Link before he could duck away.

“So you wanted to… give me a feather?” he asked, catching onto the closest comparison he could come up with. “That isn’t embarrassing, Link. You do know that the two of us are already…” His eyes flicked back towards where Isha stood, and his beak clicked wryly. “Girlfriends.”

Link’s veil fluttered as he huffed out a laugh.

“I mean, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Isha’s jewelry really is useful, you know, and the topaz will come in handy even outside of the desert, but…” He hesitated then, his hand sneaking up to tug at his earring—or, no. No, he was toying with the feathered braid behind it, tucked discreetly beneath his veil. “It did occur to me that… well, I don’t have feathers to give you, do I? People see a piece of you whenever they look at me. I guess it would be… nice? If they saw something from me when they looked at you.”

It was touchingly sweet and utterly corny, and Revali dipped his beak to brush against Link’s face, suppressing a smirk.

“Let me get this straight,” he said with low delight. “You essentially planned on tying a feather into my hair without telling me?”

“Oh, stop it,” Link laughed, slapping him away half-heartedly. “It’s just a gift, okay? You don’t even have to wear it if you don’t like it… though I think Isha’s right.” Although the veil hid Link’s grin, Revali could see it in his eyes. “Topaz will look good on you.”

“Of course it will,” Revali agreed haughtily, privately resolving to wear the thing daily whether he liked it or not. He’d always imagined that if Link had feathers, they’d be a sort of golden yellow… much like topaz, in fact. “Now, are you ready to drag me around some more? I’ll warn you up front that you’ll have to try extra hard to make this place worth my while.”

Link ran his eyes over Revali’s no doubt sweatily bedraggled appearance and grinned, flicking one of Revali’s looped braids.

“Drinks, maybe?” he suggested as Revali frowned, swatting him away. “I hear good things about the Noble Pursuit. They might even let me try one this time, though if they don’t, at least they keep ice at the bar.”

Anything with ice sounded like a spectacular notion, but before they could leave, Isha stopped them.

“Oh, Link!” she called, looking up from her workbench. “Could you come here for just a moment? I have a few questions to ask before I get started.”

Glancing up at Revali, Link shrugged apologetically.

“Sorry, Vali. Drinks in a minute,” he promised with a wink before swaying towards the back of the store to talk quietly with Isha, leaning over her desk as she sketched out a few quick designs. Really, he was a little too good in that outfit sometimes.

Another customer walked into the store as he waited—a Hylian woman with a pinched, unpleasant face who looked around with greedy interest. Though he thought he wouldn’t have noticed such a thing normally, today his eyes were quick to pick out the diamond ring prominent on her finger, and he felt a flash of interest. Something about that Hylian custom had sounded vaguely familiar once Link explained it, though he still didn’t understand why the idea of it had made Link blush like that. It sounded pretty straightforward to him, and Link had been far from reluctant to express his affection for Revali in other ways.

Curious to see what had caught his eye, the woman leaned over the pedestal with Revali, and her nose wrinkled up.

“Topaz,” she muttered. “Not a fan, really. Yellow washes me out.” Catching sight of the diamond circlet on a neighboring pedestal, her entire face brightened. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Are you shopping for someone?” Revali asked, his curiosity overcoming his dislike of idle conversation. Maybe he should get something like that for Link… eventually, once he’d saved up some money and convinced Isha to stop staring daggers at him. It wouldn’t hurt to embrace a few Hylian traditions when Link had so readily adopted everything Rito, and Link did seem to like jewelry.

The woman laughed.

“Yeah, myself,” she said dryly. “My husband owes this to me, honestly. I was this close to divorcing him after that terrible honeymoon we went on. I might have done it if he hadn’t given me armfuls of baked apples as an apology. I’ve never been so bored and cold in my life… oh, but you’re from Rito Village, right?” she asked, looking Revali over. “You should know exactly what I’m talking about then.”

Revali stiffened in angry realization.

“I can’t say that I do,” he bit out, resolving to never attempt small talk with a stranger again. “Didn’t he already give you that? That should more than make up for whatever emotional distress such a terrible trip must have caused.”

He flicked a feather towards the ring on her finger, and the woman blinked in surprise.

“Well, of course he gave me this,” she said, holding her hand up to display the ring more clearly. “It’s a wedding ring. He’s my husband. We’re married.”

Abruptly, Revali realized why the tradition had sounded familiar.

“Done!” Link said, reappearing beside Revali to hold his wing. Eyeing the woman sideways, Link frowned in recognition but didn’t address her. “Are you ready to go?”

Revali didn’t respond, his mind still caught on the words ‘married’ and ‘husband’ and Link’s bright red blush. Ohhhhh. Oh.

Oh.

[lepetitebouchon]

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY CURRENT EMPLOYER.

Greetings, Globe Spanning Company That Has Cult-Like Ideas, Language and Behavior (said with love, for those of you who know just how genuinely thankful I am for the job I have today).

I’ve been with you for over four years - 2020 marks entry into my fifth, but I won’t be getting to that milestone. I’m finally spreading my wings. I want to start this off positive: I have always felt thankful, grateful and blessed to have this job. As a company, you really do try to lead by example. You really do try to not treat your employees as numbers. You are generous (at times), inclusive (always), and provide some amazing benefits and perks for all employees.

I joined you at the end of my first career path, hired on precisely because my background was what you needed: an experienced fine dining pastry chef to bring professionalism and class when you all were trying something a little funky with how your company operated at night. I was promoted almost immediately to a supervisor. My management helped me through some of the worst experiences I had in my personal life, your company helped me get back into college, you provided a path to growth and development into upper management.

Even today, despite my grievances, I would recommend people to work with you...although, I will always be honest about the ups and downs I’ve both seen and experienced.

But let me tell you why I’m leaving. No one comes to my blog, so this won’t get far, it’s my own personal catharsis. I’ve tried to air these same thoughts to my current manager and district manager and it’s like talking to a wall. The gloves are now off and language filter switch has been flipped. This is long, so strap in.

When I said my previous career path was “experienced”, I wasn’t fucking joking. I’ve worked a myriad of jobs: I’ve managed millions of dollars for businesses and the professionals that run them as a merchant banker (meaning, I counted their cash, advised when appropriate, and made sure they spoke with the proper team member to further their ventures). I’ve worked in retail for a combined total (past and current) for probably 5-6 years. And more importantly and relevant to your company: I have roughly 8 or 9 years of kitchen experience, most of those as a pastry chef. I have worked as a team and solo, I have designed dessert menus for some locations, and managed small kitchen teams, I’ve worked for celebrity chefs and kitchens ranked in the upper 10 and 5, respectively in their style/region of cooking in the nation.

I graduated within the top percentile at my pastry school of choice, with honors.

With a brief rundown of my resume out of the way, let’s talk about “development”.

My path to upper management has been rocky. When originally approached about having my own store, it stemmed from my involvement in solving two monumental problems in my original store. Sadly, during this time I was going through a major life problem and couldn’t wait in line for my promotion. Our store was training a new store manager, a girl who started at a similar time as I was selected to be trained next, and I would come after her. I needed a pay raise, so I opted for transferring to a team that would be making in house baked goods at your headquarters, guaranteed to pay me a few dollars more, but it was enough for me to survive moving forward.

My background made me eligible for a “leadership” role is this new team. I should have known something was up because I could never get confirmation on my title, no matter how hard I pushed. I was whisked off to corporate as an “assistant” chef. Your company was asking for upwards of 5-8 years of experience for “assistants”. What would I be making, pray tell? Loaf cakes, cookies, tarts, muffins and other basics. Recipes someone with minimal experience could make. I was not in the promised leadership role.

Unhappy and frustrated, I transferred to your storefront when it opened in their version of a supervisor at my initial beginnings. I would be one of a few supervisors in the bakery area and we were not treated as equal to your retail side. Despite being a supervisor I was inexplicably not given keys, a safe code or the ability to problem solve at our own point of sale devices - I had to get a “retail” supervisor. Those in the bakery would ONLY be given these rights if they had “retail” experience - which I had.

I yearned for an assistant manager role, so I worked tirelessly for another six months before broaching that subject.

I was not the only experienced employee there: there were a handful of us with up to ten years of company experience - this detail will be important momentarily.

When I sat down with two of the assistant managers for a “development talk” and told them my story of how I turned down a “core” store manager role to be there due to outside circumstances...they laughed at me. They said that any experience I had before coming to this particular team was irrelevant and I would need to start at the bottom all over again and had “so much to learn” and that my resume “didn’t have weight” and that my prior kitchen management and schooling basically were useless.

I was devastated. I cried. I walked away from that meeting feeling ashamed, embarrassed and it demolished the respect I had for how you as a company have when you boast about how to treat your employees.

The assistant manager role you filled did not go to one of the more experienced employees who had been supevisors or store managers who stepped down to regular retail grunts to be there.

No.

You transferred someone from the opposite coast and stomped on the hopes and dreams of a half dozen hopefuls. So, armed with newfound cash I left to go back to your more traditional storefronts thousands of miles away.

They wanted me to become a store manager as well, but I was facing a surgery with lengthy recovery. They promised as soon as I was back on my feet, they would begin the process of peer review and interviews. However, another horrific speed bump occurred. A major snafu involving my benefits sent me packing back across the country. It was cheaper for me to move back and “reset” my benefits than lose 300 bucks a month in insurance costs over a period of seven months.

Are you still with me? Good, we’re almost there, I promise.

I won’t get into all of the specifics of what happened when I landed in my current location. My initial start was rough, I wasn’t given my full time hours, we were short staffed for a huge chunk of time. It was so bad in the beginning I started looking for new employment in the field I’d been studying at school. By now I was two years into college, it felt right.

At the same time, my manager and I went through a lot of growing pains. Eventually, yes, I was once again put back on my store manager track. I was hesitant - it had never worked out in the past.

Only to be told, again, I had to work on some things. I was willing to put in that hard work, but ultimately, I was given an offer that I couldn’t refuse.

And I’m sorry, corporate, but your stores are NOT that fucking hard to run. My current manager has ZERO food experience. He sold fucking shoes before this (no disrespect, I adore my manager and we have the best time working together).

I would not be looking for other jobs if you as a whole wouldn’t patronize me and other supervisors, and hold your store managers up on some goddamn pedestal.

I have YEARS of retail experience.

I have YEARS of kitchen management experience.

I have YEARS of food service experience.

If I were to apply to this as an “outside” hire, I meet and exceed all of your requirements.

I have admiration, love and respect of every employee I have lead within your company. In EVERY store I’ve been in my store manager and the peers below my level ask me why I don’t have a store. My peers in multiple stores across states have asked me to tell them when I’m promoted because if they’re still with the company they want to work with me.

I help my own manager with decisions. He asks for advice because I’m like a breathing encyclopedia of your companies policies and procedures because I gobbled down every bit of information I could to better my understanding of your stores so I WOULD be prepared some day.

I’m not asking for a promotion now. Or this week. But I think if someone who sold shoes can run a basic cafe, it might be okay to at least offer a mock interview for someone who has a resume shiny enough to get into very respected kitchens in any state I want to go to.

I have bent over backwards and given just about all that I am. Every manager I’ve been with in your company has already told me I could do their job and that I would be an excellent choice.

But no.

I’ve been nothing but loyal and devoted. I’ve asked for opportunities. And this would have been the year, my district manager and store manager were committed to getting me there, finally. I would just need to wait until “later this year”.

But it’s too little too late. I have an opportunity right in front of me, that has acknowledged my skill sets and asked me to join their fold.

It was honestly a hard decision at first. I was thrilled to finally, finally, finally being given the opportunity to lead my team in a much more meaningful way.

I felt like I was going to be betraying my team and my upper leadership.

And then I realized the power of the words, “I’m better than this and I have the track record to prove it”.

Then I packed my proverbial bags.

I’ll miss my store, but I won’t miss you as a company.

Cheers.

[bigyack-com]

When Department Stores Were Theater

After the hundreds of jobs going poof and the thus-far inadequate discounts, the saddest thing about the closure of Barneys New York is that its signature naughty window displays will recede even further in collective memory.A Hail Mary campaign earlier this year imploring shoppers to go inside even as the store declared bankruptcy (“STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT”) was but a faint echo of the era when subversive tableaus of papier-mâché public figures, found objects, condoms on Christmas trees and the occasional scampering vermin mesmerized crowds, offended cardinals and even sold some clothes.But “we’re in a post-window-display world,” said Simon Doonan, the Barneys O.G. window dresser, in a telephone interview, noting the “impenetrable facade” of Dover Street Market, heir apparent to the luxury avant-garde. Its New York entrance has only small, high apertures above pedestrian eye level.“In the old days, window displays were the primary form of marketing — fashion was the same as butcher shops and fishmongers,” he said. “Now, if you’re waiting till someone walks past your store, you’ve lost the fight.”Indeed, the bustling new Nordstrom on 57th Street dispenses with traditional boxed-in display windows entirely, replacing them with a shallow, wavy facade that John Bailey, a spokesman, assured would be festooned with red and white lights come Black Friday. The facade is “an interactive viewing experience for customers walking by,” he wrote in an email, “connecting the shopping experience in store to the energy of the city.” (And the energy of customers’ phones.) A young employee at the central help desk said elliptically that “our windows are our customer service.”Gather ’round, children, and let Auntie Alexandra tell of when department stores, now mostly glassy, anodyne places you go to exchange online purchases, used to put on a show. Sometimes more entertaining than the theater.First, though, a quick gallop through what remains of New York’s holiday windows in 2019, and the hopeful cornucopias within.At the doomed Barneys flagship on 61st Street, there was of course bubkes, just signs reading: “Everything Must Be Sold! Goodbuys, then Goodbye.” Inside on the fifth floor, female customers were listlessly flipping shoes to glance at the soles and calculate the markdown, as if with muscle memory from the much-lamented warehouse sale. Four creaky flights up, the power lunch spot Fred’s, named for Fred Pressman, Barneys’ charismatic chairman who died in 1996, was full — even as a worker held a headless naked mannequin steady by her neck on a hand truck, waiting for the elevator to go down, down, down.A few blocks away preens Bergdorf Goodman, the beautiful princess whose holding company, Neiman Marcus, muscled recently into the Hudson Yards, like a watchful mother-in-law moving into the guest cottage. There are no old-school windows at the gleaming new Neiman, being that it’s high up off the dirty street in a mall (and incidentally charging kids $72 per head for breakfast with Santa). But at Bergdorf, David Hoey, the store’s senior director of visual presentation, and his team have gamely produced a concept called Bergdorf GoodTimes. Literally gamely. Like, filled with actual games.One window was captioned “Queen’s Gambit” (chess); another, “Jackpot!” (pinball); another, “Winner Take All” (casino — perhaps a dry subconscious commentary on the high-stakes state of retail). Around the corner, a life-size board game, “Up the Down Escalator,” was dotted with fictional gift cards, coin of the online-shopping realm.Mr. Hoey’s sophisticated, colorful creations did not seem intended for little ones — and anyway those were scampering around across the street, splashing in small pools and peering into mirror-glass “sky lenses” outside the Fifth Avenue Apple store. Paging Dr. Lacan!Further east on 59th and Lexington Avenue, dear old Bloomingdale’s was flagrantly violating several of the decorative precepts set out by Mr. Doonan in his seminal 1998 book, “Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales From a Life in Fashion.” Specifically: “do remember that technology is boring” and “don’t incorporate sex.”If Bergdorf is rolling the dice on the future of the department store — eroded perhaps irrevocably by Amazon’s mighty, corrosive flow — Bloomie’s is searching the stars. Not the celebrities whose daffy effigies used to populate Mr. Doonan’s windows, mostly with enthusiastic cooperation (Madonna, Magic Johnson, Norman Mailer, Prince, Queen Elizabeth), but a lavish commingling of astronomy and astrology titled Out of This World.Robots were placing ornaments on a tree and sitting at a synthesizer ready to play the carol of your choice at the push of a button. Google Nest, a sponsor, was poised to turn on the tree, the lights; the fire. And astronauts were floating in a “3, 2, 1, Gift Off,” or was it a “GIF Off?” Female mannequins embodying various figures of the zodiac were outfitted like go-go dancers, all pearls and feathers and curvature: propped up against each other on a pedestal as a recording played of John Legend singing, incongruously, “Christmas in New Orleans.” Inside, on the main floor, one embodying Cancer the Crab hung upside down from the ceiling: eyes closed, suspended over a hoop, hand-claws splayed, rotating slowly. Her bared, inverted legs conjured less the #MeToo era than the infamous “meat grinder” photo of the June 1978 Hustler magazine that feminists used to protest on Manhattan sidewalks.

Razzle-Dazzle in the Mezzanine

Mr. Doonan had called from Los Angeles, where he was, among other activities, promoting a monograph to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Maxfield, the boutique there. This even though when he was in the window-dressing business, “I was very anti-anniversary and I vetoed all of them. They just made the company seem old and boring. It looks dusty.”Though I agree 100 percent and moreover think the ascription of significance to particular numbers is as ridiculous as astrology, it also happens to be the 40th anniversary of a seismic and undersung event in department-store history: when the performer Elaine Stritch was the M.C. of an elaborate fashion show at Liberty of London, the emporium known for its fine fabrics. (Many women in those years still sewed household clothes from patterns.)Arranged by Peter Tear, then Liberty’s head of marketing and publicity, and choreographed by Larry Fuller of “Evita,” the show somehow managed to cross-promote the low-tar Silk Cut cigarette with a silk congress happening in London. Concordes were deployed with top models on board. Cocktails were concocted by the Café Royal down the road. Fifty-odd designers contributed special outfits for the occasion, including Giorgio Armani, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren and Yves Saint Laurent.Another was David Emanuel, who, with his wife and partner, Elizabeth, would design the show’s bridal gown (and later Princess Diana’s).“People gasped,” he said, remembering the Liberty event on a crackly trans-Atlantic phone line. “They were aching for ‘larger than life.’” Mr. Emanuel described Stritch — subject of my recently published biography, “Still Here” (hey, it’s the selling season) — in a sequined tuxedo jacket, singing among other numbers “Falling in Love Again” à la Marlene Dietrich to the enraptured ladies who lunch who had paid five quid admission apiece for the show, which ran thrice daily over the course of a week. “It has more punch and pulchritude packed into its 51 minutes than most West End musicals twice as long,” one newspaper commented.Mr. Doonan theorized that Liberty, fighting a dainty, twin-set image, had taken inspiration from what the storied retailer Marvin Traub was doing then at Bloomingdale’s. “The whole thing was that the store was the stage — the razzle-dazzle of flash and pizazz and lo and behold, there’s a swimwear fashion show with Pat Cleveland coming down the escalator,” he said. “Every day was ‘curtain up!’ at Bloomingdale’s.”Truly, what could be more of an ultimate fantasy set than the department store of yore, with its infinite “costumes,” props and built-in risers, its endless potential for comedy, dance, drama and even horror? Florenz Ziegfeld’s pre-code movie “Glorifying the American Girl,” showcasing his Follies, starts in one. The heroic airman in “The Best Years of Our Lives” returned to work as a soda jerk in another; ennobled by the theater of war, he chafed at his diminishment in the feminine one of trade.Barbra Streisand gamboled through Bergdorf in 1965 for her TV special, trying on fur coats and hats, spritzing perfume and singing a Fanny Brice-ish medley of “Second Hand Rose” and “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” to funny and glamorous effect. James Goldman and Stephen Sondheim’s “Twilight Zone”-inflected broadcast musical, “Evening Primrose,” was set in a department store called Stern’s, and featured a poet played by Anthony Perkins remaining after-hours, giddy at the idea of the creativity that his solitude, enhanced by all the products he needs, will stimulate. At one point he stands on an escalator belting, “I’m here! I’m here!” foreshadowing the famous anthem in Goldman and Sondheim’s own “Follies” taken up late in life by Stritch. (Later a young woman he discovers there sings of remembering snow: “Soft as feathers/ Sharp as thumbtacks.” She had been left there, in Hats, as a child by her preoccupied mother, but now with climate change the lyric sounds like prescient ecological lament.)Even after the fiasco of Andrew McCarthy at Philadelphia’s Wanamaker’s (R.I.P.) in “Mannequin” 20 years later, and the slow creep of the suburban mall, there was yet another remake of “Miracle on 34th Street.”“Where did Auntie Mame go when she lost all her money?” Mr. Doonan reminded. “Selling roller skates at Macy’s.”It’s hard to imagine, though not impossible, that department stores will remain important sites of commerce and culture much longer. But the largest one in the city is not about to go quietly. At Macy’s, which takes up an entire block, there is a jumble of every sort of window.There are old-fashioned windows devoted to the story of Virginia O’Hanlon, the little girl who wrote to The New York Sun in 1897 asking if there was still a Santa Claus. Around the corner, there are high-tech windows giving voice to a little girl who wants to be Santa Claus. And around another corner: still other windows filled simply with giant Barbies. Being female in the early 21st century is nothing if not a series of mixed messages, but this attempt to empower seemed already antiquated; if Mr. Doonan were still working on windows, surely he would have gone straight for Mx. Claus?The ghost of Barneys yet to come is at Saks Fifth Avenue, which has licensed its former rival’s name, and where windows have been themed with glittering corporate efficiency to the international blockbuster “Frozen 2.” This may delight the tourists, but city dwellers remembering the craft and chance and silliness of the old holiday extravaganzas — when the designers and the famous people and the window dressers were all sticking pins in each other, and the audiences crowded four-deep on the pavement for the free sideshow — will probably be left cold. Source link Read the full article

[xantchaslegacy]

MtG Month of the Ship Day 20 - Trapped Together

(People who have liked my other stuff this month might not like this. People who haven’t liked my other stuff this month might not like this. I’m not sure that I like this

But I committed to 30 Fics in 30 days. Enjoy?)

It might have been a part of Bolas’ citadel. Maybe a portion of the Parhelion II. Maybe pieces of both. The explosion was certainly big enough to have ripped large chunks off of both structures.

Sorin and Nahiri had been right underneath the falling pieces, blades locked together. There had been no time to run. No time to planeswalk away. They hadn’t even noticed the colossal chunks of stone and metal until it was too late, focused on each other as they were.

So it was a surprise, to say the least, when Sorin opened his eyes and found that he was not dead.

It was dark, so that at least was a comfort. The only light came from the glowing veins of stone from the citadel rubble, and the burning red of Nahiri’s sword, pointed at the roof of the small alcove of stone they were trapped in.

He lunged at her, sword-first, and she parried, kicking him against the stone wall.

"Stop, idiot! Who do you think is holding this damned stone up?"

"You…you saved me?" Sorin raised his sword to chest level ready for a rock or a sword strike from Nahiri. "Why?"

She pointed her free hand at Sorin, and spikes of stone erupted from behind him, all pointed at his head.

"Do you think," she seethed, through grit teeth. "That after everything that's happened I would let you die by accident? No-one kills you. Not the Eldrazi, not that ugly gecko out there, and certainly not a rock that I didn’t cast at you. Now shut up. I need to concentrate.”

**

As an oldwalker, Nahiri had moved mountains. She had shaped castles out of boulders with her mind, and armed thousands of refugees with weapons pulled from stone.

So it was a frustration beyond description to be stuck here with her ally-turned-friend-turned mortal enemy, unable to lift a measly pile of rubble.

For the fourth time she tried, pushing up at more tons of rock than she'd had to move in centuries. She could feel a slight shifting upwards, the nearest stones straining to rise, but the ones above them were more stubborn, only lifting with a sustained effort.

She grunted as the mountain of rubble pressed back down again, collapsing inward with a deep rumble.

It was an effort she couldn't maintain. Not long enough to get them free.

Nahiri felt her knees buckle, and she toppled backwards.

Cool hands caught her arm and around her waist. Sorin. Nahiri growled curses at him, but it was all she could do to keep the shifted mass above them from falling in further.

Sorin eased her down to a kneeling position, then fell back against the side of the rock. “You’re not a god anymore. You’re still more powerful than most of those children out there, but you won’t be able to keep that up long enough to move whatever’s fallen on us.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“After fighting for days straight?”

Nahiri punched the stone, leaving a small crater in the side. Expletives poured out of her. The stone ceiling rumbled threateningly and rained bits of grit down on them, but she kept up enough of a force to keep it in place.

"Looks like…looks like a tie, then." Nahiri rolled off of Sorin and leaned up against the opposite side of the cavern. "Sealed under another oldwalker's pedestal."

She spat on the ground between them. She still wanted to spit that arrogant corpse, but here, buried like this, she just couldn't find the motivation. She slammed her fist into the wall again, her only palatable avenue of release at this point.

"So you're trying to kill us faster now?" Sorin asked, as more stones fell loose from the roof.

"Excuse me for being a bit frustrated." Nahiri jammed her sword into the ground. "I'm down here with my least favorite person in the multiverse, I'm stuck in some magic rock, not even for the first time, and I can't do anything about it. What do you  propose we do?"

Sorin folded his arms. “I guess we wait, and take our chances with gravity.”

“Turn me.”

“What?”

Nahiri scowled, and when she spoke again, it was through a clenched jaw.

“Turn. Me. You vampires are immortal, aren’t you? Give me that strength, and I’ll fling every last pebble off of us.” She waved a hand at the mountain of dark stone above them. “Or wait here and get crushed once I die. Your choice.”

"You're not serious."

"I'm not going to die like this. This isn't vengeance, dying together like cockroaches under a boot. Are you satisfied with that?"

Sorin was silent for a long while. That look suited him better. It had been thrilling to see him lose his composure, to actually show emotion, but it didn't suit him like this silent brooding did. Nahiri took the time to calm her own breathing, keeping enough focus on the stones to keep them from falling in entirely.

"Fine." Sorin stood and stepped toward her, sheathed his sword. "Have it your way, lithomancer."

His hands were still cool to the touch, almost soothing after the heat of combat. His eyes bored into hers, still predatory, but more pensive than enraged now.

"Well? Do I need to show you how to do it?"

He opened his mouth and closed it halfway, as if he meant to say something.

Then his head dipped forward and his breath was on her neck.

“This doesn’t change anything,” She gasped, as Sorin’s teeth broke the skin on her neck. “Once we’re out of here…once this is all over…I’m going to kill you.”

Sorin couldn't respond, obviously. There was an insistent tugging at her neck, like…like…

She put her hand on his throat. "I mean it. Once this is over…" Her eyes were growing heavy. Her head felt light, like she was flying through the night sky. "I'm…I'm going to…"

The last thing she saw was Sorin's hair, framing the darkness, lit by the dull warm glow of her sword.

** ** **

Sorin eased Nahiri to the ground, cradling her carefully. The anger was still there in his chest, but she was right. They would leave here together or not at all.

He licked the blood off the inside of his lip. She was sad. Hurting. It didn't take away any of the anger in his chest, but he did understand it now. It Wasn't in the blood. Only pompous connoisseurs and neonates believed that you could taste emotions in the blood. You could get broad strokes, but never the specifics.

It was him. While they had been fighting. Here. On Innistrad. The rage and the hurt had seemed familiar, and he realized that he had seen it in Nahiri that night by the helvault. The night he had  condemned her to darkness and horrors.

There were no words when she awoke. There was no need for them. Her eyes flared with bloodlust and power. The falling bits of detritus froze in the air, and rose back up again, as she stood and flexed her arms toward the ceiling.

The stone moved. Slowly, and with an awful grinding and rumbling, but it moved. The stones jangled in place, but did not fall and inch closer to either of them.

Around the base of the stone, a dim light began to filter through.

With a final shout, Nahiri shunted the rock aside, and a veritable mountain of carved stone collapsed beside them, sending dust out in a massive, explosive cloud, Sorin took to the air, for the clearer skies above.

Nahiri rose beside him, a burning sword in either hand.

The sky was filled with new threats now. Avens plated in that strange blue metal. They took note of the pair of them and moved in to attack.

"Don't die, Sorin!" Nahiri's shout was half howl, half laugh. "If these paper birds kill you I'll find your ghost and rip its head off!" She thrust her arms forward, and a barrage of blood-soaked stones shot up from the ground, knocking scores of the eternals from the sky.

Well, Sorin thought, driving through the first of the eternals, cleaving its wings from its body. I certainly have made things difficult for myself.

The above is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.

[raflovestuffs]

Hiccstrid or not Hiccstrid

Hey there! So here’s the beginning of my Hiccstrid one shot’s collection! I tell already: they will follow RTTE Season 4 and follow each other!

I hope you’ll like this one though.

Enjoy some Hiccstrid fight and Stoïck’s reaction to Hiccstrid!

Thanks my friend @wolfie-dragon-rider for make some reajustements! And @noura-fanart for this beautiful cover! <3

Happy reading!

Weeks after the Grimborn brothers’ death, the dragon riders were living peaceful days on Berk. They didn’t leave the Dragon’s Edge with pleasure, far from it, but the erupting volcano had not left them the choice. So it was more with regret that the gang was forced to leave their outpost where they have been through so much.

“Okay gang, take all you can save before the lava comes to your huts!” Hiccup ordered.

It was too late, the Edge was condemned. The Baby Eruptodon couldn’t have held back what was coming anyway. The situation was under control.

The dragon riders had rushed inside their respective huts to get their personal effects. Snotlout was trying to pick up his ‘S’, the twins were wallowing on the boar pit while Fishlegs handled the collection of most books and maps containing Dragon Eye’s information. As to Astrid, she moved to take the weapons she left in her hut.

And then there was Hiccup. The young boy had made his way to the Clubhouse to meditate, closely followed by Toothless. He examined the place, and then sighed. The night fury approached his friend and rubbed him in an affectionate embrace. He uttered a plaintive cooing. The auburn-haired boy stooped to his level by stroking his head.

“I’ll miss this place too, Bud.”

He bounced back and then he moved to the table where the dragon riders and him used to meet up. Hiccup recalled with nostalgia the crazy talks the gang shared, Heather’s great food and Tuffnut’s compliments on it. But he also reminded himself of the gravest moments when the teenagers’ mutual aid reached its peak like after the ‘Viggo fiasco’ for example. This place was full of memories. It was really a part of their life that came down on this island.

An important part.

The young man was now in front of the stables. A smile came to his face at the sight of it. That was where he and Astrid kissed for the first time as a couple. It was in this place that they finally confessed their true feelings for each other. It took time but Astrid’s blindness pushed Hiccup to step outside his comfort zone. Thankfully, her state was temporary.

“Are you okay?” asked a voice behind him while placing a hand on his shoulder.

He turned back, it was Astrid, of course. He gave her a smile he wanted reassuring.

“Just trying to remember the great moments we’ve spent here all together…” he admitted in a sigh.

The night fury rubbed him affectionately. His friend petted his head while smiling.

“It’s true that we had a lot of memories here,” Astrid agreed, taking Hiccup’s hand.

So the teenager moved in front of her and took her hands in turn. Their faces approached until their lips found themselves at only few centimetres from each other as their foreheads touched. They closed their eyes and both smiled before exchanging a tender kiss.

After that, they definitively left the Edge.

Since that, the teenagers got back to a routine life on Berk. They returned to the activities they left before adventuring to the Great Beyond, months ago. Snotlout started testing the village’s weapons again. Meanwhile the twins returned to their crazy activities that consisted of trapping villagers in the name of Loki. Concerning the others, Fishlegs was teaching Berk’s history again to the youngest inhabitants of the island.

Hiccup got back to the same point he was before going to the Great beyond. He didn’t really know what he wanted to do with his life. He would become chief eventually, for sure, but he didn’t want his life to come down to this function. He wanted something else. He needed something else. Hiccup needed freedom and continuing the exploration of the world around him seemed to be a great option.

Regarding Astrid, she had gone back to her engagement in Berk’s guard for the Academy where she was in charge now. She took care of the newest dragon riders’ formation. The gang came time to time to help her with teamwork demonstrations or specific tactics’ teaching.

“Stormfly, spine shot!” Astrid shouted.

The Deadly Nadder instantly obeyed her master who jumped off her back to perform a somersault before the young recruits’ amazed eyes. She landed in front of them, standing upright, imperturbable.

“There you go. That’s how you surprise your enemy.”

She paused.

“A volunteer?”

No response was expected from her question, she did that only for the purpose of impressing them. They didn’t have time to answer anyway because a voice rose above their heads.

“Sorry I’m late!” The dragon riders’ leader apologized, landing in the arena with Toothless.

The blond smiled, looking at him.

“You’re just in time, actually,” she said, putting a hand on her waist.

Hiccup showed a puzzled smile.

“How can I help you, milady?” he finally asked.

She nodded on the side, pointing to the wild dragons captured earlier by the gang for the future dragon riders. He smiled to Astrid, understanding what she expected from him. So the young man approached the reptiles.

“When you want to tame a dragon, the first thing to do is to establish a bond with him. He has to trust you,” Hiccup explained to the group.

He walked towards a Monstrous Nightmare and raised his hand slowly to his muzzle. The dragon grunted a little so the dragon riders’ chief looked away while continuing what he was doing. Finally, he managed to put his hand on the reptile’s head.

“If you succeed in creating this bond of trust with him, even the testiest dragons can be trained,” he assured, stroking him.

“It’s this bond I want you to work on today,” Astrid smiled, kindly. “It’s up to you now.”

Hiccup was the one who had advised her on how to deal with the newest recruits. He was convinced that Astrid could teach them a lot but for that, she shouldn’t scare them from the beginning. It was the reason why he had asked her to not be too hard with them from the outset. She could be more exigent then.

“What were you busy doin’?” the blond asked to her boyfriend.

He rolled his eyes while scratching the back of his head.

“Oh, you know. Making some adjustments on my work.”

He paused before redirecting his attention to the young lady. He caught her by the hips and pulled up his hands along them to caress her waist.

“Why? Did you miss me?” he whispered in her ear.

“Actually… yes,” she replied by turning to him.

They exchanged a smile before kissing without paying attention to the teenagers who were meeting the dragons. Nevertheless, their general fake cough finally got the new couple back to reality. They split, trying to recover the left of seriousness they had. Astrid cleared her throat before announcing:

“Fine, now that you got close to them, you must choose your dragon and he must choose you.”

“How will we know if he chooses us?” asked one of the recruits.

The young Viking turned to her one-legged boyfriend, giving him a complicit gaze.

“He will try to kill you,” she answered calmly.

“Eh… That’s reassuring…” another intervened.

“Come on, let’s go!” the Hofferson girl ordered.

She left a gentle kiss on the corner of the young boy’s lips before going back to join the group. So Hiccup watched her walk away, smiling like a dork. Realizing he wasn’t joining her, she came back to take his hand.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

The chief’s son came to his senses gradually. Sometimes, it was kind of hard for him to read her correctly.

“Sure.”

They set off with the young riders to accompany them to places more conductive to the apprenticeships they were proposing. Snotlout suddenly arrived on the back of Hookfang, taking care of greeting the two lovebirds:

“Wow, seems that Hiccstrid is out!”

“Stop calling us that, Snotlout…”

“What? You’re always together you two, aren’t you? There’s no Hiccup without Astrid since that… well, you know.”

“So?” the blond inquired.

“Well, we ended up confusing you. So it’s easier to call you Hiccstrid.”

Astrid swore furiously. Hiccup put a hand on her shoulder and then, he addressed Snotlout.

“Okay, I think we get the point.”

“Take it easy Hiccstrid… It’s just–”

“Snotlout, that’s enough,” Hiccup cut him off.

But the blond had already gone back to the group of newcomers.

“Good luck with that,” the disturbing Viking laughed.

Hiccup sighed and he scurried to catch up with his girlfriend who was walking with purpose. When he came over to where she was standing, he put a hand on her shoulder again as an act of comfort.

“Hey, sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, worried.

The young lady faked a smile before stopping.

“Yeah… Don’t worry. And leave me with them, I can handle this alone.”

“You’re sure?”

So she nodded in agreement.

“Okay… So can we hang later?”

“Yeah. See you later, Hiccup.”

So the blond left to meet the teens’ group she was in charge of, leaving an astounded Hiccup. The young boy was having trouble figuring her out. He didn’t understand why she seemed to attach so much importance to the Jorgenson’s remark. But truth is, he never had paid the same attention as her to what others could think about them. As the heir to the throne of Berk, Hiccup Haddock the third had always been the focus of village’s attention. After all this years of mockery –even if it was no longer relevant–, he had finally become indifferent to the light of others. This was the case for Astrid. Unlike Hiccup, she had always been placed on some kind of pedestal which gave her attributes of the ideal Viking; athletic and brave. It was because she was considered that, on her side, the girl worried about what others might think about her. Indeed, it bothered Astrid that being a couple with Hiccup defined her in the eyes of others. She didn’t want them to be confused. Because yes, she was above all Fearless Astrid Hofferson, a warrior and a dragon rider. One thing’s for sure, the teenagers didn’t have the same perspective on things. Everything now turned on how they will solve this slight problem.

Hiccup watched Astrid walked away before telling Toothless to follow him. So he wandered into the village with his friend at his side until his feet led him to the forge.

“Hey Gobber!” the young boy exclaimed.

“Hiccup? Don’t you have a class to teach or something?”

“Oh yeah but hum… I’m done so… I came to help out!” the brown-haired boy assured him.

His old employer squinted, not very convinced by the young man’s words but he finally assigned him a task.

“Well, you can take care of the saddles in that area… Yeah, here. Some are already drawn while others just waiting to be cut! You think you can handle this?”

“No problem, Gobber, I’m on it,” the chief’s son smiled, arms full.

So he get to work quickly as if he wanted to forget his recent problems. The two men didn’t say a word to one other for almost an hour before Gobber finally decided to break the silence.

“So… How was training?”

“I came in late…”

“Ouch… Astrid wasn’t too angry?”

Hiccup giggled.

“Not even.”

“It does work between you two uh?”

“Yeah, hum… I guess so…” the young boy mumbled.

But the blacksmith didn’t pay attention to this last remark.

“Did you tell your father?”

My gods no! was Hiccup’s first thought. Talking with his father had never been one of his favourite activities and particularly when it came to address issues of this kind. He stood dumbfounded before Gobber.

“Hum… Well, actually…”

“Hiccup…”

“What?”

“Hum, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” answered the chief’s right hand, squinting again.

“Yeah, yeah…” the young man sighed.

Gobber gave an insistent look to the teenager who replied by rolling his eyes. The blacksmith laughed heartily. This did not stop Hiccup from staying with his old instructor the rest of the day. Despite everything, these two liked to spend time together.

By evening, Hiccup went home. Astrid didn’t come see him in the forge so he figured that she didn’t want to see him for now. Once he crossed the threshold, he intended to go up right away to his room without eating, but it was without counting his best friend’s dragonesque nature whose discretion was not the strongest point.

“Eh! Hiccup, you’re back!” Stoick exclaimed.

“Hehe yeah, it seems like it…” he answered lamely, addressing a reproachful look in the direction of the night fury.

“Astrid came by the house earlier, she was looking for you,” her father suddenly revealed.

The young man raised his head, surprised.

“And what did you…?”

“I said that I didn’t know where you were cause… I didn’t know where you were!”

“Eh…”

“She seemed upset. Did something happened between you two?”

“No… I mean, not really…”

“Are you hiding something from me, Hiccup?”

“What? No! Not at all…” he said by swallowing his spit with difficulty, embarrassed.

“Hum?” asked Stoick again with an insistent gaze.

The chief was becoming impatient so Hiccup lowered his head, defeated, resigning himself to tell him the truth.

“Okay…” the brown puffed.

He raised his head in the direction of his dad.

“Well, the point is that…”

“Yeah?” Stoick encouraged him.

The young boy took a deep breath.

“Okay, Astrid and I, we–”

Suddenly, the door opened to Gobber who rushed towards the chief of Berk.

“Stoick! There’s one of Sven’s uncles who’s fighting with the Geirson son in the Great Hall and it’s not a pretty sight! The village already took sides… You should better take a look, if you ask me.”

“Thanks for telling me Gobber. You see what kind of conflict you’ll soon be in charge of, Son?” Stoick rejoiced by addressing the one he already saw as his presumed successor. “We’ll talk later, I’m going.”

So he left in the direction of the Great Hall, leaving Gobber alone with Hiccup.

“So did you tell him?”

He abruptly turned his head towards the forger.                    

“Well, actually Gobber, I was about to. At least, before you came…”

“That’s no big deal, you’ll talk to him later! All right, I’ll see you later, I better give him a hand!”

The dragon riders’ chief watched Gobber walked away and he sighed. Toothless made a mocking coo to his friend who gave him the stink-eye.

“Fine, laugh at me! Let’s go to bed, bud. Tomorrow is another day.”

The next day, he had to repeat the training with Astrid. He hoped that, this time, the experiment would be different and that others would not annoy them again. Especially today because it wasn’t just them, it was the entire gang who participated. Hiccup managed to be on time for once. Fishlegs and Snotlout were already there but not all the kids had arrived yet. He came towards Astrid who smiled at his approach. He furtively kissed her lips to say ‘hello’ but she intensified the kiss as if she needed to be forgiven for her latest conduct. The young boy let himself succumb to this passionate gesture before being overtaken by reality… Fishlegs started to cough insistently. The young couple split, embarrassed.

“Hiccstrid…” Snotlout coughed to his friend’s intention.

Hiccup glared at him while Fishlegs wondered what was going on. The twins arrived shortly after this incident and the recruits were soon all here.

“Okay, today: teamwork,” the blond announced. “I want you to apply the bond you established with your dragon yesterday. But before that, we’ll show you the kind of things you could do with your dragon when you have become very close.”

She looked at Hiccup who immediately climbed into the heights of the skies to demonstrate. The teens raised their heads, admiring the dragon rider and his night fury soaring through the sky, even if they barely saw them.

“Pull to the side of the arena!” Astrid ordered.

The future chief of Berk soon reappeared but he was no longer on the dragon’s back. He was swooping down to the Academy’s hard ground while the night fury was on his tail to be able to catch him. His girlfriend was watching their flight carefully, afraid that something happened to Hiccup. The two friends were approaching the ground faster and faster so the night fury bounced back to catch his best friend but in the run-up to the ground, he turned his attention to Stormfly who was also concerned about this dangerous figure. Indeed, Astrid’s dragon was looking at their fall with anxiety, distracting the night fury for a brief moment. Unfortunately, it was long enough to make Hiccup shudder when his impact was imminent.

“Toothless!” the boy screamed.

Panicked, Astrid sprang in the middle of the Academy to catch the young man.

“Hiccup, careful!” she shouted.

“Astrid!”

So he crashed into her girlfriend’s arms. He made her fall back, landing on top of her. The night fury managed to level off soon enough to not fall brutally on the ground, but it was already too late. The apprentices put a hand to their mouth to avoid a scream. The gang ran towards Hiccup and Astrid.

“Astrid, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” the chief’ son asked, helping her to get up.

The Academy trainer was holding her head painfully.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine…” she said without conviction.

Then, she raised her head to Hiccup:

“What’s going on with them?” she asked.

“I think Toothless was distracted by Stormfly,” Fishlegs explained.

“Now the dragons started too, we’ll never see the end of it,” Snotlout guffawed.

Astrid scowled before walking up to her dragon who was licking Toothless’ wing. Hiccup followed her.

“Did we miss something?” Ruffnut asked.

“If only you knew…” the Jorgenson said.

Hiccup caressed Toothless before checking nothing was broken.

“Easy there. What got into you, bud?” the young Viking wondered.

“Hiccup, Snotlout is right. Our dragons get close lately and that’s not good for the training.”

“Come on Astrid, don’t you think you’re overreacting? Look, it’s all new to them too!”

“Hiccup, I think you’re missing the point… It could’ve turned out worse just now! If I hadn’t been there…”

“But I’m fine,” he said by putting his hands on Astrid’ shoulders.

However, she removed them before adding:

“Anyway, for you, it’s over.”

“But Astrid–”

“Come on! And take Toothless with you.”

The young man found himself forced to leave the training without being able to put up any resistance. He left, looking sad, summoning Toothless to follow him.

“Fine. Let’s go, Toothless.”

Astrid bit her lip before looking away. The gang watched the duo part, a little confused. Tuffnut turned his head towards Astrid before redirecting his attention to Hiccup and Toothless’ departure.

“Is it just me or is something up with those two?” he asked.

Her twin sister sighed meanwhile Snotlout started to laugh. Fishlegs immediately requested him to shut up his big mouth.

The rest of the session went pretty well aside from the Jorgenson’s understatements that Astrid rushed to hush. Once everybody had left, Hiccup came to meet his friend at the end of the class.

“Astrid, can we just talk?”

“I still have a lot to do Hiccup, so… just leave me alone, please.”

The young man was most definitely increasingly surprised by the behaviour of his partner. He obeyed nonetheless and moved outside the arena, his eyes downcast. He came out and went to the Great Hall, where he sat down on the steps leading to it. Hiccup put his head in his hands and thought. He thought about Astrid, about what would become of their relationship when the recent turn appeared so obvious, though. She no longer seemed to be on the same page as him. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

Suddenly, he felt a hand alighted on his shoulder. He turned away; it was his father.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Son?” he said, sitting down next to him.

The boy sighed, looking at his feet, well his foot.

“It’s Astrid.”

“Oh, there we are.”

“We fought.”

“Hum, I see… But you know Son, nobody said love affairs were an easy thing.”

Hiccup brusquely raised his head towards his dad.

“Wh– What? You mean you knew?”

Stoick nodded, looking like it was nothing while his son stayed stupefied.

“It’s something you feel, Son. I was just waiting for you to talk to me about it yourself.”

The auburn-haired boy passed his hand through his hair, pretending to laugh, looking embarrassed.  

“Well, let’s go back to your problem. Did you try talking to her?”

“Of course! But she avoids discussion!”

“Aha your mother was the same…”

“She was?”

“But you know what works in situations like these?”

“No?”

“The pushy method! You need to ground her back into her problems. If you don’t, you won’t get anything out of her. That’s how I used to do it with your mom.”

“Aha you’re surely right… Thanks Dad,” the boy replied by briefly taking his father into his arms.

He smiled and left on the back of Toothless, determined to do something. He wasn’t going to let this thing run its course, he was going to take action.

He found Astrid at the Academy gate and asked Toothless to catch her by surprise. She uttered a cry of distress before realizing it was Hiccup and Toothless.

“Hiccup! Get me down from here!” she screamed.

“No, there’s no way.”

They flew to a place far away from the village center in order to have a real talk. Toothless finally landed while making sure to leave Astrid on the ground smoothly. She gave Hiccup a strong punch in his shoulder.

“That’s for kidnapping me!”

“Okay, maybe I deserved that one… But we still need to talk Astrid.”

“What do you want to talk about?” she said by turning her back to him.

“Oh come on Astrid, you know perfectly well! I know you were looking for me last night.”

She turned her head towards her boyfriend.

“I was at the forge. I wasn’t trying to avoid you, unlike you…” the young man pursued.

“What?”

“I don’t know but… Since this whole mess with Snotlout, you seem to avoid me!”

“No, not at all…”

“No? And what about this morning uh?”

The girl bit her lip. Hiccup approached her to take her hands.

“Astrid… You know you can tell me anything,” he declared by staring right into her eyes.

“Yeah, you’re right. Hiccup, I’m sorry. It’s just that they all make me sick, talking about us only as a couple and no more as distinct persons! I need to be recognised for who I am. I don’t want our relation to define us in the eyes of others, you know?

That’s it, he thought. He smiled by pressing her hand.

“Sure, I understand.”

He paused.

“Do you remember when we were looking for our dragons back in the forest on the Edge, both of us, after the storm?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember what I told you then?”

“Of course, you told me that there will always be a Hiccup and Astrid.”

He put his hand on her shoulders.

“That’s it, there will always be a Hiccup and Astrid,” he insisted by caressing her right cheek. “We’re a team. There’s no way, we’ll be confused again cause there’s definitely two people who make this team! You’re above all Astrid Hofferson and I Hiccup Haddock.

She smiled before hugging him.

“And,” Hiccup breathed, “we could maybe spend more time together, just you and me, rather than exposing us before everyone. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a good idea Hiccup, thank you,” the blond replied, holding him tighter against her.

As they split, Astrid grasped Hiccup by his collar.

“Oh and one more thing…”

She pulled him before planted a kiss on his thin lips.

“That’s for everything else.”

[fangsofsin]

I'm not sure what to think of Marks new video. The respect one... I kinda agree but I don't either... help! what do u think fang?

(My opinion and feelings are just my opinions and feelings. They may vary from yours and that’s okay. Please talk to me if you have a different thought. Any hate or bashing will be ignored in favor of having a calm and collected adult conversation or debate. I am open to either)

While I’m not sure why everyone issuddenly asking my opinion on these things, I appreciate that youwant to hear whatever the heck I have to say. So I guess I’ll justget on and tell you why I feel Mark had a good idea, but not a goodargument.

Remember back when I made theSeptiplier post and I mentioned that Mark and Jack have goodchemistry but that doesn’t make them best friends or anything? Thesame goes with Mark and Felix. I’m bringing this up right now becauseall damn day – since the video posted – I’ve been seeing peoplesay “Mark’s gonna defend his best friend but as a best friend heshould’ve called Felix out on what he did”…  

Where did anyone get the idea thatFelix and Mark are best friends? Again, they work well together andthey like hanging together. But that doesn’t make them best friends.It’s never been established that they’re “best friends”… Again.You can have good chemistry with someone but not be the best offriends. They could be friends. But friend and best friend areactually pretty different meanings.

A friend issomeone you have a casual but still personal enough relationship withthat is based on a common ground. Meaning you both like similarthings or dislike similar things and so you become close throughthose likes and dislikes, but it doesn’t always go past that. As fora best friend, that is a title for someone you have deeperrelationship with that passes the boundaries of simply having similartaste in music or whatever drew you to someone. A friend doesn’t havethat big or deep of a connection to you while your best friend doeshave that deep bonding that can even be considered on the same levelas the one you have to your flesh and blood family (or at someone ofthat love and connection level).

As far as we know,Felix and Mark are on the friend level and that means they havesimilar grounds they walk on, but they’re not super personable anddeep with one another. As far as we know.

Now! Even if theyare best friends, what true friend is going to call out – in frontof a digital platform as huge as Mark’s and Felix’s and YouTube ingeneral – another friend like that?! That would be like finding outyour bff is cheating on her man with another guy and you decide tocall her out and point her out to half the student body during like aclass presidential election or something… WTF? How? Why. What aboutthat is right at all? Because that’s exactly what people aresuggesting! They’re suggesting that Mark should have called out Felixon the platform and left him to be stoned by Mark’s fans… That’snot the kind of community Mark is trying to create or wants.

You don’t throwyour friend under the bus like that if you’re a true friend or even atrue best friend. Even if Felix had given Mark the go ahead to callhim out in front of the entire community, that still wouldn’tbe right as a friend or even as a person.

So that argumentaside, the overall video? Well first off, here. I’m that person and Iwent and fucking wrote down the whole speech as best as I could.

Respect… It’ssomething that I feel has been lost, lately.

I even feellike the definition of respect has been muddied a bit. Because peoplehave a tendency to apply it only to accomplishments that they feelare worthy of praise and admiration.

But I’m talkingabout respect on a basic level. Even if you just boil it down tocommon human decency… Is being lost.

The golden rulestill applies. You still need to treat people the way that you wannabe treated.

And you’reseeing it less and less these days.

Because peoplehave an automatic tendency to assume that if someone is disagreeingwith someone, they are their enemy. And they’re inherently bad. Andthey should be fucked.

But you candisagree with someone and still respect them. You can even hatesomeone. You can hate and abhor their actions. They are doingterrible things and they need to be hated… But you still need totreat them with respect.

And that’shard.

And you mayeven be thinking like “How can you do that? That’s not possible.If they are a terrible person they deserve to be treated unfairly.”

And that’s notthe way I want to live.

We are allhumans.

And either weare all humans that are equal and deserve to be treated as equals, orwe’re not. And I know people are probably going to think I amspeaking too generally about this, so I want to get specific.

I’m talkingabout this because of the frenzy that is surrounding Felix. NotPewDiePie. Felix.

And I wanna bevery clear about something. Felix is not an anti-Semitic and Felixdoes not advocate hate. And I’m not even defending the jokes that hemade because even he has apologized for some of the jokes that hedid.

But he as aperson, as an inherent human being… He’s not these labels.

Because it’s soeasy to label someone. It’s so easy to do. It’s so easy to boilsomeone down to a single word or a phrase and that’s all they are.

Even if you’repraising them. I mean, normally, it’s when you’re demonizing them,but even if you are praising them, even if you’re putting someone ona pedestal or if you’re calling them human scum and trash andgarbage, you’re inherently dehumanizing them in both aspects.

And that’ssomething I will never stand for. Never.

‘Cause I havesaid it a million times, over and over I repeat this all the time. Weas YouTubers are the exact same as you. We’re humans. We’re peoplewandering this world, trying to figure out who we are just the sameas you.

And even thoughsomeone like Felix is being attacked and he’s a lightning rod forhate. Whether or not that’s a fault of his own actions or the societywe live in, that doesn’t mtter to me.

Because what Iam talking about is the most basic human element, the one rule I knowvery deep down, is that we are all equal and deserve to be treatedwith respect.

We’re more thanour labels. I don’t give a fuck what the color of your skin is, Idon’t care what religion you believe you believe in, I don’t carewhere you come from or where you are now. All I care about is who youare and whether or not you are free to be able to discover that.

And I’m notjust even talking about Felix now, I am talking generally.

Cause if we areeven going to be more than we are right now. As a society, as apeople, as a species, as Planet Earth… If we’re ever going to bemore than that, we need to, at the most basic level, respect eachother…

And it’s hard.It’s hard to take the high road. It’s a lonely road. No one wants togo that way, cause it’s so easy to seek vengeance. Or apply the“other rule”; An eye for an eye.

Or labelsomeone as a simple word or phrase just to dismiss them.

And, I know,people are even going to twist my words. People are going to say thatI am defending the wrong people or I’m defending bad people or I’mI-I’m spreading hate indirectly because I support other people.

That’s not theway I see the world. I see each and every one of us, not defined byour race or our creed. But each and every one of us a new opportunityto find ourselves, and in order to defend that, I have to advocatethe treatment of everyone as an equal.

If you don’thave that, what’s going to become of us? What’s gonna happen in fiftyyears when the generations that follow us look back and see thattheir forefathers were too afraid to treat each other with the mostbasic level of respect.

I believe… Ibelieve very firmly… That every single person in the world has theability to do something amazing or terrible. To spread love or hate.

And whether ornot they do one or the other depends on us. Depends on us beingstrong enough to take the high road in the face of the worstadversity.

I have so muchhope for people. I have so much hope for this world and I have somuch hope for what we can do to make it a better place. And that’ssomething I will defend to the death

When it comesto dehumanizing someone or anyone, I won’t stand for that. Because atthe end of the day, there’s going to be people that follow us. Andit’s up to you and me to show them what respect really means.

… now if you read that whole thing, props to you. But let me justsay that I am not trying to twist and rip Mark’s words or hisopinions. I’m sharing my overall opinion on what the man is talkingabout. Now… That said.. It may come off as me twisting them orreading them wrong, but we are – as he said – human and interpretthings different. So this is my interpretation of what I think onwhat he has said.

First off, yes. It’s a good place Mark is trying to come from. He hasa very soft heart and a strong belief and he’s always been verypassionate that way and always shared who he is and what he believes.And that’s always been very admirable and good of him… But Mark hasa flaw.

His thought process is all over the place and he comes off aspassionate rambler.

Mark’s overall message is that we need to take the high road and turnthe other cheek and be the better person and give everyone therespect that we ourselves want from others. And that’s not a badview. It’s very hippy like… But it’s not a bad thing to want frompeople, to advocate for.

But the problem with this, is that Mark talks about things in thisvideo that actually are not things we can just turn the other cheekfrom. I’m sorry. Some of these things are not at a state that we canjust ignore or look away from. At least I personally can not lookaway from them.

I don’t give afuck what the color of your skin is, I don’t care what religion youbelieve you believe in, I don’t care where you come from or where youare now. All I care about is who you are and whether or not you arefree to be able to discover that.

That’s great for you, Mark. But for me, personally, these are aspectsthat make up who I am and who you are. Color is a very deeptopic right now. There’s people out in the world literally fightingfor their lives because of the color of their skin. Black advocatesare fighting because of their skin. People are being gunned down,raped, murdered, and many other terrible things,because of their skintone. Is it right? Fuck no! Do I agree that skin shouldn’t make upsomeone? Yes. But is it still a part of what can make up who you arebecause it can effect what lead you to be who you are.

As a white, blonde hair and blue eyed female I have no experiencedoppresion like a black female of the same age as me has. Have Iexperienced limitations because I’m a female? Yes. But have I beenracially set aside and degraded? No. At least not to my fucking face.Black women and men have. They face police fear every day becausesome jackass in a uniform thinks he can gun down whoever he wantsbecause he’s wearing a blue uniform. This is shit that’s happening topeople and it’s because of their skin and when that happens, you canbet that if I was in that skin, I’d be fearful and have a differentview of things than I do now.

Religion is another thing. People still – still, in 2017 –use religion to advocate what they see as right and are attackedbecause of it. Radical Christians use religion to attack the lgbtqa+community on a daily basis. Muslim women are attacked in subways andon the streets and in stores because of their religion. Jews arestill mocked and ridiculed in media because of their religious – orsupposed actions – actions in the past. Religion is a factor inpeoples lives. It’s something people fight with and for every daybecause you have people attacking them for what they believe is theirGod/Gods/Etc. And that shapes you as a person. Your religion and yourexperiences because of your religions, has an effect on who you are.

Where we come from can determine a lot of things. Come from an areawith an abundance of racial slurs and treatment? It effects you onceyou step outside that area or someone new steps into your life. Yougrew up in poverty and come from a poor neighborhood? That effectshow you view and act in the world. You grew up very privileged?Congrats, you’ve grown up effected and get a kick when you see whatothers don’t have that you always neglect. Come from a country youhad to escape because of war? Again, you’re being developed by thatexperience and what it was like to grow up with a country at war.That matters about who you are now because it lead you to take yourroads.

All these, Mark, are what can make and break us to who we are. Yes.We can escape some one these. Like where we grew up? We can run fromit (or try to anyway). We can run from our religion or even turn ourback on it. That’s something we can do… But it’s still something wedid. Something that’s a part of what lead us to be where we are now.

At least that’s how I’ve always seen things. I grew up with parentsthat had me too young and were always fighting and even recall copscoming to my house to separate them. I was bullied and isolated onthe playground and in my classrooms as a disease because I was “odd”and considered dirty or poor and disgusting for reasons I can’t tothis day pinpoint why and reasons that followed me all the way toeven college. I had a farm to grow up on. I was sheltered from a lotof things and came off as ignorant because of it. My mother didn’thave patience to teach me anything so she would get mad at me and domy homework for me because she thought she was helping me when reallyit fucked me up later in high school and college. I grew up withracist family members and got hit in school because I was nevertaught that calling someone a certain slur – not the n-word butsomething just as bad – was a bad thing and got a black eye andbeat up by a girl because I said that to her. I stole money fromsomeones purse once because I didn’t have money for food and hadn’teaten in two days and was getting sick. I broke down in a churchbecause, even if I’m not that religious, the sermon I was at wasbeautiful and made me realize I was depressed and I had beensuppressing it. I watched a black student get passed over for a partin the play that she would have murdered, because she wasn’t “theright type” and they picked a bubble gum barbie white girl for therole.

These are things in my past. These are things that my color, where Icame from, and what my mild religious belief, have done that matterto me now. Stealing that money made me learn to better respect everyvalue of a dollar I have. Getting beat down and seeing that blackstudent get passed over made me respect that the POC communityhandles so much shit and they are fed up with it and they have aright to be punching back. Being sheltered came back and got mebullied more than what I was by the time I hit middle school.

So I don’t like when someone says anything like what was said.Because while that shit shouldn’t matter, it does. It makes up a partof you. And every part of you means something important and tellsyour story. Just like the scars you get, these are the scars andmarkings on your inner self that make you who you are and to just say“I don’t fucking care about that shit” is – to me –like saying you don’t give a fuck about me.

Now I’m sure he was talking about the content of your personality.But even still, your personality is based around what you have takenfrom these aspects of yourself. My religious or lack of have shapedparts of how I act. My being bullied has made me not want to ever bea bully and to fight anyone who tries to bully me or people I careabout. My racial stupidity choices have made me want to be a bettersupporter and to make myself learn and be educated as a bettersupport for the POC community. Where I grew up has made me see partsof what I want to be and want to not be and why I pushed myself tomove out to California; to be here and gain a new aspect of mypersonality to grow with the one I have or make it better.

Now maybe I’m twisting the words to harshly. But the moment he saidthat, I frowned and this – above – is what came to mind. It’swhat I see. And again, I could be just jumping conclusions and I cantake a breather and realize that he could’ve meant something entirelydifferent.

But that’s what I mean when I say Mark gets a bit scattered. Some ofthe stuff he says… When you’re someone who has a large communitylike him or Felix or any of the big YouTubers, your actions and wordsand views do get analyzed. You’re not some random on the street.You’re a face and a voice for a platform and so your words matter.Your actions matter. And they get heard. And like I said, everyonehas an opinion and can hear the same sentence I heard and read itcompletely different.

It’s like that old saying that if you put someone of every religiousbelief in a circle in a room and you hand them a Holy Bible and makethem read it, they’re all going to interpret it one way or anotherand the debate about it could last for years. It’s that same concept.What they write and say does do something and does have power.

But you candisagree with someone and still respect them. You can even hatesomeone. You can hate and abhor their actions. They are doingterrible things and they need to be hated… But you still need totreat them with respect.

This statement kind of threw me off… And I see it did to a lot ofpeople.

If someone is indeed “the scum of the earth” - words Mark used –and they’re doing things from child pornography, rape, murdering, andall of the above… I will not respect them. I will not respect menwho beat on women or women who beat on men. I will not respectsomeone who defiles an innocent toddler for their satisfaction. Iwill not respect someone who murdered someone in cold blood. I willnot respect those that spit and piss on the memory of blacks or Jewsor any race or religion that was wiped out because of simply whatthey are or what they were born as. I will not.

Mark’s message is a good thought in simplistic form. And he says thebasic form of respect is what he’s talking about… But does he notknow what the basic definition of respect is?

Respect, according to the dictionary, is “a feeling of deepadmiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities,qualities, or achievements” (noun). Abilities are somethingyou can naturally do at will. (Ex: “I have the ability to roll mytongue”). They are things you are born with. This is often confusedwith talent, which can be learned while a natural ability can notalways be

Qualities – or quality – is defined as “a distinctive attributeor characteristic possessed by someone or something” (Ex: “He hasthe qualities that one would give a strong leader”). Your qualitiescan be learned and taught from your past experiences and from yourown research. Which, again, goes back to your past and where you comefrom and what you do with that.

And achievements is “a thing done successfully, typically byeffort, courage, or skill”. (Ex: “To reach this stage in lifeis a great achievement”). An achievement is technically part of thebasic element of respect. To say people focus on just achievements istrue, but to say you’re talking about just the basic element ofrespect means you’re still talking about your achievements…

To give someone respect is to give them a kindness of sort. When yourespect someone, you see their achievements and qualities andabilities as something to look up to or something you yourself wantto work towards becoming. Like I respect my friend Katie becauseshe’s a strong person, she’s achieved so much with what little she’shad to work with, and she’s got this natural ability (or talent ifyou want to be technical) to adapt to life as it is thrown at her. Igive her respect also because she’s a good person to me and others.

Now what about people that I don’t even know? Well I respect Beyoncefor all the hard work she’s done, all the fighting for POC sheadvocates, and for just being a strong person on stage and off andnot taking shit from no one… Now do I know Beyonce personally? Ofcourse not (I fucking wish though!). But right now, as I see her, Irespect her… Now if I met Beyonce and she turned out to be superrude, fake, or super negative… That’ll effect my respect for her. Ican still respect how hard she works and what she’s done. But as aperson, that aspect changes. As a person, I would start to see her asrude or ungrateful or even appalling.

A person’s actions and deeds can be worth of respect. But if a personis a complete and total appalling jackass of an existing amount offlesh, then that changes things. So maybe I get what Mark is sayingin that sense. That someone could have done all these important andadmirable and amazing things for society or I  general, but in personthey’re just the nastiest human being on the planet… Then yeah. Ican see where respect even when you hate them as a person can comefrom.

But to give respect to those that have no qualities or achievementsor abilities that benefit society or even another person and beingcompletely hideous as a person and does despicable actions likementioned above (rape, molestation, assaulting, etc), is notsomething I as an individual can be on board with. Because it justplain makes me wanna scrub my skin off to look at someone who doesterrible deeds and treats others and animals with such abhorringnature, and be told I have to respect them because you’re supposed torespect everyone… No.

I was raised to respect those that treat me with respect. I wastaught that to get respect you have to earn respect. If I want peopleto respect me, I have to respect who people are and who they were andcan become. The same goes for people towards me. That is how I wasraised. That is what I believe. I give everyone around me respectuntil you give me a reason not to. So if someone doesn’t give me areason not to, then we’re good. I will respect you and I hope you cantreat me with the same grain of existence.

This was my problem with Mark’s speech. It seemed so contradicting.The overall message – and yes I’m using his words – as a basic,is a good one. But it doesn’t eliminate that everyone reads intothings differently and acts towards things differently. And yes hementioned people would twist his words and maybe I am doing justthat. Do I feel like I am? No. But it’s a high possibility I’mtwisting what he’s saying and for that I am sorry but I will believewhat I believe.

Now. All that being said, I agree with Mark on many things as well. Ibelieve to dehumanize someone – at least to do so without a trulylegit reason – is disgusting and not what we should ever do tosomeone. I stand with the belief that Felix is not anti-Semitic andthat he’s not trying to spread hate. I believe we are more thanlabels and that labels just complicate things in the long run but Ialso know labels are around to try and make things easier to box usall in to categories and we as humans are not meant to be generalizedto one category. And I believe that every person as an individual inthis world, does have the ability to do something amazing or terriblethat can effect humanity. And I have hope that yes, one day, theworld can be a better place than it is right now.

But that day is not today. Someday, maybe. But it’s not right now.And we can’t ignore that right now things are the way they are for areason.

P,ease don’t take this as me hating on the man. I in no way hate him or even think he’s wrong. I just feel strongly about some things he said… It’s like he mentioned. You can disagree with someone without hating them. I don’t hate him. I just am not on the full boat he’s sailing.

[brothermarc7theatre]

"Crazy For You" show #767

When I began choreographing, working with younger thespians, I learned that unseasoned musical theatre performers love to be loud and, literally, dance like everyone is watching. One of my rules, especially when it came to tap numbers, was that audiences want to see the choreography and hear it, not feel it. This, in turn, resulted in the young dancers knowing how to contain their volume rather than just stomping on stage. This rule need not apply to Bay Area Musicals’ rousing production of Crazy For You! The act one finale, “I Got Rhythm,” is a percussive masterpiece that can’t help but be seen, heard, and felt. The unanimously talented cast time steps, flaps, shuffles, and stamps the rhythms and beats with such fervor, enthusiasm, and dynamism that I couldn’t help but be swept into this Gershwin celebration of a musical

(Center: Conor DeVoe (Bobby), surrounded by the Female Ensemble; Photo credit: Ben Krantz Studio)

New York-based Broadway-wannabe hoofer, Bobby Child, finds an opportunity to get into show business when his mother sends him to Dead Rock, Nevada to shut down a post office that is behind on the mortgage. But the building used to be a theatre. Its owner, Everett Baker, reminds his daughter, Polly, about how his deceased wife used to dance on the former stage, glistening behind the footlights. True to form, Ken Ludwig, who wrote the book, has big-name Broadway producer, Bela Zangler, and Bobby, have a switch of identities. Bobby, who turns off Polly once she finds out he’s the stooge from the bank come to shut down the building, decides to put on the Bela mustache, wig, cane, and accent so he can save the theater and become recipient of Polly’s affections. With a slew of raucously drawn supporting characters, Crazy For You is a rich, unsuspecting musical with loads of heart, plenty of laughs, and Gershwin score drawn from earlier shows to make your toes tap and heart palpitate in sync with the lyrics. Matthew McCoy’s direction is spot-on in its balance of shtick and romance, and he and Danielle Cheiken deliver exceptional choreography that props this production up on a pedestal of excellence for all to see.

(Cast members of Crazy For You; Photo credit: Ben Krantz Studio)

The tap-ography, not an easy task when dealing with this tap-heavy production, has three company numbers, and that’s in addition to the solo and duet dance turns for Bobby and Polly. “Slap That Bass,” “I Got Rhythm,” and “Stiff Upper Lip” are energetic, extremely-well staged numbers in terms of formations and who to highlight from the ensemble. Further, specifically to the tap, it’s Mr. McCoy’s and Ms. Cheiken’s manipulation of the syncopations and punctuation of the hard beats that make their choreography an elite achievement. The two choreographers, in all dance numbers, have period-specific movement, infused with fresh takes on Susan Stroman’s now-iconic choreography of the company numbers. Though the ensemble lacks at being a cohesive unit when called for, each dancer executes the choreography, tap and otherwise, with individual precision and energy.

(Conor DeVoe (Bobby) and Danielle Alitzio (Polly); Photo credit: Ben Krantz Studio)

Conor DeVoe is outstanding as leading man, Bobby Child. His tenor and tapping chops make his song-and-dance persona a breeze to watch, an effortless triple-threat journey for quite a substantially active role. Mr. DeVoe kicks off the show with a jazzily entertaining “K-ra-zy For You” and never lets up. His turns at “I Can’t Be Bothered Now,” “Things are Looking Up,” and his act two resolution number, “Nice Work if You Can Get it” are superbly executed, accented by the female ensemble supporting the song with distinct characters that complement their dancing talents. Mr. McCoy appropriately directs Mr. DeVoe by allowing the right amount of shtick to come through in the performance, while never losing Bobby’s sincere, deep-seated love with dance and for Polly. Playing opposite Mr. DeVoe is Danielle Alitzio as Polly, local tough girl in Dead Rock. Ms. Altizio’s vocal prowess is quite good, especially in her full-voiced turns of “Someone to Watch Over Me,” which is given the total leading lady treatment, where her acting and voice blend to create that Gershwin-Golden Age feel, letting the audience get to know Polly in a more vulnerable way. It is also in this number where Mr. McCoy’s simple-yet-effective staging pairs with Eric Johnson’s emotionally-astute lighting design to warrant all the feel good-romantic tingles the audience is bound to have. Ms. Altizio and Mr. DeVoe pair well in the Astaire-Rodgers-esque “Shall We Dance” and “Embraceable You.” What elevates Ms. Altizio’s performance above just another triple-threat ingénue is, again, Mr. McCoy’s excellent direction of ensuring she never loses the Western-style niceties and moxie which make Polly such a powerful young woman. Though Polly falls hopelessly in love with Bela/Bobby, it’s never at the expense of her spine and thoughts; it makes the shame of finding out Bobby has been disguising himself all the more effective and juicy to see develop.

(Sitting: Sean McGrory (Lank), Standing: Morgan Peters (Irene); Photo credit: Ben Krantz Studio)

Morgan Peters and Sean McGrory make for a delightful slapstick couple late in Act Two as Irene, Bobby’s “former” fiancé, and Lank Hawkins, saloon/hotel owner in Dead Rock. Mr. McGrory really lets the schmaltzy, Western cowpoke buffoonery drip in his memorable performance, a choice that only few actors can really make work, but fear not, because Mr. McGrory is responsible for a plethora of laughs. Ms. Peters does a dynamite job in her big torch song, “Naughty Baby.” Tony Michaels is a loveable Bela Zangler, perfectly-suited for the role when he matches up with Mr. DeVoe for a thoroughly enjoyable “What Causes That,” the satisfyingly placed duet where Bobby, as Bela, and Bela launch into a comical gem of a call-and-response romp. Paul Plain and Mary Gibboney are charming as travelling couple Eugene and Patricia, who tramp into Dead Rock on a book writing trip. Their leadership of “Stiff Upper Lip” is a capital performance.

(L to R: Conor DeVoe (Bobby) and Tony Michaels (Bela); Photo credit: Ben Krantz Studio)

The Cowboy Trio, comprised of Moose, Mingo, and Sam are in scene-stealing form by Lucas Brandt, Mitchell Mosley, and Jean-Paul Jones, respectively. The three cowboys harmonize, dance up a storm, and deliver their comedy track with flare and charm. Ms. Cheiken, in her onstage performance as Tess, and Zoe Swenson-Graham, as Patsy, have fully-developed plot points and motivations that make their few lines of dialogue and several dance turns engaging and a thrill to watch. Even the sparsely infused lust-plot between Bela and Tess has finesse and logic to it because of Ms. Cheiken and Mr. Michaels’ timing matches with Mr. McCoy’s due attention given to the mini-scenes.

(Cast of Crazy For You; Photo credit: Ben Krantz Studio)

In addition to the aforementioned lighting design, Jon Gallo’s musical direction and conducting of the seven-member band is stellar. The audience won’t get the feeling of a stripped down orchestra, but will fall into nostalgia for the era of Gershwin. The band is just as much a character as any when it comes to this genre of musical, and Mr. Gallo’s work is on sterling display by way of the band’s instrumentation and the cast’s vocals. Brooke Jennings costumes the ensemble with character and uniformity, but has several frocks that miss the mark in the context of appropriate depiction between ghost town Dead Rock and flashy New York where the principals are concerned. Kuo-Hao Lao’s scenic design allows for fluidity between locales, and is functional in allowing Mr. McCoy and Ms. Cheiken to have levels for staging purposes while always having just enough detail and space for the mood of the scene or song to take effect.

(Cast members of Crazy For You; Photo credit: Ben Krantz Studio)

Crazy For You is not an easy show to pull off, but you wouldn’t know it over at the Alcazar Theater. In a time where the Gershwins are no longer new and Mr. Ludwig’s mistaken identity-based plots are a bit tiresome, Mr. McCoy and company have breathed a fresh take of air into this beautiful piece of musical theatre. Go see this show!

Details:

Crazy For You runs through December 16th

Bay Area Musicals at The Alcazar Theater, San Francisco

www.bamsf.org

[prosenkhans]

Your body is not a temple. It’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.

It had to be the Salt Fish & Ackee. And the fried chicken. Of course the fuckin’ fried chicken.

Bourdain called Miss Ollie’s a taste of the “shiny, new Oakland”. You don’t see many tourists here, thank goodness, but the air of gentrification is present. Considered “Downtown Oakland”, you got the not-so-middle-class 20-30s something transplants messing about, bumping head long into 5th generation locals with A’s paraphernalia dangling from twin strollers. You’re just as likely to have a conversation with a person drinking craft IPA out of a laser etched glass to a person brown bagging a St. Ides 40 oz, chasing it with a Hennessy flat bottle they bury deep in their back pocket. It’s a normal thing here. The modern pressing against the traditional. “New money” and the “old school” of things. The social and economic divide that is prevalent so much here in the Bay Area. And still, the willingness by most to close that gap. The whole idea of “who’s town is this” will not be settled tonight. No. There is fish to be eaten. Chicken to be dunked in batter, fried golden, and devoured without utensils. People seem happy enough. Why not? The game is about to start.

It’s about 5:15 PM. The restaurant has yet to open for their dinner shift. And that is where I find myself, in an awkward situation as per usual, waiting in front of a door and peering into a kitchen staff hastily prepping for a Friday night. The idea was to order food and get the fuck home. I did not want to be around IF the Dubs won game 4 (they did). Not that I don’t enjoy a rowdy drunken crowd. Well I don’t actually. Not any more. Besides it wasn’t my victory, it wasn’t my team. Celebrating another’s victory just didn’t seem right, lighting fireworks and screaming in glee whilst turning over cars. Those aren’t my fireworks. I didn’t earn the drunken mob mentality to vandalize vehicles. I just didn’t want to be a buzz kill. No no. No, the only reason I stood there was because I wanted that damn salt fish and chicken! It had been a long day, made longer and mentally uncomfortable by learning that Bourdain had killed himself. No. Get the food, go home, take my pants off and sit on the couch and not so gently devour this stuff. Call it a half ass homage to the man whilst giving me some quiet time to really come to terms with all the thoughts running in my head. Oh and there was whiskey there. Pre-bought whiskey. Lots of it. Which undoubtedly has lead to this ranting essay.

When one writes shit like this it's impossible to avoid IT. The cliches, the flowery anecdotes, the over simplifications, and the glorifications of the recently passed individual. The stuff comes up because it's what we think about. However, I will say this. It a given family and friends are impacted most by a loss. Duh. Condolences, prayers up, what have you. It’s stating the obvious. What I think is escaping a lot of people is maybe we are never as close to someone we would like to think. We may love them. We may relate, appreciate, respect, and even be exceptionally close to them. But it’s becoming more and more evident to me that that UNDERSTANDING is a solo endeavor practiced by individuals specifically for their own self awareness.

We share only what we want people to see of us.

The word I most associate with Bourdain is “natural”. I know most people will go on and talk about his knowledge of the culinary world and his appreciation for amazing food. They’ll talk about his worldy travels and his willingness to immerse himself in the truest space of a city/country’s culture. People applaud and as well they should. Bourdain became the totem for all people with an ever growing sense of wanderlust. The question is why? There are plenty of who know food and culture and travel the world. Hell there are TONS of people on TV that do it and are dull as shit. So why Bourdain? Why is he, now that he is gone, ever so much more deified by those who wish to see our lives as 1/17th compelling as what he lived on screen? He was a natural. Or better yet, a “compelling natural asshole”. Yeah, that’s better.

First and foremost Bourdain was an artist. All of his shows went WELL beyond the norm of his contemporaries. In hindsight, his OG shows and the times in which he filmed them, they were damn near revolutionary. As budgets increased and skills got better, it became less so of an educational eating/travel show but more so of a docu-series of a man living in various moments. A man given the opportunity to perform a “dream job” and knowing fully well how damn lucky he was. Secondly, he was a writer. A good one. People will try to quote him in eulogy these days, but I find it hard to really pare it down. His shows were written so well that it felt like a never ending fount of inspiration meme fodder. Just Google it, you’ll see. And last, he was “cool”. And in the non pretentious type way. We just seemed like what he said, what he wore, what music was playing, hell what type of pop-cultural factoids he would equally praise and lacerate came not from a “marketing analysis report”, but a genuine opinion from a man who seemed unconcerned about the camera in his face.

What I can say is the dude gave off a vibe that drew people in. Or at least thats what he wanted to put out in the world.

I had to wait 15 minutes before I could order. Fuck. Hungry. I was starving at that moment. So even though I was annoyed and rather irritable after such a long and mentally draining day, I made my normally anti-social self do something Bourdain may have approved of. I mingled with strangers. Oh and I bought a beer. And a sausage. Of course a sausage.

Rosamunde’s was getting more crowded as the start of the game grew closer. People in their blue and gold, some with NBA Champion 2018 hats already on, even though the game hadn’t even started yet. Weird. But I made my way up to the shop keep and got my tube of meet and glass of malted hops. Yum. So with 10 minutes to kill I engaged in polite conversation with 2 gents hugging the wall. They were cousins, one local and other from LA. Of course naturally the conversation lead to basketball and the probability that all the people in this restaurant would be drunk off victory and tequila by nights end. They would be. It was a consensus. I wont prattle on about the specifics of the conversation, but within that short 10 minutes I found myself bouyed by their energy. They knew the good times to come, and they were eager to get there. And in that moment, they seemed genuinely happy. As the clock drew closer to the half hour, I started to excuse myself from the conversation. “Just stay, man! We gunna win, and then we’re gunna celebrate!” But I couldn’t. So with one last “Salanche!” (I had to teach them that Irish word), I bid them good evening and their team good luck. It wasn’t my place. Not right now. Besides, fried chicken awaited!

As I stepped away, a smile on my face, a thought in my head. Its natural when someone you admire leaves, especially in such a manner. People will focus more the WHY than anything else. I’ve resigned myself to a simple truth. We DO NOT know what anyone else is thinking. To say we UNDERSTAND another individual so completely that we can approximate their feelings, intent, and mannerism is foolhardy. It's arrogant. If there is anything that I’ve learned from Bourdain is this simple truth.......You don’t know shit. So stop guessing. Try and actually gain knowledge of, well everything. It simple requires effort and openness. And sometimes the willingness to look foolish and fall on your face.

I place my order with the lovely lady. No menu required. I knows what I want. I order a Mauby for the wait. “It’ll be like 10 minutes. You’re the first to order,” she says with a smile. I’m pretty sure she thinks my fatass is ordering for 2. Ha, oh well. I drink my weird soda and wait. And try not to dwell on the WHY.

I’ll simply state that I appreciate what Bourdain CHOSE to show us. All of it. Watch an episode of any of his shows, there is something unique about it. In every episode, Bourdain will turn from cocky asshat, to worldly listener, to foody goofball, to hipster hating old man, to a poetic soul, to an appreciated world travel, to an unwilling celebrity. There will be a facet of all those personas in each show. Every. Single. One. Now I can say that what he CHOSE to show us was a 61 year old man, full of success within a career that any of us would envy. A father of an 11 year old girl who did seemed truly proud of her developing into a full fledged human. A man who found passion and love in this “late” phase of life. A man who has grown healthier and wiser. A man, while still driven, seemed content with it all. And it apparently wasn’t. At all. So people can keep asking WHY all they want. I choose to look at it in a much more cynical view. If Bourdain, the master of the world, chose to exit it in such a state, where does that leave us?

It’s a sad thought that unicorns don’t exist.

7 swigs into my cane sugar soda, all the tables are filled. The room is bustling and the noise level increases. Smiling faces, happy banter. There is an energy in the air. But even in this moment, surrounded by the humanity, I felt alone. Lost in my own thoughts.

Bourdain once said he was “addicted to celebrity”. He wouldn’t have been as successful as he was did he not have the drive and arrogance to achieve it. Still, one would think that being placed upon a pedestal as a cultural and generational icon would become waring. On top of the 250 days of travel, he was Anthony fuckin’ Bourdain all the damn time. People see you and may potentially be expecting a life altering moment, a chance to be inspired by a simple word or action. They think they know you. And that’s with the cameras off. Even when they were rolling there are times where it is evident Bourdain was uncomfortable in his own skin. That he was crossing the velvet rope where he knew he shouldn’t. Where he was torn between enjoying a meal given to him by custom and his reluctance to be so decadent when there are impoverished families just feet away. We see a misfit become potentially what he never saw himself being. A standard bearer, a bougee VIP. A man who inspired a legion, a world of people to open their minds and hearts to other cultures through food and drink, through conversation over a meal. To take the back alley, and skip the IHOP on Main St. Ask a stranger where to get a drink instead of a guide book. To eat something you can’t pronounce. To let go of forethought and allow yourself to take the moment in. By doing so he became accepted as the norm, as how a utopian world should be. And while I hope he is proud to some degree for showing the world a new way to think, a part of me questions that by becoming a living legend, he lost that “outsider rebel” aspect of himself, his persona. That misfit.

The bell rings. My order is ready. The young lady puts everything in a bag. 2 sets of utensils. “I knew it,” I mutter to myself. “Did you say something honey?” she asks. “No,” I chuckle slightly. She smiles and turns her head to give me the inquisitive side eye. “Are you happy with everything,” she asks whimsically. I look down, and smell the food. I smile. “Yeah. Right now I am.”

So as I sit at home writing this, the last of the Ackee scrambled across my plate, I do feel a sense of sadness, but certainly appreciation. To Mr. Anthony Bourdain. I can only say “thanks”. I truly doubt we will know his full impact on society until years, generations later. But in this moment, I thank you. I probably wouldn’t have eaten this fish and chicken without him. And that in itself is worth a toast. Solanche, mutha fucker.

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, week 26

capsule reviews of the songs which debuted on the 7 July 2017 and 8 July 2017 editions of the billboard hot 100

7.7.2007

61) "Lost," Faith Hill

"With everything I have doesn't mean a thing if it's without you." I. Don't know what that means? I could stare at some of these lyrics and not really understand what's happening other than I'm supposed to believe in love and all its power, which is probably the most we can expect out of a late-career Faith Hill song. It's not great, but, y'know, just as I feel weird about trying to assess Fifth Harmony songs, I feel like Faith Hill songs are reaching for that Aunt With Too Many Inspirational Quote Pillows demographic, and I have to respect the choice she had made to service this demographic. This was someone's third wedding song, and I think that's beautiful. (Also, credit where credit's due, Kara DioGuardi co-wrote a song I tolerated.)

65) "Never Wanted Nothing More," Kenny Chesney

This is a weird one. Because it's Kenny Chesney, but it's also Chris Stapleton, but it's also Chris Stapleton writing a Kenny Chesney song. It's complicated. Like, you look at Kanye West's early discography, you see names you know, Jermaine Dupri, Goodie Mob, Lil' Kim, Nas, Alicia Keys, you see respectable names, you can see how the songs Kanye produced would fit into the greater Kanye catalogue. There's a difference, of course, between production and writing, but early Kanye doesn't feel like producer-for-hire. This song is written so outside the voice I've come to associate with Chris Stapleton that I can't imagine him ever writing it. Like, this song fits in with the Chris Stapleton origin story because it shows Chris Stapleton has been doing this thing for a long time and was good at it, but that's the only way it fits. This is just a Kenny Chesney song that Chris Stapleton happened to write, whereas "Izzo" is a Jay-Z song with a Kanye beat. Country music's weird as hell, man. I ain't gonna get it.

69) "Dance Tonight," Paul McCartney

it's gotta be pretty nuts to know that your status as one of the greatest songwriters of all time is so secure that there is absolutely nothing you could do to remove yourself from that pedestal. Like, the only reason I can find for a song like this (read: a bad one) being made from a dude at this level is, he was bored and wanted to see if people would call it an extraordinary songwriting feat if he just dropped a track like "it's nice when people have fun!"

74) "Let It Go," Keyshia Cole ft./Missy Elliott & Lil Kim

Pretty good! A little subdued for my taste, a little too restrained for a song about letting go, but I think we've talked about how I'm not naturally drawn to R&B simply because the genre is so subdued and restrained, so it's probably my own fault I'm not as into this song as I feel I should be. Like, I like all the names involved, I thnk Keyshia Cole was a pretty decent singer, I like the ingredients of the song, but someone put them together with a different palette than mine in mind. Ugh, and that's just the worst, how the world doesn't make enough things for white males to enjoy. This song, though, I think it's a'ight! I have no complaints about it specifically!

91) "How Do I Breathe," Mario

...i swear i've heard this exact same r&b song at least twice, though. like, "let it go" had missy on the track, it was cool. this is another song about a man who is sad his girlfriend left him and wishes she would come back. mario's a more engaging vocalist than the joes and tanks of 2007, like i'd like to hear him sing a better song, but... man, this week is just songs i didn't need to hear, and not in the sense that pop music is bad and i shouldn't try to listen to this much of it, more that 2007 just kinda said, "hey, here's some shit you've already heard from us, have fun." i feel i don't need to have an opinion on this song because i've already had an opinion on some stargate joint or another, y'know?

97) "Doomsday Clock," Smashing Pumpkins

hey speaking of unnecessary, another smashing pumpkins song! and not even one i need to begrudgingly admit is good, this one is the thing i expected smashing pumpkins to sound like, billy corgan nasally whining about some bullshit or another while the guitar plods along dutifully. nothing here is innovative, nothing here takes smashing pumpkins and frames it in a new light for me, this is just a song that exists. these songs all exist.

Well, obviously, since we’re hitting the halfway point, we’re gonna be doing something special! ...Or I would forget how to count and not realize this was the halfway point. Anyway, no Top 20s because nothing changed. 2017!

8 July 2017

4) "Wild Thoughts," by DJ Khaled ft./Rihanna & Bryson Tiller

I don't believe anything Bryson Tiller says on this song. My understanding of Bryson Tiller was that he was a simpering sad boy who sang about his feelings, so when he comes on a track where he a) has to present himself as an equal to Rihanna and b) has to make the argument that he is a worthy sexual partner for Rihanna, it's hard to take him seriously, because all he's done before suggests he's not this person. Like, someone thought of Bryson Tiller was the answer to the question "Who could make Rihanna think wild thoughts?" and that's just amazing to me. Literally anyone else would have been better. Are we not ready to lean so fully into the Latin trend that we'll give Luis Fonsi a starring role in a DJ Khaled song? Are we just this over Miguel? Hell, we know from "Run Up" that PARTYNEXTDOOR's capable of being occasionally interesting, why not him! This song could've been something, but man, that Bryson Tiller feature sinks it.

51) "Feels," by Calvin Harris ft./Pharrell Williams, Katy Perry & Big Sean

I appreciate the work Calvin Harris puts in to making pop music funky again, I think he's aware there's a direct line in music history from him to The Chainsmokers and he's doing his best to distance himself from that, but there's a limit to how much I can enjoy a song with the line "I know you're not afraid to catch feels with me." Like, this is another good song, Calvin Harris has been doing work this spring/early summer, it's just, one of them has to be the worst, and it's this one with its tumblr-ass hook. I wish I had a more legit reason to not be into this song. Nope. It's just that one word. I don't even necessarily mind that word, it's just, an entire song built around that word isn't a party I wanna attend.

61) "First Day Out," by Kodak Black

Nope!

83) "Relationship," by Young Thug ft./Future

Comparing Young Thug to the other dudes in his genre is like comparing a wasp to a group of bumblebees. They're sort of the same thing, but Young Thug is so much different and fearsome. ...This isn't his best song? This is the song you'd expect to chart off the album given the pedigree, but also, it isn't, because there's so many other, better songs on the album? But we should be evaluating this song for what it is, not what it isn't. "I put my dick inside her mouth before she act." Neat! Of all the many things Young Thug is, he is not perfect.

89) "Feel it Still," by Portugal. The Man

I AM IN FAVOR OF ALL THE BRASS 2017 HAS GIVEN ME THIS YEAR. The only instance of a brass instrument I remember from 2007 is the "Get Buck" beat, and I am so thrilled with the occasional blasts on this song. It's a fun song by a band I know I've heard about at some point but didn't expect to see here. I thought Portugal. The Man was ponderous indie nonsense, but yo, if they got one of these in them, I'm down to see what else they got. It's weird when it turns out bands everyone says is good make good songs. Like, what happened to bands like the Arcade Fire, who just whined monotonously over jingle-jangling?

100) "Real Hitta," by Piles ft./Kodak Black

...Are you. Guys. Are you serious? Piles? PIIIIIIILES? Of all the fucking. So many rappers hit in 2007, and the one y'all dredged up to make the Deacde Dance Club, literally the week I introduce that as a thing, is maybe the worst one, the one whose name I didn't even bother to spell right, I thought he was so yesterday. I'm not gonna listen to it for what I hope are obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean we can't jump into the AZ Lyrics page. "All that ass she got back there startin' to look like a Pamper" This is the least sexy way to describe a butt since "My Humps." "Sex game undefeated, think I'm 100-0" ...Has Piles only fucked 100 times? I mean. Hey, nothin' wrong with that, I'm not here to prude shame anyone or promote promiscuity or whatever, but even in the last 10 years, 3,650 days, Piles has only fucked once every five weeks or so? Or is he just on a winning streak, like, that's how many times in a row he's ejaculated? (I'm assuming he's not bragging that, every time he has sex, he makes the woman cum. I don't think Piles has ever had a woman's pleasure in mind when setting about his business.) This is a bizarre boast. "Biggest thing he ever did for you was take you to Chili's." ...Okay. Okay, that's pretty good. "That lil pussy was so sorry, I call it minimum wage." You know what fuck it I'll take gross political commentary. Piles had two lines I enjoyed out of the context of the song! There may be hope for all of us y -- oh right Kodak Black "I'ma come through, and I'ma fuck ya like the police lookin' for me" Well, that's about as tone deaf as I expected, alright, well, there's hope for some of us.

Decade Dance Party

...Um. 31) Piles We said that it’s hard to have two hits ten years apart. What this list presupposes is... What if it isn’t?

Who Won the Week?

A few weeks ago, there was like a three-year stretch where the Houston Texans and the Cincinatti Bengals would play each other in the football playoffs. They were boring games and bad to watch, and while the Bengals and Texans were good enough to have made the playoffs, it kinda sucked that one of the two got to go to the next round while a different, more fun team to watch gets eliminated, or was left out of the playoffs entirely. “Feel It Still” is a fine song and is definitely better than “Let it Go,” but like. “Feel it Still” shouldn’t be the champion for the week. I dunno, kinda meh for both weeks, 2017 takes it because I don’t think “Feel it Still” should get demerits for all the Kodak Black I didn’t listen to. So.

2017: 14 2007: 12

Next week, 2007 is giving us what is indisputably greater than all The Beatles songs put together. (I linked to that specific post because gosh that dude adding his two cents at the end is the reason op exists.) But will it be better than the alt-country song and the indie-rock song I for some reason ranked over “Umbrella?” ONLY TIME WILL TELL.

[londontheatre]

The Drowsy Chaperone – Photo by David Ovenden

“It does what a musical is supposed to do. It takes you to another world.” Sit back, relax and enjoy a trip back to the years of flapper fashion, gangsters, and senseless musicals. The Drowsy Chaperone is a musical comedy that revives the frivolous, overly dramatic songs that will transport audiences to time without the luxury of television. Instead, we escape into our imaginations as we reminisce about this comical musical live on stage.

The Drowsy Chaperone begins with a man sitting at home alone, moping about in sadness for reasoning’s we soon discover later in the show. To lighten the mood, the man plays one of his favourite musical records from the late 1920s titled The Drowsy Chaperone. This show has everything: a beautiful star actress, a man in love, a mob out to kill and a chaperone who likes her vodka.

The special part of this production is that it knows its ridiculousness. Characters are over-the-top dramatic and beyond silly. Cheesy smiles, obvious posing for the audience – this musical is meant to be farcical. A production of this type needs a strong protagonist with one that the audience will have an emotional connection. Alex Baker as Man In Chair captured our attention through character empathy and witty musical knowledge. As the narrator of the musical, the Man In Chair tells his perception of what it would have been like to see this old musical live.

Having the unreliable narrator explain moments of the musical to the audience made the show more amusing. Never had the Man In Chair actually seen the production; therefore, we only saw how he perceived the production to have run. The brilliant actors performing in the musical were bold and almost cartoon-like as they performed their hit musical numbers. Janet van de Graaff’s (Corin Miller) song about putting a monkey on a pedestal was hilarious and Robert Martin’s (Angus Jacobs) tap dancing was excellent. The entire cast brought this silly musical to life in the most special way.

The Drowsy Chaperone may be categorised as an amateur level production, but it didn’t show. The quality of this production was fantastic and truly entertaining. For only an hour and forty-five minutes, get away from reality and join this musical in another world.

Review by Aly Chromy

The award-winning musical comedy The Drowsy Chaperone returns to London in May this year, in a new production by leading amateur theatre company Sedos.

The Drowsy Chaperone started in 1997, when Don McKellar, Lisa Lambert, Greg Morrison and several friends created a spoof of old musicals for the stag party of Bob Martin and Janet van de Graaf. Their namesakes are the main love interest characters in the finished piece.

The Drowsy Chaperone tells the story of Man in Chair, who turns to his record collection as a cure for his “non-specific sadness”. As the musical plays, we are transported into the world of a 1920s musical where there are gangsters, mistaken identities and a wedding that may or may not happen.

The Drowsy Chaperone 3 – 13 May 2017 Bridewell Theatre Bride Lane London EC4Y 8EQ Running Time: 1 hour 45 minutes, no interval

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