#but the people calling him a toddler are using it as shorthand for a much more nuanced view of jack as a character

[clairenatural]

I am NOT starting problems but I think sometimes people take nuanced and complex topics and then, once those have been discussed into the ground, refer to them in not nuanced and oversimplified terms as shorthand. assuming people who see the shorthand will have the context of the broader discussion. but then people see that completely oversimplified shorthand and think that's just what people think and that that's the entirety of the conversation and get (understandably) irritated but like. Nobody is saying that we just got tired of typing a whole paragraph to refer to a concept when we could say a few words

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

"I always just rode the waves,” Rebecca Ferguson says with a shrug. The comment hangs in the air, as if the Anglo-Swedish 37-year-old is only now processing that a combination of currents and tides has led her not just to an acting career but to the brink of big-screen stardom.

“I’ve never been ambitious,” she says. “I’ve always thought that that was a bad thing.” She’s seen others in the industry consumed by constant striving and asked herself why she hasn’t hungered for fame since childhood, slept in cars outside castings, barged into directors’ offices or thrown herself in the path of a producer. “But should I not be burning for this? Out meeting people and networking for the next job?” says Ferguson, who has chosen the sort of quiet, private life outside the big city that so many actors claim to crave. “My life just took another turn. But I’ve always thought: Am I where I should be?”

At the moment, on this late July day, Ferguson is slumped in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz sedan, crawling through rush-hour traffic on the M4 out of London. She is capping off a hectic week during a particularly busy period. Most immediately, she’s coming from a table read for Wool, the Apple TV+ adaptation of Hugh Howey’s bestselling postapocalyptic trilogy. Ferguson is both the star and, for the first time, an executive producer. “I’m sitting in all the different rooms, listening and learning like the students,” she says. She’s filming Mission: Impossible 7, her third tour of duty in the long-running series that first brought her widespread recognition. She’s also promoting the film Reminiscence, the sci-fi noir written and directed by Westworld co-creator Lisa Joy in which Ferguson stars opposite Hugh Jackman. And now she is starting a press push and festival prep for her role as Lady Jessica ahead of the much-delayed release of Dune (in theaters October 22), director Denis Villeneuve’s reimagining of Frank Herbert’s novel. “After this film, I think everyone will see what I see in her,” the filmmaker says. “She has a beautiful, regal, aristocratic presence, elegance. But that was not the main thing: The most important thing for me was that depth.”

After tracing a long, meandering path, Ferguson has landed in a rare and rarified position: ascendant in her late 30s (still an anomaly for women in the film industry) and sought after by some of the biggest names in the business. “When you meet Rebecca, you just see it. She’s very open, candid, collaborative, hardworking, funny—and not pretentious,” says Tom Cruise, who handpicked Ferguson to star opposite him in the Mission: Impossiblefilms, which are known for their demanding shoots. “She just rose to the occasion every single time.”

In February 2020, when the pandemic began, Ferguson left Venice, where she’d been shooting Mission: Impossible 7, and hunkered down with her husband, their 3-year-old daughter and Ferguson’s 14-year-old son from a previous relationship at their farm in Sweden. After four months, Ferguson returned to the M:I set and basically hasn’t stopped working since.

Dune has sat idle for far longer. By the time the movie premieres, more than two years will have passed since it wrapped. Ferguson recently asked to screen the film again: “I miss it,” she says. She ended up bringing along her Mission: Impossible co-star Simon Pegg. After the credits rolled, Pegg broke into a smile and wrapped her in a congratulatory bear hug. “That’s all I needed,” she says.

Despite being a sci-fi epic based on a novel from 1965, Dune feels “very timely,” Ferguson says, pointing to its handling of environmental issues, religious zealotry, colonialism and Indigenous rights. The plot of the film, which cost an estimated $165 million, centers on occupying powers battling for the right to exploit a people and their planet, named Arrakis, for melange (or spice)—the most valuable commodity in Herbert’s fictional universe, a substance that provides transcendental thought, extends life and enables instantaneous interstellar travel. “Spice,” Ferguson says, “is equally about the poppy and oil fields.”

Ferguson’s Lady Jessica is a member of the Bene Gesserit, a powerful secretive sisterhood with superhuman mental abilities. She defies her order by giving birth to a son, Paul (played by Timothée Chalamet), who may be a messianic figure. “She basically just f—s up the entire universe by having a son out of love,” says Ferguson. In her hands, Jessica is equal parts caring parent, protector and pedagogue. Among the skills she wields and teaches Paul is “the Voice”—a modulated tone that allows the speaker to control others.

The movie was shot in Norway, Hungary, Jordan and Abu Dhabi, whose desert landscape stood in for Arrakis. Filming there was particularly arduous, as temperatures exceeded 120 degrees Fahrenheit, limiting the shoot window to only an hour and a half each day at 5 a.m. and again at dusk. “We were running across the sand in our steel suits being chased by nonexistent but humongous worms,” Ferguson recalls, referring to the sand-beasts later rendered in CGI. “To be honest, it was one of the best moments ever. It was the most beautiful location I’ve ever seen.”

Back in London, Ferguson is approaching home. She leaves the following day for a small town on the coast of England, where she plans to spend her first vacation in two years and to do some surfing. “Let’s hope it’s good weather,” she says. “If not, I’ll surf in the rain.” Not that she’s the sort to paddle out into storm swells. “I think I’ve managed to stand on a board once in my entire life,” she says. “But it was quite a high. Complete surrender to the waves and total control all at once.”

Born Rebecca Louisa Ferguson Sundström to an English mother and Swedish father, Ferguson grew up bilingual in Stockholm. She immersed herself in dance from a young age, enjoying ballet, jazz, street funk and tango. Despite being shy and prone to blushing and breaking out when forced to speak publicly, Ferguson found she was at ease in front of the camera. She dabbled in modeling and then, at 15, attended a TV casting call at her mother’s urging. Ferguson ended up getting the lead role in Nya Tider (New Times), a soap opera that became wildly popular, splashing Ferguson’s face into Swedish homes five times a week.

When her role ended about two years later, Ferguson was adrift. She had no formal acting training to fall back on, no clear sense of how to steer a career and no major connections to the industry. She had a short run on another soap and appeared in a slasher flick and a couple of independent shorts, then…nothing. “I was famous in Sweden, but I didn’t really have an income anymore,” she says. “So I went and I worked in whatever job I could get.” That meant stints at a daycare center and as a nanny, in a jewelry shop and a shoe store, as well as teaching tango, cleaning hotel rooms and waitressing at a Korean restaurant. She eventually landed in a small coastal town named Simrishamn, where she lived with her then-partner and their toddler son, content to be a where-are-they-now celebrity.

When fame again came calling, Ferguson ran away. She was at the flea market when she recognized the acclaimed Swedish director Richard Hobert, and he saw her. As he shouted her name, Ferguson grabbed her son, who lost his shoes and sausage, and fled. “I panicked,” she says. “I don’t know why.” When Hobert eventually caught up to her, Ferguson tried to act nonchalant as he proceeded to tell her he’d admired her work and pitched her on the lead role in his next movie: “I’ve written this role, and I think I have written it for you. Do you want to read the script?”

Her work in Hobert’s A One-Way Trip to Antibes earned her a Rising Star nomination at the Stockholm International Film Festival. She quickly got an agent in Scandinavia, then one in Britain. On her first trip to take meetings in London, she read for the lead in The White Queen, the BBC adaptation of Philippa Gregory’s historical novels about the women behind the Wars of the Roses. Ferguson got the part, and her portrayal of Elizabeth Woodville, queen consort of England, earned her a Golden Globe nomination and the admiration of at least one Hollywood heavyweight.

Ferguson was in the Moroccan desert filming the Lifetime biblical miniseries The Red Tentwhen the assistant director whisked her off her camel. “We’re going to have to pause shooting,” he said as he asked her to dismount. “Tom Cruise wants to meet you for Mission: Impossible. We’re going to fly you off today.”

Cruise had seen Ferguson’s work in The White Queen and her audition tape and couldn’t believe she wasn’t already a major star. “What? Where has this woman been?” Cruise recalls exclaiming to his new Mission: Impossible director Christopher McQuarrie. “She’s incredibly skilled,” Cruise says, “very charismatic, very expressive. As you can tell, the camera loves her.” Ferguson landed a multi-picture deal to star opposite Cruise in the multibillion-dollar franchise. He and McQuarrie built out the role of Ilsa Faust for Ferguson, creating the anti-Bond girl, an equal to Cruise’s Ethan Hunt. “We could just see the impact she could have,” he says. “She’s a dancer. She has great control of her body, of her movements. She has the same ability to move through emotions effortlessly.”

Ferguson threw herself into the films and quickly found a shorthand with the cast and crew. “There was a dynamic that worked very well with all of us,” she says. “One of the things I absolutely love is doing all the stunts.” That physicality has given her a reputation as an action-minded actor. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve done 20 other films where I don’t kick ass,” Ferguson says. “Mission comes with such an enormous following. That was what made my career.”

Ferguson’s M: I movies bracket a number of films in which she played opposite marquee names: Florence Foster Jenkins, with Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant; The Girl on the Train, with Emily Blunt; The Greatest Showman, with Hugh Jackman and Michelle Williams; Life, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Reynolds; Men in Black: International, with Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson; The Snowman, with Michael Fassbender; Doctor Sleep, with Ewan McGregor. And now Dune, opposite Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Zendaya and Chalamet, whom she calls “one of the best actors, if not the best actor of his generation—of this time.” She was similarly impressed by Zendaya, who plays the native Fremen warrior Chani. “She’s quite raw and naughty and fun,” says Ferguson. “She has an enormous f— off attitude.”

When Ferguson first spoke to Villeneuve about appearing in the movie, “he started telling me about this woman who was a protector, and a mother, and a lover, and a concubine,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘I’m sorry. You want me to play a queen and a bodyguard? And you want me to kick ass and walk regally?’ I was like, ‘Denis, why would I want to do that? That’s the last thing I want to do.’ ”

After the call, Ferguson says, “I went downstairs to my hubby and said, Oh, my God, he’s amazing, but I’m not going to get the job. I just criticized the character.” Ferguson worried she was being cast as a stereotypical “strong female character,” where “it’s constantly, ‘She looks good, and she can kick.’ That is not what I want to portray.”

Ferguson hasn’t always been able to work with collaborators who’ve given her the space to question or opine. “I’ve been bashed down. I’ve been bullied,” she says, though she opts not to say by whom. That was never a concern with Villeneuve, who welcomed her critique. He and his co-writers had already decided from the start to make women the focus of their screenplay adaptation, and he promptly offered her the part.

“I want Lady Jessica to be at the center, the forefront. For me, she’s the architect of the story,” Villeneuve says. “I needed someone who will convey the mystery and the dark side of the film in a very elegant and profound way. Rebecca was everything I was hoping for. She’s so precise. She brought a beautiful, controlled vulnerability—it becomes very visceral on-screen.”

Ferguson vaguely recalls trying to watch the 1984 version of Dune, directed by David Lynch, in her youth, but she fell asleep. And she had never opened Herbert’s novel until being offered the part in the new adaptation. As she dug into the book, she says, she learned that her character was subservient and far more like a concubine, forced to eat alone in her bedroom, not spoken to and not allowed to speak. Ferguson ended up relying primarily on Villeneuve for her research and prep—his notes and comments, his references and the pages in the book he suggested she focus on. “I would feel ignorant not to have read Frank’s book at all,” Ferguson says, though she admits there are parts of the sprawling novel (which Villeneuve is splitting into two films) she’s only skimmed. “I have to finish it.” That will not happen on her upcoming vacation, however. “Absolutely not,” she says “I am surfing.”

By the way, if you saw, I am snaking on the ground, snaking around my room to get good Wi-Fi—it’s not some dance or yoga thing,” Ferguson says. “You have to do that in this old house.” It’s a week and a half after our first meeting, and Ferguson is at her new home, a more than 500-year-old property southwest of London that has, over the years, been home to numerous English Royals. It’s more spartan than stately now. “Empty except for a rock star,” she says, turning her phone’s camera to reveal a framed duotone poster of Mick Jagger that’s leaning against the wall. “We haven’t even started renovating.

Ferguson has returned from her holiday fortified and with renewed confidence, thanks in part to her success on the surfboard. “I went up nearly every time,” she says cheerfully, “but the waves weren’t very high.” She shrugs. “I was proud. I was up. I rode them, not the other way around.”

After years of going with the flow, Ferguson is eager to replicate that sense of control in her career. She values her role as an executive producer on Wool, she says, “because I am, for the first time, a part of it from the beginning.” She relishes weighing in on every aspect, from casting (the show recently added Tim Robbins) to cinematography to her character—which has not always been easy for her. “Why do I feel it’s difficult to speak up? I still battle with these things,” she says. Alluding to those times she was pushed around in the past, Ferguson says, “I was angry, but it was more me getting off at ‘How can I let that happen? Why am I letting myself react this way?’ And I take it with me to the next thing where I go, ‘OK, how do I stop that from happening?’ ”

She is learning that she can ride on top of waves without giving up her agency or maybe just let them break against her. “I want to feel I can go home and think, That was a hard day or that pissed me off—and that’s OK,” Ferguson says, with a nod and tight smile. “Because I still stood there as Rebecca. I didn’t shift.”

[magnetothehedgehog]

Dabi's Decision (Warning spoilers!)

To start off again, spoilers for bnha so don't read if you don't wanna be spoiled for future anime/manga stuff

Oml I'm literally CRYING over this Dabi reveal rewrite I was thinking about recently

The Shoto Family Crisis is something that really hits home for me as I have personaly experience dealing with those type of people (cough cough ENDEAVOR COUGH)

But first I gotta talk about whats actually happening before my idea

But as much respect as I had for Dabi as a villain character and even for the first few moments as Todoroki's brother, from what I have seen from a translation of the reveal here on tumblr I was really disappointed. Like yes It could just have been the translation since i haven't seen all of the offical thing, but I getthe feeling thats not the case.

All that respect for Dabi goes away when he made his argument. He basically said "Dad was mean to me so I killed off a bunch of random innocent people who have done me no wrong for no good reason but LOOK *points at endeavor* he drove me to this. He made me do it."

Like somebody near him is gonna comedically slap him and say "Bad endeavor! >:cc"

This isn't to downplay Touya's trauma, it was real and probably the harshest since he was the first experiment and also considered the first failure. He ended up so ghosted that his own family thought he was dead.

But when he hurts other innocent people for his own goals JUST like his father did, not only is he ending up just like him, he is playing right into his hands. Endeavor wants someone to surpass him, someone to pass down his legacy of strength and ruthlessness, however it happens. Actually its quite the norm for toxic people to try and pass on their behaviors, try to clone themselves on the next generation.

Even with endeavors supposed redemption arc, the effects his decisions have on the past don't change, as this event was supposed to help solidify.

Honestly its the worst way to get back at Endeavour and you just end up being just like the abuser. Why is it such a common trope that "if I was abused by someone, Let me go do the same thing to someone else who literally has never tried to hurt me in my life?" Notice how they never target the abuser, they just seek to abuse someone else, thus continuing the cycle. The stupidest part of Touya's argument is that he is trying to make it seem like its endeavor who made him choose these actions.

But thats the thing. It was STILL Touya's choice to make. And yeah it sucks, often times an abuser will use this fact to their advantage, but when it comes down to it, Touya made the choice to do wrong. It's not like endeavor said "Yo kill these 5 people with your fire power to prove your worth or I burn your skull yeah?"

He made the choice to hurt multiple people who had hope and a future like he once did.

He made a choice that led to him becomong the next abuser, and becoming as delusional as the person who abused him.

But lets say things go different from how its currently going down in the Manga. Here'ss my idea: where it takes place I could care less but lets use the same place the canon did, the theater

But imagine Dabi reveals himself to Endeavor, the crowd and Todoroki and reveals who he is, Touya. He then goes on to revealing Endeavors little experiment and how he used all his family just to live out his dream of surpassing the symbol of peace and having someone stronger than him so he could live vicariously through him.

Dabi goes on to explain as he was considered "a failure" he was cast aside and ghosted, and left distant from his other siblings Endeavour didn't want to be effected by Touya the failure.

Dabi explains how he knew no-one would listen or care about some kids who were being used and no-one would dare challenge or try to smear the reputation of the second greatest hero, so Endeavor was basically untouchable. So Dabi devised a plan

Dabi explains that by becoming a villain, he was able to train unhindered by rules and regulations that hold heroes back and the keep them from exercising their power to the fullest. He explains how he only used his flames to burn those deserving (actual crooks, slavers, other abusers maybe, looking at you overhaul) and how by having less concern for his own well being he could push past his limits.

Even though his Flesh itself burned his power grew until now it was something that could rival/surpass allmight's. Dabi then displays immense amount of power for the world to see, nearly burning up an entire mountain or something to ash. And he eas able to do this all with just 1 quirk. FIRE. For a failure he managed to do the one thing Endeavor always wanted. Be stronger than Almight, and he did it with just.FIRE.

He mocks endeavor. Look at you. Always wanted to ve number 1 but never could. Even now you are stuck in second place in your own heart. But Look now, your failure has achieved your dream. Maybe if you had shown the world the villain you showed your family you could have been number one.

"Look! Gaze upon your Son! See as the Fire chars my very Flesh!?This is it! THIS IS WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED! GAZE UPON THE WORLDS NUMBER 1!"

now that in itself is a heartbreaker and would be were maybe another fic writer would stop, but oh no, ya'll still got tears to cry so get ready

Todoroki is in shock now the only words he can make out is "Touya..."

And thats when Touya turns his attention to Todoroki "ahh...my dear Todoroki."

Touya then goes on to explain how this plan he devised was not for himself, but rather, for Todoroki and the rest of his family. He wanted the world to see endeavor for who he was and what he is, so that hopefully, his siblings could have a better future.

Touya goes on about how proud he is of Todoroki for showing how strong he was and that even though he came from people constantly making wrong decisions, he could make a right decision. Even going so far as to reject his own flames at one point.

Touya then goes into a heartfelt speech, and Tells Todoroki

"Listen. I could never tell you to join me or go down the road I took. I would never do that. The Path I took was to build the bridge to Your better tomorrow. I want you to be the best hero you can be."

"I don't want you to be the next symbol of peace or the next Allmight. I want you to live for yourself, be what you WANT to be. Because even though he may have robbed me of my future, your future is something he can never have. "

Omg 😢😭😭😭

Touya you deserved so much moreee

But thats the point.

He did, they all did. And thats what this version of Touya was trying to tell the world. Nobody knows how hard it was, the pain and suffering it took. The stress of Todoroki's body to only reject a quirk probably heavily tied to his emotions and half his whole body, but also the stress it caused from not using it, his father breathing on his neck at every waking moment trying to force him to use it.

And thats just the tip of the iceberg. Getting misinterpreted because he's so focused on defeating the real evil in his life.

Man Todoroki gets so shorthanded in both life and in writing by the author it hurts my soul. I know he has so much potential but he gets dragged down or down played by every little things, especially he who shall not be nam- BAKUGO ITS BAKUGO GAHHH

Ahem. I think I was overtaken for a single moment. Pardon me~☆

But nah none of this toddler "he made me do itttt." Angwy points 3:<

And none of that "Oh Todoroki you have forsaken meeee."

Like for real if anybody aughta know endeavor probably made up some crap lie about him Touya should, thats all that man do, I already KNOW.

And before anybody says you're being too hard on them this is why nobody wants to do redemption

Its called redemption for a reason, first off it ain't supposed to be easy befitting the cause. Second, fake or flakey redemption is the pitts and there is too much of it being sugarcoated and presented on a Platter thank youuu

Only gonna throw one more jab in here but

The Author literally told us how horrible Bakugo is by showing us he had to have amnesia and not receive one for all from the movie or he woulda kept it. They coulda had him give it back to deku, even if it was just an ego thing for him and I, who have not had a reason to respect him in the whole series, would have actually respected that and taken it as a clear sign of change.

But no. Amnesia cop out cowabunga it was.

Okay I think I got this outta my system thanks everyone.

[bates--boy]

Peter was just about done with work that day, cleaning the bottles for the infant animals when his phone buzzed in his pockets. He shut the sink off, yanked off the wet rubber gloves, and pulled his device out of his pocket. “Oh!” he chirped, seeing the name of the sender.

         [Naseem] Yo, Pete, it’s Naz. Was wondering if you have plans for lunch today? 

         [Naseem] I wanted us to do some extra rap practice and maybe go over the lines between Troy and Stefan before our big night

          Peter turned to sit back against the lip of the sink, hugging one of his arms across his torso as he typed. 

          [Peter] i have a half-day today so i’m free once i clock out at twelve.

          [Peter] i’d be happy to buy you lunch if you haven’t eaten yet. i know a great place to get a bite to eat.

          [Naseem] Bet. My break’s half past noon. See you at your work?

         [Peter] fine by me! see ya!

          Smiling at the screen before shoving his phone into his pocket, Peter finished cleaning the rest of the bottles, went to the changing area to wiggle out of the waterproof overalls, and then to the employee area to punch out at the time clock and fetch his hoodie and his copy of the stage play from his locker. He looked down at the practically beaten-up book, some pages curled in, corners folded, colorful tabs poking out of the pages: pink for Josef’s spoken lines, blue for Troy’s; green for Josef’s songs, yellow for Troy’s. Slightly crinkled from the times Peter shoved it into his bag to carry at all times, or when he had his quick bursts of sleep while reading over the thing.

          With a quick cleaning at the employee basin, Peter made a brisk walk back to the grounds, heading to the entrance area. He sent a quick message of his location and waited with the play lying open, quietly murmuring Josef’s verses. Soon, the familiar deep blue XC60 rolled onto the lot, with the Nigerian, Palestinian, and Swedish flags painted across the back. Naseem climbed out and waved as he strolled over, a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder and his copy of the play rolled in his hand. When he drew close enough, Naseem said, “Wow, it’s been a while since I last came here.”

           “Ah, so you probably don’t know about the new aerial arts performance they have here,” Peter grinned as they walked back to the conservatory grounds together. 

         Naseem shrugged. “I have. And I’ve been meaning to come check it out, but, you know. Schedule..”

          “Well, the next time you’re free, come on over! I can even sneak you in for a show!” Peter nudged his shoulder against Naseem.

           “How are you gonna--” Naseem stopped once he saw the coy grin on Peter’s face. “Lemme guess: you’re the star?”

          “One of them.” Peter bobbed his shoulder and looked away in faux modesty. He giggled and patted Naseem’s arm. “Come on, I know a great picnic area we can practice in.”

          Peter and Naseem took the stroll to the benches, dodging giggling little kids darting everywhere to get to the next animal enclosure that caught their eye, and the wandering animals that escaped their habitats, mainly small bird and marsupial species. After Peter bought them both bottled smoothies at one of the snack kiosks, they settled at a table near the wooden fence post, drawing annoyed glances from passersby as they sat on the tabletop instead of the benches.

         “Which scenes do you want to practice today?” Peter asked before pulling a long draught from his bottle. “We can just do a couple so I can treat you to lunch.”

          Naseem skimmed the pages he had marked, going back and forth and shrugging. “Ones that have our characters singing so we can work these vocal cords. Let’s start with...” he consulted his shorthand notes. “Act III, scene 4. So, my character comes up to yours.”

          Naseem clambered down the picnic table, took a few steps away, and stomped back. The chills Peter felt may or may not have to do with the complete switch of energy Naseem made. Even his green eyes flared with fury.

          “Why the hell did you do that to Josef?!”

          Peter sighed as his character did, shifting on the table and leaning forward on his knees. So cool and unaffected, to the point of almost being despondent. Peter still couldn’t figure this Troy out, but he spoke his lines.

          “I didn’t do a thing to him, Stef.”

           Naseem crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Oh, really? So when he said no to that stage deal because ‘his mom’s gonna die alone in their apartment while he’s out singing for pocket change’, that wasn’t you?” Peter had to pause here, as Troy struggled to find an excuse. Naseem threw up his arms. “God, what is wrong with you?! What kind of a friend are you?!”

          “A realistic one.” Peter’s tone remained calm, stoic - a stoner too mellowed out to get worked up.

          Naseem rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Realistic. Jo finally had what he needed right in his lap, and you couldn’t even be supportive of him because you’re realistic. That’s bull crap, even for you.”

          “You can say whatever you want about me, Stef, but of all these people feeding him these wild dreams --” Peter swept his hand about, gesturing to a figurative crowd while a few eyes turned their way. He pointed to his own chest. “--I’m the only one looking out for him.”

           “No, looking out for him would be helping him with this. He has a chance to get a better life, but you don't want that for him!"

          "I don't--?!" Peter gave a scoffing laughing and rolled his eyes. "You're so far off, it's funny!"

           "Yeah? So all this time you kept telling him to don't do it, it's not because you know you're wasting your own life being some bum mad that you lost your trust fund and you're angry that Josef can make it?"

          "No!" Peter's voice started to boil, Troy's cool, arrogant façade starting to crack and chip. His free hand curled into a shaking fist.

          "Then why? Why are you being such a shitty friend?!"

          Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see a uniformed figure walking up to them, parents trying to distract their kids from the argument.

          "Because this would break him just like it almost did me!"

          In a blink of an eye, and a sudden flush of heat on his cheeks, Peter was on his feet, too, feeling Troy's despair as he and Naseem were practically nose to nose. For all the anger, the anguish, and the overprotective adrenaline Troy was supposed to feel at that moment, Peter channeled the underlying heartache and exhaustion; he sounded tired.

          "Like it did my sister."

          "Er, excuse me," the uniformed man said when he came close enough, a hand reaching out to them. "Is there a prob--"

          Naseem stared at Peter for a breath. "Your sister?"

          Peter gave a soft, sad laugh. "Oh, that's right, I never told you about Anna, did I?" He silently filled his lungs with air.

You don't know the story of a boy and a girl Mommy pleasers destined to dominate the world

           The worker looked between the two men, casting an especially long glance at the singing one. "...What?"

Born to hold the dreams that Mommy tucked away Cause she got bare footed and pregnant Waiting on her someday

          The worker furrowed his brows. “What is--” he spotted the open scripts in their hands and lowered his own hand. “Oh... okay...”

         Peter felt a tickle of a grin almost appearing on his lips, amusement almost breaking his character. Almost.

Commercial deals, toddlers on every single ad Barely out of diapers, and we’re out there selling fads Taught to walk so we could tap dance and do a twirl And hold our hands out for all the gold, silver, and pearls

Yanked outta school when the lime lights calling us Daddy got you a gig, so you better not fucking fuss! Tuck in your gut, tilt up your chin, chest out and sing You’re gonna make it worth taking this diamond ring

What you do with heavy makeup and cameras flashing? Swallow cotton and pinch our cheeks red to stay dashing Seeing enemies in friends looking for a ladder to climb Trying to bring you to ruin when they find the right time To strike, like vipers on the hunt for your big juicy kill And the only way to stop the cracks is a tiny yellow pill

A tiny yellow pill A tiny yellow pill A handful of tiny yellow pills Until her heart went still

          Naseem slowly started to unfold his arms, his character Stefan hit with a world-shattering realization. “Oh...”

          Peter turned his face away. “Yeah...”

         Naseem shook his head and sighed. “Man, I’m... I’m sorry. But, see, here’s the thing...”

 I had never known you were crushed this hard Ruled by your fears, beaten, tattered, and battle scarred Now that I think it, so much shit start to make sense Is this why a little stage work gets you so incensed?

I hate that for you, all this pain you’ve been burdened Chasing a high and identity that doesn’t leave you hurtin’ But it’s unfair how you hurt Josef with your sister’s ghost Breaking a dream for someone else’s overdose

What does it do for the person on the other spectrum Piss poor, tryna get meds for his ailing, dying mum When even his close friend is robbing him of a dream Cuz he can’t stop himself from falling apart at the seam? Still blinded by phantom lights, suffocating at the gills? What about Josef’s mum little pills?

Her little pills Her life saving pills If she don’t get hers, then her heart will stand still.

          This was the part where Peter is stunned into silence, indignant, hurt, scrambling for more excuses, still trying to cling to the death of his sister -- the crux of Troy’s listlessness and indifference. But then a loud cry rang out around them.

          The crowd of mere picnickers grew during their rehearsal, it seemed, now cheering and clapping and whistling, someone even going “You tell him, baby!”

          Stuttering, Peter looked towards Naseem and exchanged smiles with him. They stood closer together, held hands, and took a bow.

          “Thank you, thank you!” Peter called out, waving to the cell phones held out. “If you want more, purchase tickets for Inner City Lights before they sell out!”

          “Written and produced by Gunnar Didig!” Naseem added, calling out the website to purchase over the hooting and whistling.

[vincent-marie]

A Look Back on TREASURE PLANET

So recently I rewatched TREASURE PLANET for the first time in about fifteen years and… I'm not gonna lie, it's still my personal favorite of the 2D Disney animated features from the early to mid-2000s.

Let's be real. Of the 2D features Disney released around that time period, TREASURE PLANET is one of the more solid films. ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE had some interesting ideas and some really nice design work and animation, but it really needed to be at least two hours long if it wanted to flesh out the characters and the world-building without requiring supplementary material (like a special edition of Disney Adventure magazine). Hardly anybody remembers BROTHER BEAR was even a thing, and the less said about HOME ON THE RANGE, the better. (Seriously, that movie wasn't even worth the Steve Buscemi cameo.)

The only other film of that era that has really held up was LILO AND STITCH, and I'll admit it's probably a better film than TREASURE PLANET. It took more risks in terms of character, setting and originality, and emotionally it leaves more of an impact. (That scene when Nani sings to Lilo makes me cry like a baby every time.) My only problem with it is it always felt like two entirely different movies collided with each other and it never felt like they really meshed well. Otherwise, I agree with most fans that it’s a good film.

Also, of course, there was the excellent THE EMPEROR’S NEW GROOVE, which was just such a huge departure from Disney’s normal schtick and trying something more Tex Avery-esque, only for it to be a perfect storm instead of a total crash and burn. That is much to be proud of.

Going back to TREASURE PLANET, I can understand that most folks walk away saying it’s an "okay" film. I, however, am not one of those people. I've had a real soft spot for this movie ever since I saw it, but now I appreciate this film for additional reasons.

Namely, the animation and effects work. Holy crap, is this movie gorgeous! It's like watching Don Bluth's ANASTASIA, except I don't have to feel guilty about historical inaccuracies. (Now it’s just scientific inaccuracies, but STAR WARS gets away with that all the time.)

Directors John Musker and Ron Clements had apparently wanted to do a sci-fi retelling of "Treasure Island" since before they started working on THE LITTLE MERMAID. With that in mind I do feel like this movie would have fared better with critics back in the early 90s during the Disney Renaissance. However at that time they would not have had such elaborate and detailed CG effects within arm's reach. There's something I really enjoy about the use of 3D backdrops so that they may do sweeping camera movements, and that's not even getting into the lighting effects to establish atmosphere.

What's more, there are a lot of subtleties to the character animation that I never appreciated until now. You could just pick one character and focus on him or her during the whole movie and find a lot of fun little quirks in their dialogue or walk cycles.

Admittedly, much of this film’s appeal probably depends on how much of an animation fan you are. In my case I was watching John Silver’s animation and I suspected that Glen Keane was probably in charge of animating him (as there are moments when Silver looks so much like Ratigan). Those suspicions were confirmed during the end credits and I was delightfully geeking out about it.

It’s also easy to see where this film might not have had a lot of mass appeal. Most of the focus on the story is on Jim Hawkins and his daddy issues, which by the early 2000s was already a cliche of a character arc. And it’s not helped by the fact that Jim himself is... well, kind of on the bland side as a protagonist. There’s not a lot about him that makes him any more or less interesting than any other teenage male lead. But for what it is I think the movie did fine at establishing and building the relationship between Jim and Silver, which does have its warm and comforting moments. For both of them.

And at least the film is straightforward with its plot and characters and it’s not a structural mess like HERCULES, a previous venture by Musker and Clements.

Something I’ve noticed over the years is that TREASURE PLANET has a little bit of a cult following. I distinctly remember this one time when I was taking a storyboard class in college; we were assigned to do a “Master Study” assignment by recreating the key story frames in our favorite scene in a favorite animated movie. One of my classmates picked the scene when Jim is brought home to the inn by the police and embarrasses his mother. I recall being so impressed, and even a little envious, that she got the character design style down to a T. (If you’re wondering what movie/scene I picked for my Master Study, I picked the Big Ben scene from THE GREAT MOUSE DETECTIVE.)

Then, of course, some friends and I suspect that TREASURE PLANET might have fared better if it had been released a bit later, more towards the height of the Steampunk craze. It’s not quite what I would call “Steampunk”, as it takes place in a sort of alternate universe version of the 18th century and not the Gothic era, and most of their transport is solar-powered and not steam-based. Nevertheless it’s easy to see how fans of Steampunk could find it appealing, with its mostly earth-tone color pallet to evoke the painted illustrations of the classic novel it was based on. Also that combination of a pre-20th century aesthetic with out-of-this-world science fiction elements is pretty much, in my opinion, what makes Steampunk so much fun to play around with. Also, a robot made out of copper. End of story.

In terms of why this film didn’t do so well when it was released, I suspect what stunted its success was the marketing. I could be wrong, as I was actually living in Honduras at the time of the film’s release, but we got some TV stations from Denver, Colorado. I remember a lot of the TV spots spent most of their time highlighting the goofy comic relief moments with Morph, and there was a real emphasis on the presence of B.E.N., even though he's in less than one-third of the movie. In other words, the film's success might have been partially sabotaged by a marketing team that seemed to think if you don’t take your film seriously at all that will somehow draw in the crowd.

Although speaking of the comic relief characters, I actually don’t mind them that much. I always thought Morph had a lot of cute, funny moments that weren’t too obnoxious. As for B.E.N., I kind of have mixed feelings for him. On one hand, the directing team made better use of Martin Short’s improvisational skills than PEBBLE AND THE PENGUIN or WE’RE BACK! ever did. But on the other hand, does B.E.N. have to be so loud and shouty? However, while B.E.N. is a real screw-up, he’s not so much to the point where I want to see him get smashed with a sledgehammer. He’s generally likable, not at all loathsome, and just annoying enough, but not TOO annoying.

However while we’re still on the subject of B.E.N., I’d just like to add that the CG animation on him is really nice. Making him 3D gives him a sort of sense of solidity compared to his hand-drawn humanoid compadres, and to top it off his animation isn’t at all stiff or feels like the CG is holding him back. There is some really expressive squashing and stretching going on with his dialogue. It’s so subtle in places that you’d probably miss it if you’re not looking for it. A lot of CG animation studios at the time like Pixar and Dreamworks had not quite mastered squashing and stretching themselves, so kudos to Disney for pulling it off so well.

Now if I may indulge a little on why I remember this film fondly, my favorite characters were always Dr. Doppler and Captain Amelia. They are both fun and engaging on their own, but together they are weirdly adorable. Granted, I've always thought them getting together at the end was a bit rushed, but I still totally buy it.

(What I don't buy is that they'd be so eager to have kids after Doppler showed such annoyance and revulsion towards that toddler alien girl at the beginning. I get that the creators wanted some visual shorthand to indicate that they're an official couple, but they could have just been wearing wedding rings or throw in a little more of them dancing together.)

Part of the reason I love these characters on their own is the casting. I was already familiar with Emma Thompson from Ang Lee's adaptation of SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, and her character of Eleanor Dashwood was very quiet and reserved. You can imagine my disbelief and delight hearing her play an assertive, witty badass as Amelia. (As if I didn't already think Amelia’s design was cool.)

As for David Hyde Pierce, I had only occasionally watched FRASIER growing up, but when I saw this movie I was familiar with him through some other memorable voice acting roles, particularly that excellent Season 8 episode of THE SIMPSONS, “Brother From Another Series.” In other words, I already knew him to be funny, snarky and charismatic.

While I'm on about the casting, I feel like there's a totally wasted opportunity to have these two characters in a room together, say, before the black hole scene, exchanging witty banter to show how compatible they are in a casual setting. It’s a shame that Emma and David didn’t record their dialogue together, because with her being an accomplished writer and with his skills at improvisation, there could have been some good verbal combat by way of “Much Ado About Nothing-Meets-Frasier.”

But looking back, I remember I immediately loved Captain Amelia just on principal. As a kid I never really gravitated that much to any of the Disney princesses. I can’t really describe why, but it was mostly how they were marketed as just looking pretty and (arguably) kind of passive in their own stories. Not to mention how when Disney Princess became a brand, they really amped up the girly cutesy-ness to their preexisting images. Not to say there’s anything inherently wrong with cute or feminine things, but it really made me feel like a weirdo who somehow wasn’t fit to be called a girl.

Captain Amelia, on the other hand, had her own style of femininity by wearing a classy, more masculine captain’s uniform along with thigh-high high-heeled boots (that she has no problem running in). She had a no-nonsense attitude, she was focused and cool-headed in a stressful situation, she was downright snarky and took crap from no one. In other words, she was the type of woman I wanted to be when I grew up, and to this day she is my favorite Disney Lady, bar none.

And while I’m at it, I’m just going to add that I’ve always found Dr. Doppler more attractive than your standard Disney prince. Besides his character design looking like a canine version of Roger from 101 DALMATIONS, he just always seemed like he’d be fun to get a coffee with.

Well, that’s about all I really want to talk about regarding TREASURE PLANET. It’s a shame it’s not remembered by more people as it does have some really good elements to it, but in some regards I can kind of see why it wasn’t a huge critical success. If you haven’t seen it already I recommend checking it out as it’s a pretty solid standalone film that doesn’t need supplementary material and covers all the bases with the plot and some fun character moments here and there. If you’re an animation fan I cannot stress enough how you really need to watch it, or even rewatch it, because, again, the animation and effects work is just a real feast for the eyes.

[floral-and-fine]

Down the Aisle pt.1

Female! reader x Leonard 'Bones' McCoy

Summary: Star Trek AU where Leonard is a single father.

A/N: I'm so excited about this idea, I've been wanting to write a fic about Leonard for so long!!! The interaction between the reader and Leonard's son is based on a conversation I had with a two year old a while back.    

  Stumbling into his home after an 18 hour shift at the hospital, Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy hung up his keys and flipped the light switch on, only to be welcomed by a disastrous sight.

Scattered across the living room floor were various toys, and all over the walls were splatters of something wet and sticky. 

And God only knows where that smell was coming from.

Rubbing his head, Leonard sighed. He knew better than to have expected anything other than this. Especially considering that he left a big kid in charge of his own kid. 

The hospital had been drastically shorthanded lately, therefore Leonard had to take odd hours working in the ER. Which made finding a sitter for his rambunctious two year old son, Charlie, a struggle. 

When he was called in on such short notice, Jim was the best he could do. 

And while Jim was a good friend and a respected Navy captain, he was very lenient when it came to children, letting Leonard’s son pretty much do as he pleased.

He was currently snoozing comfortably on the sofa, his head resting against him arms and his legs crossed. The TV was on, playing some kind of action movie with the volume turned down. There was a half full can of beer on the coffee table accompanied by crumpled fast food wrappers.

Frustrated, Leonard picked up a discarded plastic bag on the floor and started to gather the trash. He had explicitly told him not to over do it on the take out food. Shoving all the pieces of trash into the bag.

Taking the can of warm beer, Leonard poured the remains on Jim’s face. Sputtering and flailing his arms about, Jim shot up from the couch.

“Son of a biscuit eater!” Jim shouted.

Leonard shook his head. So at least Jim listened when he was asked him to watch his language around Charlie. However that only irritated Leonard more, seeing how he struggled to do the same thing; always accidently swearing in front of Charlie.

“What the hell Bones?” Jim asked while yawning. "Why’d you wake me?“

"To help me clean up this mess, I’m not a maid, Jim.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jim stated, scanning the living room. “Cleaner than my place.”

“Of course it is.” Leonard sighed. 

Jim stretched his arms above his head, letting out a loud yawn. He then grabbed the toy chest and helped out by picking up all of Charlie’s toys.

“What time is it?”

“2 in the morning,” Leonard replied dryly.

Jim raked a hand through his hair, still feeling sleepy.

“Did Charlie behave?” Leonard asked.

“Oh yeah, he’s a great kid… Reminds me of myself a bit.”

Leonard groaned at the comparison, the last thing he needed was his son to become a menace similar to Kirk. Leonard had heard all the stories about Jim’s rebellious childhood. 

He needed to find a better sitter and soon.

“What time did you put Charlie to bed?" 

"Around 8 o'clock.”

Jim looked at Leonard and grimaced. “You look tired,” he started, “Why don’t you leave the mess alone for now and gets some sleep.”

Jim patted Leonard on the back, who reluctantly agreed that the mess could wait. It was true that all he wanted to do right now was rest.  “Thanks for watching Charlie.”

“Anytime, Bones.”

Jim put on his jacket and grabbed his keys, “I’ll see you later, buddy.”

Bones grumbled a good bye before heading upstairs. 

As quiet as he could be, he peeked into Charlie’s room to see the toddler sleeping peacefully in his twin bed. Charlie’s tiny hands were clutching his blankie, while his chest slowly rose up and then down.

Carefully Bones crept over, maneuvering around the blocks and toy trucks. Sitting on the edge of the bed he ran a hand through Charlie’s hair. It felt like ages since the last time he saw him. He couldn't believe that In a couple of months his little man was going to turn three.  

Bones didn’t linger for long, whispering a quick 'sweet dreams’ before heading towards his own bedroom.

— He kicked off his shoes, stripped down out of his scrubs, and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. Bones flopped on to his bed and released a sigh, it felt so good to be off his feet. 

He closed his eyes.

Then rolled over on to his side, then onto his stomach, then onto his other side. He flipped his pillow over, and laid his head back down, maybe that would help. But it didn’t. After tossing and turning, Bones ended up laying on his back staring up at the ceiling.

Physically he was exhausted, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of his career, child, and other things. Being a single parent with a high stress job was starting to take it’s toll.

His mind continued to wander aimlessly until his sleep finally took over.

—– “Dad?” a high pitched voice whined as two tiny hands started shaking him.

“Dad? Where’s uncle Jim, dad?”

Leonard looked over at the clock on his night stand, in red it displayed 7:08 am. About 4 hours of sleep, that’s probably the most rest he had all week.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Probably being a menace somewhere else,” he addressed his son’s question.

“Why’d he want to do that?” Charlie questioned.

“I don’t think he can help it.” Leonard replied. 

He ruffled Charlie’s hair, “Come on, let’s go make something for breakfast.”

Charlie sat in his chair eating oatmeal in his pj’s, bits of apple and oats sticking to face and shirt. Leonard leaned against the counter sipping on a cup of coffee. He watched as Charlie accidently dropped a spoonful of oatmeal completely missing his mouth.

“Looks like we need to go grocery shopping,” Leonard announced, after taking a quick inventory of the food in the cabinets and fridge. 

He was lucky there was oatmeal packets in the pantry, or they would have had to eat breakfast at some fast food joint.

“Errands!” Charlie shouted, thrilled at the prospect of an outing. Charlie was a very social child and enjoyed meeting new people.

Leonard sat his coffee mug and Charlie’s dirty dishes in the sink.

“How about we start getting ready for today, hm?” Leonard asked Charlie, who enthusiastically nodded his head in response.

—— Charlie, wrapped in his white fluffy bath robe, was sitting on double vanity watching his dad finish shaving. 

Leonard was starting to look scruffy due to his crazy work schedule. He looked at himself in the mirror making sure he got all the stubble. He frowned noticing the dark circles under his eyes. There wasn’t much he could do about those.

He proceeded to quickly spray himself with cologne over his chest.

“And me?” Charlie asked, lifting his chin up and sticking his chest out.

Leonard smiled to himself and sprayed a tad of cologne on Charlie, who seemed quite pleased about it.

These were the moments that he really loved about being a father. 

“I need some of that too,” he said pointing at the bottle of hair gel. 

Leonard put a small squirt in his hand, before running his fingers through Charlie’s hair, styling it.

“Oh and that!” Charlie demanded, now pointing at the bottle of aftershave. 

“Alright, but watch your old man first and see how its done.”

The aftershave felt cool and refreshing against his smooth skin as he applied it his face. 

“Ok, your turn. Hold out your hands,” Leonard instructed putting a couple of drops on Charlie’s hand. 

Charlie then rubbed his hands together vigorously, then slapped them against his cheeks.

“Ah!” Charlie sighed over dramatically.

Leonard nodded approvingly, “Think it’s time for us men to get dressed.”

He dressed Charlie in a checkered button up and khaki pants with a pair of green converse. Charlie stood in front of the full length mirror and admired himself in the mirror.

In the meantime, Leonard put on a gray tee shirt and jeans.

“Lookin good dad!” Charlie stated, nodding his head in approval.

Leonard chuckled, “Looking good son.”

—-

At the grocery store, Charlie rode in the cart, while Leonard filled it with necessities.

From previous shopping experiences, he had learned not to let Charlie too close to any of the products, it always led to things either ending up broken or being purchased on accident.

There was even an incident where Charlie stole some small pieces of candy by stuffing them into his little pockets.

Leonard furrowed his eyebrows, why were all the aisles so narrow. He needed something from the end of the aisle but it was packed with other customers and shopping carts.

“Stay put Charlie, daddy just going right over there for some peanut butter and jam, ok?”

“Get honey too!” Charlie added.

—–

You were wearing your favorite sundress, with a grocery basket on your arm. You just needed to grab a few items for a cake recipe you were planning on trying out.

“Hey!” a little boy called out to you. He was happily sitting in a cart kicking his feet up and down.

You smiled and waved at him, “Hello, what’s your name?”

“I’m Charlie,” the toddler introduced himself.

“Hi Charlie, I’m Y/n,” you replied in a sweet voice. 

What an adorable kid. He looked so chipper and energetic, with his big curious eyes and chubby cheeks.

You noticed a man nearby, who was probably Charlie’s father, he looked engrossed as he browsed the shelves looking for something specific. There was definitely a resemblance between the boy and the man.

You continued to stare, becoming quite immersed in your thoughts about the gentlemen a little further down the aisle. The stranger was a looker for sure, tall, broad shoulders and a strong jaw.

“Smell me.” Charlie spoke up, catching you off guard. 

You blinked a couple of times, maybe you misunderstood. 

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Smell me Y/n.” he repeated, with a big smile on his face.

You giggled to yourself at the odd request, and decided to humor him. Who could refuse such a cutie pie.

You got a tad bit closer to the child, but remained a polite distance away. You leaned your head toward him and inhaled. The toddler smelled clean like citrus with a woodsy note.

“It’s cologne,” Charlie informed you as if you had no idea what it was.

“Oh, well it smells very nice on you.”

“Yup.”

“Can I smell you?” he asked.

“I guess so,” you held out your wrist, Charlie pressed his nose against it and inhaled deeply.

“Well?” you questioned, curious about his opinion on your perfume.

“Smells pretty.”

“Thank you, it’s my perfume.”

“Is that your father over there, Charlie?” you pointed in the man’s general direction.

“Yep.”

“What does your father do, what’s his job?" 

"He goes to work and fixes the idiots and makes the monies.” Charlie explained.

“What?”

Charlie shrugged, “that’s all I know.”

The boy turned himself to get a better look at his father, then started waving his arms in the air.

“Dad!? Dad!? Come meet my new friend!"

The man jolted his head up, and looked at Charlie then to you. You felt your heart rate speed up as you made eye contact with him. His facial expression immediately softened and you gave him a shy smile.

"Thanks for keeping him company, he's a real people person. I'm Leonard by the way," he said, setting the food items in the cart.

"Oh it was no problem, he's a real cutie."

"She thinks I'm cute dad!" Charlie shouted happily.

"I heard her Charlie," he turned his attention back to you, "Do you have a name, beautiful?"

"Y/n.

"Nice to meet you Y/n." Leonard smiled. "Would you-"

"Have lunch with us!" Charlie interrupted.

Leonard sighed, where did Charlie learn how to behave like this?

"Sure!" you agreed without hesitation.

"Really?" Leonard asked skeptically.

"Yes really," you giggled.

You felt so excited, who would've thought you'd meet such a handsome man with such a sweet son.

  Tag list: @zuni21798 @sleeping-with-the-snakes @scentofpineandhazelnutlattes @daddybuttfleck

[celebritylive]

Don’t go, she told her son. Do not go to America.

But whatever lay ahead of him and his young family, Óscar Alberto Martínez Ramírez already knew what was behind: Working at a pizzeria in El Salvador he made about $350 a month. His wife, Tania Vanessa Ávalos, had worked at a Chinese restaurant but returned home to care for their daughter, Valeria, then on the verge of her second birthday.

The three lived with his mother, Rosa Ramírez, in a two-bedroom home outside of San Salvador, the capital. She gave them the larger room but they dreamed of more than a life on $10 a day.

“I begged them not to go, but he wanted to scrape together money to build a home,” Rosa told the Associated Press. “They hoped to be there a few years and save up for the house.”

“I told him, ‘Son, don’t go. But if you do go, leave me the girl,’ ” Rosa recalled, according to the AP.

He told her, “No, mamá. How can you think that I would leave her?”

“He didn’t have the courage to leave her,” Rosa said of her son.

On Monday — nearly three months after Óscar, his wife and their daughter set off from El Salvador — his drowned body was found washed ashore outside of Matamoros, Mexico, across from Brownsville, Texas, and less than a mile from the bridge where the family had unsuccessfully tried to seek asylum in the U.S.

Valeria’s body was pressed next to his where she had been slipped under his shirt, her arm still slung across his neck.

RELATED: Wrenching Photo of Father and Daughter Washed Up on a River Bank Reveals the Dangers Migrants Face

Father and daughter had drowned on Sunday in the coursing currents of the swollen Rio Grande as Ávalos, now Óscar’s widow, watched from the nearby riverbank.

He was 25. Their daughter was 23 months old.

An image of their bodies, taken by journalist Julia Le Duc, was first published on Monday in a Mexican newspaper. Within hours it had spread around the world — referred to, by many, as symbolic shorthand for the very real human risks too often elided in debates about immigration in America.

This account of the life and death of Óscar and Valeria (also identified as Angie Valeria) is based on articles by the AP, CNN, The Los Angeles Times, NPR, The New York Times and The Washington Post, among others.

“It’s astonishing to see this photo,” Rosa, Óscar’s mother, told the AP. “He never let her go. You can see how he protected her.”

In particular, advocates said Óscar and Valeria’s case underlines the inhumanity of President Donald Trump’s indifference to asylum-seekers: The family took to the water only after trying to request asylum at a port of entry, though under the Trump administration such requests have been heavily restricted. (The policy’s official purpose is to prevent overwhelming border resources, though that has been disputed. Trump has for years stoked the grimmest fears about immigration from Mexico, such as worries of human traffickers and drug cartels.)

Reports differ about whether Óscar, Ávalos and Valeria, who along with Óscar’s brother arrived in Matamoros on Sunday after two months in Mexico, were able to actually meet with officials about asylum.

According to the AP, citing a Mexican government official, the family went to the U.S. Consulate on Sunday. But the Times and Post reported that the family was told the bridge they needed to cross was closed until Monday. (Officials with the State Department and Customs and Border Protection declined to comment to PEOPLE.)

Staying in Matamoros would have carried its own risks. A confluence of factors — including the Trump-imposed restrictions on asylum; his administration’s pressuring the Mexican government to do more to slow migrants moving through the country; and cartel and gang violence in the area — has created a kind of limbo no less dire for how hopeless it can feel day to day.

“It’s a dangerous place to be a person, and it’s certainly a dangerous place to be a migrant,” Woodson Martin, with a Texas nonprofit that provides aid to those seeking asylum, told the Post.

On Sunday, out of apparent desperation and within sight of American soil, Oscar, his wife and their daughter tried to ford the Rio Grande into the southern tip of Texas.

According to TV station DFW, they had hoped to start anew in Irving, Texas, another 550 miles north.

Both the AP and Le Duc, the journalist who photographed their bodies, reported that Óscar was originally able to reach the opposite shore and set Valeria down. But the girl went back into the water after her father left her to turn around and help his wife. Though Óscar doubled-back for Valeria, both were overcome by the river.

“When the girl jumped in is when he tried to reach her, but when he tried to grab the girl, he went in further … and he couldn’t get out,” Óscar’s mother told the AP. “He put her in his shirt, and I imagine he told himself, ‘I’ve come this far’ and decided to go with her.”

Later, at the scene, Ávalos wailed, “Where is my husband?”

Though officials searched into the night for father and daughter, darkness prevented their discovery until the next morning.

In a tearful interview with Telemundo, Rosa said Óscar “loved his daughter so much. He loved her and that’s why he took her.”

“Neither one of them let each other go,” she said. “That’s how they died, both of them hugging.”

RELATED: Trump Says He ‘Hates’ That ‘Wonderful’ Dad & Toddler Drowned Trying to Get to U.S., Then Blames Democrats

Last any of their loved ones spoke to Óscar or his wife, they seemed well enough and ready to be done with their journey.

“I told them to pray as much as possible,” Ávalos’ mother recalled to the Post, saying she spoke with her daughter before they headed for the U.S. “I asked God for nothing to happen to them, and for everything to go well. She assured me that they didn’t have far to go.”

Rosa foresaw this tragedy, in a way, she told Reuters: “Ever since he first told me that they wanted to go, I told him not to. I had a feeling, it was such an ugly premonition. As a mother, I sensed that something could happen.”

Traveling with children is its own debate among migrants considering whether to head for America: The AP, citing an online group in El Salvador, quoted users who said kids should not make the journey because of the risks — though others acknowledged, “It’s more likely that they give you help with children.”

Óscar, his wife and daughter “went for the American dream,” his sister told the Times.

“They wanted a better future for their girl,” Ávalos’ mother told the Post.

The photo of Óscar and Valeria has been met with anguish, distress and despair. President Trump said he “hate it” while Democratic presidential candidate Julián Castro, a former housing secretary, said Wednesday, “Watching that image of Oscar and his daughter Valeria was heartbreaking. It should also piss us all off.”

Many Democratic politicians have blamed Trump’s immigration policies; he, in turn, has blamed them for refusing to cede to his demands about so-called “loopholes” in the law.

“Someday we will finish building a country where these things do not happen,” Nayib Bukele, president of El Salvador, said Tuesday. “Someday we will finish building a country where migration is an option and not an obligation. In the meantime, we will do as much as we can. God help us.”

Within days of the drowning, El Salvador announced it would cover the costs of returning Óscar and Valeria to their home. Their bodies were expected to arrive on Thursday.

Ávalos “is afflicted. She is suffering,” a Mexican immigration official told the AP. “It is a dream they had to get ahead as a family, the three of them, and she returns in mourning with only the bodies of her family.”

From her house in El Salvador, Rosa spoke of her son and granddaughter while holding some of Valeria’s favorite toys, including a stuffed purple monkey.

“I would say to those who are thinking of migrating, ‘They should think it over,’ ” she told the AP. “Because not everyone can live that American dream you hear about.”

from PEOPLE.com https://ift.tt/31ZJOnu

[theconservativebrief]

Julia Salazar is a Democratic candidate for New York’s 18th state Senate District, a part of Brooklyn containing neighborhoods ranging from wealthy Williamsburg to impoverished Cypress Hills. Normally, local races don’t receive a lot of national attention — but Salazar’s is different because of her tight affiliation with the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA).

Salazar identifies as a socialist and sees herself as “actively working to dismantle” capitalism. She’s a community organizer by background and is hoping to unseat incumbent Martin Malave Dilan in the September 13 Democratic primary. The comparisons between her and political phenom Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, another late-20s socialist Latina politician from New York City, practically make themselves. Salazar’s biography is arguably even more interesting than Ocasio-Cortez’s: She identifies as Jewish and has repeatedly described herself as coming from a working-class immigrant background.

But what if she is none of those things — neither working class nor immigrant nor Jewish?

That’s the question raised in a series of articles, starting with an August 23 piece in the Jewish publication Tablet, that have dug into Salazar’s background. In the Tablet piece, reporter Armin Rosen examined her family history and college time and concluded that her identity was “largely self-created”: that she is not an immigrant, and that she doesn’t actually come from a Jewish background. Rosen even quoted the candidate’s brother, Alex Salazar, to support his claims.

In an August 30 piece, City and State New York reporters Zach Williams and Ben Adler dove even deeper into her claims about her family background, interviewing her mother and her brother. The reporters claimed to have uncovered a pattern of dishonesty from Salazar about her background, saying that she offers “a selective presentation of the truth” and has “deployed her facts to gain maximum political advantage.”

This might seem like a straightforward case of a politician getting caught in lies. But Salazar has spent the days since the Tablet and City and State articles defending herself — at times persuasively, at times not — against the charges leveled in the pieces. I spent more than an hour with her on the phone, discussing the details of her story in granular detail. She insisted she was telling the truth.

“I was genuinely shocked [by the Tablet piece], and obviously deeply hurt on a personal level,” she told me.

This family dispute has become an issue of national interest, and not just because a lot of people who work in media happen to live in or near her district. Salazar’s fortunes are being seen by some political observers as a bellwether of the strength of the insurgent American left and socialist movement.

Brooklyn is a stronghold of young American progressivism, so the fortunes of the candidate the DSA chose to back in this district do matter — and whether she’s perceived as a liar by voters in her district really could affect that. And the debate over her Judaism raises a separate set of fraught issues, about who does and doesn’t count as “Jewish” for the American Jewish community.

What follows is an attempt to untangle the mess of accusations and counteraccusations: to try to explain what’s true about Salazar’s self-portrayal, what’s false, and what can’t be proven — as well as the reasons any of this matters.

Julia Salazar was born in South Florida, just as the Cold War wound down (she’s 27 now). Her brother, Alex, was born two years earlier. Their father, Luis, was a naturalized citizen who had immigrated from Colombia. Their mother, Christine Salazar, is originally from New Jersey. Luis and Christine divorced while Julia and Alex were young, and Christine became the lead parent.

Already, some of those facts — which Julia and Alex agree on — contradict some things Salazar has said about herself. “I immigrated to this country with my family when I was very little,” she said at one campaign stop. “My family immigrated to the US from Colombia when I was a baby,” she said in an interview with Jacobin magazine. Those statements imply that she was born in Colombia, which is not true.

When you ask Salazar about this, she explains that she was shorthanding a more complicated story. She claims that she and her family shuttled back and forth from Colombia — her father worked as a cargo pilot, sometimes flying planes full of flowers between Medellin and Bogota. The family would join him in Colombia, despite living in the United States, and stay at Luis Salazar’s family home.

“It really shaped my early life, and we spent a lot of time there,” Julia said in one of our conversations. “To me, Colombia … was always my family’s home, when we were kids.”

Indeed, this is the story she has consistently told reporters. Emma Whitford, a Brooklyn-based reporter who interviewed Salazar months before the controversy, tweeted a transcript of their conversation — in which Salazar goes to great lengths to explain that she was, in fact, born in Miami:

i share this simply because these details shared in an on-the-record conversation w/ a reporter, so early in her campaign, challenge the notion that she crafted some sort of alternative narrative about herself (just listened back to the tape to be sure) pic.twitter.com/ou3Wbyikh7

— Emma Whitford (@emma_a_whitford) August 24, 2018

If that’s all there was to it, it would be reasonable to say that she’s been using “my family immigrated from Colombia” as a shorthand for a much more complicated background. That’s probably sloppy, but not necessarily dishonest.

One problem with this interpretation is that she has fudged her immigrant story in other ways. In a recent interview with Jewish Currents, she said, “I was born in Miami and we didn’t all have permanent residence in the US.” This seems to suggest that her father wasn’t a citizen, which isn’t true. Salazar claims she was referring to the fact that her father was in Colombia frequently, not (as it seemed) his citizenship.

“I can see how this could be misconstrued. I wasn’t seeking to comment on my father’s immigration status,” she told me.

The bigger problem, though, is that her brother denies spending very much time in Colombia as a child. He says Julia’s characterization of their childhood visits to Colombia is “not at all” accurate.

“We visited a couple times,” he told me. “I was baptized there when I was an infant, and we visited maybe a couple times as toddlers — or when I was a toddler. Then we visited once in 1992, and then again in 1998, I believe it was, for about five days” — a depiction that seems at odds with his sister’s claim that “we spent a lot of time there.”

It’s very difficult to prove these childhood experiences either way. City and State got ahold of Christine Salazar, who denied ever living with her husband in Colombia (as Julia had once suggested they had on Twitter).

“Maybe she was just referring to going there more than we went anywhere else,” Christine said of her daughter, per City and State. “Julia really embraced the Colombian culture.”

These comments aren’t unequivocal, though, as they don’t speak to the amount of time spent in Colombia (the key dispute between Alex and Julia). What’s more, Julia told me that her mother agrees with her characterization of their childhood, that Christine “understands that my memory, as a young child, was of us living in Colombia.”

I’ve reached out to Christine for clarification but as of publication time have not heard back.

This isn’t the only dispute between the siblings about their upbringing. Julia Salazar has frequently referred to her background as “working class,” whereas Alex said he would call them middle class.

The issue here is interpretive rather than factual. Luis earned a decent salary as a pilot, according to all the Salazars, but since Christine raised the kids, they only saw a portion of that money through alimony and child support. They grew up in a fairly large home in a nice city — Jupiter, Florida — but Christine at times had to push hard to make ends meet, working primarily as a pharmaceutical sales rep with occasionally a second job with a catering company.

“When we were growing up, our class status changed up and down — quite a lot,” Julia told me. “My brother very selectively mentions a time where my parents, collectively, made $100,000 in a year — but it was not by any means always that way.”

Alex thinks Julia is the one with the faulty memory. “My mom certainly worked very hard. But if we’re talking about what class level we were at, you’d have to have a pretty wide definition of working class — to include everyone other than millionaires, or something like that,” he said. “We lived a comfortable life, I’ll put it that way.”

When I asked Julia why her brother remembered things so differently, she accused her brother of having political motivations, of dissembling to hurt her campaign.

“I love my brother, [but] he has very right-wing politics. Very anti-socialist politics,” she said.

Alex refused to comment on the nature of his political beliefs, but he said the very idea that he was attacking his sister for political reasons was offensive.

“My political stuff is private to me, and it would never motivate me to say anything negative about my sister,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Politics have nothing to do with telling the truth about my family.”

This detailed dispute may seem insignificant, but Salazar’s honesty matters in the same way that any candidate’s would: It speaks to whether voters should trust them with power. And this case is arguably higher-stakes than your standard-issue dispute. A socialist falsely claiming to be a working-class immigrant — one who has built her candidacy on her claim to be the best person to represent a racially and economically diverse district — would feel like a particularly significant betrayal of trust.

I’m not saying Julia is, in fact, lying. It’s clear she’s made some misstatements, and that those misstatements tend to run in the direction of giving her a more compelling personal story. But on the core issues of fact — how much time their family spent in Colombia, what the Salazars’ household income was — the reporting so far isn’t thorough enough to prove Julia wrong and Alex right (or vice versa).

What I am saying is that the stakes of what’s essentially a family dispute have become elevated, to the point where answers that might have once felt like Salazar trivia are now vital to a very public election that transcends its local nature.

Both Salazar children were raised Catholic. But after Luis Salazar died, when Julia was 18, she recalls experiencing a crisis of faith. She remembers talking to her father about their last name when he was alive, and him telling her that it was a common name among Sephardic Jews — Jews of Spanish or Middle Eastern descent. Alex, for his part, remembers having no such conversations with his father and is skeptical that Julia did.

Julia was starting at Columbia University and figured New York would be a good place to get in touch with her possibly Jewish roots. She got involved with pro-Israel activism, a cause she would later renounce, and became a frequent presence at Hillel, the main hub for campus Jewish life.

“By early 2010,” she told me, “I [was] even going to services with friends.”

At this point, Julia said, she had started thinking about identifying as Jewish — though she didn’t identify as such publicly for some time. Indeed, as the Tablet article points out, there is some evidence against her claim from as recently as 2012, including statements from people who said they knew her:

By all appearances, the 21-year-old Salazar had both the politics and religious beliefs of a conservative Christian. In a series of tweets preserved by pro-Israel activist Hen Mazzig, Salazar quotes a pastor at Apostles Church in New York in a tweet that includes the hashtag #John13, referring to a chapter in the New Testament. “A thought I plan to ruminate on this week:” she tweeted in September of 2012, “Follow #Christ for his own sake, if you plan to follow Him at all,” quoting the 19th-century Anglican Bishop J.C. Ryle. One acquaintance who knew Salazar during her time as a CUFI activist said that she wasn’t shy about her religious faith, dropping the occasional “praise Jesus” into casual conversation.

This is the core of the allegation that she had fabricated her Jewish identity, one Julia strongly denies. She does not know who Tablet’s anonymous source was and vehemently denies being a practicing Christian who said things like “praise Jesus.” In fact, she told me, she likely would have publicly identified as “agnostic” at that point.

The tweets containing Christian references, she says, were the result of her reading Christian Scripture and apologetics for academic purposes. The same preserved tweets from 2012 also show her discussing events at Hillel, backing up her story that she was involved in campus Jewish life.

The Tablet piece points to a mysterious shift in Salazar’s self-conception occurring in 2013, “just a few months” after a trip to Israel. “By September of 2013,” Tablet’s Rosen writes, “she said she kept kosher at her apartment.”

According to Salazar, there is a simple explanation for this seemingly jarring transition: She formally converted to Judaism.

In mid- to late 2013 — she doesn’t remember when, exactly — she took a b’nai mitzvah course (the Jewish ritual for becoming a Jewish adult) that, if completed, would amount to a conversion. Some reporting had implied that Salazar only took two months of the course and did not complete it; she told me it was “more like five months” and that she definitely completed all the required work.

I could not independently verify Salazar’s account. Rabbi Daniel Kirzane, who was then the rabbinic intern at Columbia’s Hillel, supervised the course; he wrote me an email saying he had “no comment at this time” on Salazar. Neither Columbia-Barnard Hillel nor Rabbi Yonah Hain, Hillel’s rabbi, responded to repeated attempts to contact them.

But Salazar appears to have lived a Jewish life since graduating Columbia. She’s spent a significant amount of time working for a Jewish activist group, Jews for Racial and Economic Justice. And the business of casting doubt on someone’s Judaism — particularly a Jew of color — is quite dubious.

There is a long tradition of gatekeeping in the Jewish community, one that particularly targets religious liberal Jews and Jews of color. Salazar is a Reform Jew (as am I), the most theologically liberal of the three major American Jewish denominations. Some more traditional Jews do not consider Reform conversions to be valid and would deny Judaism to anyone converted under Reform practices. American Jewry is also dominated by a European-descendant establishment, despite a significant and growing population of Jews of color who can have real problems feeling accepted in the community.

These are sources of tremendous tension and division inside the Jewish community and perhaps explain why the Tablet article never outright denies that Salazar should be considered Jewish. Tablet’s editor-in-chief, Alana Newhouse, denied that the article was an exercise in gatekeeping, saying in an interview that “we have no test of, or opinions about, ‘who is or isn’t a Jew.’” (Disclosure: I briefly worked with Newhouse as a Tablet guest blogger in 2012.)

But the Tablet article was received quite differently by the general public. You can find a number of tweets comparing Salazar to Rachel Dolezal, the white woman who claimed to be black. The Forward, a major American Jewish publication, published a piece claiming Salazar does not “meet the standard for Jewish identity.” New York Times opinion editor Bari Weiss wrote that Salazar did not seem to be Jewish in a widely circulated tweet:

Tablet clearly wanted the conversation to be about Salazar’s trustworthiness rather than a public litigation of her Jewishness. Yet that’s what ended up happening, a case study in why this kind of conversation is so fraught.

All that said, there are still some clear factual problems with Salazar’s comments on her Judaism. Tablet’s Rosen points to a 2014 post on the anti-Zionist site Mondoweiss written by a “Julia Carmel,” whose Twitter page appears to be Salazar’s. (“Reach me at @SalazarSenate18 instead,” the profile states.) Under that post is a comment by an account bearing Salazar’s name saying that “like most American Jews, I was raised with the delusion that Israel was a safe haven for me, perhaps even the only safe place for Jews.” The implication here is that she was raised Jewish as a child, when she in fact was not.

That certainly is not the most honest portrayal of her past. It’s consistent with the somewhat loose way in which she talks about her family history, throwing around words like “immigrant” when they don’t apply. Whether that gives others license to deny her Jewish identity full stop, in the absence of clear proof that she’s lying, is a different story entirely.

The Julia Salazar campaign is a big deal for the left. She’s been the subject of very friendly interviews in popular left outlets like Jacobin, whose reading groups she used to attend, and the podcast Chapo Trap House.

Salazar is also longtime DSA activist, having served on the organizing committee of the DSA’s socialist-feminist working group. She has campaigned with Cynthia Nixon, the actress and progressive candidate for governor. She has been endorsed by soon-to-be US Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who has done campaign events with her even after the Tablet controversy broke out.

That last endorsement, in particular, sets the stakes at work in this candidacy. According to Salazar, it was Ocasio-Cortez’s victory that attracted significant amounts of media attention and public enthusiasm about her campaign in the first place.

“After Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez … we received a flood of support,” Salazar said. “That momentum sort of naturally translated to my campaign.”

Her most prominent backers, including the New York DSA and Ocasio-Cortez, appear to be standing by her even after the controversy. Prominent socialists, like Jacobin editor-in-chief Bhaskar Sunkara, have defended her on social media:

Whether Salazar likes it or not, her campaign has become another proof of concept for socialism in America. If she wins, it’ll be more evidence that socialists in general and the DSA in particular are forces to be reckoned with in the Democratic Party. If she loses — well, then the DSA will be the socialists who couldn’t even win an election in Bushwick.

Original Source -> Julia Salazar, the socialist politician accused of lying about her past, explained

via The Conservative Brief