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#being on the periphery
communistkenobi · 1 year
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having gone through (and still in the process of going through) the thousand different processes for changing my legal name and gender marker in every conceivable place those things could come up, one thing I’ve noticed is that being trans wreaks administrative havoc. the particular process of changing your name because you’re transgender isn’t strictly unique, because people change their legal name(s) for lots of different reasons, but there is a systemic unpreparedness for dealing with the scenario of a user or client or patient whose name and gender has changed simultaneously. the most common response I get when I ask somebody at a front desk if I can change my name and/or gender in their system is “huh, this has never happened before!” and then they go talk to their manager. and so to get anything done you have to continually assert that it’s possible, you have to explain that you’ve changed it elsewhere, you have to carry around legal documentation to prove that it’s happened, and you effectively become a perpetual edge case for any given administrative system you exist in. I know, intimately, how my university’s IT systems work in terms of field input because it’s so decentralised that changing information one place doesn’t change it in a lot of other places, and the act of having to be registered at a university with two conflicting legal names means I have to have an ongoing relationship with their IT help desk. People talk a lot about how we have to become medical experts in order to assert our own identity, but you also have to become a fucking IT expert too
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loveinhawkins · 11 months
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The Reid family live in the trailer opposite Eddie and Wayne’s. They’re a pleasant bunch, sure, but more importantly, they always give Eddie a freshly cooked burger on the Fourth of July, which he readily accepts—why would he waste his time on overpriced fair food when he could get it on his own doorstep for free?
Tonight’s burger is more than a little on the charred side.
It’s no big deal to Eddie (that’s how he prefers it, really), and he gets that you really have to keep an eye on some of those portable grills—otherwise you’ll end up with incinerated chunks of meat in the blink of an eye. But even so, it’s not like Matthew Reid to be so distracted.
“Wayne got the night off?” Matthew asks.
He keeps glancing over his shoulder towards his home, almost misses Eddie nodding. He puts another singed burger on a bun, then places it on Eddie’s plate.
“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Uh, I’ve got some sparklers kicking around, y’know, if the kid wants to…”
He makes it sound more of a happenstance than it had been: yes, he’s had a decent run of orders from seniors and recent graduates, all wanting to let off some steam at the county fair; money is a damn sight better than it had been.
But the truth is that Eddie had been saving up anyway, would’ve bought the sparklers even if funds were tight.
It’s become a little tradition at this point: making his own annual ‘firework show’ with the Reid’s son.
Eddie’s known Daniel since the kid was six years old—he’s fourteen now, still has a bright-eyed naivety that Eddie hopes Hawkins High doesn’t completely stamp out.
He’s got a shock of blonde curls and a gap tooth, loves swimming so much there’s a running joke in the town that he’s part dolphin, what with the amount of time he spends at the community pool.
When his parents had heard that Eddie was repeating senior year yet again, instead of going for the usual commiserations or ‘helpful advice’ angle, they just quipped that it would be good for their son to see a familiar face at high school.
To be honest, Eddie can’t see Daniel needing a familiar face all that much; he imagines that after the typical first year nerves have come and gone, the kid will settle in quite comfortably, that he’ll be on the swim team by October.
At the mention of sparklers, Matthew’s face falls. He looks back to his trailer again and says, “Ah, m’sorry Eddie, couldn’t get him outta bed. Maybe later?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Eddie leaves him to it—if they were closer, perhaps he could’ve encouraged Daniel outside, made a difference somehow. But he just knows the family with a distant kind of friendliness—a shouted, “Morning!” when he’s running late, or a wave at the end of a long school day, their lives only overlapping briefly.
He goes inside to give Wayne his burger, so when it happens, he almost misses it.
He’s pouring himself a glass of water when he hears Louise Reid shouting indistinctly. She’s not usually one to argue, although Eddie’s noticed that she’s seemed tetchy lately—only yesterday, he’d been woken up by the sound of an almighty row that, as far as he could tell, was just about misplacing a bottle of bleach.
By the time he’s out on his porch, he’s just in time to see the back of Daniel as he heads out of the trailer park. It doesn’t exactly look like he’ll stop for anyone.
Louise is watching him go, her lips a thin line.
“Just let him cool off, darlin’,” Matthew says.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with him. That’s—that’s not normal, I don’t know what the hell’s going on in his head—”
”He’s a kid, Lou, he’s just acting up, that’s all. He’ll grow out of it.”
Louise sighs exasperatedly. When she shuts the front door, she does it with such force that it just bounces back open again. Neither she nor her husband fix it.
Eddie reckons that he’ll time it: fifteen minutes, give or take, and Daniel will be back. Ten minutes more, and he’ll have made up with his mom, before sheepishly asking Eddie for a sparkler.
Eddie’s left counting for much longer than fifteen minutes.
Matthew walks down the road leading up to the park’s entrance, over and over again. Comes back and shouts into his trailer, maybe a little frantically, that he can’t find Daniel, that maybe he’s gone to one of his friend’s places.
Eddie hears Louise start up a round of phone calls. A knot forms in his stomach as each one ends the same way. Call me if you hear anything.
It gets darker. Wayne heads out to the woods with Matthew, flashlights in hand, and it reminds Eddie of when they’d done the same not all that long ago, when Will Byers went missing.
The knot in his stomach grows. Tightens.
Wayne returns with a shake of the head. Eddie makes coffee just for something to do.
“They reckon he hitched a ride somewhere.”
Eddie scoffs. “Where the hell’s he gonna go, Wayne? Chicago?”
They drink their coffee on the porch. The Reid’s door is still left open, so when the phone rings again, it sounds as loud as a gunshot.
Someone picks up.
A scream.
“Wayne,” Eddie whispers. He feels suddenly desperate.
Wayne’s face is white. “Stay here, Ed.”
And then he’s running over to the Reid’s.
Eddie shouldn’t get closer. Shouldn’t look. But he does.
He tiptoes across the grass, just close enough so he can see…
Louise is on the floor. She’s clinging onto the wall phone, the cord stretched to breaking point, and Wayne’s talking to her, too softly for Eddie to make out; he gets down on his knees and puts an arm around her.
Her scream turns into wailing, then guttural sobs.
Eddie staggers backwards.
A flashlight being dropped on concrete. Matthew running inside.
“Lou? Lou! Jesus, what’s—”
Eddie looks away.
He goes back home, tries to shut out the noise. No matter how loudly he plays music, he can still hear them.
Eventually Wayne returns; he doesn’t say anything, just switches Eddie’s music off and puts on the radio.
There’s names being read out. Daniel is one of them.
Eddie sits out on the roof that night. He lights a sparkler, thinks about writing Daniel’s name in the sky, and then is immediately furious at himself for the thought. The kid should be here to do it himself.
When he eventually falls asleep, it’s to the memory of a sparkler burning the back of his eyelids.
A few days pass in what feels like one slow blink.
Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. He ends up just wandering down town—it’s ghostly quiet here, has been so ever since the mall opened.
It’s overcast, as if the tragedy has made summer die quicker. That doesn’t stop Eddie’s skin from itching.
There’s a small diner near where Radio Shack once existed; it’s a hole in the wall, still somehow in business.
Eddie doesn’t know why he goes in. He hasn’t even brought his wallet.
All he knows is that he’s suddenly inside, and the place is absolutely dead, and the only person sat at a booth is—
“Jesus,” Eddie breathes. “What happened to your face?”
Steve Harrington stares back at him, looks decidedly unimpressed. There’s a basket of fries in front of him, and he’s presumably going for the ‘stoic silence’ route, because he picks up a fry, goes to eat it, and immediately winces. No fucking wonder, too; it’s a miracle he can even try and eat anything through that busted lip.
Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, doubt something hot with salt was the best choice, Harrington, considering uh,” he waves a hand in front of his face, “everything.”
Steve frowns. “I just wanted them,” he says, on the edge of petulant, and Eddie wonders if he also ended up here by chance; if his skin is itching, too.
“Hang on,” Eddie says.
At least he has something to do now.
He asks for a cup of ice at the counter, wraps up some cubes inside a bunch of paper towels. He brings it back to Steve, who’s watching him in faint surprise.
“Uh. Thanks, Munson.”
Eddie shrugs.
Steve takes the bundle of towels, pressing them to his lips with a small hiss. He nods for Eddie to sit opposite him.
It’s a whole lot, up close: one of Steve’s eyes is heavily swollen, and along with the busted lip, his face is a mess of fresh bruises that must ache something fierce.
“You can ask,” Steve says, mumbled from talking behind the ice. He sounds resigned, like he’s one step away from adding everyone else does.
“All right.” Eddie crosses his arms. “What happened?”
“I worked at the mall. Broken down elevator.” Steve slams his hand down on the table. “It dropped.”
“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters.
But his mind is already elsewhere.
Steve’s unaffected eye narrows. Shit. He’s on to him.
“What’s eating you, Munson?”
“It’s just…” Eddie sighs, leans forward. “So a fire broke out. Like, after closing? But people were still inside.”
Steve doesn’t blink. “You ever worked in retail? People just hang around for no reason.”
“Sure, but—but—” Eddie feels a sudden urge to tug on his hair in frustration. “But he wouldn’t do that, he’d…”
Steve sets down the paper towels. “Who wouldn’t?” he says quietly.
Eddie tells him.
Steve listens in silence. He shifts in his seat when Eddie’s done and says, almost gently, “It sounds like he went to��”
“No, he hated the mall,” Eddie says vehemently. “Dragged his feet when his folks took him to the opening. He wouldn’t—he’d—I don’t know! All of it, it’s—”
“Crazy,” Steve finishes. He looks down. “Yeah. I know.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it, man. And, like, that family never fought, but the day before it—his mom was biting his head off over, like, losing some bleach or something stupid like—woah, Jesus, you okay?”
Because Steve suddenly looks like he might be sick. He swallows, breathes in and out cautiously.
“I’m fine.”
Eddie pauses. “Okay,” he says, uncertain. When Steve looks a little less pale, he goes on; he can’t stop himself. “I just—what if—did you, um. Did you see him?”
“No,” Steve says slowly. “But Eddie,” he says, and for some reason, he almost sounds like he’s pleading, “he was there.”
“How do you know? How does anyone—you know, like Will Byers, everyone thought… And then he…”
“It’s not always like that,” Steve says, sounds both sad and bitter. “Some people just stay dead.”
It’s a lousy rebuttal, in Eddie’s opinion, but for some reason it hits him anyway, leaves him abruptly exhausted. He runs a hand over his face.
“Yeah.” He steps out of the booth. “See you around, Harrington.”
“Wait.” Steve gets up too, with slow ginger movements. His fries remain untouched. “If I brought my car, I’d have given you a ride home, but…”
“Don’t think you’re in any condition to be driving,” Eddie says.
Steve gives a tiny shrug with one shoulder. “You wanna get the bus?”
“I didn’t bring any money.”
“It’s fine, I’ll get your ticket. I’m just gonna ride all the stops anyway.”
And it’s an unexpectedly comforting thought, that Steve is also at a loss for what to do.
They go to the back of the bus, sit in silence for the first couple of stops. Steve turns from where he’s been looking out the window and says, “Are you still, y’know, doing your thing?”
Eddie’s used to that being a euphemism for “Are you still selling?” But then he sees that Steve is miming a dice being thrown, and he’s momentarily surprised into a half-smile.
“Yeah. Will be, when school starts up again.”
He’d typically be using the summer as time to work on a new campaign, but that had gone out of his head with… everything.
They’re nearly at Forest Hills when Steve speaks again.
“I… I knew him. Not like you did, but I—I used to be a lifeguard, and his butterfly was phenomenal, I’d get the stopwatch out sometimes. There was a group of us, we worked on rotation, we’d call him part—”
“Dolphin,” Eddie says. “Yeah. That’s right.”
He feels his bottom lip threaten to go. Stupid. He rubs the feeling out with the tips of his fingers, digging in harshly.
It’ll be his stop soon. He stands up to make his way to the front, doesn’t expect Steve to rise with him, but he does. His breathing is suspiciously light; Eddie suspects he’s got some broken ribs to go with the pummelled face.
“Eddie,” he says, and even though he’s keeping his balance perfectly well, his hand brushes Eddie’s wrist anyway.
It’s not enough to chase away the itch in Eddie’s skin. But for a fleeting second, it helps. It helps.
“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “It sucks to lose someone.”
It’s a platitude, but there’s feeling behind it. Weight.
Eddie wants to say that he didn’t lose anyone, that the thought would be a disservice to Daniel’s parents, but…
It’s like Steve’s words give him permission to feel it. Just for now.
“Thanks,” he says tightly. On the last step before he exits, he turns and says, “Rest up, Harrington.”
“Oh yeah,” Steve says. “I’ll be here for hours.”
It’s said like it’s a joke, but Eddie thinks he means it.
Steve’s halfway back to his seat when the bus turns back onto the road, but he manages to wave just before he disappears from view.
Eddie starts the short walk home.
The Reid’s trailer is dark, a For Sale sign placed in front of it. Eddie hadn’t even known they were leaving, must have missed it in the haze of the last few days.
He gets it; if he were in their shoes, he doesn’t know if he could have stayed either. Everything would be a reminder of their son—the places he’d go, where he should be.
But he almost wishes that they were still here, so he could try and stumble his way through telling them Steve Harrington knew your son. He’ll remember him, too.
He doesn’t know if that would’ve been a comfort or not. He doesn’t know.
People come and go. Steve won’t be on that bus forever—he’ll go home eventually. July will become August will become…
Eddie lets himself in and collapses onto his bed. There’s still a prickle of wrongness in his skin, but he can’t untangle it. There’s nothing to make sense of.
He finds one of his journals. There’s some notes he made for a future campaign only last month. Feels like a lifetime ago.
He ignores the remaining unlit sparklers left in a corner of his room. Starts to write.
He can control this world, at least.
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benevolenterrancy · 8 months
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i'm only like 40 pages into Heaven Official's Blessing and know basically nothing about anyone or anything, but i am really vibing with this woman who seems to be heaven's exclusively overworked bureaucrat
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sysig · 6 months
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Delusions (Patreon)
"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.
"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."
Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.
Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.
"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.
"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?
"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"
Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.
"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.
No, not angry.
Betrayed.
He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.
"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"
Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.
"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.
"Sir, I didn't-"
"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."
#Doodles#SCII#Helix#ZEX#Dexter Favin#And a drabble-fic under the cut#I ended up writing that the night after I read - I was a bit too inspired while busy so it's a little on the unfocused side haha#I would've cleaned it but I worry it wouldn't make it out of that stage! Please enjoy it for now <3#This set is mostly periphery ideas - inspired by events rather than directly shown ♪ I suppose the first two kinda count tho#But they're more directly of the little scene I wrote ouò Poor ZEX </3#And Dex! He's usually so capable! But he's stretching himself so thin ahh it's hard to watch in the best way#Of course he doesn't want to give ''Max'' over to just anyone - anyone at all really - both of their trusts have bottomed out#But how much could he reasonably care for him in that state? When he's still being actively haunted and most importantly - Not Max#He needs helps he needs support he needs to sleep and shower but a second with his eyes off Max and - then what? He'll immolate from fear#It's hard to imagine him crying but pushed to this extreme? To the thought of losing Max utterly and completely? Hhhhh#I do also just love him being possessive even outside of how terrible the situation is - he's always had his glimpses but this situation#Brings out the worst in him <3 In terrible ways#Really his method is just setting ''Max'' up nearby and prompting him over the sound of the shower like that's not nerve-wracking at all#Like he already doesn't answer half the time if that#As for the mini fic I was really interested in Dex's line about indulging ''Max's'' delusions#Apart from the fact that they're not delusions - not that anyone believes him outside of the Institute - what it means to indulge is weird#I saw one example of how to handle delusions that stuck with me - how not to deny them outright while also not reinforcing them#Since it's not actually helpful to be told ''That isn't Really happening to you'' when to you - to ZEX - it really is! How invalidating#And so rather to take the approach of ''I don't see/feel/hear what you are - I can't find any evidence of it myself'' and extrapolating#Dex taking the approach of ''What reality are you experiencing right now?'' and trying to build from there!#Unfortunately ZEX has already been treated like....well like all that - he's not in the mood for games even well-intentioned ones#He /knows/ he's in a human body. He can feel that and see that and understands that. It doesn't change who - what he /is/#The idea of a completely broken ZEX is so sad to me :( He's so strong and prideful and vivacious - Max really is another him </3#It's not the same but he was saved from death! To fall into torture... But even despite that I want to see him succeed! As much as he can#Even in that small and shaking way I want to see him be hateful and spiteful - angry. Powerful <3 Fighting ♥
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baeddling · 7 months
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People on tumblr hate the idea that just bc someone is oppressed in one way doesn't mean they are incapable of holding other privileges
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cowboylikedean · 3 months
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i just can't communicate how y'all have NEVER gone this hard for a taylor relationship. ever. this is worse than tayvin by FAR and i'm so........... tired..................................................
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a-god-in-ruins-rises · 2 months
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western women get a lot of flak for being too independent or "masculine" but it always makes me think of spartan women. i think about that quote: "why are spartan women the only women who rule their men" and queen gorgo says it's because "spartan women are the only women who give birth to real men." i think plutarch also mentions that spartan men were always obedient to their wives.
or as socrates put it (quoted by xenophon): "It is the example of the rider who wishes to become an expert horseman: 'None of your soft-mouthed, docile animals for me,' he says; 'the horse for me to own must show some spirit' in the belief, no doubt, if he can manage such an animal, it will be easy enough to deal with every other horse besides. And that is just my case. I wish to deal with human beings, to associate with man in general; hence my choice of wife. I know full well, if I can tolerate her spirit, I can with ease attach myself to every human being else."
and i think there's a lot of truth to this. i think cultures with spirited, independent women are made stronger by it, for a number of reasons. and i think it actually plays a major role in western civilization's success. a strong-willed man and a strong-willed woman working together in union is an incredibly strong foundation for a family and a civilization.
and i don't want to give the impression that the west was ever some kind of gender-egalitarian utopia. but i do think a significant degree of respect for women is a common feature in western civilization (and i'd say broader indo-european culture too). at least compared to other civilizations. and especially in the prechristian and, now, the postchristian eras (though i'd say it even bleeds through in the christian era in some ways too). i mean there's a reason why feminism first blossomed in the west and not elsewhere.
but yeah, this desire for some docile, obedient slave-wife seems to be very contrary to the spirit of western civilization. i mean, it seemed like the default view of women in prechristian europe, for better or worse, was that women were these wild, powerful, passionate, promiscuous creatures who needed to be tamed. and yes, women were expected to be loyal and amenable/agreeable to their husbands but this is hardly unreasonable and is a far cry from the obedient slave-wife some people propose as an ideal (namely traditional christians and muslims and the like).
"women should be banned from doing manual labor" -- traditionally, women did all sorts of manual labor. medieval peasant women would be working in the fields just like the men. and even if they weren't working a field there would be plenty of other physically taxing jobs they'd be doing. not saying that women should be encouraged to do extremely dangerous or physically taxing jobs, but if they're able to more power to them. and i kinda detest this desire to portray women as frail and incapable. they are the weaker sex but they're not weak. let's not infantilize them.
also, western women generally marry out of love and commitment and view themselves (rightfully) as partners in union with their husbands. whereas these types of women (the woman who made this post) believe women's sole purpose is to be obedient little decorations who do nothing but sit around and look pretty (and maybe have babies if she's very traditional -- but often you won't even get that!) while the man just gives her money. it's transactional and superficial. there's no real love or partnership. it's not a good foundation for a family or a civilization.
anyway, belated happy women's day.
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visenyaism · 2 years
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erryk and arryk are sooo rosencrantz and guildenstern coded. if you even care
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bonkobarnes · 10 days
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cam x becca hc I can’t get out of my head so here u go
- Becca braids Cam’s hair while Cam tells her the importance of it (what little she remembers)
- Cam never learned how to braid it herself, so it’s been years since she wore it like that
- the first time she sees herself in the mirror she gets emotional and she’s not sure why
- Becca thinks Cam looks handsome with her hair braided, and tells her this often
- it just encourages Cam to wear it like that more
- Cam starts to become more intentional about her hair, and Becca becomes one of the only people that can touch it
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deargravity · 2 months
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knb au where everything is the same except kise isn’t constantly treated as a punchline for a gag moment / joke or repeatedly ignored.
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cr1msonfog · 7 months
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wait you guys have people in your domain on tumblr??
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When ever Wes retires, good to know he has a promising career as a news reporter
Wes Borland in the Fartbarf music video for "Homeless in Heathrow"
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jakeperalta · 3 months
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it’s really funny how swifties get so infuriated when other people make things about taylor’s exes/her personal relationships, especially when it’s something related to her career or artistry, and then when we get this album announcement one of the first things people are talking about is her ex
oh yeah 100%. the reaction for every album and re-record is always about whichever man may have inspired it 🙄 I've been in the process of unfollowing most of the taylor blogs I had been following because I'm just not vibing with the fandom anymore and even though I was only online briefly after the announcement last night I've already unfollowed a few more people because frankly if someone's immediate response to a brand new, two years in the making album that seems like a departure from her previous work is "I just know joe is crying right now" then clearly we have very different approaches to being a fan. it's one thing to feel frustrated or fed up with my dash but I don't want this new album to feel tainted by that feeling.
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mariemariemaria · 1 year
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when deirdre maguire said ‘punk is the only religion worth fighting for’
#yeah!#derry girls#actually thought about this when i was studying today#the punk scene in ni is soo interesting to me#and how derry girls fits into art created about the troubles#because the vast majority of media about them has focused on the violence and political 'struggles'. and understandably so#but both derry girls and the undertones focused on teenager's lives . with the troubles on the periphery#teenage kicks is about the life of one teenager who fancies a girl basically#and derry girls is about a group of teenagers who struggle with ordinary things about being a teenager like school parents and crushes#and both the undertones in the 70s and derry girls today showed the rest of the uk/ireland (and further afield) that ni is more than just#violence and sectarianism. and that the people (esp teenagers) here are just like people and teenagers everywhere#which was a BIG deal in the 70s and honestly kind of a big deal now too when you think about english ignorance about ni lol#(one commentator on a guardian review of derry girls said that it hadnt occurred to him when he was growing up that catholics in ni were#just ordinary people just like him and his friends and family. which kinda shows the extent to which propaganda regarding ni functioned in#britain during the troubles - and still today in some ways)#it also feels significant that both derry girls and the undertones were created by working class catholics from derry but maintaining#a non sectarian aspect is also important - the point is that they both portrayed the realities of being a teenager which crossed religious#and political barriers. i could write a whole essay on this honestly#kinda moved on from the punk scene aspect hmmm in ep 3x05 of derry girls stiff little finger's 'alternative ulster' was played#which calls on the listener to 'grab it and change it - it's yours' to show that ordinary people - esp teenagers - have the power to create#a better society and a better life and a better ulster. and in 3x07 that's exactly what they did.
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xombiriot · 4 months
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TOP 3 Metal Albums I Enjoyed from 2023
A lot of great metal came out this year and it was hard to narrow it down to my Top 3. There were some great EPs released this year— Spiritbox’s The Fear of Fear, Brand of Sacrifice’s Between Death and Dreams and Knosis’s The Eternal Doom among them. Singles I enjoyed include: "On the Verge" by thrown, “Masterpiece” by The Anchor, “Enemy” by The Gentle Men (ft. Andy Cizek), “Weight of the World” by Harper (ft. We Came as Romans and Brand of Sacrifice), “Viking” by Slaughter To Prevail, "III" by DEATHPHONK (Nik Nocturnal's weird project); and Knocked Loose had the double, “Deep In the Willow”/“Everything is Quiet Now”.
My Top 5 honourable mentions: 5. [m]other by Veil of Maya, their newest does everything I want it to do, good riffs, cool effects, great vocals; 4. Soul Elegy by Termina, Nik Nocturna, Andy Cizek and friends deliver an awesome metal album; 3. Chaos Horrific by Cannibal Corpse is a strong entry and shows why they're still so loved after so long; 2. The Fox and the Bird by Ok Goodnight mixes folk, rock, metal and whatever else they want to create this really entrancing album; and 1. Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token is one of the albums I listened to the most because it's easy to put on when you're tired of being relentlessly pummelled by deathcore, but though its highs are super high, it just misses out landing on my top 3 because there are a few spots it lags
3. ...And Everything In Between - Unprocessed
Manuel Gardner Fernandes has quickly become one of my favourite guitarists between this release and Unprocessed's previous album Gold. The combination of styles on this album exemplify modern metal: bludgeoning heaviness, thumpy prog riffing (à la Animals As Leaders or Polyphia) and a mix of harsh and clean vocals. Despite the polish of these 9 tracks, some express such raw emotion and a ferocity that they really get me hyped up. The variety of tones and vocals kept me engaged throughout, and they blend and balance heaviness and melody so well. The guitar sounds so angry sometimes–especially the part of "Thrash" where Manuel beats the shit outta his guitar after screaming, "But you're just a fucking lie!" I love that. Other songs like "Blackbone" and "Die on the Cross of the Martyr" continue the trend of excellent instrumentation, the latter featuring guest solos by Polyphia's Tim Henson and Scottie Lepage. It's so well done and so engaging. In the short time I've had this album, it's become one of my favourites of 2023.
2. Periphery V: Djent Is Not A Genre - Periphery
When Periphery released "Wildfire" as a single I immediately bought into what they were selling. The way they transition through the various parts is seamless, the mix of vocal techniques and the jazzy interlude are all fantastic. It really captures the spirit of the whole record. Songs like "Dying Star" and "Zagreus" are also so hard. Periphery continues to show off their musical dexterity, and the band members prove once again they're not only some of the best musicians djenting their way through the world but as a collective they add up to more than the sum of their parts. My hottest take when it comes to this album is that I love "Silhouette" — it's like if you ran 80s soft rock and 90s/00s boy bands through a progressive music filter. I think they wrote this song and put it on the album just to prove they can do anything. And if Periphery is Djent, and Djent isn't a genre then why shouldn't they go in every genre direction they want to explore?
1. War of Being - TesseracT
In other years this top 3 could have been entirely deathcore or melodeath or metalcore, but this year it was djenty prog metal through and through. It's the music I gravitated to the most this year and nobody did it better than TesseracT. Daniel Tompkins vocals are incredible throughout, his cleans sounding particularly great on "Echoes" – giving us one of the best choruses before following it up with another great one on "The Grey". The album offers engaging lyricism throughout and the instrumentation is at a pedigree one would expect for a band in the vanguard of this genre. The album gives us atmospheric moments, synths, meditative passages before blasting us with metal. In many ways the whole album does what the best tracks on Sleep Token's Take Me Back To Eden do. Each song and the album as a whole provide an expansive experience. And that's why it's my number one. More than any other album released this year, TesseracT's War of Being makes me want to sit down and listen to it from beginning to end.
Other great albums: SUPERBLOOM by Silent Planet; Fatalism by Polaris; Feral by Left To Suffer; Foregone by In Flames; Ashen by Humanity's Last Breath; The Sin of Human Frailty by END; Symptoms of Survival by Dying Wish; and The Death We Seek by Currents.
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bougiebutchbitch · 10 months
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comic concept from popular fandom that loads of people are interested in: this does not bring joy
comic concept from far less popular fandom that WAY fewer people are interested in: this one brings joy?????
why, brain. every time.
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