#posted this on instagram first. why the fuck is the tag system so bad on there. what has become
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My post-canon idea of them. I like to think their climate in the archipelago is not as hot as in the program, since it's just off the coast of japan. or japan-adjacent. Dunno.
#danganronpa#danganronpa2#danganronpafanart#komahina#nagitokomaeda#hajimehinata#posted this on instagram first. why the fuck is the tag system so bad on there. what has become#nix-art
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ok so i live in the us and sometimes i look in on conservative ideas on instagram (they like to tag posts blm and i follow the blm tag) and first id like to say I'm not a conservative. I mean honestly I'm not in any us major party because I dont think this system is salvagable at this point, I think capitalism is awful and doesn't work as well as people like to say. I'd say im far left but further than the us definition (because. the far left is still a bit conservative for supposedly being the far end of a political spectrum. i mean really.)
Where im going is,, the worst thing about conservatives is that you look at the shit they say and they have one fact at the start that's completely correct. Like yeah, showing id to vote to prevent voter fraud is a great idea but FUCKING HELL, it should NOT be connected to the ballot because then you have a list of who voted what and with the way the govt operates that could get dangerous fast. And yeah when blm starts trending again more poc can be in danger but thats more likely to be bigots reacting to protests than the actual protesters??
It just fills me with rage when theyre right about just a bit of it. And yeah im drunk but i also know things and the only thoughts my brain indulge in this state are big ones. Anyway I hate politics. I love talking about them but i hate the current state of this country and i am going to get the fuck out of here one day like. It's really hard to be a compassionate person in a political landscape like that of the US. If you care about people they call you a communist and being called that is bad because of that red scare bullshit we had ages ago? like. wtf. i dont even label myself politically at this point because im just like. "hey maybe we should just have basic human decency and it shouldnt be hard to get the bare minimum requirements for life."
okay imma go to sleep before I go on a rant about the US's crazy housin market and why landlords are bad.
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E-girls are ruining vinnies life
Vinnie Hacker x Reader
Warnings: smut, +18, NSFW, kinky sex
A/N: this is my first vinnie writing, and my second smut. Please go easy on me (unlike vinnie...)
Never in his life did he think this would happen. In the short time he’s been on social media, he’s kept his relationship life private. Fearing the criticism the pore girl would inevitably get. He had seen it countless times to his friends, as soon as they’d announce they had found someone, instant hateful words would flood not only their comments, but their partners. He swore he wouldn’t ever outright publicly show his girlfriend, or announce that he was finally taken. That was, until he met her.
Surprisingly, very little hate or criticism came for them when he announced it that fateful day.
He had posted just a short video, a few seconds of him laying down, with her head resting in his neck. Her face being hidden by her hair. He had posted it to his second account, testing the waters there rather than his main account.
After a few days, and many people speculating, asking who she was, some trying to figure it out, even some claiming it was someone, when it never was. Even some claiming they weren’t dating, just friends. He never responded to any of the questions or comments.
Days had passed, with relatively good reactions to it, they both decided to take it to the next step, by officially posting it to his main account, outing them completely to the world.
He had decided to use the yellow trend to do it, thinking it would be a perfect trend for the purpose.
The first few pictures were of his friends, some from shoots they did, to some when they went skating, to just candid pictures. But after about 3 pictures with his friends, came a photo of her. She was sitting in the grass, a lone dandelion in her hand as she smiled shyly for the photo. Next was a photo of them standing in front of the mirror, she was in front, with his arm securely around her. Next was them standing in the same mirror, only he was dipping her slightly as he bent down to kiss her. A few more pictures of them flashed in the video, ending with a small video he took the night prior. They layer in bed, faces being only lit by the brightness of the phone as he laid on top of her. Their lips only centimeters apart, as he whispered I love you. Both smiling as he leans in, connecting their lips as the video ends.
Love was flooding his comments, so many saying how beautiful she was, saying how happy he looked, and how happy they were for him.
The other side, was people asking who she was, nobody being able to figure it out.
That was due to the fact that, they wouldn’t be able to find out. Because in the world of social media, she didn’t exist.
Early on she told him she wasn’t a social media person. She never had an Instagram, a Facebook, Twitter, nothing but a YouTube account that she’d never post on. Only there to watch videos and play music.
They met by pure luck, at the skatepark. She was sitting by herself, reading a book that engrossed her. She didn’t notice his eyes trainer on her the entire time, fully captivated by the pages.
He finally built up the courage, and being pushed by his friends, to go sit with her.
He was a nervous wreck, barley being able to compose himself enough to say hello and his name.
She thought it was cute, how he stumbled over his words when he talked to her. It was endearing, seeing just how flustered the very attractive man was.
To this day he wonders how he didn’t screw up. But he hadn’t, getting her number an hour after talking. Promising to take her out that weekend. And the rest, was history for them.
Over the next few weeks, he would randomly post a video of them together, usually on his second account. They both would sit and laugh at some of the comments, finding it Hilarious how crazy people were getting at trying to figure out who she was. Some came to the conclusion that she didn’t have any, with most begging her to make one.
It had been a relatively uneventful day, some might even call it boring.
Vinnie had been out most of the day, informing her of the plans he had with some of his friends. Promising her to be home that night, sealing his promise with a chaste kiss to her lips as he ran out the door, her heart thumping in her chest as he walked away.
She laid on their shared bed, her legs bare as they rubbed against the soft blanket.
Only odorning a black tee shirt that covered her panties, barely shielding her from the cold outside. Thanking the heavens for the hearing system as she laid there, contemplating.
Agoraphobic played in the speakers as she laid there, drowning out any and all noise. She had grown a strong liking to the artist corpse, finding herself playing his music or humming the lyrics through the day. Vinnie would sometimes make fun of her, saying that she loved him more than her own boyfriend. She would scoff, kissing his plump lips, reminding him the love she had for the curly headed boy.
The song finally ending, changing to the next in her playlist. A smile disarming at her lips when she heard it. While agoraphobic was her favorite, there was just something special when she’s hear e girls are ruining my life. Vinnie would joke that this song was meant for her, how it reminded him of her each time he heard the lyrics.
She held her phone to her chest, looking up at the bright led lights above her. ‘Fuck it’ she thought, pulling her phone from her chest, going to the App Store, and downloading the one app she swore she’d never use.
One video she thought, just one. She looked at his videos first, reading a few of the contents, her heart thumping in her chest. An outcry of people asking him to have her make an account, some even begging him.
It wasn’t that she hated social media, it was just it had never crossed her mind as something she wanted to get into. She knew how popular vinnie and his friends were, having seen them when he would show her. She had especially been worried about making one when she first started dating him, fearing someone would find out and out them before they were ready.
She was even more fearful in a way when they announced it, fearing the ridicule she would face if she made one. But the amount of love people were showering both them and her in each of the videos, made her heart soar in her chest. Finally making her decision, she got to work.
His phone was vibrating in his pocket, confusion filling him. It wasn’t a phone call, no, it was notifications going off.
He pulled his phone out, seeing a plethora of tags from his friends flash over the screen. His brows knitted together in confusion, not understanding what was going on. Why was he being tagged and sent this one tiktok?
He got his answer when he opened a link sent by Jordan. He red the text from him, even more confused when he did. ‘You have to see this.’ The text red, seeing a link sent right after.
Shock filled him when he watched it, questions filling his mind as he sat there, eyes glued to the screen.
It was a video posted by his girlfriend, from her own account. It was simple really, well, that’s a bad word for it.
She sat on the floor, leaning against their shared bed. A mirror proper in front of her, showing her and their empty bed.
He had the mirror installed in front of the bed a month prior, contemplating on having it placed above the bed.
It was a surprise for her, having it done the day of their 5 month anniversary. Worry filled him that she wouldn’t like it or find it weird, but he was proven wrong that same night. It was one of the greatest nights they had, finding every way to fuck in front of it, their pleasure heightened with being able to watch as they both came undone.
Since then, they used it every time. Being able to sit in front of it, with her facing it as he makes her watch as he slams into her, loving being able to pull her hair back as moans slip from her lips as he makes eye contact through the mirror.
She sat on the floor, only wearing one of his black shirts, barely covering her clothes core. She was sitting there, a chuckle making its way out of him when he heard the song. He knew if she ever made an acount or video, she would use one of corpses songs. She loves his music, barely being able to deny the fact due to how much she’d listen to him. E girls he knew was one of her favorites, finding her humping the lyrics on the daily when she’s being going the most mundane things.
His eyes bulged out of his head when he looked behind her, his heart thumping in his chest even worse. His cock throbbing in his pants when he saw it.
There in the background, was a pair of handcuffs secured on their headboard.
Having used them only the night before, his cock grew almost painful Ashe thought of the memories.
The sounds of her moans ripping out from her as she tried pulling free her hands as he rocked harshly into her played in his mind. Making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything beside her and the memories. And the thought of what was to come when he got home.
His heart pounded in his chest when he looked at the comments, one sticking out. People had caught on to the handcuffs, not many, but the numbers were rising. But one comment, had one reply. ‘ARE THOSE HANDCUFFS I SEE 👀’ it red, being highlighted by being liked by the creator, with a reply by creator. ‘Like my bracelets? 😊’
His footsteps echoed throughout the large home, barley being able to hear them due to his heart pounding in his ears. He could feel the blood coursing through him as he bears his door, hearing nothing from the other side.
He opens up the door, instantly his eyes trained on her like a hawk. There she laid on their bed, again, only clad in his shirt.
Her eyes met his, a smile forming on her face. “Hey lovey.” She chirped, getting up from their bed, a pep in her step as she neared him.
She got up on her toes to reach him, him bending his head down, connecting their lips in a sweet kiss. She could feel the need in his lips as he wrapped his arms around her torso, feeling him tighten his grip ever so slightly.
He opens his mouth slightly, darting his tongue out, licking her lip lightly. Her granting him access as they stood there in each other’s arms. She pulled away with a chuckle. “What’s gotten into you?” She asked, a teasing smile on her face. “Take a wild guess.” He grunted, crashing his lips to hers again. She pulled away again, chuckling at his grunt of frustration when she did. “I don’t know? Tell me?” She teased, making his grip on her tighten even harder. “Maybe, it has something to do with that little video you posted. Maybe it might also have to do with the fact that you hadn’t hid those handcuffs. Now everyone will know.” He grunted, tightening his arms even harder around her.
She could feel his cock pressing hard against her stomach, excitement growing inside her.
He leaned in to crash his lips with hers again, but she out her hand in the way before he could. He looked at her questionly, making her chuckle. “Before we do anything. I need your help with another video.”
It took every ounce of sheer willpower for him not to bend her over and fuck her right there when they recorded it. His cock throbbing even worse the longer it took. But in the end, even he had to admit, it was worth it.
Same song as her last one, only this time, the video was entirely different.
She had the camera facing her side profile, her facing him and not the camera. Him discreetly out of the frame.
As the lyrics started, he reached his hand up, grabbing her by the throat as she lip synced the lyrics, his hand having a firm hold on her delicate neck. As the song continued, he moved his hand up, pulling her bottom lip out, sticking his thumb between her reddened plum lips.
She gave a simple caption, one they knew would make everyone who watched it go insane. ‘The other version.’
A groan rips from the back of his throat, her hands tangling in his curls harshly. Their tongues battled as they pant, neither one wanting to pull away from one another.
His hands held tightly to her thighs, gripping the soft flesh as a moan rips out of her. His rings axing to the sensation as she pulls his hair even harder.
He pulls his lips from hers, letting out a chuckle when she chased his lips momentarily. He duped his head down into her neck, running his lips along the skin, until he felt her legs wrap around him as a moan slips past her lips. He starts sucking harshly on her skin, feeling her trembling under him.
He widens her legs, looking down between them, letting out a grunt. He can see the wetness through her panties, nearly smelling her desire. He pulled them down her legs, watching in amazement when she opened up her legs to him. He had seen her naked plenty of times, but it still caught his breath every time he saw her core.
He went back to her neck, sucking on the bruised skin. He ran his hand down her thigh, feeling her tremble as small whines slipped past her lips.
He pulled his head from her neck, hovering his lips just enough over hers. A smile broke out on his face as his fingers finally met her core, a large moan breaking through her.
His fingers rut harshly through her velvety walls, making her yell out. His cock throbbed in his pants as her core sucked his fingers inside of her, making him want to replace his hand with his painfully hard cock.
She can hardly breathe as his fingers hardly pound inside of her, waves of pure bliss engulfing her at the feel. His rings adding a level of chill, making her shake as he speeds up.
He dips his head back into her neck as he bites her skin, rutting his hips into the mattress to relieve some of the pain.
As if it couldn’t get better, she feels him thrust his fingers even faster, making her jump when he hits that one spot. It’s been his mission, every time they had sex, he had to hit it each time. Whether it was with his cock or hands, he had to.
He feels her walls tightening as her moans grow louder, feeling her walls quiver slightly. He speeds his hands up, adding his thumb to rub her clit harshly, making her cry out. “Yeah that’s right, such a good girl.” He whispers, making her cry out. “God I love how your walls just squeeze my fingers, wishing it was my cock. Wouldn’t you love that? To feel my cock pound inside of you? To have it suck me dry as I make it mine forever?” “Yes! Please!” She yells out, making him chuckle. “Then cum for me sweet girl.”
A large groan breaks out of him when she lets out a yell, thrashing around as he feels her release, feeling her core tightened and suck his fingers inside of her even more. A cry breaking past her lips as it all grows too much.
She pulls his pants from him, eagerly trying to rip them from his body.
They both lay naked, chests flushed together. He feels his heart hammer against his chest, feeling hers beat in the same rhythm.
A groan slips past his lips as her hands glide along his shaft, making his arms shake as pleasure courses through him.
He grabs his cock in his hands, lining himself up to her entrance. A hiss breaking past him as his painfully hard head slips between her lips, the wetness of her core nearly making him explode.
He lays his forehead on hers, both taking in a deep breath as he eases himself inside her. They both shudder in a breath as he enters her, both shaking as his cock slides inside her. “Fuck I love your pussy baby.” He groans out, kissing her sloppily. He momentarily doesn’t move, stealing his breath.
He did this every time, always giving her a couple of seconds to get used to the feeling of his cock stretching her. Always easing into it slowly, rocking his hips at a slow place, gradually increasing his speed of his thrusts.
He wasn’t much of a speed guy, he always would go slowly but hard, not growing in speed till they both neared the edge.
He pulled out slowly, slamming himself back in hardly, moving her and the bed back as a cry rips out of her. He feels her walls close tightly around him as he thrusts inside of her, making him groan out. She pulls his hair harshly, pulling his head back as he hisses out. Making him slam into her harder.
They both can’t help but yell out as time passes, making it nearly impossible to stay quiet. His cock slamming into her harder, a cry ripping out of him when her nails take down his back. Making him arch into her. His hand slips from her thighs to her neck, pushing on the sides as she struggles for air.
Their lips collide in a sloppy kiss as his thrusts speed up, his hair sweaty and dangling in her face.
Knots grow in their stomachs as they feel their release approach, making him speed his trusts more. “I-I wanna cum. Please vin, fuck please.” She moans out, making him grip her hip even harder. He bends his head back into her neck, biting the skin harshly as his thrusts grow sloppy. “Hold it.” He grunts into her ear, making her cry out as she tries to ward off the impending orgasm.
He feels her wetness seeping down his thighs as he slammed even harder, making her cry out as she shakes, trying her hardest not to cum. “Fuck vinnie I can’t, fuck please I can’t.” She sobs out, tears streaming down her face as she shakes, using every last strength inside her to hold it. She feels it breaking as it approaches, nearly breaking as tears stream from her eyes. He gowns out in her neck, feeling her walls tighten and shake as he tries holding on. “Cum for me.” He groans out, a groan breaking through him as she screams out. Wave of pure Ecstasy take over her body as she squeezes him inside her, making her cry out as she violently thrashes.
He can’t hold it any longer, feeling himself break as he yells out a deep groan as he cumsinside her, making both shake as her walls suck out every drop he lets out, making him shake as waves of white hot pleasure rake over one another.
They both lay there, his arms giving out as they shake. Their arms grabbing onto one another as they try calming the aftershocks of their orgasms. He uses all his strength to lean up, connecting their lips as they pant.
Feeling themselves sink into the soft mattress, they both lay on their sides, his clock still buried inside her, making both their eyes grow heavy. Before they fall into a deep slumber, they connect their lips.
#vinnie hacker imagine#vinnie hacker#vinnie hacker x reader#vinnie hacker smut#vinnie#tiktok#imagines#smut
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Thick Skull - SMAU*
Part 3
CorpseHusband x FemReader - Y/N
Desc: Brooke leaves, already making your day a little worse, but it gets better after streaming and playing some games with Corpse. Of course, with your luck, your day seems to be bad again when you read a bad comment and when you realize it’s came from someone who was your best friend.
Warnings: Cussing
Notes: i do go through all my comments so just know that you will be added to the taglist if you comment on a post or if you message me! :) also, my taglist for non-smau series/stories is just one taglist. you’ll be added to that one if you ask me to add you to the “non-smau taglist.” i only have two, it’s not individual for each series :)
i hope you guys enjoy!
and a quick question; if i made an smau series or even a non-smau series with an oc, would you guys enjoy that? i think i’d have fun writing that.
i’m also thinking of posting an smau series on my instagram so, if you want more, follow me there!
instagram: @/auramindedd
ah, one more thing b4 i post; i’m working on a non-smau post for “first meet” and for “talent.”
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The streaming starts later that night. You’re honestly feeling so much better now that you’re with Corpse, streaming and playing Animal Crossing. You give him a tour of your island, insisting you hold his hand while doing so.
“I decorated a house for you,” Corpse gasps; the cutest thing you’ve heard besides his laughs, giggles, and chuckles. “I assumed you like black a lot so, I made it mainly black, grey, and white, but I made this little area where we can read books together. And it’s colorful.”
“Gosh, you’re so fucking cute.” He mumbles. You catch on, and unsurprisingly, so does the chat. “Thank you, Y/N, I like it a lot.”
You give him a tour of the rest of your island. Every now and then, you look at the chat as the two of you are walking around and doing whatever you can on your island. The chat is filled with people shipping you two, telling you how cute you two are and how cute you two would be together. Thank God for being faceless - they can’t see how much your blushing, especially with Corpse’s compliments and nicknames.
For another two hours, you two build more of your cottagecore village. You only built a little bit of it because you and Corpse were too busy helping animals get food and a house. The pigs are your favorite, especially the baby ones.
After ending the stream, you decide to head to Twitter and talk to some supporters. It’s something you like to do every now and then. It’s been harder because of how fast you’ve been growing, but you’ll never stop doing your best to talk to them.
You try to only get to the good ones, but of course, as an influencer, you’re going to get hateful DM’s. They’ve never bothered you, but one in particular really did hurt you.
You’d never be enough for Corpse. I don’t even know how you two became friends. It’s pretty obvious he’s using you for a publicity stunt, that way fans can think he’s dating someone. Let it get through your thick skull.
It came from someone who doesn’t even have their account fully made. Their username is still the default one Twitter gives you, but this DM still got to you. You sit in your bed, reading it over and over again, letting it get through your thick skull.
You don’t even know what to think of it. You’re starting to feel like it’s true. Though, this person is so irrelevant. They’re not someone you know, they’re not even someone that supports you, Corpse, or any of your friends. What business would they have in any of your guys’ lives?
Maybe Corpse is using you as a publicity stunt. The both of you have been getting a lot of attention recently because people have been assuming you two are dating. Corpse has been getting a lot more views on his videos with you in them and you’ve been getting a lot more views on your videos with him in them. Maybe people do believe you two are using each other for clout, but that’d never be the case.
Now, it’s starting to hit you. Why did it hurt so much when one person - that you know of - assumes Corpse is using you for publicity and clout? People have said that about you and Rae, Brooke, Sykkuno, and Ludwig, but it never bothered you so much.
You think it over and over, and you can only go back to one thing. You’re starting to catch feelings for Corpse and the last thing you’d want to know or find out is that he’s using you for clout.
It never occurred to you, that even though you have a smaller platform than the rest of your friends, being in Corpse’s videos/streams, and him being in yours, has really given you two a lot of attention and this could be the reason he’s still talking to you. You’re sure Corpse is not that type of person, he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met, but with past experiences, you can’t rule that possibility out completely.
“Stupid fucking DM!” You shout, just wanting to get it out of your system.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Rae calls out.
“I’m fine!” You let her know before you literally jump in bed. You get a message from Austin, and as much as you don’t want to answer it, you do.
You make a mental note to change his name in your phone. You know it’s petty, but you just don’t feel like you have the same friendship with Austin as you did the day he came to visit you.
“Hey,” He greets after you answer the phone. His voice is hesitant and he’s being cautious, afraid he may say the wrong thing even after just answering the phone.
“Hi,” You greet back.
“Look, Y/N, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I didn’t... I just don’t want to lose you. You and Corpse-”
“Please,” You sigh. “Don’t bring Corpse into this. He doesn’t need to be bought up in this. Whatever is going on between the two of us has nothing to do with him.” You realize how harsh your voice is and how protective you got over Corpse.
“It does because he made me get angry.” Austin defends himself.
“He didn’t do anything, A. You’re mad because you think we’re together or that we have feelings for each other. You made up some shit in your head, assuming whatever the fuck you assumed, and that’s what got you mad, not Corpse.” You can’t help being protective over Corpse.
Austin sighs, “Y/N, it’s pretty fucking obvious you have feelings for him and not for me.”
“Austin,” Right now, at this moment, you just want to rip your hair out. “You can’t tell me who I have feelings for and who I don’t have feelings for.”
“When will you get it through your thick skull that’s he’s using you, Y/N?” This hurts. Bad. Your mind goes straight back to the DM from Twitter and you immediately hang up on him.
You’ve lost your best friend, you can’t stop making up bad scenarios in your head about Corpse and how your guys’ friendship could end whenever you two start losing the attention, and you can’t help the tears that are spilling out of your eyes.
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Taglist:: message me or comment if you wanna be added!
*i update almost everyday*
@letsloveimagines @liljennyx3 @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @blackheartemojivibes @lo-manburg @walkingonchairs @strawberrydonkey @tayloryorkscurls @bluepancakemix @prettylittlealiengirl @yeetmymood @victoria-a567 @loraleiix @moonlightsimp @jades-bullshit @teenloves @greenie-of-shield @fanworrior @thefvckvp @bigdaddysatan @mirahg @rosy-feels @arossebyanyothername @kitsamii @lollipop0605 @happyyyandcrazyyy @maraudingmarauder @stickystrawberrysyrup @majasophieanna
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Tags:: ignore-
#corpse#corpse fic#corpse husband#corpse husband fic#corpse x reader#corpse x y/n#cute#corpse husband smau#corpse husband social media au
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i’m bad too 18 || kdy & reader
title: i’m bad too - drabble series
pairing: kim doyoung x reader
genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au,
word count: 1.8k
warnings: none for this chapter
a/n: just two more chapters left to the end !! :D
taglist: @wownajaemin @crescent-iak @ncttboo @byunbaekby @jinfizz @doyoungyoung @ahgayeah0305 @doyobun @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr @m1ss-foodi3 @hcwurld
← previous chapter || next chapter →
Doyoung’s favorite drink is caramel coffee.
He doesn’t like it hot—you recall him mentioning, he prefers it iced, and he finishes it so fast that the cubes don’t melt and condensation doesn’t drip off the sides of the plastic cup.
So you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at this very café. Especially since it is his spot, but it also shouldn’t be news to you when you’ve come here everyday for the past two weeks in hopes of running into him.
You wonder how he’s been doing. It’s been months since you’ve last seen him; forever ago since you saw him with that girl Karina, and you’re curious if he thinks about you as often as you think about him. He’s on your mind daily, sometimes by the hour depending on what you’re doing, and he feels like a drug you can’t quite quit (despite the shortage of time you’ve done fine without him).
And you admit willingly that your feelings for him come rushing back the moment you see that pretty smile dressed upon his lips when he laughs from his chest at the video his friend shows on his phone.
But you continue to sit in the corner of the shop, face behind your device as if you’re immersed in the technology when you’ve got your eyes on him the entire time.
Instagram doesn’t do justice. You never know what he’s really up to, you learn, because his feed only shows the happy pictures he poses for. But his stories—you stay for that. There’s some nights you’d catch him posting something with a scenery, a little heartfelt description written along the horizon, and it gives you a glimpse of how he’s vaguely feeling. Maybe they’re for you, well, you were hoping they were, but for a guy who isn’t the greatest in the romance department, he’s very artistic, so it wouldn’t be surprising if it weren’t for you.
Maybe it was for Karina.
Okay, there might be a slight chance that you were bitter about that chick. She hung out with Doyoung often, from what you speculate, possibly involved in the same friend group, having mutuals together (which, already is how she’s so different from you). She roughly reminds you of that emotion that runs through your veins when you first saw Doyoung talking to Joy; that clenched jaw, tightened fist, and a deep swallow to push down all your anger. Joy was just a friend, and you eventually learned that without having to go the hard route, but Karina… didn’t give you any reason to believe her friendly motives. But Doyoung isn’t yours, you have to remind yourself, and because he isn’t, there’s no need to get upset.
For one, the times you followed (don’t judge, you missed him but didn’t want to approach him if he wasn’t ready) him, Karina always stuck to Doyoung like glue. She was practically joined by the hip; batting her pretty long lashes, cheeks brushed with that coral pink blush like she’s all embarrassed because sweet boy Doyoung accidentally touched the back of her hand, and whenever she got the chance, she’d hold onto his arm tightly, pretending that she couldn’t catch her balance in those Ultraboost sneakers that were basically socks on a sole with no support.
“Ugh, you always do this,” one of his friends says, loud enough that you could hear from where you’re sitting. “How do you manage to beat me every time?”
“I learned the tricks,” Doyoung retorts, voice stable but his face all smug. “Doesn’t look like you did though.”
The other guy rolls his eyes before tossing his phone onto the table. “Forget that dumb game. I’m actually curious about something,” he begins, leaning over with his forearms pressed against the surface. There’s a mischievous smile that tugs on the ends of his mouth, and you rest back in your seat in curiosity when his tone changes. “You and Karina. What are the two of you?”
You nearly snap the pen you’d been fiddling in your hand.
Fucking Karina. Again. This bitch just keeps being brought up, doesn’t she?
Doyoung shifts in his seat, hands with his phone dropping onto his lap. A brow quirks, narrowing a strange gaze at his friend. “Why are you asking?”
“Mmm, heard there’s rumors going around about Karina liking you.”
“And,” Doyoung takes a sip of his iced coffee. “Why’s that matter?”
The friend clicks his tongue, groaning that Doyoung isn’t picking up the not-so-subtle hints. “Because. Have you seen her? Or are you just blind. She’s smokin’ hot like… literally any guy would want to get with her. And you too, which is kinda crazy—”
“—is it impossible to believe that someone attractive can like me?”
“I mean, no offense Doyoung, you don’t exactly look like the type that would sweep those types of girls off their feet. You spent most of the time indoors! Watching movies, playing games, maybe sometimes you go out to clubs and parties but barely and it’s with our geeky friends. Even I can come to terms that I’m a geek. Jocks or bad boys are what she would be into.”
Doyoung sighs. “Where are you going with this?”
“You should date her. Since, you know, you have that chance.”
He shrugs, bending the straw of his drink like he’s occupied with something else that’s going on in his mind. He’s quieter than usual, especially around a friend, and it’s left you pondering what’s got him so tied up. But then, you hear it.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
His guy scoffs in belief. “You’re waiting for someone. Who? That chick you were having friends with benefits with like a year ago? Dude, she was also out of your league. Rode a motorcycle, didn’t talk to anyone, hot, and somehow you got her attention. But dude, she’s been gone for a while now.”
Doyoung purses his lips. “Told her to come to me whenever she’s ready. Karina and I don’t really have something like… that. Not worth dropping the chances of her coming back and seeing me with Karina.”
“She’s got you that bad?”
A soft smile pulls on his lips, and he nods confidently. “Yeah, she does.”
When Doyoung and his friend pack up their bags to leave, he halts in his tracks. “Actually, you head out first. I’ll meet you later tonight, I won’t be going to the pre-game.”
The latter stares at Doyoung suspiciously. “Really? What’s up with you? Thought you said you were tagging along.”
“Yeah but… I gotta do something real quick. I’ll meet up with you.”
Strange, you think to yourself, because Doyoung seemed like he was going to leave too, until that very last second. Then, you notice something. When his friend leaves through those double doors, he turns and looks directly at you.
At you. Like he sees you.
You’re not a ghost, but you’re pretty good at camouflaging yourself with a crowd. You’re not the prettiest nor the ugliest, so being average has an advantage in this field, but Doyoung isn’t like normal people. He sees you, and even though you’re in a black baseball cap with casual clothes to match, he still can spot you in a sea of people.
“You’re here,” he says, his tone between a question and a statement. Part of you expects him to be angry, fuming with rage because you’re here instead of asking him to meet up. “You’re… actually here.”
“I’m surprised you found me,” you retort, standing up from your seat and gathering up your belongings. “I thought I was good at blending with people.”
“I’m in love with you, you expect me to not see the girl I’m head over heels for?”
You pause.
Bag not even slung over your shoulder, your heart does the complete opposite of your motions and races. He what?
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Doyoung straightens his posture, trying his best to read the expression on your face. “Why… Why haven’t you called or reached out? Were you not ready until now?”
“I thought… you had a girlfriend,” you admitted, and truthfully, you’re not sure how Doyoung manages to get you to spill out your insecurities so easily. His eyes widened, and before he could say anything else, you interrupt his train of thought. “But that was months ago. It’s fine. I trained, and I’m back in the field, and I wanted to see how you were doing, that's all.”
“But you didn’t want to call me?”
You clear your throat, drifting your gaze elsewhere. “Like I said before. Thought you had a girlfriend. I don’t want to interfere with anything in your life that could be normal.”
He has a finger on your chin, directing your attention back to him. Your heart skips a beat this time, air sucked out of your lungs from his stare, and you swallow. “I waited for you, though. If you’re ready to come back, please come back. I have never dated anyone since I left your place, and I don’t intend to either. I made a promise and I’m keeping it.”
You hated reporting here.
There’s something ominous about this warehouse; it’s not just the people who occupy it, but it’s the building itself. Outside, it looks like an abandoned stone mill. Worn down walls, windows shattered, and located in a dangerous neighborhood, secluded from all the up-and-coming buildings that are being constructed a couple blocks down. The cars that came for drop off didn’t come here either, so it made the building even more mysterious and seemingly empty.
But the moment you stepped in the front doors—it’s like a factory.
A factory that manufactured everything from guns, grenades, to bombs, and so on. Everything that you wore on missions, everything you held between your fingertips, and everything you utilized in the field were all made here.
The headquarters.
Upon entering, you had to go through security. Guns are to be logged in, identities are checked through the system, quick but yet thorough pat down, and phones are chipped until you leave the premises. Needless to say, they were careful and even someone like you with so much skill and worthiness cannot go undetected here.
“Boss is asking for you.” A gorgeous girl says, clipboard in her arms. She’s got her hair tied in a low bun, glasses on with thick frames, and a pencil skirt to pair with her white blouse.
“I asked for boss, but yeah, that.”
She nods, bowing her head just slightly and you’re wondering how she even got in this field. Shy, quiet, and fragile, she seems, and you wonder if she knows what’s actually happening around here. “Please follow me.”
She takes you down a narrow hallway, far from where the other workers were posted, and takes you through these metal doors that looked too heavy for her to push, but the guards standing by the sides do it for her instead.
“Head on in. He’s waiting.”
“Right,” you gesture her a head nod in thanks.
Taeyong is seated at his desk, two additional guards standing on either side of the wood, and he’s fidgeting with the pen in his hand. “Lookie here. Our star player. Ten’s little sister. What do I owe the honor?”
“I want out.”
#doyoung fanfic#nct fanfic#doyoung smut#doyoung x reader#nct x reader#gyukultfics#idk what to tag these anymore
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The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Prologue: History
Characters: OFC (Shane Benton), OMC (Elliott Thomas)
Summary: Shane Benton is a hard-working physical therapist and a loving girlfriend…but her boyfriend has a less than desirable way of showing it.
In case you’ve fallen behind or want to read more of my drabbles!
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: Language, mature themes, angst, infidelity, domestic violence (moderate). Yeah, this may be a tad rough for some readers, but I tried to be mild, and mostly implicit. It was hard still, to see my fictional offspring go through this, even if she gives as good as she gets!
Author’s Note: Oh, y’all. When I needed a break from the sweet tenderness of Chapter 8, I came here and put Shane through some hell. (You can blame one of my friends I was talking about for this angst as they’re the one who put me into angsty headspace by cheating on my other friend! It’s been weighing on me! But I guess at least I’ve been able to use it!) I really hope you enjoy a bit of backstory on our heroine! I really liked writing her ferocity.
Also, I meant to have this posted yesterday, but because of some tragedy in one of my other fandoms (and the world, in general! Rest In Power, Chadwick Boseman!) and a bit of craziness in my personal life (my HS bestie wanted to hang out this weekend, so I spent a lot of time with her…also…I’ve been talking to a real live fella! OMG! And it’s entirely too soon to say that I like him, but like…I very much do…but he’s far away and recently single and things are complicated in just, several ways, so it just can’t happen at this point. But…like, we have been talking a ton recently, and…sigh. I have found it difficult to focus on the matters at hand. But, rest assured, I’m working on Chapter Nine, and it will be up just as soon as I find my rhythm!
Disclaimer: Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. (Well, this isn’t a super fun chapter, I guess!)
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@bloodyinspiredfuck
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@oddsnendsfanfics
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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! (Also, if you’ve asked and aren’t on the list...well...that would be because I forgot to add you and reminding me will not offend or upset me. I think I might have ADD, or something, and being reminded about things is kind of how I survive!) Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)
X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X
5 years ago-
Shane got home from work, exhausted. The new electronic documentation system they'd just implemented was kicking her ass. And Anita's, whom she constantly had to help with it, all the while hearing Anita bellow "When can I retire?!" which lost its charm on about the third day.
"Elliott, I'm home." She didn't smell anything cooking, despite the fact that she knew he was off all day today. Whatever. She was used to him doing virtually nothing but whatever hipster bullshit he got up to on Instagram and YouTube, trying to get off the ground as an influencer with a brand…spare her. Since when did that become a job? She didn’t mind to get takeout though, if only she knew he wasn’t cooking. Maybe she should have asked. "Honey, I could have picked something up if--" she was startled by him in the doorway to the hall, in only his anime boxers, looking like he was trying to not be surprised she was home. "What?"
"Nothing, just…excited to see you! How was your day?" Elliott asked, scratching the back of his neck, displacing his mid-length, slightly moppy light brown hair, already disheveled. That was his tell. Something was up. She knew it.
"What's going on? Are you hiding something from me?"
"Why would you ask me that? Don't you trust me, baby?!" he guilted. Knowing just the buttons to push for empathy. It wasn't gonna work today. The machine was all out of that selection and full of his bullshit currency.
"Now that you mention it, no. I sure as hell don't." she walked around to enter the hall and investigate the rest of the house. "Let me through." he wouldn't budge. He had the advantage of physical size, but she was still wearing her work uniform including sneakers…he was more than half naked. She stomped hard on his instep and smacked him in the ear as he doubled over. She felt marginally bad for that in the moment…at best he'd get mild tinnitus for a while. At worst, he could have permanent hearing damage. She'd check later for blood coming out of his ear and see if she should feel worse about it then.
She rounded the corner to their bedroom. The quilt her grandma had made her was carelessly crumpled with the top sheet and blanket at the foot board. She noticed a swatch of an orangey red lipstick on her pillow. The same shade smudged onto the full mouth of the panicking strawberry blonde frantically donning clothes in front of her antique mirror, and the same shade, she was guessing, that was smeared across certain places on Elliott’s body that were now covered by those boxers that she had always hated. You know what, Elliott, she thought to herself. Fuck Bleach, and fuck you!
"I'm sure you're a lovely person who's just been lied to by a very charming and manipulative man, but…you still only have ten seconds to get to my front door before I call the cops." Shane threatened the girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty-one…and he was thirty-three.
"She's my guest." Elliott defended.
"You're not even on the lease. Your credit was too bad." she said over her shoulder while still squared off with the girl. She turned back to her. "I'm trying to be calm here, sweetie. But do not make me tell you even one more time to get out of my…fucking…house." the girl picked up her shoes and a small messenger bag from the floor near where Shane stood, keeping as wide a berth as she could, and skittered out of the room in terror.
"How many times, Elliott?"
"Don't do this, Shane."
"No, I think this is something we should do. Count the times you’ve broken my trust. Kissed another girl, fooled around with one, fucked one…I mean…I've never caught you in our bed before, so this LOOKS like a first…I sure hope it is…because I don't recall you doing any laundry since you've lived here. And if I thought you let me sleep in the same sheets that you…I can't even look at you, you son of a bitch."
"It's not what you think, Shane." he said, calmly, as if he'd simply picked up the wrong consistency of peanut butter from the store. The wrong brand of milk. Not that he ever did the shopping.
"Bullshit. Bull. Shit. Elliott. I come home and find you like this, and there's a girl in OUR bedroom, and her lipstick is all over MY pillow, and your balls, no doubt. Not gonna make you prove it, because at this point, I don't give a shit anymore. I've lost count of how many times I've forgiven you, even times you didn't care enough to ask me to. Times you probably don't even know that I know about. But it's done. You're gonna pack up all your things. And you're gonna be gone by the time I get home from work tomorrow. And don't expect me to be late…because I will not be."
"You're acting crazy. You can't do this. Where will I go, Shane?"
"That's not my concern anymore. Find an apartment that accepts Likes and subscriptions and followers as rent and cherish it. But your free ride here is done. I'm not your mom, your maid, your cook, or…anything to you anymore, Elliott."
He was getting angry now. His nostrils flared and his breaths came more quickly.
"Is this because you're fucking another guy? Hmm?" he got in her space, but she was out of the bedroom and back into the hallway. She shouted back.
"Oh, NOW you're gonna try to deflect this onto me? When in holy hell would I have time to get with anyone but you, when we don't even have sex anymore?! It's been, what, two, three months?"
"You work with guys."
"You have no idea who I am. To think that I would do something like that. No idea at all. If I don't have time at home, I certainly don't have time for sex at work, and you can ask any of my coworkers, male OR female. That place is an unsexy, unholy shit show 90% of the time. And the other ten, it's just above bearable."
"Well, I'm still not going anywhere."
"You are. Like I said. You're not on the lease. And all I have to do is call the landlord and tell him you're here without my permission and he'll have the cops here." she had gotten a glass of water…although she needed something stronger, and was standing by the sink with it. Her mouth was getting dry. She couldn't take much more of this without breaking.
"You wouldn't really do that to me though. I'm the only man who can give you what you want." he grabbed her by the arm, hard.
"Let go of me, Elliott."
"Or what." he asked for it. She got the other instep, his groin, and threw water in his face. She grabbed her purse and bolted out the door.
She got quickly on the phone with Heather her closest friend who had recently been hired on as a secretary for her clinic.
"Yello." she said, cheerful.
"Two things: can I crash at your place tonight and what kind of phone do you have?" she asked.
"Yes and a Galaxy something, I dunno, but what the fresh hell are you talking about?"
"I'll explain when I get there. I’m on my way to CVS for some essentials. Do you need anything?"
"Sounds like we need wine and ice cream!"
"Already on the list." She thanked Heather and hung up, calling her landlord.
“This’s Sam.” She heard over the receiver.
“Sam, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a situation at the house.”
“What’s goin’ on?” He asked concerned. She’d never rented from anyone so kind. He’d become almost family. Like an uncle.
“Long story short, pest control. I’m kicking Elliott out and he has until the time I get home from work tomorrow. I told him you’d be there with the cops if he didn’t comply because he’s not on the lease. Is there any way you can help me and make that good?”
“He hurt ya, Shane?”
“Not, umm…not physically.” Although she had been rubbing the place on her arm where he’d grabbed her, certain there would be a bruise.
“That’s all I need to know. I’ve got a buddy or two on the squad here in town. I’m sure they won’t mind to help me out. You need anything?”
She held back the tears until she could hang up. “I’m staying over at a friend’s tonight and headed into CVS now for a few things I didn’t take time to grab after I kneed him in the groin and ran out.” She had just pulled into the parking lot.
“Well I’m nearby if you need anything when you’re back home.”
“Thanks. I guess just watch for smoke from the place for now. I don’t know what he might do, honestly.”
Up Next: Prologue: Onset of Injury (Sy)
#netflix sand castle#sand castle#captain syverson#captain syverson fanfic#captain syverson x ofc#sigh for sy#hes in this chapter in spirit ok
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What motorbike leathers can and can’t do:
(I’m so sorry this took me so long I got caught up in tech stuff but it’s here now. It’s nowhere near as long as my last one but I kind of ran out of things to say 😅)
There was a gifset knocking around on my dash a while back of some MotoGP crashes, one in particular of a rider sliding on his arse at God knows what speed, who still had the time to throw his hands up in frustration. A couple of other users said something along the lines of, “How good are those suits if this is only a minor inconvenience to him?” and I am incredibly fun at parties so I thought I’d chip in with my two cents.
Something to take into account is I am not a professional. I have, however, grown up around motorbike racing and I watch and analyse a lot of crash footage (which apparently isn’t normal or healthy, who knew).
First of all, leathers are incredibly good to use when a rider is sliding. They protect against the worst of friction burns (obviously on tarmac at high speeds, they can’t prevent it entirely) so to find yourself sliding along a track really fucking fast after a crash is actually the best case scenario for the rider a lot of the time.
The gloves are also incredibly versatile, and a lot of modern ones actually have plastic bits in the palms to do the same job as knee sliders for the rider. I’m bringing this up because we have a pair of my dad’s gloves that have been completely worn out on one palm (they were an old spec so no plastic, only leather padding) because he’d used them to kind of steer himself away from the curb (he mainly raced on street tracks) as he slid. He did end up with quite a nasty hole in his hand, but he probably saved his legs so that counts as a win for a motorbike rider.
However, leathers are not incredibly good for when a rider is rolling, and bouncing off the ground at high speeds. That’s the difference between safety measures in racecars versus safety measures in racebikes. You can prevent a driver from being on the outside of the vehicle, but there isn’t an inside of a motorbike to keep a rider in.
So when a rider is rolling (which is far too peaceful of a word for the action I am describing, think more like, moving horizontally incredibly fast and being repeatedly bounced off the ground as you do so) there is only so much padding you can give them. As a result, broken collarbones are incredibly common, as well as arm injuries from not tucking your arms into your body as you roll. I believe Marc Marquez dislocated his shoulder because he landed on his arm slightly wrong as he was rolling (I don’t follow MotoGP I just see the highlights on Instagram so forgive me if I’m wrong.)
But what leathers can help with when you’re rolling, is making sure your body doesn’t twist the wrong way. The rider’s legs, arms and torso are incredibly reinforced to prevent really bad bending from happening.
Ever wondered why motorbike racers walk like weird cowboys in their leathers? Or why they usually need someone to pull their sleeves off for them when they want to get undressed? These bad boys are incredibly tight; moving in them is not easy, especially if you’re trying to move in a way the human body is not designed to. They prevent your limbs from moving in the wrong direction, whilst also letting them move in the way they need to with strategically placed joints (in the elbows, knees etc.) Ergo, it’s actually really hard to badly injure yourself by having your limbs or other parts of you bent the wrong way when you crash a motorbike.
This is also why it’s incredibly important that you don’t race in leathers that are too big for you. Your body would be able to bend and stretch in ways it really shouldn’t when you crash.
The third kind of crash as far as a motorbike rider is confirmed, is a crash with one, very big impact. These are the most deadly, as there isn’t any way to protect a rider from this. There are no crumple zones, no seatbelts, no roll-bars. If there isn’t any run off for the rider to slow down gradually via friction, the rider hits something very hard and if they’re lucky escape with their lives.
This usually happens on street tracks like the Isle of Man mountain circuit rather than MotoGP tracks, and the riders are hitting lamp-posts, people’s brick garden walls, trees, sheep fences and Heaven knows what else. This is why some (okay, actually a lot of) road racing riders look down on MotoGP riders. MotoGP tracks have run off and gravel traps and in their eyes, it’s a completely different sport where you can get away with a crash. You just can’t let yourself crash at the Isle of Man, and when you do, you count your lucky stars if you survive it.
We see the difference between the sliding crash and the rolling crash very easily in the crash at the Styrian GP a couple of weeks ago (months now I guess, Jesus Christ time flies when you’re procrastinating).
The overtaking rider goes down on the grass, slides along a bit, and then gets up and runs over to the marshalls. The overtaken rider ends up in the gravel trap, and as the gravel creates mounds where his body pushes it, he gets sent into a roll. Though the second rider was alright (again, I don’t know names) he did not stand up and run over to the marshalls because he was in no fit state to do so. Even if he didn’t break anything in the end, rolling so quickly is going to disorientate a rider.
So that’s just a little something about motorbike crashes (I’m very passionate and I have no one IRL to talk about these things to). Most of this was taken from my own experience growing up around motorbikes and experiencing the aftermath of crashes; from holding my dad’s hand as he got his elbow stitched up to attending his funeral, but a lot of what I found was just from googling so I encourage you to do some research yourself if I didn’t explain something well enough.
Aight, let’s see if I can remember who liked my teaser post for this (took me a while because the tagging system on this website is wack but here we are): @myimaginarywonderland @bubbling-wanderlust @justamirrorball @mcrmarvelloki
I have a whole bunch more idea for these but I won’t get round to writing any of them quickly (partially because I’m busy, partially because I have terrible time management and love to procrastinate) but if anyone is really interested in reading more of my writing let me know. (Also please read my post about Chicane’s in Formula E if you think that would interest you 😊)
#DJ writes#DJ's Random Blog#motogp#motorbike safety#I'm not as proud of this one as I am of my last one but I guess it should be the pinned post because it's the most recent?#idk
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Hi it’s the person “making assumptions”. Not making assumptions, but when I see someone being praised for using a condescending tone in relation to something that I, as a black woman, care deeply about I take issue. Didn’t say people were right to send hate, but his response was poor and misjudged. Just making my judgment off the behaviour I see as we all do. I do expect better from a white guy with power who demeans the legitimate concerns of those who were asking for more politely. Be kinder.
Hi anon, while I appreciate an important discourse, I am surprised that you’ve come to my blog when I see that the same message you seem to have copied and pasted into multiple asks in the skam tag and have gotten support for your claims. just so there’s no confusion, I’ve copied you entire message to Chris below. I’m also kind of riled up today so this will probably be stupidly long.
_Not true, when people with approx 400 followers post links on social media for protests it usually generates 3 more signatures. Imagine if someone like Maxence, with 500k followers, posted a link to a petition. His silence is privilege, his silence is choosing the side of the oppressor. He stands for no one but the white man if he can’t do the bare minimum. Coming from a black girl who works in charity, and knows first hand the impact that social media can have on protesting. Don’t make excuses.
(2) I’m just real tired of white people excusing themselves with “I was learning” (axel) when the black community don’t have a CHOICE. This is our reality, and you’re either with us or against us. Silence means you’ve chosen the side of the oppressor, to paraphrase Desmond Tutu. Not aiming this just at you, but all Skam fans defending their behaviour. It is bad. Don’t excuse white men for being lazy and ignorant.
(3) Maxence wants to scold people for not going to a protest? His tone is condescending, and shows more of his privilege and ignorance. Oftentimes it’s unsafe for PoC and queer people to go to protests. His safety is guaranteed, he’s a straight white man. The whole point of BLM is to fight for the safety of the black community globally, including France which is racist as fuck (Burka ban?!), so for a white guy to not realise why some people don’t go to protests is just ignorance. Educate him.
(4) it’s not shifting responsibility btw. People are allowed, especially minorities, to ask for white people to do their bit. People with large influence should do better, especially if their career is made on a show that supposedly address social problems through TV (mental health, islamophobia, homophobia etc.) you really can’t sit there and scold people for asking for better. Sometimes the language and approach is poor, but the point is often correct. Please think before you defend them.
no one is excusing maxence, especially when he did exactly what you asked: posted a link to a petition for all of his followers to see. that’s not silence. I’m east-asian and I have a masters degree in media studies and communication. while I agree social media can be a great tool, I would argue that posting on it is more of a ‘bare minimum’ than anything else; without anything actionable (petition signing, donating, self-educating, voting) then it’s just virtual signalling. it’s not concrete. since maxence was literally at a protest tonight, he seems to be on the right track with his support. he’s not against you.
the systemic and historical roots of racism around the world are awful. no one denies that, including in france. canada in particular is no exception. I agree that the pasty men of the world have more work to do. but to deny them the time and opportunity to educate themselves seems counterproductive. I’m not sure what sort of timeline you have that everyone must meet, but it takes a long time to learn new things, and longer to unlearn everything you thought you understood about an issue or yourself. I literally have cerebral palsy and I knew so little about disability studies and activism prior to taking a class on it. am I a bad cripple? I didn’t start coming out as bi till last year and don’t do much activism there yet either. am I lazy and ignorant?
more precisely, how are you or I supposed to dismantle racism or oppression without their help? in my opinion, your tone here is equally if not more condescending towards them, and chris. quite frankly, if I were maxence I would’ve probably said something very similar. I don’t know how it feels to be inundated with strangers telling you what to do, and how to feel, and how much of an asshole you were being because of something as ridiculous as instagram posts.
I’m a former teacher of junior high and high school. that’s not education. it’s being a dick because the internet protects you from real repercussion. the person axel replied to wasn’t asking, they were demanding and being rude as hell about it. you’re free to dislike his or maxence’s tone as you will, anon. but you are assuming that maxence doesn’t understand why people may not attend protests. he’s not an idiot; all of s5 of skam fr was dedicated to disability awareness and representation. he literally plays a queer, mentally ill character. pretty sure he has basic human decency and knows not everyone can go marching into physical danger. to call him ignorant because he’s not writing an academic essay in his stories about the struggles of every minority group is a bit of a reach and frankly just mean. you also seem to assume he’s not done anything else because...what? he didn’t post about it?
I also have to disagree with the idea that “sometimes the language and approach is poor, but the point is often correct.” you’re not going to get anyone onside by belittling and insulting them. that’s just a fact. just as you didn’t draw chris onside, you’d never bring maxence if he wasn’t already here, protesting. if you allow all these people on his socials that grace of a poor approach, why do you not give it to maxence in his response? because he’s right. copy/pastes and hashtags are not enough. there is more work to do and everyone’s capable of it. I truly respect your position and I empathize deeply with the enormous struggles that you and your community face daily. you’re free to expect whatever of maxence, but it doesn’t mean you’ll get it. he does not have to document and prove his allyship to anyone. if you’re unhappy with it, then I’d suggest stop following him or blocking his name. venting your anger at other people doesn’t affect him.
your anger at him in general doesn’t really affect me either, despite this essay. you ordering me to do or feel things doesn’t seem kind. but I’ll never have the same stake in this fight as you do, so it’s not up to me to tell you what to do or how to feel. you came into my inbox expecting a response, so here’s mine. I hope that this renewed rage and energy around the world is the turning point of all of this. I’m sorry you even had to send any of these asks in the first place.
#anonymous#a wild ask appears!#skam france#maxence danet fauvel#my eyes hurt lol today was just....so much#skam fr#guys I don't know how the read more ended up IN THE ASK I'M SORRY.
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Literally just tagged a post like that but Doja Cat - Say So! Especially the music video? Louis as a trust fund baby and Harry as the maintaince man he calls to fix something in his flat? Do something with it, Kylee, please 🥵
Sorry, this took a few days! I hope you like it! (also I only did a quick revision I'm sorry for errors xx)
“No no no!” Louis wails, his hands reaching out to attempt to stop the chaos that is unfolding before his eyes. It’s useless as he is completely across the room from where his brand new television just literally fell to its death.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” He groans as he stares at the mess that lays before him, a broken tele and a huge chunk of wall crumpled on the floor below where it had previously been hung up just two days ago. Thankfully, he knows his father will pay for the repairs so he pulls out his cellphone and finds a handyman online and sends them his address. He doesn’t bother cleaning the mess up, he can pay the man extra to help with that, that’s one of his favorite things about having money.
He lounges on his sofa instead and scrolls through Instagram as he waits for the handyman to arrive. Roughly forty minutes later the doorbell to his flat rings and Louis makes his way to let the man in. When he opens the door, instead of seeing a middle-aged man with a toolbox, he’s met with the sight of an incredibly fit twenty-something-year-old with a tool belt slung low across his hips. Louis tips his head to the side and pops his hip. “Well hello!” he singsongs, making sure to flutter his lashes just a bit, “I’m Louis. Are you Harry?”
Louis watches as the young man nods his head once and smiles politely at him, otherwise not really reacting to his flirting attempt. “I am,” he says kindly and leans forward a bit to peak into the flat, “Wheres the damaged area?”
A pout finds its way on to Louis’ lips because he wants the pretty man to pay attention to him, and honestly for a moment, he forgot why he had even hired Harry.
“Oh, it’s just in the living room there. I think a ghost decided to destroy my new tele,” Louis explains and lets Harry into the flat, trying to come up with a new way to try and get Harry’s attention.
Harry dutifully walks in and finds the mess, and after a brief look of surprise crosses his face he nods and turns back to Louis. “The good news is you don’t have a ghost, it looks like whoever installed your mounting system didn’t find the studs correctly,” he explains. Louis bites back a witty comment about studs and mounting that comes to his lips almost immediately. Instead, he nods like he understands what Harry meant. Harry assures him that he can get it fixed in a few hours’ time. The first thirty minutes Harry’s there, Louis dutifully stands there and listens to him talk about the steps he will take to repair the mess that is Louis’ wall and then he finds reasons to ask Harry questions for another fifteen minutes about his life and interests until Harry ever so politely excuses himself stating that he needs to get to work.
Louis regretfully leaves the room and gives Harry a bit of time to work, opting to go to his room and change his clothes into something a bit more put together, his favorite black skinnies and an off white knitted jumper. After that, he spends some time scrolling through his phone and checking a couple of brand deal emails before he circles back to the gorgeous man in the living room.
He blinks in surprise when he notices that Harry has not only cleaned up the mess on the floor, but he also has nearly finished repairing the massive hole in the wall.
“Oh! You work really fast!” He says, surprise clear in his voice as Harry looks up at him and smiles with a dimple that makes Louis’ heart skip a beat.
Harry chuckles and looks at his work proudly, “Yeah, well like I said earlier it’s not that bad of a project really. All that I have left is I need to texture and paint the wall.”
Louis hums, he really thought he would have longer to flirt with the man before he left, but it appears that he misjudged Harry’s abilities. “Right, well how about a drink before you finish up? It’s warm in here, do you want a beer? Some water?”
Harry reaches over and lifts up a water bottle which he must have gotten from his truck while Louis was in his room, “I’m good, thanks though.”
Louis pouts, because he’s trying to be nice, and maybe that’s because he’s also trying to flirt but that’s just an insignificant detail really. But Harry doesn’t seem to want to entertain Louis’ flirting and honestly he’s not used to having to work so hard to flirt with someone.
“Oookay.” Louis sighs and goes to his kitchen down the hall anyway. He digs out a beer for himself and returns to the living room, sitting on the arm of the sofa before he cracks the beer open and takes a long swig, groaning a bit exaggeratedly in satisfaction at the taste.
Harry pauses mid-movement, but recovers quickly and doesn’t even turn around to look in Louis’ direction. Louis drinks the rest of his beer in a similar fashion, making obscene sounds and staring at the side of Harry’s face he can see, hoping for any sort of reaction.
Louis is just annoyed by the time Harry finishes up his painting of the wall because when Harry turns to him and announces proudly that he’s done, Louis still hasn’t gotten anything beyond polite conversation from the handyman.
With pursed lips, Louis eyes the wall and wonders briefly how mad Harry would be if he ruined it just to get him to stay and fix it again. Reluctantly he pulls out a wad of cash and hands it to Harry. “Thanks, it looks great,” he tells him, a pout covering his face.
Harry takes the money carefully like Louis is about to explode or something and asks, “Hey is everything okay? I can redo it if you’re not happy with the work!”Louis shakes his head quickly when he looks up and sees that Harry’s eyes have gone wide and he looks like he’s genuinely upset that Louis might not be happy with the work he’s done. “No, no that’s not it. You did fantastic, Harry,” he assures quickly.
Harry frowns in confusion “Then why do you look upset all of a sudden?”Louis rolls his eyes slightly and huffs in exasperation before he deices, fuck it. “Because you’re gorgeous and I’ve been flirting with you all day and you obviously arent into me,” he explains, though he’s not sure how Harry doesn’t already know that.
“Oh,” Harry says slowly and then lets out a laugh that takes Louis by surprise.
“It’s rude to laugh at people who put themselves out there, Harold,” Louis tells him, feeling suddenly very embarrassed.
“No! I’m sorry Louis. I knew you were flirting but like, it’s not professional to flirt with people who hire me to fix their homes,” Harry tells him quickly, that damn dimple making its appearance again.
Louis perks up a bit and smiles up at Harry hopefully, “Wait, so since you’re finished working…?”
“Would you like to go out with me sometime, Louis?” Harry asks for him, tilting his head a bit to the side in a questioning gesture.
Louis grins widely, the kind of smile that crinkles his eyes at the edges, “Oh thank god! Of fucking course, I would.”
#i tried idk what i think jashdfkajsf#i could have done a lot better but this is what happened#larry#mini fic#mine#my writing#deludedandlostcause#answered
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Depression Never Drove Me To Attempt Suicide; Being Bullied While Depressed Did
I don’t wanna relive my bullying hellscape today but I can’t shake the feeling that people still just continue to blame the brains of suicidal people for any and all suicidal acts.
I’ve experienced depression for a long time. I was lucky that depression alone never led me to a suicide attempt. Being bullied along with being depressed, however, did. I need to use my own experience as an example to get through to people about this today.
Spring 2016: I dated a person I met on The List App (just what it sounds like - a list-making app created by BJ Novak). I went out to CA to be with her for 2 months. She felt it was moving too fast, but didn’t tell me for awhile. Eventually she did, we broke up, I was crushed, I went back to OH to be with family. I whined, I pitied myself, I spoke about the breakup on List.
Eventually, friends of my ex decided this was too much & brought my ex & others into a FB group chat, where they shit talked & mused that I had been manipulative & that I’d threatened self harm.
This was the first in two instances now of upping the ante of false accusation. First, from whining & taking a breakup hard -> manipulation & threats of self harm, then, a year ago right around this time, upping the ante again to “abuser.” More on that in a bit.
Back to 2016 — August, as the group chat began. I had been listing about the upcoming 2 year anniversary of my dad’s passing — Aug 10. On the night of the 9th, my ex’s close friend did what I guess was an accidental like of an old list of mine. At the time, it seemed odd because she wasn’t following me and we’d had conflict with each other on Twitter about a week before.
The next day, it made sense why she’d been far back in my old lists. As I listed about the anniversary of my dad’s passing, parody accounts began to go public.
The first was called Predator. My screen shots here were taken later (I was too upset to screenshot anything the day it all happened) after the name was changed to “Chris, Kay?” to target one List guy these people hated. The original name on the account was “Chrislie K. Veshester” — a mashup of the names of 3 of us from List.
In the second and third screenshots, you’ll see parts of a list. This list has direct excerpts from lists the 3 of us guys had previously posted (gathering lines from old lists the night before…yes, bullies go to great efforts to bully). The writing and recording line, the bravery line, the baggage line, the body is your friend line, the quote of Coyote Hours (an album about the death of my father) — all from me & gleefully twisted into being somehow creepy or wrong.
The line “I try to get others to take care of me” didn’t seem to come from any of us, but seems more to be a line from my ex’s friend’s imagination that reflects how those people saw me in the wake of that breakup.
Also launched that day, in tandem, was the Flounce account (to flounce means to announce that you’re leaving a community, which I had done the night before my dad anniversary, because of what I was going through at the time). I later was told this was created by Jack Waz, an employee of List. The first few followers on the account — my bullies, “Jo-Ann Fabrics” (another parody account by Jack), & even List creator BJ Novak.
Also popping up that day was this dormant “imacreep” account where luckily no new vitriol was added — but you can see, based on the few lists that account had “liked,” that it came from the same group of people.
You can also see, from the few likes on the predator account, that it came from the same group of people.
On Aug 10, I had a nervous breakdown after seeing all of this. The passing of a parent is a deep trauma and, only 2 years out, was obviously very fresh for me. It is an event that is almost sacred in a way, & part of the unhealable scarring of my bullying experience is that this sacred date was snatched away from me, and tainted by this awful social media experience. I now forever associate the day my dad died with being bullied.
On September 1st, an older guy from the group chat sent me an unsolicited harassing email, after being given my contact info by my ex. I had just called her to ask if she would be completing some album artwork she’d promised to do for me around the time of our breakup. I hadn’t heard from her in ages (this was before I knew she was involved in the group chat), so I took one last chance at reaching out about it. In the email from this guy, I was summarily smacked down for “not respecting her boundaries” and told very cruelly by him that she didn’t want to do my art, or hear from me ever again.
In mid September 2016, a former friend told me everything about the group chat. She had been brought into it and pressured/intimidated (by, among others, men in their late 30s — she was in her early 20s, as were a few other women in the group chat) to “provide receipts” of me talking about my breakup. She was forced to “denounce” me and swear she’d never talk to me again.
She named names to me in September and let me know who was involved. I learned that my ex — who had been silent through all the stuff in August — was in the group chat, participated, and watched it all go down. A couple days later, I began a suicide attempt.
The ordeal led to both myself and my mom being hospitalized (she has a heart condition). Thankfully, we both came out of the ordeal ok.
Plenty more vitriol was unleashed on List after August 10th. I was lucky that much of it didn’t involve me (another guy from List got it worse than I did). One older guy from the group chat did a particularly nasty “sublist” and a few other remarks came out here and there, but it seemed to be dying down finally.
Through the fall, I began to find balance again. I returned to List with a new account, and took small steps in standing up for myself.
In November, I confronted my ex about what I knew, in an attempt to make peace. She expressed some regret, but never really apologized in a way that felt adequate to me, nor would she concede that her friends had bullied me and that she had condoned it.
In December, I returned to CA to resume the life I’d begun building when I was dating my ex. I had been dreaming of living in Southern California since the trip to scatter my dad’s ashes there in fall of 2014, and I was using the last chunk of inheritance money I’d gotten to get myself re-established in Orange County.
In January of 2017, I finally realized that my ex was never going to apologize to me for everything, so I launched a text tirade of criticisms her way and stopped speaking to her.
But in the next few months, I faltered in that commitment and sent her three harassing emails. Since the previous fall, I had begun an agonizing habit of digital cutting (creeping on social media that you know is bad for your mental health) and snooped on her accounts, plus those of her friends and family. It is a habit that I have yet to fully shake, even all this time later. The three emails I sent all involved seeing things she’d liked on social media and being angry or jealous about them. I finally stooped to the level of the people who harassed me, and I harassed her. After the final of those three emails, in April of 2017, she wrote back and said she’d file a harassment order if I contacted her again, and I never contacted her again.
But I continued to grow more and more emboldened in standing up for myself publicly, and over the course of 2017 it became a huge part of my social media (especially on Twitter) to speak openly about my experience being bullied, harassed, and ganged up on.
In June of 2017, I was walking in a park in my ex’s town and saw her. A few days later, many of the ladies from List were tagged in a massive Twitter thread. For some reason, a few of us guys from the app were tagged as well. Later that day, my ex’s friend from the group chat - the one who had made the “Predator” account - subtweeted that these List ladies in the mass tagging had “an abuser among [them].” The ante of false accusation had been upped again, from whining and self pity and taking a breakup hard -> manipulation and threats of self harm -> abuse.
This subtweet alone, which I’d only discovered because of my continuing struggle with digital cutting (creeping online), sent me reeling on the verge of another breakdown. I knew that things were heating up culturally, that the imperative to believe women was more important than ever. And now, for the first time, I had to face that dissenting argument from the trolls who don’t like the prioritization of believing women no matter what — “what if somebody falsely accuses someone just to fuck up their life?” But even then, I brought myself back from the brink (with much help from my therapy sessions, my support system of family and friends, my writing, and the good-for-the-soul environment of southern California).
I even had a phone call later that summer with the friend who’d told me about the group chat, where I explained to her that I still acknowledged the importance of believing women, even if I was experiencing a false accusation. I told her that I was trying to hold onto the understanding that the cultural prioritization of listening to and believing women was bigger than me, more important than me.
But I also continued to speak openly about being bullied, and now included the mention of being implied to be an emotional abuser, all through 2017 until finally standing up for myself on social media impacted my real life once more. A few days before Christmas, after a really good period of no digital cutting for the entire month of December so far, I had a weak moment one evening and looked at the social media of my ex and her family. On her mom’s Instagram, I saw a repost from my ex’s private account where she’d said she had gone to the police station to file a report about “a year and a half of harassment, stalking, and general creepiness.” (A year and a half would be going back to right when we broke up - we were still on good terms then - and six months before our friendly if flawed semi-clearing of the air in late 2016). In her mom’s repost, she said “if we see this guy in our neighborhood again, we are coming after him!” I saw this — and hope you will understand my seeing it this way — as a threat of physical harm. If “our neighborhood” meant seeing me on their street, well that was never going to happen. But if it meant seeing me in their whole entire town — like I’d seen her in a park last June — well, what was I supposed to do about being seen in an entire town??
I was terrified, and made a hasty decision two days later (Christmas Eve) to leave my Orange County long term Airbnb about two months before the end of my lease. I struggled for about a month to stay afloat in LA, looking for a new space. But my savings was too low to handle the temporary added expenses of new Airbnbs and hotels, and by early February of 2018 I decided I had to throw in the towel and go back to Ohio to regroup with family until I could afford to be out west again.
And that is my ordeal, to date.
I took a breakup badly, and cried and cried and said “I can’t take it anymore” (the closest I came to “threats of self harm,” as were the initial accusations from the group chat). And all because of taking a breakup badly —
I was ganged up on, parodied, mocked, and bullied on the two year anniversary of the death of my father.
The actual creators/employees of the app where I was bullied - including BJ Novak himself - celebrated and *participated in* bullying me.
I suffered a nervous breakdown.
I attempted suicide.
My mom was sent into the hospital with a heart scare, from watching what I was going through and reacting emotionally as most mothers would.
I drained thousands of dollars from my savings for additional therapy, spiritual counseling, and cross country travel (twice).
I literally left my home because I felt unwelcome and physically unsafe in Orange County, after being threatened with violence by my ex’s mother.
And now I exist in this particular moment on social media, where the valiant and important efforts of the #metoo movement are still sometimes misrepresented by cold statements like “don’t ever fucking tell me that a false accusation ruins a man’s life.”
Even if you set aside my experience of being ganged up on and bullied, of being called a creep for being friends with women who were younger than me in a social media community, of being accused of manipulation and emotional abuse, it should be understandable as a general isolated statement — When we talk about someone’s life being ruined, we have to look at more than just their external life. We have to also look at their internal life.
And rest assured — beyond all the external stuff I just listed, my internal life has been forever impacted by being bullied and by being called “abuser.”
I can no longer say I have never attempted suicide. After years of living with depression and being proud of myself for never giving into the darkest of places, I now have experienced a suicide attempt. I now have experienced being called an abuser. And who knows what else I may experience as repercussions for posting this essay with screenshots and names, since the past two years of interacting with bullies has shown me very clearly that bullies always — ALWAYS — win.
We now live in an age where bullies are empowered by important cultural movements. They sneak in through weak spots, they use amped up language and terms that they know will attract attention. They are stronger than ever.
But the part of the narrative that my bullies and threateners will always leave out of their callouts - their own screenshot exposés of past and possibly future - is the part where they bullied and harassed first. My own instances of email harassment of my ex, my own flawed and self destructive habit of creeping online — these are personal flaws that arose AFTER being bullied. That part of their narrative will always be conveniently scrapped from the record. Bullying proves the age old saying — hurt people hurt people.
And so now, two years after my ordeal began, I try to be mindful that angry statements can verge on harassment, I do less and less digital cutting, I try to be a good person and to value the people who value me.
But when famous people are lost to suicide, and the conversation zeroes in squarely on mental illness and mental health, I just cannot abide the ignoring of so many other cultural factors that lead people to no longer want to live on this planet.
Whether the factors are due to marginalization, systemic oppression, economic hopelessness, ageism, a broken health care system, disease and physical pain, or a bullying ordeal like mine — there are an endless number of external environmental forces that drive people to suicide besides their own pure brain chemistry. And remember, environmental doesn’t just mean places and things — it means people. Many of those external forces that drive people to suicide involve how the people are treated by the others in their environment.
I have experienced depression for much of my life. But it was only being bullied that finally pushed me to the brink. This screenshot below shows the folks from the group chat. Some of them were silent bystanders, but they all watched it go down and did nothing to stop it. They are all complicit.
These are my bullies.
And if I have to live forever with being bullied the day my dad died, with having attempted suicide, with watching my mom go into the hospital, with being called an abuser and whatever else I’ll be called between two years ago and the end of my life, then they will have to live with being called bullies. And even if this post is removed, even if this account is suspended or deleted, I will continue to speak up and speak out when I am bullied or when I see others being bullied. I will not stand for it ever again.
Because all the things those people took away from me left a gaping hole inside me. And, so far, I have only found a couple things with which to sufficiently fill that hole — the understanding of my very loving and supportive family and friends, and love and respect for myself. Standing up for myself is just one of the ways I have learned to love and respect myself, ever since the ordeal that scarred my life forever.
June 12: I decided to add an afterword to this essay, a sort of “FAQ” to address a question I’ve been asked a few times in one form or another.
The question: Do you talk about your bullying experience so much because you want your bullies to feel bullied?
No.
First, "bullying bullies" isn't a thing much like how reverse racism isn't a thing. To be a broken record - to continually expose the bullying act & “Scarlet Letter” the perpetrators - is the only power a bullying victim has, since the act of bullying unfortunately isn't treated like a punishable crime, especially when it’s done online (even though being bullied has robbed me financially and wounded me - and my family - both physically and emotionally).
Second, I talk about this as much as I do because I want the people who bullied me to feel haunted by the consequences of their actions (and inactions, in the case of those who watched and condoned) - actions they probably felt, at the time, were not a big deal. To have spoken about it publicly for almost three years is an effort at making them feel so haunted by their behavior that they not only never bully another person again, but that they *themselves* become dedicated anti-bullying crusaders. It sounds almost laughable - and certainly would to them, as cynical as they are - but I am trying to make a difference in these few peoples’ lives. You can label it crudely as “badgering,” which I feel does a disservice to me by downplaying the severity of what happened to me, but whatever you call my continued persistence in talking about this experience - it is persistence that aims to make a few people more decent and mindful of their past and future behavior.
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A PLAYLIST OF RICHIE TOZIER APPEARANCES
Fandom: IT (2017)
Pairing: Reddie ( Richie Tozier / Eddie Kaspbrak )
Word Count: 2.3k
Summary:
Eddie is, by all means, a popular vlogger. He’s worked hard to get himself where he is, and the fans love him for that, appreciate him for that.
But they’re also somewhat obsessed with Richie Tozier, and trying to decide if Eddie is, in fact, dating him.
So sue them.
AO3 Link
For @odeto-tozier, based off of their Vlogger!Eddie post.
Tag List: @killerxqueer @richietozierlitaf @princely-dots
I. 101 WAYS TO DITCH YOUR FRIENDS - 932k VIEWS
One of the most popular videos on Eddie’s entire channel, at least for a while, this is where Eddie introduces them. The Losers Club. He’s mentioned them, sure. Talked about having them on for a video, showed off their makeup or their art and directed his fan base to their social medias, but this is where he finally introduces them.
Big Bill is first. Eddie’s best friend, the sweetest guy there is, always there for Eddie. One of the only people to not have made fun of him in middle school for having asthma, Bill knew stuff to do. Places to go. Things to see. And the thing is, Eddie may not have needed an inhaler anymore, but he still never breathed as well as he did when he was with Bill. They’d run all night and never need to catch their breath, that was the kind of bond they had.
And then there’s Mike, and okay, maybe Bill isn’t the sweetest guy in the world. He’s up there, sure, but he doesn’t compare to Mike Hanlon. From the moment Mike is on screen, he’s smiling. Then he realizes he’s being filmed, and he smiles even more. He wants to show the camera a thousand things, from the soft sheep on his farm, to the flowers he’s pressed in his free time, to the pages of history he has organized on his book shelves. Mike is smiles and safety, strong and soft all at once.
Ben is quiet most of the time he’s on camera. While Eddie promises Ben’s all laughs when they’re hanging out, he’s just too shy to do anything for what could possibly (and definitely would) be thousands of people. He’s better at writing words than saying them, and Eddie shamelessly uses that as an opportunity to plug Ben’s up and coming poetry book that he’s been setting up a kickstarter for.
Beverly, Stan, and Richie come as a tangled group. It’s a whirlwind, really, the four of them pushing through the walmart doors at almost 2am. There’s a lot of swift laughter and fumbling of the phone, unwillingly passing the camera from set of hands to set of hands. At some point Richie refuses to give the phone back, holding it high above his head, camera angled down towards a clearly angry Eddie.
There’s a lot of banter, and even Bev and Stan can be heard “oo-ing” in the background and yelling out to “just kiss already!” It’s clearly a joke (maybe?) between a close group of friends, but all of Eddie’s fans instantly latch onto this. It’s perfect, an equal amount of fond push and shove on each end, and it’s addictive.
The walmart group each get their own sections later, and some more group videos are thrown in towards the end, but all of the gif sets made seem to revolve around Richie. His sections is mostly Richie taking the phone and talking about himself, making bad jokes that Eddie swears he’s going to cut out, but it all stays in the video anyway, gasoline on the fire.
II. FUCK THE CHALLENGE SYSTEM - 458k VIEWS
Eddie hates challenges. All of his fans know this, just as they know that any challenge they want Eddie to do - they send to Richie.
Because Richie gets Eddie to do anything.
And that, right there, is what holds every single fan up. If they weren’t dating, why was Eddie putty in Richie’s hands? Best friends, sure, but none of Eddie’s other friends convinced him to do challenges.
(They don’t mention that maybe, just maybe, it’s because Richie is a little shit that loves pushing Eddie’s buttons, and all of his other friends respect him when he declines.
Yeah, they just don’t mention it.)
Except this time, there is no actual challenge. Eddie is going off about how wrong they make him feel, how perverse it is to not only force an uncomfortable situation onto him, but to then expect him to force another youtuber into doing the same. It’s unfair, and unclean, and while he respects any fellow vloggers who enjoy the challenges, he’s officially cancelling any challenge videos on his page ever again.
Richie, who just seems to always be around when challenges are mentioned (who seems to just always be around) immediately flies into the frame.
“You heard it! Eds spagehds is officially moving all challenge videos to my page, so if you want to catch them, you’re gonna have to follow this mother fucker right here.” Eddie’s protests and profanities go ignored, shouts of, “Rich, no! Fuck no!” and then the video cuts to an unfamiliar room, with Eddie moping dejectedly in his chair.
It’s thirty seconds exactly (00:30) of Eddie looking sadly into the camera, dead silence around him. In the empty space next to him, a chair that presumably expects to host one Richie Tozier, is a hyperlink to Richie’s channel, and their first Challenge Compilation video.
( Eddie Finally Does All the Challenges He’s Been Refusing, All At Once - 212k Views )
And now the subs know that Richie can make Eddie do anything, any fucking thing.
And they know what the inside of Richie’s room looks like, too.
III. WHY GAYS RELY ON PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION - 644k VIEWS
This video is literally the most fucking blurry, conspiracy theory, I-Have-Proof-Of-The-Lochness-Monster shit that Eddie’s fandom has ever seen. It is, by all accounts, a normal ass vlog. Eddie’s there at his counter, bright sunlight from the large windows in his kitchen filtering into the space, a cup of (presumably) black tea immediately to Eddie’s right. Not that he’ll ever drink it in the video, because he never does, but he does use it to keep his hands warm when they aren’t busy flying all over the place while he angrily vents about why public transportation is the worst, but actually driving makes him too fucking anxious to function.
Because, come on, fuck turnpikes.
The video is approximately two minutes and thirteen seconds (2:13) long, and yet this video has triple the amount of views as every past two minute long vlog for the past four months.
(Four months ago Eddie released a two minute vlog that was nothing but Eddie’s friends petting his hair, and Eddie making soft happy faces in return. The fandom continues to keep that video alive, if only by desperately comparing the length of Richie petting Eddie to the length of every other loser doing so in hopes that the numbers will add up and mean something. So far, it doesn’t.)
There’s really nothing about this vlog that stands out, not even the mug Eddie uses or the clothes he wears. The outfit is one that they’ve seen before, between fashion vlogs and #ootd instagram posts.
No, the reason this particular video skyrockets in popularity is not because of anything Eddie does, but because, around 1:43, from a very distant shot, you can see a figure lazily walking into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and some cereal, and leaving. That figure, almost 100% wearing nothing but boxers, looks a hell of a lot like one Richie Tozier.
You know, disregarding the distance. And the pixelation. And Eddie’s face cutting off the figure most of the time anyway, because it is his vlog.
But that almost-naked figure in the background is definitely an almost-naked Richie Tozier, the fandom swears it.
IV. PRETTY BOY TRANSFORMATION - 722k VIEWS
The entire fan base already knew Eddie was a pretty boy. That was half of the appeal of his channel in the first place, that you knew exactly what you were going to get. A safe place for any identity. Eddie had been sent plenty of soft shirts and flower crowns already, and half of what he opened on his unboxing streams was pastel. The fans didn’t need to make edits or gifs or icons - Eddie was perfectly happy to wear all of it on his own.
But Eddie with make up, that was an entirely new type of pretty boy.
The video starts with Bev and Eddie bickering, and quickly devolves into not-so-subtly shoving each other’s shoulders while trying to get in front of the camera. They’re both laughing, wide smiles and warm eyes, until finally Bev pushes Eddie’s head down and sticks her whole face into the camera to let all 1.2 million subscribers know that she is, in fact, going to do Eddie’s makeup - but only after letting Eddie pick his own outfit, first.
The dusty blue eyeshadow is a safe choice, and matches the large sweater Eddie’s wearing. Then Bev is drawing large wings onto Eddie’s tan skin with white liquid, and lining his bottom lid with decorative dots. Eddie tries to sass Bev the entire time she’s trying to put on white lipstick that she had found from god knows where, but Eddie refuses to stop talking until finally she admits defeat and let’s Eddie put on a soft matte pink instead. The last touch is silver glitter, thickly painted from the corner of Eddie’s eyes and down his cheeks.
The orange light of the sun skips across Eddie, shimmering like dust. Eddie makes a pouty kissy face, lips puckered and eyelashes fluttering, head just barely resting on his hand while his large sleeve slides down his thin wrist. And that’s when it happens.
The first actual conclusive clue.
(So the fans say. Because really, an audio clip that is exactly .02 seconds long is hardly more conclusive than any of their video evidence, but the file still spreads like wildfire.)
“Cute, cute, cute!”
The voice comes from off screen, and Eddie snaps his teeth in the direction of Richie’s voice before the video hard cuts to Eddie posing for the camera.
V. TRANSPORTATION STRIKES AGAIN - 834k VIEWS
It’s another shitty phone video, and this time the quality is even worse because of the trembling car. A quarter of the video is blurred, and again, this is another two minute vlog. Two minutes and thirty one seconds (2:31) to be exact. A quarter of that leaves, well, not much actual time to have actual footage.
Once again, Eddie’s transportation life is crumbling. The buses are all shut down, too many workers on strike, and there’s no other quick way to be mobile. He’s stuck in Richie’s run down truck, and maybe he’s a little fond of it, but he doesn’t have time for Richie to make seven ridiculous pit stops.
The fans are a little disappointed that they don’t get to see Richie and Eddie’s gas station excursions, but they notice when the video cuts from an empty truck to one filled with drinks and snacks, and that only means one thing - Eddie gave in and let Richie get whatever he wanted. Again.
One point for the shippers.
It’s a short glance into Eddie’s life, just something quick to keep his subs satisfied until he can finish editing his full length video, which he promises will be out by the end of the next day.
“Aw, Eds, it’s like you care.” Then Richie’s ruffling Eddie’s wind swept hair, and Eddie is trying to keep his stern expression on despite the laughter that starts bubbling up from his chest. He swats at Richie’s hand, yelling at him to watch where he’s fucking driving, but even behind the wheel Richie manages to be a menace.
Then they’re there, wherever there is, (and yet again the fans wish they knew, because Eddie casually keeps skipping over it, but they can at least realize there’s a line of privacy there somewhere that they shouldn’t overstep). Then Richie is taking the phone from Eddie, mock saluting it, and kissing Eddie’s head before pushing him out the door.
Yeah, the all of the fans double take, too. Rewind the video, and then rewind it again. Throw on captions for good measure. That’s definitely there, they aren’t searching pixels this time.
Richie just kissed Eddie on the forehead. If he isn’t whipped, which he should be, all of Eddie’s fans will be whipped for him.
+I. THE REAL MTV: CRIB TOUR!! - 1.1M VIEWS
Eddie’s not in his normal spot. The lighting is different, and the camera is close to his face - utilizing an above angle that Eddie doesn’t use often.
But Eddie’s smiling, his face expression tired and content. Most of his greeting comes out mumbled, and he tries his best to address his fans, but he can’t. He’s too comfortable, he tells them. He recently invested in a good pillow, and boy, has it made all the difference. He’s not a sell out, he just doesn’t see anything wrong with product placement. If a quality brand is willing to offer him merchandise for free, he’s gonna take it.
Except then he’s pushed, and the feed goes hazy for a moment, until the phone is back up in place - and zoomed out this time, too.
Eddie is on his couch, curled up in between Richie’s legs. “I’m not a pillow, Eds. I’m not sponsoring you.”
“Of course you are, shut the fuck up.”
Then Eddie’s rambling about how comfortable the cushions are, how warm the sunlight is, how he doesn’t think he’ll ever walk again if it means he has to get up. He goes on like this for a long while, and Richie just watches him, his own hair wild with sleep and a smile taking up over half his face. When Eddie realizes he’s talking to himself, he turns in Richie’s arms to look up at his face, and Richie jolts.
“Hey there, princess.”
“Are we going to show them our new apartment or not?”
“Mmmmm…. or not, if that means I get to stay here with you.” Eddie sighs in defeat, but he doesn’t look disappointed in the slightest as he leans back to lay his head against Richie’s chest. Richie dips down to kiss his forehead before taking the phone, leading his own rambling.
Twelve minutes in, (12:46 exactly), Eddie blinks awake. He looks up and wordlessly cuts Richie off, pressing their lips together gently. There’s a few seconds of silence where the two pull back to stare at each other with soft smiles curling their lips, sunlight filtering between them.
The fandom cries.
“Come on, loser, let’s show them our new home already.”
The fandom cries harder.
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Seven Deadly: Pride
This is the first in a series of posts about the so-called “Seven Deadly Sins” and ways to subvert them.
One lesson I have learned is that every so-called “virtue” has a dark side, and nearly every “sin” has its positive power. These journals are part of my shadow work.
So: Pride. Pride is often called the greatest and most terrible of the Seven Deadly Sins. Some think of it as the sin from which all other sins flow. It’s also the sin most frequently associated with Lucifer, who tried to set himself above Yahweh.
I think we all know the ways in which Pride can be a negative quality. It can make you an obnoxious braggart or insufferable snob. Hurt Pride can lead to holding an implacable grudge, or to stubborn refusal to admit when you are wrong. Pride can be an inflated sense of self-worth that stops growth, or a source of ludicrous perfectionism that tortures your soul and drives everyone around you crazy.
Pride can be many different things, however-- and the above are just a few of the most familiar.
I think Pride gets a bad rap in society.
The most obvious example I can think of for people who could use a little more Pride is young women. Girls and women are desired and objectified in this world, and are expected to make themselves look as good as possible. Yet, at the same time, they are forbidden to notice when someone is “admiring” them, even if that so-called “admiration” is deeply creepy and a possible sign of danger. They must not take too many selfies. They must deflect all compliments. They must spend money, time and energy on “looking good,” but they must never be seen noticing the fruits of their efforts, because to do so would be “vain.” Talk about alienated labor! To work endlessly on your own face, body and wardrobe in service of some ideal of perfection, and never even be allowed to admire the fruits of your efforts!
Of course, the self-effacing practices society mandates for girls and women go far beyond the realm of physical appearance. In general, everything women and girls do is supposed to appear effortless and never, ever be self-congratulatory.
Smarter than your male peers at school? Play dumb, never admit it. Hide your test scores.
More competent than your male-coworkers? Stand back and let them take all the credit for your work. Watch them promoted over your head. Earn seventy cents to their dollar.
Are you a home-maker? Just go ahead and pretend that cleaning the house and raising the kids is no trouble at all; in fact, laugh at the idea that your stressful 24/7 job where you are always on call is any kind of work at all, much less work that might deserve, I dunno, A GOVERNMENT STIPEND or something. Let everyone else tell you your life is easy, because you don’t have to “work.” Laugh along at jokes about “bored housewives.”
Trans woman? Be even more self-effacing in everything you do so that maybe no one will fucking kill you. Cis woman who wants to have children? Pretend that pregnancy and childbirth is no biggie, and definitely hide all the “gross” and “scary” parts of it from the world.
Above all-- apologize way too much. Make your voice quieter and softer than all the others in the room. Every time you speak up, start by saying “sorry.” Make sure to always apologize for the inconvenience of your existence.
So there’s just one situation in which the specter of “Pride” is being used to keep people under control. I love it when I see women pushing back against this-- whether it’s swaggering, cocky lyrics from a pop diva or a 15-year-old girl flooding instagram with her selfies, and tagging them with those same self-confident lyrics.
Other marginalized groups have similar struggles with Pride. In America, people of color, immigrants and children of diaspora may struggle with assimilation versus retention of culture. Any kind of Pride they have in their appearances, their cultures, their histories, their religions, etc. will be read as refusal to “fit in,” as being “Un-American.” (This sort of thing happens in many places in the world but I am only really familiar with the American nuances.)
White society is horribly threatened by expressions of “Black Pride,” “Black Power,” and even by the self-evident phrase “Black Lives Matter!” Say “Black girls are beautiful” and some shithead will just have to say “All girls are beautiful!” It’s a fucking non-sequitur, as if somebody had said “the sky is blue” and someone else had furiously shouted “So is the ocean!”
“Good” POC, according to white supremacist society, are those who don’t make waves, who don’t make white people uncomfortable by talking about either their identities or the oppression they experience for them, who survive by ignoring everything that makes them “different.” Who, in short, don’t have Pride... or who hide it.
Gay Pride is a good, familiar example of Pride being subverted from deadly sin to liberatory principle.
I could give many more examples. At this point I think we can plainly see why the Medieval Church, invested in keeping the peasant population under control, might have named Pride as the worst of sins. Crush someone’s Pride, and you crush their power. You make them small and manageable.
The truth is that Pride can be a virtue and a source of strength.
Pride can liberate, illuminate, and nourish.
Pride can be the rejection of shame. Pride can be gratitude and appreciation for one’s beauty, talents, culture, identity, self. Pride can be the refusal to be made smaller than you are, to be quashed down, to have your light extinguished.
Pride can motivate positive growth, can push us to be the better selves that we so love and admire.
Pride can be a realistic awareness of your assets and a willingness to deploy them in life.
Pride can be recognizing that you are OK, that you are valuable and good just as you are.
Pride can be loving yourself-- and demanding to be loved.
So ask yourself:
What are you afraid to do, say, or reveal about yourself out of fear of being called: stuck-up, conceited, a braggart, arrogant, too loud, too disruptive, too much-- in short, Prideful?
What are some other words society uses for Pride other than what I listed here? For instance, does calling a woman a “bitch” sometimes mean someone thinks she is too Proud?
What insults are being used to control you and lower your self-esteem?
What systems of power would be threatened by you having Pride?
What are some awesome things about yourself?
In what ways could you grow, to further honor your extraordinary nature?
Are you ashamed of anything? Are you right to be ashamed of any of those things?
Were you taught that talking about yourself too much, or even at all, was rude, arrogant, or otherwise unattractive?
What could you gain by having higher self-esteem?
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Tw: slurs and transphobia
An open letter to instagram (and affiliated sites):
Almost every day I am welcomed to instagram to this screen. No notice of which photo was removed– no way to protest, fight, or repeal the removal. Nowhere to even send a complaint. It’s a guessing game what part of my identity, anatomy, or life is offensive enough to warrant removal. Meanwhile I get death threats, slurs thrown at me, I’m called a faggot, a tranny, told i’ll never be a man, that I’ll burn in hell, it goes on and on. Instagram never flags those comments, and even when I personally flag them they’re often just hidden from my view not actually removed. Hell those accounts are left to operate and troll whoever they like.
And before you say it’s just social media and just get off it: I share my journey so that young trans people know they’re not alone. So that I can help some kid know there are people like them. So I can be a light in someone’s darkness, the way that some people online were for me. I also share my journey so I can see where I’ve come from. I don’t share my journey to be policed and told that trans men’s nipples aren’t held to the same standards that cis men’s are. I don’t share my journey so I can be treated like a picture of my body in boxers is more provocative than every teen idol in Calvin kleins. My body is not a bad body, my body is not overly sexual. Society has deemed and fetishized the bodies of trans individuals so much that we can’t even post censored progress photos without being told we are a violation.
There is something inherently wrong with a system/platform that takes over a week to take down a catfish using my photos (this has now happened about 5 times) but within an hour removes my pre-op photos because my trans body “violates community guidelines.” A platform that allows for cyber bullying and hate speech, but nipples are where we draw the line. Even if you censor what society deems unfit, you are still unfit to be as body positive as Justin Bieber, who can flaunt in his calvins all he wants, but a trans person– god forbid. Now, I understand that images are only removed when they are flagged by someone who deems them inappropriate, but the algorithm at the end of that flagging system should recognize that gender isn’t always inherently reflected in the size of ones nipples, and that if Zach galifinaks can go topless, why can’t I if I’m feeling particularly body positive. (Don’t worry though, I spent $6k to remove those socially offensive parts of my chest, and still received about 100+ violent comments on a video of my surgery reveal).
When you tell a person that their body, and in turn their identity, hell, their very existence is a violation to a community that allows white supremacist pages, porn pages, and catfishing like it’s a sport to run rampant you are telling people that they are unfit to be within a community that has morals so low it makes the Trump Political team look progressive.
Instagram, or as we should call it Cistagram, perpetuates society’s idea that only cis passing bodies are valid (and we could go into depth about which cis passing bodies are actually allowed, because I have seen (among other things) plus sized women’s photos removed for violating these guidelines, which is 7 shades of fucked up) and that we should be ashamed of what we are and what we look like. Can you imagine after a lifetime of being told otherwise, finally being confident to be yourself and show the world, or hell, just the 25k people who happen to follow your page, just to open your page to see this message of violating community guidelines over and over again?
By keeping the community “safe” you are endangering the lives of countless trans individuals. Letting other people (and some computer formula) dictate their worth. You are infringing on their right to express themselves, when they aren’t doing anything you’d remove a cis person’s photos for. You are emotionally harming people who have fought their entire lives to be seen, actually fucking seen, by keeping everyone else “safe.”
The next time I have a 12 year old come onto my page and tell me to burn in hell I’ll wonder who exactly we are keeping safe here. (Side note, why we allow minors to interact with adults is a problem in itself, that’s a real safety issue). The next time a mother tells me I’m a disgrace to my own parents I’ll wonder who is the problem here. The next time a 40 year old religious zealot tells me there’s only two genders I’ll wonder where my safety is then. The next time a young man with a confederate flag profile pic calls me a “faggot tranny dyke” (wouldn’t be the first time) I’ll wonder how many comments they’re allowed to make like that before they violate your supposed community guidelines and why their account remains unflagged (trust me, I’m reporting these people left and right yet they’re still going strong and my photos drop like flies).
This isn’t just about selfies, This is about representation. When your app and other apps flag trans bodies as inappropriate we become more taboo than we already are. We can’t even see ourselves reflected on shitty free social media applications in any capacity. When you tag our queer posts as NSFW and mature content you are othering us, and more importantly telling us that we are nothing more than a porn movie fetish.
Your slogan is “capture and share the world’s moments” but you’re excluding a world that accurately represents those of us outside the binary. And you’re leaving me guessing as to what part of my world I shared violated and offended this time.
Sincerely,
My body is a good body and it doesn’t violate your community guidelines, trust me, I’ve read them more times than I can count.
#wedeservemorethancis
#downwithcistagram
#communityincludestrans
#fckyourguidelines
#rant#transphobia#slurs#transgender#ftm#personal#instagram#social media#bigotry#cissexism#xenophobia#down with cistagram#we deserve more than cis#cistagram#wedeservemorethancis#my writing#social justice#writing#trans writer#lgbtq#queer#represent pre op#free the nipple#lgbtq writer#slurs tw#transphobia tw
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Do we think that maybe the whole Kobe Bryant thing is the straw that broke the camel's back?
Its just something more real to us
To those people watching basket ball and enjoying life while all those human traffic victims work underground...
Its finally just that one well hello... The world aint been as good as we thought?
I remember when Kobe was accused of rape and it hurt my heart and i was shocked and i did check in with the development of the story.
I'm not taking sides. I'm not saying anything about him just how it hurt me.
And so... Earlier i watched a video about Auschwitz i posted here an i cried during it. It was so difficult and so bad.
And so maybe Kobe Bryant represents to SOME people something different. Like the death of their own innocence.
Like their favorite toothpaste was made by a slave and they never knew.
I mean the world is going through something tragic. Not just the deaths
But Auschwitz. I know some of our human traffic victims were gassed. And i know some died just this year.
And so i know what we are hearing about and thinking about is simply tragic.
Every single of our gassing victims were brought back to life relatively immediately and i hadn't posted about them because that's not what we want to know about. I did post about the gassing we prevented but there was gassing after. But they were revived.
So i didn't think of it before. I just wanted people yo have space and their ability to have their own time and way to grieve or deal with what they needed to in regards to Kobe Bryant before anything other was said.
But for me there's things that will be the last thing i expect to just cause all the strength I had to just say... Hey babe it's time to cry now. Just go ahead and let it go. It may seem stupid or irrelevant but just let it go. And cry for days Just because i need to.
And I see a very deep theme with Kobe And his secret life parallel running with our planet's secret human slaves.
Much like a rainbow promise of an end.
Now there's no evidential facts posted now. So don't start throwing words. I ain't here to listen to you.
Im listening to what i see in this video. Because for the first time i said why haven't i seen people crying for hostages, human trafficked victims, and so on?
As many of you know I am blocked from a lot of media, being a POW.
So i have not seen any tears regarding human trafficking.
So I'm all why can't they make a huge deal of them? Why can't people cry over those that are being hurt?
Okay so never mind i just can't see it...
So I'm not throwing down about it.
But it's what side stepped me to seeing that this is a breaking point for many people
Its also a stepping point for others.
Its many things depending on your level of activity and understanding and busyness.
I am announcing on Sunday Friday night we will have devastating news followed by amazing news. So if you hated Kobe you will know why and you will be floored by your intuition. If you loved Kobe because you saw him play in his first year or because you only saw his good side, you will have a better grasp on the difficult time I had with Matt Hagan.
At any rate, regardless how you feel, please do tune in.
In the end... There will be no bad news about Kobe.
In the end i say. During you'll want to keep your vomit bags close to you and keep Tupac in your heart.
I've written about each topic that you'll see on Sunday. Friday.
The Magic Tree said he can make a version which will flow smoother. Because we had Part A and Part B which would make many people sick so he did from 2 hours to 1 and a half and it's a much happier story throughout so it's less traumatizing but will be over all shocking.
So that's on Sunday Friday night.
There are points where it is said that you should protect your child from the information. And there's a table of contents which will be available tonight here Which will let you know which break is for which.
For example break 1 is for the 2016 coverage. So then it will say break 1. So you refer to the table that will be pinned here to see what it is going to be about.
So if you don't want your self to see something graphic or your child you'll know to change the channel or put it on mute and look at your phone or what have you. Its color coded and a thin colored line will be at the top of the screen. So say break one is blue. A blue line will be on the top of the screen if you can't be handling such an issue and there's also going to be a time start that will be listed here.
So you'll see it's very traumatic and can be triggering and the information will be very detailed. With evidence. Which means videos of each event.
So the table of contents is very simple and can be misleading so you guys can kinda play around in your mind about what they mean
You will find how you have loyalty. To people or to truth or do you bow to intuition?
How do you think?
Did you have it toying at the back of your ear all along? Did you tell it to fuck off? Or did you like really feel the ill of it?
It's to help you learn yourself.
So we're not going to mess with your minds here. We will allow you to naturally flow through the information if you would like.
Mark Anthony is tripping on me. So i will say that number 2 has two ways... I think it's the best way yo say it. And currently only one way is in the video and at the end There will be a multiple answer question where you use the intuition you have to answer and there will be prizes just for answering which will differ on how you answer. So if you answer it correct the first time then it's a better prize then if it's you did the correct answer then changed it then went back to the first Its the same prize. There's a little system
So 24 hours to answer then 24 hours to claim the prize
The question will be posted after issue 2 is over and so you can answer right away but the 24 hours start 1 hour after the show is over. This way you have a free hour to process the information. But if you are a better answerer like me when you first hear the information you have the chance to answer right away before you get busy with more information. You can answer as many times as you like. No hash tags necessary.
Otherwise there will be a comprehension quiz which will be rewarded as usual. It will be one post that you'll need to answer in all. Like a test at school.
It should be fairly easy if you watch it. If you don't watch certain segments and take breaks instead you just write that on that question. Like skip, break. Didn't watch.
Or you can guess. Who did ..... in segment 4? I guess Kobe from all the internet reactions.
They are gonna do a little magic and so 4 hours after you watch the video to the end the quiz will show up for you. Then it will automatically grade it for you And show you how to access your prize or deliver is the word Mark Anthony used.
I'm gonna hint at you. If you are missing someone because they are dead, you'll want to do that quiz ASAP. It cannot be submitted until you finish unless you have work or something and you can't watch it live
So if you answer the question about segment 2 correctly because you ARE at work... Then you will get the surprise in advance
So for real people working and only for reals remember i am super strict... 1. Try your hardest and give your for real answer. 1B you will not have the ability to see it. But to enjoy your surprise while watching the video late -- do number two. 2. Answer all the answers. Do NOT do all of the above or none of the above those are wrong, do A B C D E etc one has to be correct.
So you'll do
Real answer: C
Winning Answer cause i was for real at work or transporting to or from or volunteering to help empty a human traffic facility: A B C D E F G
Or however many answers there are. They say only to D.
.....
Now people watching LIVE will finish the comprehension quiz to make sure you actually paid attention to get the prize.
No one will get prizes until 15 minutes after the show ends. So don't be rushing
Quality matters. If you get 100% correct you get more prizes. If you get 40% well you will get one and good luck.
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A New Startup Called Pattern Wants To Make Millennial Burnout Uncool
Up a skinny stairwell in New York City’s Chinatown on a sweltering late-September night, a private dining room overflowed with downtown cool kids. Some were sipping Recess, the CBD-infused sparkling water in distinctive pastel cans whose ads papered New York subway walls for a brief period earlier this year. Others stood in the open kitchen, making their own ravioli, which were then placed into plastic to-go boxes marked with each person’s name: the promise of a weeknight dinner at home.
The jumpsuited and overalled and fashion-forward mom-jeans-wearers were there to celebrate the ongoing launch of Equal Parts, the first of many planned brands from a new (and newly philosophical) company called Pattern. Equal Parts sells “modern” cookware (sturdy frying pans, mixing bowls, spatulas, knives, and a cutting board turned charcuterie plate) accompanied by cooking assistance. At the party, hip millennial cooks hovered nearby to answer partygoers’ questions, but when you purchase Equal Parts cookware, help comes via text message from friendly “coaches” ready to guide you through making a quick dinner when all you have in your kitchen is a can of black beans, some peanut butter, and a bottle of Trader Joe’s wine.
In its previous incarnation, Pattern was a hip boutique digital marketing agency called Gin Lane, responsible for the look of some of the most prominent brands in today’s bourgeois millennial marketplace: Sweetgreen, Harry’s, Everlane. They were trendsetters who made fast-but-fancy salad happen and normcore sustainable clothes cool. Events like the one in Chinatown are the sort of thing that Gin Lane had perfected: gathering cool kids who could help a product, an aesthetic, or a lifestyle choice spiral forth into the world through their Instagram accounts.
There was a lot to be wary of in that loft: the beautiful people; the gift bag, complete with butcher knife; the photo booth and the invitation to share photos from the night “with your community”; the guy with the T-shirt that read “Due to Physical Violence Shitfaced Mondays Have Been Canceled.”
Gabriela Herman for BuzzFeed News
An attendee at the September Equal Parts launch party in Chinatown.
I’d first felt that wariness back in July, when Pattern started tagging me on Instagram. The posts were vague and brand-speaky; the hashtags included #enjoydailylife and #wordsofwisdom. At that point, I was used to random brands tagging, emailing, and tweeting me. In January, I wrote a piece about millennial burnout that unexpectedly went viral. Now, every press release I received with the word “millennial” seemed to also invoke burnout — some more obliquely than others.
In August, I found an email from Emmett Shine, founder of Gin Lane and now Pattern, in my inbox. My article, he said, had a profound effect on him and the rest of his company. And now, big surprise, he wanted to tell me about his new company, which had just launched.
“Pattern’s central mission is helping young adults today ‘enjoy daily life,’” he wrote. “We’re doing this by raising awareness of burnout caused by work culture, the attention economy, and by creating brands that offer a combination of products and personal guidance around simple, everyday activities at home.” Their first product? Equal Parts cookware.
My immediate reaction was Are you fucking kidding me? A cookware brand seemed like the exact sort of expensive burnout Band-Aid I’d spent the last six months railing against, up there with overnight oats and expensive serums and meditation apps. A brand, with $14 million in venture capital behind it, to fix what brands hath wrought. When the first articles about Pattern started appearing, I tweeted a link: “A start-up….to battle millennial burnout?” The responses mirrored my own: “Please kill me,” “I hate it, thank you,” “This article gave me vertigo,” and “What is it? Why can’t I tell after reading twice?”
But I told Shine I’d meet with his team. There would be pleasure, I thought, in telling the people at Pattern that they were part of the problem. And I was intrigued by the question of what an anti-burnout company, operating within American capitalism, might actually look like. There’s a certain elegant symmetry to Pattern’s mission, after all: Who better to counter the anomie of the bourgeois millennial experience than those who’ve not only lived it — but helped construct it in the first place?
“It’s good that people are talking about burnout,” Shine told me when I visited Pattern’s Chinatown office in September, where a handful of Equal Parts mixing bowls had been positioned to capture dripping rain from the slightly leaky ceilings. “And it’s gonna get co-opted, but that’s not bad. Co-opt away. More brands should totally be pivoting to having their marketing language talk about the role of the attention economy and workism and the endless amounts of human capital and personal optimization.”
The charismatic CEOs and kombucha on tap simply distracted from the fact that the cracked foundations of most people’s lives remain unfixed.
Still. The idea that brands “pivoting” to burnout could meaningfully combat a condition that is first and foremost a product of capitalism requires a serious suspension of disbelief — or at the very least, a tempering of cynicism. That’s a difficult proposition at any given moment, but especially now, against the backdrop of the wreckage of WeWork, which inveigled thousands with open-plan shared offices, fruit-infused water, and the promise of actual community and a “work culture revolution.”
WeWork duped countless venture capitalists and employees. But it’s also become an object lesson on the unbridled tech optimism of the 2010s: Even the companies claiming to subvert the soulless capitalist systems are themselves chasing the dragon of everlasting scale and venture-backed money (or, at least, a massive payout to soften the blow of their failure). The ones who preached self-care — Make your life easier! And more meaningful! While spending money! — have perpetuated the systems from which they claim to offer refuge. The charismatic CEOs and kombucha on tap simply distracted from the fact that the cracked foundations of most people’s lives remain unfixed.
It’s easy to understand, then, why so many of us are so angry. The WeWorks of the world were built on an ethos of positive vibes and unity — replete with what tech analyst Ranjan Roy calls “high-minded, burning man-esque self-actualization language” that, today, feels offensively out of sync with people’s lived realities. So why would Pattern, or any company that applies a superficial layer of burnout-conscious buzzwords to its products, be different?
But beneath Pattern’s soothing, bucolic packaging lies a deep, and deeply generational, frustration. The company’s trajectory hasn’t followed the path of a classic rocket-ship startup but that of a striving millennial: hard work followed by deep disillusionment and now, maybe, guarded optimism. Their products, their financing structure, their work culture, their messaging, even their website and social media are engineered in a way that’s not meant to hack, or optimize, or disrupt so much as consider the question: Can a for-profit venture actually help reverse the cultural affliction it helped create?
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Emmett Shine, cofounder and executive creative director for Pattern, at the office with coworkers.
The first time Emmett Shine remembers feeling like everything was out of control and overwhelming, it was the 1990s; he was in junior high, and his parents had just separated.
“I had to start working to support me and my family,” he told me. “My way of dealing with tough stuff was just working. In America, that’s conditioned: If you want to get out of something tough, you just work your way through it.”
Shine, who just turned 36, grew up in the Hamptons — but think more working-class Long Island, less celebrity summer palace. His mom was an artist; his dad was a fisherman and, eventually, a landscaper. Shine was diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome in the second grade and ended up in a mix of special education and what he refers to as “smart kid” classes. When his parents got divorced, he had to balance work and school. “My friends helped me with food, money, everything,” he said. “Being poor is universal, and it universally sucks.”
Shine looks like any number of white kids I grew up with in Idaho, with a boyish crew cut and an omnipresent baseball cap. The night before, he had shown up at the Equal Parts party wearing shiny, knee-length basketball shorts. “Sometimes I dress like I’m in sixth grade,” he joked, before telling me, in all seriousness, that he sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night and searches for No Fear shirts on eBay.
But the packaging is deceiving. Part of Shine’s charm is that he’s not slick and he doesn’t glad-hand. His sentences come out in paragraphs, with a winding intricacy that often makes sense only when transcribed, read once, then read again. He’s bad at sound bites, bad at short interviews, bad at Twitter. “I was talking to someone last night,” he told me, “and he said that he’d listened to me on a podcast talking about Pattern and was like, ‘I finally get it!’ And I was like, fuck, it took them an hour and a half?”
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A Pattern employee works on a couch in their Chinatown office.
Shine’s official title at Pattern is “executive creative director,” which still doesn’t adequately convey how much of the company’s aesthetic and attitude — and how much of Gin Lane’s success, which laid the groundwork for it — has sprung from his cavernous, curious mind. The first time I sat down with him, he quoted from Jenny Odell’s How to Do Nothing and Malcolm Harris’s Kids These Days and Jia Tolentino’s work on millennial optimization in Trick Mirror. This is impressive not just because those books are good, which they are, but because I’ve encountered so few people in his position of corporate power who actually do the reading. But Shine’s current thing — and, by extension, Pattern’s thing — is introspection: trying to figure out why he, and the rest of the millennials he works with, feel the way they do even amid profound, seemingly unending success.
Shine’s current thing — and, by extension, Pattern’s thing — is introspection: trying to figure out why he, and the rest of the millennials he works with, feel the way they do.
When Shine graduated from high school, he said, college “wasn’t even in the cards.” But one of Shine’s mentors advised him: You’re a smart guy. You need to get away from here, or you’ll never leave. Shine took his savings and bought a ticket for the place that was the farthest away from Southampton he could find: New Zealand. It was the first time he’d left the country.
It was October 2001. Shine got a camera. He took photos. His mom told him he should think about applying to college, but he only wanted to be in New York City, where, growing up, he’d ride the Long Island Rail Road in to skateboard with his friends. He got into the Tisch School of Arts at NYU, and, upon returning, slowly integrated into the art world of downtown — and began to take on tens of thousands of dollars in student debt. He dropped out before his senior year and started working as a graphic designer for Rocawear; on the side, he ran a photography business. He worked with smaller artists and avant garde designers, and helped promote art shows — work that, over time, would develop into the agency that officially became Gin Lane in 2008.
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An old sign from Gin Lane at the Pattern office.
And he was working all the time. “I would sleep in the office,” Shine recalled. “It was classic brogrammer culture, like, in our twenties: You work, then you drink some beer afterwards, eat some Cheetos, order in.” They had a shower in the office, which made it even easier for the 10 or so employees to never leave. “It was just a bunch of people in their twenties who were lost and would find themselves through work.”
It wasn’t until around 2013 that things began to change. Gin Lane hired an account manager, Suze Dowling, and a CEO, Nicholas Ling. “Because I’ve been working for myself since I was a teenager, I didn’t always have people to hold me accountable,” Shine said. “I’m a man-boy in certain regards. But when Suze and Nick got involved, the place professionalized.” Or, at least, there was no more sleeping at the office.
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Pattern cofounder Nicholas Ling.
Ling, age 34, has foppish chestnut brown hair in the tradition of a young Hugh Grant, and a posh British accent to match. But the accent, he admits, is learned. He grew up solidly middle class in the suburbs of London, where his mother was a schoolteacher and his father was an accountant. He’d eventually end up at Oxford, completing a degree in physics, but only because he tested into an elite school when he was 11. After graduating, he signed on for what he calls a “very traditional job” with the Boston Consulting Group.
Ling’s arrival at Gin Lane was part of the company’s second life, as it transitioned from a company that worked primarily with artists to one that worked with and for consumer brands, producing the marketing strategy that would introduce them to the world — or, in business-speak, “bring them to market.” In practice, that meant creating the client’s aesthetic, vibe, and messaging — the fonts, the subway ads, the slogans, the social media strategy.
“We had this ability to make things that aren’t cool, cool.”
In 2010, the team helped launch Stella McCartney for Adidas, which led to work for Warby Parker, which then asked them to launch their new venture: Harry’s, a direct-to-consumer shaving company that, like so many of the products Gin Lane would help popularize, was positioned less as a brand and more as a lifestyle choice. Same for Everlane, Bonobos, Sweetgreen, denim brand AYR, Hims, Recess, Alma, Dia & Co — the list of names that now haunt your Instagram feeds, largely thanks to Gin Lane, feels endless.
“We had this ability to make things that aren’t cool, cool,” Ling explained. They used the same general alchemy when approaching something like Harry’s razors as they did when designing the campaign for the plus-size styling service Dia & Co. But the better they got at it, the less invested they became. Shine rattled off what they become known for: “You know, clean aesthetics, bold sans serifs, color blocking.”
“What’s the reason people stay doing something?” Ling asked me. “The challenge. Either that or they believe in something so much that they will smash their head against the wall until they get through. Eventually neither of those was completely true for us.”
Pattern Brands
The Pattern team in one of their promotional images, enjoying daily life.
It didn’t add up to something, other than what Ling calls “massive spikes of uncontrollable stress.” The work, sure, they could control. In childhood, at school, the work was always the easy part. It was the stuff outside of work that made everything seem untenable. Specifically, Ling’s mother has been chronically ill for the last 20 years. During one of the most stressful periods at Gin Lane, her leg was amputated. Earlier this year, she survived three strokes over the course of six months. And it felt like there was nothing Ling could do about it.
Millennials have been trained to optimize themselves through any struggle, work through any problem. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that work and efficiency couldn’t fix everything. And Ling and Shine weren’t the only ones who felt that way. Despite the demand for their services, they’d kept Gin Lane purposefully small — just under 30 employees. They didn’t expand to meet demand; they just got more particular about what they agreed to do. The senior leadership had all been with the company for at least five years — and two of them, Camille Baldwin and Dan Kenger, were about to get married. As a result, the company managed to maintain the feel of a small startup or, as Shine thinks of it, an “organism.”
“There’s an innate biological clock,” he said, “and you know when it’s time to shift or change or move. People are like, ‘how did you get your team to buy in on this change? And it wasn’t that we got them to buy in. I think the collective organism was searching.”
People were, well, growing up. Getting married, getting pregnant, getting exhausted. The decision to transition from Gin Lane into Pattern “never felt like a whiteboard session in a meeting,” Ling said. “More of, like, a group of friends talking about what motivates us, what’s happening in our lives, as much as what’s the strategy for the company.”
“We were just trying to be happy.”
It was never them thinking Oh, we feel burned out, we need to solve it. It was Ling talking about cooking, and what it did for him, all the time. Camille kept bringing up Benjamin Franklin’s “13 virtues.” Shine couldn’t shake the feeling that he was like Abe Simpson in The Simpsons: an old man shaking his fist at the cloud, but with no idea what, exactly, he was so anxious and angry about. They kept talking about how they had no skills, no hobbies.
They knew they wanted to do more than just launch a product — they wanted to create it, and control where it went. But they also wanted it to be bigger than a gadget, an app, or a food item.
“We were just trying to be happy,” Shine said. “We were always presenting a good face, and everyone was telling us that we have it so good — but internally there’s just something nagging at you.” They didn’t want to feel the way they’d felt the last decade of their working lives. So they started over.
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Equal Parts cookware in the Chinatown office.
Outside the door to Pattern’s office, there’s a stack of skateboards; mixed-media posters on the walls bear messages like “What if the future could be more human / Embrace that we’re just sapiens.” A felt message board invites visitors to ENJOY DAILY LIFE. Inside, the office is peak millennial: exposed brick walls, snack cabinets, employees with laptops slouching on couches.
“We were trying to make the knife feel like EVE, from Wall-E,” Shine told me, as we hovered near the office’s display of Equal Parts cookware. “We’re trying to make it approachable. It’s German steel, which is good quality, but there’s one that’s ‘above,’ that’s Damascus steel — but you know, it kinda just looked…Dothraki?” (As in Game of Thrones.) “This one, it has a good center of balance. It’s light.”
He gestured toward the cutting board, which I’d seen in action the night before at the launch party. “It’s solid oak. You can flip it over and use it as a charcuterie board or whatever. It’s like a two-and-one for small spaces.” The cookware is lined with ceramic, which is more stylish than the Teflon-coated stuff most of us buy at Target. It works on convection ovens and standard ones. The cores are aluminum, which makes it more recyclable. It’s all machine washable.
For now, the Equal Parts cookware line is available only in a variety of preset combinations, at price points ranging from $79 for just the EVE-like knife (with coaching included) to $499 for the “complete kitchen.” (For comparison’s sake, an 83-piece kitchen set at Wal-Mart currently retails for $69.97 and includes plates and cutlery. It’s also of significantly lower quality.) This equipment is not cheap, but it’s also not Le Creuset or All-Clad expensive. The imagined customers are people in professional jobs who either want to 1) stock a kitchen for the first time or 2) stock a kitchen like a professional adult for the first time. They’re the sort of people who, instead of stopping in at Williams Sonoma or Target, buy things off Instagram ads — and who responded to the products that Pattern, in its previous life as Gin Lane, specialized in making appealing. An Equal Parts set would be a cool-relative college graduation gift, a generous wedding gift, a “dude deciding he makes enough money to stop eating Easy Mac” gift to himself.
Basically, the brand is marketing to people like Shine. His Instagram account features shots of him sautéing onions and putting together a simple pasta using Equal Parts, proud in the charming manner of a true novice. Cooking never interested him. What did interest him was how Ling talked about it. When Ling’s mom was in the hospital, he’d only speak to her and the rest of his family in the mornings, because of the five-hour time difference between the UK and New York. And that meant there was nothing he could do, at least for his mom, in those hours after work.
“I was like, how do I manage the feelings I’m having?” Ling explained. “That’s when cooking became a very central thing for me, just in terms of being able to relax.”
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Equal Parts cookware on display at the launch party.
This wasn’t cooking to save money, or to eat healthier, or through a meal-planning service like Blue Apron. It was cooking even when it was ugly, or when it went wrong. It was cooking just to cook. It felt like an antidote, or at the very least, a form of resistance to the feeling that everything you do in your life should be optimized, or monetized, or packaged for social media.
As millennials, “we’ve been trained to do as much as possible, get into the best school possible,” Shine told me. “And that eliminates a lot of ‘unproductive’ free time.” Time spent exploring, goofing off, staring at the wall and listening to music, just hanging out with your own mind — all of that becomes implicitly devalued.
It felt like an antidote, or at the very least, a form of resistance to the feeling that everything you do in your life should be optimized.
“You work on this 18-year-résumé to go this ‘signaling school,’ which your parents, your teachers, your guidance counselor, and everyone else told you that you have to go to, and then you come out 30, 50, 60, 100 thousand dollars–plus in debt,” Shine continued. “And you need to earn a certain amount to pay down your debt, which you might never get rid of, even if you work your entire life. … And that’s how you find yourself at 27, 28, 29, just like I did, and you have no discernible life skills, except knowing how to work.”
Whatever passions you do have, they’re enveloped by work. “Ten, 15 years ago, they started creating these workplaces to promote productivity,” Shine said. “But they made work the place you go to, to hang out and not be productive. So then to finish the expected productivity, you actually have to take it home.” When you can do work anywhere, you feel the compulsion to do it everywhere — and all the time.
“I didn’t skateboard or surf in my twenties,” Shine said. “I didn’t work out. I didn’t travel.” He joked that it took getting a girlfriend from Denmark to actually start having hobbies again, but it’s not really a joke at all. The story is devastatingly familiar: I’m still trying to recover some semblance of the hobbies that, as an Elder Millennial, I’d cultivated before transforming myself into a work robot.
And yes, sure, a millennial might Instagram themselves baking — when they do it once a month. And those who can afford to, “love” to travel often do it for 36 hours at a time, documenting themselves the entire time as people “who love to travel.” What Shine and Ling envisioned was a more holistic change in, well, the pattern of daily life. Cooking, especially given Ling’s experience with it, felt like the place to start.
“We’re trying to be approachable, attainable, regular, routine,” Ling explained. “It’s not saying you have to do it five nights a week. It’s more like, how can we help this become the rhythm of your life?”
“It’s not saying you have to do it five nights a week. It’s more like, how can we help this become the rhythm of your life?”
They’re trying to cultivate something for millennials that some younger people seem to grasp intuitively: what blogger Venkatesh Rao calls “domestic cozy.” Rao coined the term to describe “an attitude, emerging socioeconomic posture, and aesthetic,” organic to Gen Z, which “finds its best expression in privacy, among friends, rather than in public, among strangers. It prioritizes the needs of the actor rather than the expectations of the spectator. It seeks to predictably control a small, closed environment rather than gamble in a large, open one. It presents a WYSIWYG facade to those granted access rather than performing in the theater of optics.”
Domestic cozy focuses on the cultivation of pleasure for pleasure’s sake, rather than the performance of pleasure. It retreats from the harsh, combative, hyper-political world, rather than engaging it. You can see the manifestations of domestic cozy life all over: in the popularity of Minecraft, in knitting (but not things to sell!), and in a new “inactive wear” company that markets big, pillowy garments to “improve quality of life in the home.”
That’s where Equal Parts fits in: cookware that makes cooking enjoyable for you, personally — nice to use and nice to look at, but not designed with Instagramming in mind. It’s a starter kit, with a low barrier to entry, especially when paired with a cooking coach who communicates with you via text.
When you “onboard” with the service, you answer a bunch of questions: What day do you shop for groceries? What’s your level of skill or ambition? What are your dietary preferences? Then the coach knows when to text, when you need support, how to provide the sort of tips that’ll actually be useful. The coaches aren’t chefs, just people who love to cook — and they’re all boomers, many recruited from cooking schools, from a broad range of backgrounds across the United States. It’s not unlike having a mom-like figure on call to text you tips, only without the baggage of actually texting with your mom.
“We don’t want our coaches to send people recipes,” Ling said. “That’s the antithesis of what we want them to do. They can be like, ‘Hey, what have you got in your kitchen? And then say, ‘Here’s what you could do with what you’ve got, and here’s what you could do if you got one or two extra things.’ Or they’ll send a text that says, ‘Hey, you’re on your way home. You’re feeling tired. Send me a text and tell me how you’re feeling about dinner.’” Those interactions aren’t oriented toward a specific type of meal prep, but getting over mental barriers that keep you from doing things you actually want to do.
Sure, it’s a bougie solution to a bougie problem. A lot of people who are burned out, especially those who aren’t part of the so-called professional class, don’t have the luxury or time to cook for sustenance, let alone fun or relaxation. But one of the things that Pattern is bullish on is that the bougieness doesn’t obviate the problem-ness. You can maintain perspective — you’re not starving, you have a place to live, you have electricity — and also want things to be, or feel, different.
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The Equal Parts aesthetic in action.
The day before I was set to visit Pattern’s office, I received an email from a youth-trend forecasting company called Cassandra, a division of the global marketing firm Engine. Over the summer, they’d shifted the focus of their quarterly report from “Free Time” to the more pointed “Burnout,” asking questions about how burnout affects daily life and consumer habits among focus groups across the country. The specific findings of the report are behind a paywall, accessible only to brands eager to know how they can begin to pivot to accommodate their customers, and attract new ones, in the months and years to come.
Back in 2015, Cassandra published a similar report focusing on “wellness” — predicting that the new millennial focus would shift, even ahead of the 2016 presidential election, to various elements of what’s become known as “self-care”: in diet, in skincare, in mental health. They’re predicting a similar wave with burnout, which, according to their findings, is already cutting across class, race, and urban/rural/suburban demographics. As Melanie Shreffler, one of Cassandra’s VPs, told me, “Burnout is the green juice of 2019.”
When I told the authors of the report about Pattern, they said that it was “on the tip of the spear” — the sort of brand with which so many others, especially the less nimble ones, would soon find themselves playing a clumsy game of catch-up. But if anti-burnout marketing is poised to become mainstream, brands like Pattern can quickly come to feel exploitative.
After all, our current iteration of capitalism can’t fix the problems that our current iteration of capitalism has wrought. If we’ve learned anything from all the millennial-oriented books on how to unfuck your life, the meditation apps, the organizational apps, and the profusion of $3,000 exercise bikes, it’s that a thing can’t fix what ails both millennials and society as a whole. Maybe Pattern’s pivot to anti-burnout philosophy is just its way of being, once again, perfectly (and profitably) attuned to millennials’ desires.
When I laid out this argument to Shine and Ling, they shook their heads. “I’d rather be accused of being dumb than having malicious intent,” Shine told me. “The way we got to what we got to with Pattern was a form of self-therapy.”
“I’m gonna try and say this in a way that isn’t like, pullquote-y and bad, but I think we found ourselves in a good wave position.”
“Listen,” he continued, the frustration palpable in his voice. “I like surfing. I like waves. Look around and you’ll see pictures of waves everywhere in this office. If you go on Wikipedia and you type in waves, it’s all math. The entire universe is constructed of waves. If you’re surfing, and you’re ahead of the wave, you get toppled over. If your ratios are behind the wave, it just goes underneath you, and you can’t catch it. And I’m gonna try and say this in a way that isn’t like, pullquote-y and bad, but I think we found ourselves in a good wave position.”
The goal for Pattern is not to move fast and break things in order to disrupt cooking — after all, there’s no shortage of direct-to-consumer kitchenware brands already on the market — but to create something meaningful in the long term. “The number one thing is just for us to keep raising awareness,” Shine continued. “And if we can provide solutions, then that’s a bonus. Of course we have to, like, build a sustainable business that makes sense and makes money. That’s gonna take a long time, and we know that. There’s no expectation of, like, a quarterly return. We’re in it for seven to 10 years, minimum.”
Earlier in our conversation, Shine had brought up what he saw as the three pillars of contemporary American society — the three areas where you can affect change: within the community, in politics, and within markets.
“I just keep going back to the fact that I am not a community organizer,” he said. “I am not a politician. I am a goddamn marketer. And I’m good at it! So why shouldn’t I use what I’m good at for what I think will make things one step better, not one step worse?”
Gabriela Herman for BuzzFeed News
A participant photographs ravioli-making during a cookware demonstration at the Equal Parts launch party.
Shine’s argument is reminiscent of recent conversations about various presidential candidates on the progressive left: Can a candidate like Elizabeth Warren, who’s open about believing in markets while also advocating for meaningful, systemic moderation of those markets, actually create change? Is antipathy toward capitalism, and true socialist ideals, the only real solution? Or, given the reality of the political and economic realities of the country, is the most productive change made by renovating the existing system?
The team at Pattern understood that if they were going to try and market this sort of from-the-inside change to a mass audience, they needed to reflect it themselves: individually, but also as a company. Because that’s the other reason for the disillusionment with companies that market themselves with a philosophy, from social justice to feminism. When you treat your women employees like garbage, it doesn’t matter how many feminist T-shirts you sell: You’re not a feminist company. When you keep hiring white men for positions of power, invocations of social justice become meaningless.
That means an anti-burnout company can’t be burning out its employees. On the HR side of things at Pattern, that translates to 20 days of PTO, 10 of which are mandatory; completely closing down the office between Christmas and New Year’s; 12 weeks fully-paid leave for primary caregiver leave and 6 weeks to secondary caregivers; flexible scheduling for parents; cultivating a 6 o’clock end to the workday, with Shine and Ling leading by example. Their sacred text is “Pattern’s 10 Simple Steps to Help You Enjoy Daily Life,” which includes “Do one thing at a time,” “Each morning, do something before checking your phone,” “Let your mind wander,” “Take control of your leisure time,” and “Embrace mediocrity.”
An anti-burnout company can’t be burning out its employees.
Every week since launching this summer, the company has oriented itself toward one of those 10 steps; at their weekly meeting, Shine and Ling share their own experiences and failures with each. If an employee shares their personal experience on Slack, they get a raffle ticket for a weekly drawing for, wait for it, a houseplant. When Pattern posted the 10 Simple Steps on its Instagram, the post was “saved” twice as many times as it was shared or liked: proof, Ling says, that it’s maybe, actually, meaningfully useful.
Pattern proclaims that it’s guided by five core values — which, as the company’s website states, “represent our character, our process, and how we push ourselves to be better.” Some of them are easy: hospitality, curiosity, acceptance. But others are a struggle, or at the very least an area for constant improvement. “Responsibility” means considering the impact of their products not only on the people who buy them, but the people who make them — which, in turn, makes the product more expensive, and/or the profit margin smaller. (When I asked if depending on venture capital might eventually put pressure on the team to focus more on profit and less on principles, Shine and Ling told me in an email that their investors “fully support the time and energy we spend everyday on internal culture and making Pattern a great place to work.”)
And then there’s “Equity.” Each Pattern brand will dedicate 1% of its revenue to a local nonprofit organization (for Equal Parts, it’s the Chinatown-based Two Bridges Neighborhood Council). Shine and Ling also foresee themselves working for and collaborating with politicians who aim to address financial inequality. But the staff, at least in its current iteration, is very white — something that, when the first publicity photos of the staff went public, attracted attention. They’re also very international, and hail from a range of economic and educational backgrounds. But for Pattern to meaningful address what “enjoying daily life” might look like for all different sorts of people, they need those sorts of people in the company as well. In other words, there’s still a lot of “equity” work to do.
Shine and Ling are cagey on the exact identity of the next Pattern brand, set to launch in early 2020. It might be something that helps people learn to sew just to sew, but also to make the things you own last longer. Or products to help people do simple handy tasks around the home, not because you want to make it look like a West Elm catalog, but because there’s pleasure in getting something done yourself — rather than looking at the framed piece of art, still on the floor after two years in your apartment, shaming you every morning on your way out the door. The only real stipulations are that it has to make money, and it has to be part of the company’s overall mission to help others “enjoy daily life.”
“I was looking at this Ernst and Young report about how they’re helping people manage their workplace habits better during peak season for accounting,” Ling said. “And I was thinking, why does that feel like it’s really going to make a difference? You know, Ernst and Young, they’re a great company, I’m sure. But not everything about their being is going to catalyze that change. Everything about their being is going towards whatever their mission statement is — like, making sure people have good accounting practices, or whatever. Which is why I think you need companies like Pattern at the center of things like this — to set the standard that we will drag other people to.”
That’s Pattern’s answer to the critique that cookware won’t fix burnout — especially cookware at a price point that’s only available to a particular type of consumer. The cookware isn’t really the point. The overarching Pattern brand, and what it represents, is the point. In her newsletter write-up of Pattern’s launch, marketing analyst Emily Singer pinpointed this exact tension: “I hope that [Pattern] finds way for people who are not customers to engage with the brand,” she wrote. “Its message is meaningful and universally applicable. It would be a shame if the only way to access it was through a transaction.”
Gabriela Herman for BuzzFeed News
Camille Baldwin prepares avocados at Pattern’s offices.
At precisely 5 p.m. on the day of my visit to Pattern’s office, the sound of jazz began to filter into the conference room where we were finishing our interview. The rest of the team began to slowly transition from their workplace postures: Some started pouring a low-alcohol aperitif, previously launched by Gin Lane, that’s marketed toward people who wanted to be social but not get wasted. Camille, pregnant in overalls, peeled an unending supply of avocados on the Equal Parts cutting board using the Equal Parts knife. (When I tried to get in touch with a few follow-up questions for her this month, she’d just given birth — and was really and truly off email.)
Everyone at Pattern told me they loved working there — what else would they tell a journalist covering their newly launched company? But they offered convincing testimonies, and not just from the leadership suite: One employee had worked for a startup “industry disrupter” with ads currently blanketing the New York subway; the management and work-life balance was so toxic that Pattern’s philosophy and policy still felt mildly shocking. A new employee, on the job for just three months, was amazed the office actually cleared out at 6 pm. The mom of a toddler twirling around in an office chair told me that her daughter’s presence in the office at that moment is indicative of the Pattern culture. There’s no compunction to pretend that children have no effect on your life, your schedule, or the number of days you have to work from home. Having a kid doesn’t make you a worse worker, or a less attentive one. It just makes you a parent.
Gabriela Herman for BuzzFeed News
A child of a Pattern employee during an all-company dinner in the office.
I walked home to my hotel that night in the rain, flicking at my phone, barely avoiding the traffic on Bowery. Every time I come back to New York, so, too, do all of my worst burnout habits. I stayed up too late scrolling Instagram; I woke up too early; I never drank enough water. The year before, I’d stumbled around the city after working so hard, and flying so much, that I gave myself a case of vertigo that lasted for 10 days.
This time, I tried to be better. I’d gone to SoulCycle for the first time, thinking it might center me. I left feeling mostly just wet. I ate the same Sweetgreen salad for two meals a row. They tasted like robot food, like nothing at all. I realized, when I got home, that I’d left my planner in the Pattern conference room. I emailed in a panic: “It’s the only thing keeping my life together.” They sent it to me the next day, and I opened the package and began to stroke it like it was a lost sacred artifact.
How can we actually change the patterns of our lives — in a way that accommodates their current complexities without capitulating to them?
What holds your life together? What keeps us going? What if it were a daily practice instead of a planner? How can we actually change the patterns of our lives — in a way that accommodates their current complexities without capitulating to them?
When I flew home to Montana, there was an email from Shine waiting. He rarely talked about his childhood in a public way, he said, and our conversation had loosened some threads he wanted to tie back together. Pattern is, in many ways, a way to redo so much of what he missed: “Making brands to teach myself and people around me the life skills I think so many of us missed, trying to make seeking balance cool, being present cool, and working like a dog to survive not as cool.”
That circles back to Shine’s understanding of how change actually happens: Community leaders advocate. Politicians draft and pass regulations and legislation. And the market helps shape the way the public feels and thinks: They make things seem cool and uncool, defensible and indefensible, right and wrong, the future and the past.
Pattern’s Equal Parts brand might, at best, make it cooler to cook for cooking’s sake — might help create personal change. But there’s also a chance that Pattern, alongside other anti-burnout, pro-sustainability industry leaders like Patagonia, might make their vision of corporate culture cool. And if they can change the way other companies conceive of work, and prove that their model creates a better outcome for everyone involved — that won’t bring down the system, but it has the potential to help make living in it more bearable.
I typed that sentence and impulsively opened Instagram. Whoever is running Pattern’s Instagram account has just liked a photo of my dog. The sun is bright outside the window, the sky the clearest October blue. In a few minutes, I’ll close the laptop, and forget my phone, and walk out the front door and into the woods along the creek, with nothing to listen to and nowhere to be.
Later, I’ll come home and make something for dinner that’s ugly but tastes good. It won’t be with Equal Parts cookware, but I don’t think Shine and Ling would mind. I’ll have a thought, and I won’t tweet it. I’ll take a picture, and I won’t post it. I’ll open a book, and I’ll read it. And I’ll tell everyone I know: Did you hear the good news? It’s cool, these days, to enjoy daily life.●
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