#40&Up

[getonthebside]

CUNNING Linguistics Grown Folks Poetry Party

Monday, November 25th @MELLOWDRAMATICMONDAYS Open Mic Poetry Party Presents #CUNNINGLINGUISTICS Grown Folks Open Mic Night Featuring @ERICAKINGKANE Hosted By @MsIngridB Music By @DJGazm ALL POETS WELCOMED On The Open Mic Love & 3r0tic Poems Only Doors Open @ 8p Showtime 9:30p @the_katz_miami 738 NE 125th st 🎟️�� GETONTHEBSIDE.com Register on Eventbrite

[ninelivesastrology]

I think Megan should let go of being strong because what she went through was not fucking normal and that shouldn't be the baseline or reality for Black women, though it is relatable. I wish I could hug her (if that's okay). She doesn't have to hold it together for anyone and shouldn't be expected to.

[clown-ged]

local shirtless, skirt-wearing transfag practices his juggling in the public park

[2-the-moon-and-2-saturn]

STOP IT i was just ATTACKED with a greys anatomy quote i HATE EVERYTHING

“20 years with the love of your life. that’s gonna be you, at our granddaughter’s wedding.”

“How about you? Won’t you be dancing at your granddaughter’s wedding?”

“Kinda gotta have a partner for that.”

“But if you had a partner, who would it be?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Lexie Grey.”

why are they LIKE THIS i’m CHEWING ON DRYWALL

[wwwdlabrie]

Friday 3/10 - HIP HOP CONGRESSS(HHC) + H2E2 - 8am-630pm Kick off event - Suga T(The Click), Martha Diaz, Kev Choice & more! AME Institute Pop-up Oakland - Celebrating Hip Hop 50 year Anniversary & Hip Hop Education

Friday 3/10 - HIP HOP CONGRESSS(HHC) + H2E2 - 8am-630pm Kick off event - Suga T(The Click), Martha Diaz, Kev Choice & more! AME Institute Pop-up Oakland - Celebrating Hip Hop 50 year Anniversary & Hip Hop Education

Friday 3/10 – HIP HOP CONGRESSS(HHC) + H2E2 – 8am-630pm Kick off event – Suga T(The Click), Martha Diaz, Kev Choice & more! AME Institute Pop-up Oakland – Celebrating Hip Hop 50 year Anniversary & Hip Hop Education Click Here to Register! Will Sell Out Fast Harlem, New York – Martha Diaz & DLabrie discussing Hip Hop and Education ! We ran into DJ D-Nice at Lunch Click Here to Register! Will…

[indiatrendzs]

Fall Holiday Fashion Trends: The Kaftan and Kimono Dress Revival

This fall, style meets comfort with kaftans and kimono dresses taking the spotlight. Renowned for their relaxed, flowing silhouettes and bold, vibrant prints, these Kaftan and Kimono Dress are ideal for leisure wear while still delivering an effortlessly chic aesthetic. Find Us At Mogulinterior With the right layering and accessories, they seamlessly transition into holiday-ready outfits that…

[threadmonster]

Apparently my nephew sat up in the middle of the night, said, "Aunt Do work" and fell back asleep.

[swagging-back-to]

i always regert my last minute spending sprees lolll

[ectospacecadet]

-[Danny’s Powers]-

So we all know Danny’s got a lot of powers, but I feel like a lot of people underestimate how powerful he really is, let’s compare a scene from S1 to S2. Specifically “My Brother’s Keeper” and “Kindred Spirits”.

So Danny in the first clip is angry, so angry he amps up the power of his ghost ray mid-blast, this is just 4 episodes after he gets this power. He’s still learning to use it so this is probably as strong as he can make it currently.

In the 2nd clip Danny totally wipes out everything in a several foot radius, which is way stronger than what his ghost ray was in S1. I decided to do a quick bit of calculation just to see how far Danny shot that ghost ray.

See I initially thought “eh, maybe 30-40 feet” but nope, if Danny’s at least 5ft tall then that puts the blast radius somewhere between 65-70 feet, including the tail of the blast where it would just fade out. That’s with the ground in the way which adds friction, meaning the blast could go much further by possibly 40-50 feet if shot clear off the ground, maybe even further as that’s only scraping along the bottom section of the blast.

I also love Danny’s reaction to this, because even he’s like ‘whoa’ at what he just did, you can hear the panicked breaths in there too, he’s freaking out. This episode also takes place after TUE, so Danny being afraid of his power makes sense here. He’s hurt people with it before: his parents, Sam, Tucker, Valerie and Dash (though he wanted to do that).

Imagine if someone was within that blast range? They’d be more than dead, they’d be erased.

So after seeing that, yeah, I’d get out of there too. If someone saw Danny Phantom could do that in a public space with no evidence of a ghost attack where people are, who knows what they’d say about him in the media?

[itsonlyjoseph]

Make Me Bleed || Eddie Munson x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N wants to find a way to thank Eddie

Warnings: some angst

Word count: 4.3k

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Part 1

You had been trying to wrap your head around the interaction with Eddie all day, the next day. You hadn’t yet listened to the Walkman Eddie gave you or the tape he left with it.

You wanted to, but you were nervous. Nervous for what exactly, you weren’t sure. But nervous nonetheless. At school, you had planned to leave a note in Eddie’s locker, asking to speak privately with him. You were going to say thank you for replacing your Walkman but that you needed to know why he hated you so much. But he wasn’t at school. Again.

You wanted to ask Eddie’s friends but they were even scarier than he was so that was out of the question.

You decided to cut your losses and just forget out it until you saw him.

Later that day, after school, you were laying on her bed, curled up like a fetus with your headphones over your ears and Eddie’s Walkman sitting next to you.

You were listening to the tape he gave you as well.

It definitely wasn’t your kind of music, but in a weird you kind of liked it. Kind of like Eddie. He was the same. You just couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

By the time Saturday came around, you hadn’t seen Eddie in a few days.

You knew that he played guitar in a heavy metal band because gossip flew around the school like crazy, plus you’d seen him carrying a guitar case out of the Hideout once.

You were probably way out of line but you decided to best course of action was to go watch him play tonight and then hope to speak to him afterwards. It was probably a bad idea for many reasons. You had no idea if Eddie would even give you the time of day and the bar was pretty sketchy on a good day.

It almost 9 pm when you decided to get ready and cycle over. You didn’t really dress up. This was just meant to be a conversation and a quick thank you for the Walkman. Nothing else.

You’d arrived at bar almost 40 minutes later. The street was dark and dungy and there were some questionable people around. Most older, tatted biker dudes and a plenty of old groupies that would have been beautiful 25 years ago.

Walking in, the air was stale and smokey, making it hard to see and navigate around. The bar was decently packed as well. After all, the Hideout was the only bar in town that allowed all kinds of people in. It definitely didn’t discriminate the way some of the nicer cocktail bars in town did.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. It was obvious you didn’t belong here and it was obvious that your anxiety levels were through the roof.

You saw the stage. It was small and covered in carpet and had a lonely drum set and amps and guitar stands but no band members. You had no idea if Eddie even played on Saturdays but you figured you’d take your chances since the last time you saw him outside the bar, was a Saturday.

You excused yourself to no one in particular and tried to find the bathroom to freshen up and try to loosen your mind.

It was covered in graffiti and stickers and the mirrors were cracked but it offered some muffled silence. Looking in the mirror, your anxiety’s were sky rocketing. You didn’t dress like the people here or do your hair and makeup like them. You looked like a sheep amongst wolves, and it felt like they were waiting to tear you apart.

Walking back out into the main bar area, you decided to just go home. You’d never felt more out of place and suddenly your plan was sounding more and more stupid.

As you walked out towards the front door, you noticed that the band was making their way onto the stage. Eddie’s curly hair caught your eye and you stopped in your tracks. He wasn’t smiling or anything but he seemed for relaxed that usual. He seemed at peace.

The band started playing and Eddie lost himself in the music. And he was good. Very good. He was so good that he probably could’ve been a professional or famous.

They played several more songs as the night wore on and granted, it wasn’t your kind of music but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his arms glistened with sweat.

It was making you question why you came here.

It almost 2 am when they finish up their set. You didn’t realise just how much time had passed until you looked at your wristwatch. The crowd cheered as the band members made their way off the stage.

Now that the prospect of talking to Eddie was getting closer, you decided to test your luck at bar and order a shot just to calm yourself. You hadn’t really ever had alcohol besides a few sips of your dad’s beer and half a wine at Christmas.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked. He could probably tell you were underage just from your body language but something told you this wasn’t the establishment that cared too much.

“Uh, just a shot of… uh..” you tried to squint your eyes at the shelf behind him. “Uh, that one.” You said pointing to a miscellaneous bottle of clear liquid.

The bartender chuckled humourlessly before grabbing the bottle and pouring a shot to place in front of you.

“Here, first one’s on the house.”

“Oh, well then I want another.” You said, quickly downing the shot. It burned more than you thought it would and tasted terrible.

You slapped a five dollar bill on the bar and downed the second shot. That one burned even more than the first one.

Considering you’d never really had alcohol before, definitely not like that, you felt a little dizzy. And hot. This wasn’t a nice feeling and why people actually did this for fun, you didn’t understand.

You saw Eddie’s mop of hair walked over to him. He was turned to you, chatting to someone with a beer in his hand when you tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned, ready to tell whoever to fuck off. He didn’t expect to turn around and see you standing before him.

“Y/N?” Eddie muttered, confused to see you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Eddie’s large hand gripped around your elbow and yanked you into the hallway that lead to the bathroom. It was significantly quieter with far less people.

“What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t the kind of place you should be.” He said, clearly frustrated.

“Uh, I wanted to see you.” You mumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie paused for a moment.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I wanted to speak to you. I-I didn’t really get a chance to say thank you for apologising and for-for the Walkman.”

“Yeah, well you just did so leave.” He huffed.

“Why did you? You didn’t have to give that to me. I was gonna save up for a new one.”

It almost seemed like Eddie didn’t know what to say. Like he didn’t know the answer himself.

“Thank you, though.” You said. You figured Eddie wouldn’t say anything else.

“That’s the only reason you came here?” He asked and you nodded.

“Uh, I guess I’ll go now. You played really great. I recognised some songs from that tape you gave me.”

As you turned to leave, Eddie called out to you one more time.

“You don’t have a car.” He said to which you simply shook your head. “So you rode that bike here?”

You said nothing.

“You can’t ride your bike home at this hour. Especially not in this part of town.”

You hadn’t thought about that but he was right. Biking home after work was scary enough, let alone at almost 3 am.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be okay. I can’t really call my dad. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s okay Eddie, you should stay with your friends.”

“No, I’ll drive you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

What Eddie had said made your tummy drop. You didn’t really know if he meant here or just in general but you chose not to question it.

You followed Eddie out to the parking lot. It was still warm enough and there was a light breeze in the air.

Eddie drove a van, you knew that much.

“Wait, I thought your uncle said you lost your license again?”

“Like that’s ever stopped me.” Eddie mumbled, opening the passenger door for you.

Once you were sat in the van, Eddie stopped and looked at you. “Listen, just stay here for a sec. I need to get my guitar and then I’ll take you home. Okay?”

“Okay.” You smiled softly. He didn’t return it.

Eddie walked off, back inside the bar and you sat back, taking a breath.

The alcohol was wearing off and the fatigue was setting in. You never stay up this late and felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier until you drifted off into a relaxing slumber.

Eddie returned moments later and loaded his guitar into the back of the van, making his way into the drivers seat.

“Okay, so where do you li-“ Eddie began to say but stopped himself when he saw your eyes closed and your lashes gently resting against your cheeks. Gentle snores were coming from your mouth and Eddie couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.

He didn’t have enough gas to just drive around until you woke up and he didn’t want to sleep in the van so he did the only thing he could think of.

He took you to his place.

He wasn’t sure how you’d react when you woke up in the morning but he’d try his best to not scare you off.

It wasn’t long until he pulled up to the trailer park, parking next to Wayne’s truck.

Eddie opened the passenger door and took a deep breath, hoping you could chew him out later. He unclipped your seatbelt and picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the steps and into the unlocked trailer.

Wayne was inside, snoozing on the couch. He didn’t work weekends and took that as an opportunity to actually sleep at nighttime.

Eddie carried you down the hallway and into his bedroom, careful not to hit your head on the door frame, and gently placed you down on his unmade bed.

You unconsciously curled up into the pillow as your mouth fell open, those gentle snores coming back. Eddie looked down at you and sighed. He really was sorry for all the things he’s said to over the years. He probably didn’t mean them. Or maybe he did and he’s just a terrible person. It wouldn’t surprise him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

Eddie knew that it wouldn’t be right to sleep in the bed next to you, especially without your knowledge, so he wondered over to his desk and sat down. He probably would’ve slept on the couch if Wayne wasn’t out there. Eddie felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier until he laid his head down on the desk and drifted off to sleep. Luckily for him, it wasn’t the comfiest sleeping position so he was tossing and turning all night, meaning he woke up before you when the sun was out.

He lifted his head with a groan, his neck feeling much tighter than the night before.

Eddie turned and looked over at you, laying in his bed sound asleep. You looked so peaceful and calm to him. His mind once again went to all the nasty things he’s ever said and done to you over the years.

He got from his desk and left the bedroom. Wayne was up when Eddie got into the kitchen. Making a cup of coffee, ready to head out to the porch for his morning cigarette.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wayne mused when he saw the tired, stiff look on Eddie’s face.

“Didn’t sleep good.” He mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because my bed is occupied.” He deadpanned, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Wayne stopped what he was doing and turned slightly to look at the back of Eddie’s head.

“By who?”

“Just a girl from school.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised as he turned fully to face Eddie. Eddie has never mentioned a girl before and has never even mentioned being interested in one.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Eddie huffed, angrily.

Wayne put his hands up in mock surrender at Eddie’s abrasiveness. “Okay, okay, just make sure you’re being safe.”

“It’s not like that!” Eddie raised his voice. Wayne knew Eddie had a bit of an anger problem. He inherited that from his father. He also knew that Eddie had trouble expressing his emotions.

“Then… what’s it like?” Wayne pressed, curious.

“It’s like… I don’t know! It’s not like anything!”

“Okay, Eddie.” Wayne said, walking to the front door as Eddie went back to his bedroom.

Sometime during the night, Eddie managed to remove his shirt. The trailer was always so hot at night that it was almost impossible to sleep in clothes unless it was winter time.

He didn’t have the heart to wake you up just yet, enjoying this foreign feeling of peace for the moment. He opened up his window and sat under it, at the end of the bed. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette and felt the breeze from outside float through his hair.

Eddie was half way through his cigarette when you began to stir in your sleep. He looked over and saw your eyes opening gently. And he got nervous. Would you yell at him for bringing you here?

“What time is it?” Your gentle sleep filled voice the room, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Uh, around 7.”

“I guess I fell asleep before you could take me home.” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t wanna’ wake you.” Eddie stubbed out his cigarette.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I bombarded you at your hang out spot and then took up the rest of your night.” You muttered.

“It’s okay.”

“You seemed… mad that I was there.”

“I just didn’t expect to see you in a place like that.”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie huffed, as if the laugh humourlessly. “Full of bad people, though.” Eddie looked up at you and suddenly liked the way you looked sitting in his bed with messy hair and sleep in your eyes. “Why do you think I’m there?” He tried to joke. Key word being tried.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Eddie.” You said softly.

“You’d be the first.” He mumbled so quietly you barely even heard it.

You moved out of the bed to sit on top of the covers, only a few feet of space between you and Eddie.

“Actually, there was another reason I came to see you last night.”

Eddie looked up from his hands when you moved closer.

“I wanted to ask you… why don’t you like me? What did I do?” You asked and Eddie saw the saddest in your eyes.

Eddie let out a shallow breath and looked down at his hands again.

“I don’t know.” He said softly.

You gulped and felt a pit in your stomach at that.

“Oh, um… did I do anything?”

“You’re happy… have a good dad.” Eddie was ashamed but he didn’t want to lie.

“Ya know Eddie, despite what Principle Higgins said to you, that doesn’t have to be your life. You could do anything.”

“Yeah like what?” Eddie spoke at a normal volume this time, his voice holding a frustrated edge. “Go off and be a doctor or a lawyer and marry some girl from the right side of town, have a bunch kids with a white picket fence? Huh?” Eddie was getting angrier now. He’d rose off the bed and was standing now. “You think there’s anything in the cards for me that’s not prison or something very similar?”

As Eddie paced around his bedroom, spitting out horrible things about himself, you suddenly realised why Eddie was the way he was. He was scared. He was scared because he knew what his life would be. He knew that his fathers influenced affected him. He needed someone to tell him that he wasn’t his father. He didn’t someone to care about.

“Ugh!” Eddie huffed and growled, frustrated. He drug his palms into his eyes and gripped the hair at his hairline.

You got up from the bed and walked over the Eddie, gripping his wrists gently and pulling them from his eyes. He flinched slightly at the contact.

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t know how your life is gonna turn out. It doesn’t have to be like that.” You said softly as you looked up at him.

Eddie stared down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. His expression was once again unreadable but he didn’t try to remove his wrists from your hands. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, not knowing what to say so he just kept staring at you.

Suddenly, a gentle knock came, breaking you both out of each others gaze.

“Eddie, I’m g- oh Y/N, hi.” Wayne said, opening the Eddie’s bedroom door. Look on his face showed that he was confused by the situation.

“Hi Wayne.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Uh, I’m heading into town so I’ll be back later. Do you two need anything?” Wayne asked. He couldn’t help the smile on his face. He figured his nephew was probably gonna start dating or hooking up with people soon if not already. He was a teenager after all. With Eddie’s personality and attitude, Wayne was nervous that the first girl he picked up would be some easy bimbo that would wind up pregnant and he’d be a teen dad, so when Wayne saw that it was you standing in Eddie bedroom with him, he was elated.

“Okay.” Eddie answered him, his face hard.

“Nice to see you, sweetheart.” Wayne nodded at you, closing the door.

“Listen, Y/N, you don’t have to waste your breath on me. I know what’s gonna happen to me and so do you. Just drop it.” Eddie moved to sit on the edge of the bed, finally breaking away from your grip. “Besides, girls like you shouldn’t hang around with guys like me.”

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t believe it, Eddie. I really believe you can do anything.” You said, sitting beside him on the bed. You were closer than you’d ever been.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes you do.” You reaffirmed as you took his hand. Eddie had never really felt his close to someone before. It made his spine tingle. The physical contact, plus the words of affirmation made him feel things he didn’t like. “You deserve everything.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Eddie mumbled, looking right at you.

Tingles ran down your spine at his words. You were confused. You thought he didn’t like you.

“Do you-do you want me?” You were scared of the answer but wanted to know so badly.

Eddie huffed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Before you could respond or even process what he has said, Eddie stood up and walked to the door.

“I’ll get your bike out of my van.”

Once you were alone, you breathed deeper than you has all morning. You wanted to know what Eddie meant but you didn’t want to push him or annoy him.

You walked out of Eddie’s trailer to see your bike leaning against the steps and Eddie’s van gone, him nowhere in sight.

You cycled home and felt conflicted. What did Eddie mean? Did he hate you or not? Did he want you like that? Did you want him like that?

When you got home, your dad was out in the garage, working on his car. You ditched your bike near the garage door and walked up to him.

“Hey dad, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Oh, hi pet. Where were you last night?” You dad said as he looked up.

“With a friend.” You offered.

“Oh, okay. I’m just trying to fix this damn timing belt.” He chuckled.

You gulped. “Dad, can I ask you something.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked without looking away from the cars engine.

“It’s about a boy.” You mumbled. That made your dad look up.

“What about it?”

“Well, this guy at school. Everyone seems to think he’s a bad person and honestly, I kind of did to for a while but lately I’ve seen a different side to him. I know he’s a good person, he’s just trouble and didn’t have a great upbringing. How am I supposed to make him see that he’s not the loser he thinks he is?”

“Hm. That’s a lot to take in. Why is this boy so important? Maybe he really is a loser.”

“He’s not. He’s actually really talented and I can tell that there’s more to him than he shows people. I think he just needs someone to depend on.”

“Who is this boy, anyway?” Your dad asked.

“Uh, It’s Eddie Munson.”

Your father looked at you with a worried look on his face.

“Petal, I don’t think I like the idea of you hanging around that Munson boy. I knew his father-“

“But that’s the thing, dad�� you cut him off. “I know that Eddie’s nothing like his dad. People have told him that he’d be nothing, just like his dad his whole life and I know that it’s not true.”

Your dad took in your words and thought for a moment. It’s true that he knew Eddie’s dad back in high school and saw what a trouble maker he was and the petty criminal he turned out to be. But he also knew that you didn’t chose where you came from and that you were a smart girl.

“Okay, sweetie. If you think so. I know you’ll make the right choice

“I hope so”

“All you can do is be there for him. Show him you won’t leave and show him that he matters.”

“Thanks dad.”

“You’re a kid, Y/N. I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you as my dad.” You smiled up at him.

“Get outta’ here.” He chucked.

You smiled and ran upstairs to your room. You wanted to go and find Eddie and tell him that you’d be there for him and that he deserved happiness as much as anyone else but you had no idea where he went and you didn’t have his number.

Tomorrow was Monday and Monday meant school. You hoped that Eddie would be there so you talk to him again.

That night you went to sleep with a heavy heart and your tummy in knots and in the morning you spent a little extra time in front of the mirror. You brushed out your hair and applied your makeup and picked your outfit just a little bit more careful than usual.

At school, the hallway was crowded as you hung around Eddie’s locker. You didn’t actually know if he went to it often or not but this was your only option right now. When the hallways emptied after the final bell, you made your way over.

Last night, you had written a note to slip into Eddie’s locker.

‘Eddie, meet me at the picnic table in the woods after school - Y/N’

6 and half hours later, you were sat in the woods, alone, hoping that Eddie would show up.

Your palms were sweating and your knee was bouncing. You kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You hadn’t really thought about what you would say if Eddie showed up.

“Hey.” You heard a low grumbled behind you.

You turned quietly to be met with Eddie’s hard face.

He slowly walked over to the other side of the table and sat down, dumping his jacket on the old wood.

“Why’d you call me out here?” He asked.

“I wanted to talk. Talk about what you said yesterday in your room.”

“Y/N, just forget about it-“

“I like it when you say my name.” You cut him off, looking down.

Eddie didn’t really know how to respond to that. All of yesterday afternoon, his thoughts were plagued with you. The way you were so kind to after he’d been awful to you. You way your hand felt over his. The way his spine tingled when he remembered Wayne called you his girlfriend. He’d never felt like this before.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really did mean it when I said you can do anything.” You smiled.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked.

“Because I can see that you’re a good person under that hard shell. And I want you to know that I… I guess I care.”

“You care about me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

You took a deep breath and rose from the bench, walking around and sitting down besides Eddie.

“When you said you didn’t deserve me, what did you mean?” You whispered.

“Y/N..”

“Please tell me.”

“I don’t want to drag you down with me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. No matter how much I want to be near you, I can’t.” He whispered back.

“You won’t drag me down, Eddie.”

“I drag everyone down, Y/N.”

“I’m not everyone.”

Eddie’s eyes glazed over like he was lost in thought as he stared into your eyes. He’d seen plenty of attractive women in his time. At school, at The Hideout, on the street. None of them looked back at him the way you were right now.

“Eddie…” you whispered, scooting closer. “Kiss me.”

[slut4megantheestallion]

2AM

Duke dennis x black!reader

Summary: y/n being a streamer and being a part of a amp like her boyfriend duke, until in her stream she tries to do a cartwheel but her boyfriends pop up and starts laughing at her failed attempt, which became roasting to affectionate love.

You've been a part of amp for quite some time now. When you were younger, you always wanted to be a social media star, but people alas told you that your not gonna make it, but that didn't stop you from where you are today until you met kai, fanum, agent, Chris, duke, and Daviss and together you guys became one of the most popular YouTube group. And you love all of them like they were your own family.

Yeah, being the only girl in the group is kinda hard because there's niggas on the internet trolling, but you didn't give a fuck before they accepted you anyway, the more you got comfortable will all of them the more you loved all of them. You have a crush on Duke. You both were pretty close, and y'all both became best friends, and everyone in the group thought y'all was dating even if your fans thought y'all was dating, but it wasn't true.

You hide your feelings because you thought Duke would reject you or didn't like you until he made the first move and your relationship started from there. Y'all both were lucky to have each other, y'all would both come to each other streams, pranks, and all of that other stuff.

Your love language with him is roasting. People make it seem like y'all mean, but it ain't true both you just be joking with each other.

You were streaming playing a horror game, you was tired as fuck, but you wanted to finish playing the game.

"Bruh, chat, I'm not gonna lie,I'm tired as fuck I've been playing this game for an hour, I've been trying to stay awake for y'all." Y/n said tiredly as she picked up her water drinking it as she looked at the chat.

"Bro, somebody in the chat told me to do a cartwheel to stay awake." Y/n laughed as she pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Yo chat, I ain't gonna lowkey don't know how to do a cartwheel, like I'm being so deadass, I'm not an athletic person, hold on imma try for you guys." Y/n stands up as she pushes her chair farther away so she can have some room.

"Bro, I'm scared. What if I bust my ass!!" Y/n yelled as she looked back at the chat. Y/n raised both her hands as she placed both of them on the ground, trying to kick her legs up, but ended up falling on the ground.

"Shit, hold on chat. Let me try again, damn this shit is harder than I thought." Y/n got herself up as she tried to do another cartwheel. Y/n puts both her hands on the ground. As she tried to kick her legs up, she heard her door open.

"Aye, bae do you got my charg-" Duke was about to finish his sentence as he saw you trying to cartwheel he started busting out laughing, making you laugh as you got up.

"It's not funny, nigga. I'm trying to do a cartwheel. " y/n laughed, feeling embarrassed as Duke started laughing.

"Nah, that gotta be one of the worst cartwheels I've seen bruh, you don't know how to do a cartwheel?" Duke said, still laughing, making fun of you.

"Shut the fuck up, nigga can you do a cartwheel?" Y/n said asking him as she was huffing and puffing form those failed attempt cartwheel.

"Yes, way much better than that, bro. Imagine not lifting yourself up." Duke said, laughing at you.

"Nigga, I know you talking you pushing 40 and you was in the back of the bus with rosa parks, with yo old ass." Y/n commented as she started laughing as the people in the chat start making fun of Duke going crazy.

"Oh, so that's how you gonna do me, for real." Duke said, smiling in disbelief as you roasted him.

"Yes, imma do you like, ayo chat spam 1987 in the chat, that's the year you was born at with you old ass." Y/n started laughing as everyone in the chart started spamming 1987 in the chat.

"Yeah, I got you on mute. You were serving in ww2 with yo old ass. " You still kept roasting as you both were facing each other as Duke started smiling at the smile that you melt.

Duke wasn't listening to anything you were saying while you were still roasting him. He was looking at your lips as he grabbed your waist and started kissing you. You were caught off guard by this, but you kissed him back. You broke this kiss as he looked back at you. "You so gorgeous, bae." Duke smiled at you as was still holding you close, as he was still holding your waist. "Aww, thank you, bae. I would say something nice about you, but you were making fun of me." Y/n teased.

"Damn, that's fair, I love you y/n" Duke said, genuinely looking at you with so much love in his eyes.

"I love you too," y/n responded as she kissed him on the lips. As Duke lifted your legs up, carrying you as laughed, he was yours, and you were his.

[steddieasitgoes]

he can't sit with us (or maybe he can?)

written for @steddie-week Day 4 prompt: Trade Rating: T | wc: 2651 | no cw thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for beta-ing this one for me!! Read on ao3

Eddie is amped up. 

Lunch has always been his favorite part of the school day, but today is going to be an especially good one. Not because of his lunch — he forgot to grab the sandwich he made last night so he wouldn’t forget, and he’s been out of lunch credit for weeks now, so he’s shit out of luck on that front — but because today’s the day he unleashes his latest rant on the hivemind that is the Hawkins High student body. 

It’s taken him weeks to work out everything he wants to say about the giant mall they’re building a few blocks from Main Street that everyone and their workaholic fathers are excited about. The one that led to the demolishment of Hawkins' second-best trailer park — Forest Hills being the best, obviously. He even asked Wayne’s advice on what he should say since his uncle has way more experience going against The Man™ and The Man’s™ People. 

He’s pretty proud of what he’s come up with. Sure, it’s a typical Munson rant that goes on a personal tangent in the middle about how Sam Goody and Tape World are probably going to put Jet’s Jams out of music. And okay, yeah, Jet’s Jams is the fucking worst most of the time and only ever has the top 40s bullshit in stock, but at least Eddie has some pull with good ole’ Jet and can bargain with the dude to order a metal record or two every once in a while. You think Sam Goody is going to take his advice? Not a chance in hell!

But then he’ll get back on track and get into the educational stuff that Wayne talked to him about. At least, that’s the plan; all he has to do is stick to the bullet point list he scribbled out in Ms. O’Donnell’s class thirty minutes ago, ignoring whatever the fuck she was going on about at the front of the room. 

It’s going to be great. Definitely one of his best lunchtime soapbox speeches. Hell, maybe this will be the one to actually wake some of his peers up. Capitalism is the real devil here. Not him. 

He’s bouncing with adrenaline and nerves as he saunters into the crowded cafeteria, ready for his moment, ready for—

What the hell? 

Eddie stops midstride when he spots Gareth and Jeff waving at him from a table in the middle of the room. Again, what the hell? That’s not their table. Not even fucking close. 

Eddie doesn’t believe in the social hierarchy of high school cliques, but he does respect the lunch table distribution system Hawkins’ operates under. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that tables in the middle are destined for the so-called elite. Not his Dungeons & Dragons club and the other lost sheep stragglers he’s accumulated over his extended high school career.  

They’re supposed to be sitting at a table on the outskirts of the room. The one by the windows, with the art kids to his right and the drama kids to his left. The weirdo, outcast corner. 

And yet, there they are in the middle of the room at a table usually occupied by the so-called elites and anyone else they’ve deemed worthy of their company. 

“This isn’t our table,” Eddie says, slamming his hands down with enough force to knock Gareth’s brown paper bag over, taking his unopened Dr. Pepper can with it. 

Gareth scowls, righting the can. “Now I see why you’re a super senior. Of course, it’s not our fucking table!” 

Eddie intertwines his fingers before pillowing his chin against them. “Okay then, Gareth the Great, tell me why we are sitting here.” 

“Our table is occupied,” Jeff supplies. 

“Occupied? Everyone knows that’s our table! Is this person new? Have they recently had a lobotomy?” 

This time, it’s Freak who speaks up. “No. He knows. He probably just doesn’t give a shit. A table’s a table or whatever.” 

Or whatever? Fat chance. A table hasn’t ever been just a table in the hellscape that is Hawkins High. Still, Eddie can’t help but be curious. There aren’t many people who would willingly sit at a new table this late into the school year. It’s a ballsy move.

He figures it’s a scorned drama kid or drumline member — there’s always drama in those groups; someone is always fucking someone they shouldn’t be, horny assholes. But when he turns to get a glance at this intruder, it’s not a butthurt outcast taking up court at the table, but rather Hawkins' very own Fallen King, Steve Harrington. 

For the third time, what the hell? 

“Did you tell him it’s our table?” 

“No! He’s Steve Harrington! I don’t think he’ll appreciate a couple of nerds telling him to move.” 

“And we value our lives too much to mess with upperclassmen,” Gareth says, mumbling something about learning his lesson the last time he tried something stupid like that. 

Eddie rolls his eyes before scoffing loud enough to startle the nearby table of cheerleaders. He wiggles his fingers in an innocent wave before focusing his attention back on his friends. 

“Please, Steve is all bark and no bite. And he hasn’t been Steve Harrington in a while.” Eddie raises his voice several octaves, batting his eyelashes as he says Steve’s name. “Now he’s just Steve Harrington,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with a nonchalance he never would have expected to use for someone of Steve’s former status. “He’s just some guy whose girlfriend dumped him for an artsy loner.” 

“It doesn’t matter, man! You don’t mess with people like Harrington,” Jeff says, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s just like a one-time thing or something. It’s not like any of his friends are sitting with him. Maybe he’s just fighting with them.” 

Jeff has a point. Steve is alone. Sitting at the table all be himself, poking disinterestedly at an apple sauce cup. He’s not cowering or trying to make himself smaller like most people would do if they were stuck eating lunch alone, but he’s not making a show of it either. He’s just there. Minding his own business, staring out the windows Eddie has spent all five years of his high school career looking out off. 

“Those sounds like quitting words, Jefferson,” Eddie taunts, turning his attention back to the group. He makes a show of looking each and every Hellfire member in the eyes when he speaks again. “Are we quitters?” 

The entire table groans, a few shake their heads. Gareth, always the brave one, throws a chip at Eddie’s head that he manages to catch in his mouth. And people say he’s not athletic! 

“Since we’re not quitters, what should we do about this unlawful infiltration?” 

“I don’t know if it's an infiltration,” Freak says. “We just like traded tables without a verbal agreement.” 

“That’s worse than a seize!” 

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one that’s all fired up about it. Why don’t you go over there and ask Harrington to give it back to us.” 

“You know what,” Eddie says, pushing off the table until he’s standing. “I will.” 

With the same gravitas he entered the cafeteria with, Eddie saunters over to Steve. The sooner he gets this table thing handled, the sooner he can get on with his lunchtime diatribe — see Mr. Vance, I do listen in English class, old bat.

Eddie’s not a quiet walker by any means — he’s had enough pillows thrown at his head from Wayne for the way he stomps around the trailer in the mornings — but he manages to sneak up on Steve. Maybe it’s because his eyes are trained on a squirrel running up a tree in the distance, mumbling encouragements as the poor thing struggles to make it up. 

Huh, Harrington’s a squirrel fan? Who knew? 

Eddie’s watch chirps, a reminder that there are only ten minutes left of lunch. Jesus H. Christ! He’ll have to do an abridged version of his speech now, but it should still be enough to get his point across. That is if he manages to get Steve to trade tables with them without a fight. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Steve,” Eddie says, loud enough to startle Steve out of the squirrel watching. “What brings you to my humble abode?” 

Steve glances up at him with a look of disinterest he seems to have perfected in his fall from grace. And honestly, as much as Eddie hates to admit it and would never say it out loud unless he was being waterboarded or some shit, this new version of Steve really works for him. 

“Your humble what?” Steve asks, dropping his disinterest to look up confused instead. 

His brows pull together, scrunching up his forehead in a way that should be unflattering but is honestly sort of endearing. And his head is tilted to the side like a confused animal — something Eddie has a lot of experience with, given his unofficial status as a trailer park animal rescuer. Eddie’s so lost in studying Steve’s confusion that he forgets to actually respond, which like, is new territory for Eddie. He’s never one not to talk. 

“Look, man, I don’t know what you want, but could you just spit it out so I can go back to enjoying my lunch?”

Eddie’s personality returns to his body in an instant. “Enjoying your lunch, you say?” He takes a second to glance at Steve’s lunch tray. A measly bite has been taken out of the cardboard the school passes off as pizza. The side of congealed mac and cheese sits untouch and his apple sauce cup is open but still perfectly intact. “Doesn’t look like you ate at all, Steve.” 

“Seriously, Munson, what do you want?” 

Eddie tsks and yanks the seat next to Steve away from the table before not-so-gracefully falling into it. He kicks his feet up on the table a moment later, the toe of his boot knocking against the carton of milk he’s willing to bet Steve also hasn’t touched. Though he can’t really blame him for that one. Milk is not a lunchtime beverage, and no amount of dairy propaganda is ever going to change that. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Harrington, this is my table.” 

“I didn’t know the cafeteria had assigned seats.” 

“Bullshit, you didn’t,” Eddie growls, throwing his hands up in the air. The move forces him to lose his balance, chair wobbling on two legs under him, threatening to give out and dump him on his ass. Definitely not the lunchtime show he was hoping to give today. But before he meets his demise, Steve extends his hand, steadying the chair long enough for Eddie to drop his feet and reclaim his balance. “Thanks.” 

Steve grunts in response and goes back to staring out the window. 

Fucking squirrel. 

“Look, Steve,” Eddie says, getting straight to the point this time. “I don’t know why you decided to switch tables today or why you decided my table was the one you suddenly wanted, but can we please just switch back?” 

“I’m good here.” 

He tears his eyes away from the window for long enough to glance at his former table, where Gareth and Jeff are using straws as lightsabers without a care in the world. Steve snorts, and Eddie stiffens; he really, really doesn’t want to have to fight anyone today, but if Steve’s willing to be a dick about his friends in front of his face, well, fight, he will. But then Steve’s face softens, and he shakes his head in amusement. 

“Looks like your friends are good where they’re at, too. Though the lightsaber skills could use some work,” Steve teases. “Are we good then?”

“No, we’re not good!” Eddie shouts, trying his best to keep his brain on task. We’re here to get our table back, not ponder why Steve Harrington suddenly has a soft spot for nerds because what? “That’s your table, man, and this is ours. You’re going to upset the fragile balance of this place.” 

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me or something? I thought upsetting the balance was your life goal.” 

How dare Steve Harrington read him like that.

Since his dramatics haven’t worked, Eddie opts for the truth this time. “I have no interest in sitting in the middle of the damn cafeteria where everyone can see me and my friends just to cause a little societal unrest.” 

“And I have no interest in being forced to sit in the middle so everyone can stare at me while judging me and my mistakes.” 

Oh. 

The truth shouldn’t be all that shocking. Anyone who has eyes has witnessed Steve’s fall from King too well; Eddie’s not sure there is a word for what Steve is now. He’s not a pariah or an outcast, not smart enough to be a nerd, and the rumor is he quit basketball, so he’s not a jock. He’s just… lost? 

Steve groans, running a hand over his face for a second before his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” 

“Uh, sure?” 

“Look, Eddie, I’m not going to trade tables with you, but if this one means that much to you, I don’t mind sharing.” 

“I thought you said you don’t want people staring at you?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Okay, well, sitting with the Freaks of Hawkins is definitely going to get people staring and talking, and honestly, you might even have to dodge a punch or two just for being in our vicinity.” 

“I’ll survive.” 

For the first time in his life, Eddie has no idea what to say. On one hand the idea of sharing a table is so preposterous he’s convinced he might be dreaming right now. But after a quick pinch to confirm that he is awake, he goes back to weighing his options. Sharing a table with Steve isn’t ideal, but sitting in the middle of the fucking cafeteria is a death sentence. He might be able to hold his own with the upper echelon of Hawkins High, but his ragtag group of friends isn’t so scrappy. 

And then there’s the lost sheep of it all. 

Eddie’s spent most of his high school career looking after lonely high schoolers. Whisking them under his wing, giving them a safe space to eat lunch or a club to hang out at after school to avoid having to walk back home alone. He thought he’d become somewhat of an expert at it, but it seems Steve Harrington has managed to slip through his cracks. 

Eddie would be the world’s biggest hypocrite if he didn’t at least try with Steve. It’s not like he has to join Hellfire or anything. All he’s really asking for his a spot at their lunch table. 

“I have one condition.” 

“Of course you do,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. 

“Actually, I have two.” Steve chuckles and motions for Eddie to get on with it already. “One, you can’t make fun of anything that happens at the table. We’re weird. You know it, we know it. We’re allowed to tease each other about it. You are not.” 

“I wouldn’t do that. Not anymore.” 

Eddie nods. “And two, you have to give me your dessert every day.” 

“Every day?” Steve balks. “You can have my applesauce and pudding cups, but I’m not giving you Friday’s chocolate cake.” 

“Guess you’re going to have to go back to sitting at the fishbowl table then.” 

Eddie watches as Steve considers this for a moment before his shoulders heave the world’s biggest sigh. “Fine.” 

Without warning, Eddie pushes away from the table, the legs of the chair screeching against the linoleum. His lips twitch at the corners, pulling into a genuine smile as he stands and offers Steve his hand. “Welcome to the Freak table, Steve.” 

[bonelyheartsclub]

Hello! If I'm not mistaken, I think I saw some news that this amazing game might be released within this year. Could you let me know how close it is to completion? (Or, if possible, when it might be finished!) I apologize if this is an inappropriate question ;-;

To address this, the game will not be released this year or next year. Because of team member departures and reorganizing the structure to amp up the development of the game we are hoping to aim to have the writing completed edited/finalized and 40% of the artwork done by next year as per our previous post addressing a similar question linked here. Still we hope you’ll continue following our quarterly updates and future posts from now on regarding the progress of the game.

[girlactionfigure]

"We don't want no Zionists here" is not a righteous political slogan. 

Every single country that has ever outlawed Zionism went on to persecute, abuse, and even expel its Jewish population…whether said Jews identified as Zionists or not. 

This is one of the many reasons Jewish historical literacy is so important.

IRAQ

When Israel declared its independence in 1948, Zionism became a capital crime in Iraq. However, Iraq’s persecution of “Zionists” dated back to the 1930s; for example, in 1935, all Palestinian Jewish* Hebrew teachers were deported and the head of the Iraqi Zionist organization was put on trial.

For a Jew to be convicted of the crime of “Zionism,” they only had to be denounced by two Muslims, and there was no system of appeal. Under the guise of anti-Zionism, Jews in Iraq were systematically charged with treason, dismissed from their jobs, arrested on trumped up charges, tortured, and even executed. Oftentimes, their assets were seized, totaling around $80 million. 

The “proof” that a Jew was a “Zionist” was often tenuous at best. For example, in one case, a Jewish man was sentenced to five years of forced labor because he owned a Biblical Hebrew inscription, which his accusers falsely claimed was a “coded Zionist message.”

While the Iraqi government claimed to go after “Zionists,”anti-Zionist and non-Zionist Jews were not spared.The most prominent case was that of Shafiq Ades, who had long been openly anti-Zionist. Ades was arrested on charges that he had sold arms to Israel. He was not allowed the right to a defense and was tried and convicted in a show trial. He was publicly executed on September 23, 1948, to a crowd of 12,000 onlookers.

By the early 1950s, 120,000-130,000 out of 150,000 Iraqi Jews had fled Iraq. By 1967, only 3,000 Jews remained in Iraq. Nevertheless, following the Arab countries’ defeat in the 1967 Six Day War, the Iraqi government amped up its crackdown on “Zionism.”

As part of this crackdown, Jews were dismissed from their jobs, their bank accounts were frozen, and they were confined to house arrest. 

In 1968, the new socialist Ba’athist regime announced that they were “hunting down an American-Israeli spy ring” that was supposedly trying to destabilize Iraq. Twelve people -- nine of them Jews -- were arrested. The Jews were hung publicly in January 1969 without trial to a dancing crowd of 500,000 people. Another 40 Jews were “disappeared” by the secret police; in total, some 100 Jews out of the community of 3,000 were imprisoned and tortured in 1969 alone. 

These Jews were accused and convicted of Zionism, treason, and spying not based on legitimate evidence, but rather, entirely arbitrarily. For example, Daoud Ghali Yadgar was one of the nine Jews who were hanged in 1969. In 2019, his cousin, Nitzan Hadad, explained: “Soldiers had entered their home looking for the eldest son, who was in London studying. When they asked who was at home, my aunt replied that her other son, Daoud, was home. So they took Daoud instead and accused him of spying for Israel.”

*At the time, any citizen of the British Mandate of Palestine was known as a “Palestinian,” regardless of their ethnic or religious background.

EGYPT

Egypt, too, claimed to crack down on “Zionists,” but in reality made virtually no effort to distinguish between Zionists and Jews. In 1947, the Egyptian prime minister told the British ambassador, “All Jews are potential Zionists [and] ...anyhow all Zionists are Communists.”

After Israel's independence, scores of Jews were arrested and imprisoned in Abu Qir detention camp. Professor Chacham Choureka, who was later arrested in the 1950s, described the situation, noting, “The authorities didn't differentiate between teaching Judaism and Zionist activity. In reality though, part of teaching Torah is about Israel.”

As in Iraq, the anti-Zionist incitement in Egypt led to a number of repressive policies, arrests, and more. The 1956 Suez Crisis between Israel, Egypt, France, and Great Britain further exacerbated the already precarious situation. Once again, the Egyptian government made its position clear, declaring that “all Jews are Zionists and enemies of the state.” Thousands of Jews were then imprisoned on “Zionism” charges or removed from their jobs. Ironically, prominent anti-Zionist Jews also suffered the same consequences.

THE SOVIET UNION

The Soviets considered all forms of non-Russian nationalism — including Zionism — a threat to their budding communist empire. In 1918, the midst of the Russian Civil War, the Soviet Communist Party established a “Jewish branch,” with the consent of Vladimir Lenin. It was named “Yevsetskiya,” meaning “Jewish Sections of the Communist Party.”

The mission of the Yevsetskiya was, quite literally, the “destruction of traditional Jewish life, the Zionist movement, and Hebrew culture.” In other words, this Jewish branch of the Soviet government was dedicated solely to the destruction of fellow Soviet Jewry. Until their dissolution in 1929, they imprisoned, tortured, and murdered thousands of Jews. According to historian of Soviet history Richard Pipes, “In time, every Jewish cultural and social organization came under assault.”

As early as 1934, the Soviets presented the Jewish Autonomous Oblast, a region in the Russian Far East, as an “alternative” to Zionism. Despite rosy Soviet government propaganda, the Jewish Autonomous Oblast, located along the Russia-China border, was nearly impossible to cultivate for non-natives to the region and practically inhospitable. Though the government never outrightly admitted it, the Jewish population transfers to the Jewish Autonomous Oblast were a form of forced deportation, similar to other population transfers of ethnic minorities in the Soviet Union.

Post-World War II, Jews in the far-flung republics Azeri and Uzbek republics of the Soviet Union were forced to attend anti-Zionist demonstrations, where they were made to publicly disavow Israel and Zionism under threat of arrest, deportation to gulags, or worse.

The Soviets’ “anti-Zionist” campaign culminated in the Doctors’ Plot, when “Zionist” Jewish doctors were arrested, tortured, and executed on entirely fake charges that they had plotted to assassinate Stalin. Some historians believe that this was only part of a wider plan for the ethnic cleansing of the Soviet Jewish population…all under the guise of anti-Zionism. However, due to Stalin’s sudden death, the plan was ultimately never carried out.

The Soviets were interestingly never covert about the fact that their “anti-Zionist” campaigns were actually just antisemitic. In the 1960s, Soviet propaganda made blatantly antisemitic claims, including: “The character of the Jewish religion serves the political aims of the Zionists,” “Zionism is inextricable from Judaism, rooted in the idea of the exclusiveness of the Jewish People,” comparisons of Judaism to the Italian mafia, and claims that Israel was merely a means to an end of Jewish imperialism and world domination.

The repression of Soviet Jewry under the guise of “Zionism” only intensified after the 1967 Six Day War. Jewish cultural and religious life was highly restricted. Virtually every institution in Soviet society heavily discriminated against the Jewish population; for example, Jews were subject to highly restrictive university quotas. This placed Jews in a catch-22: on the one hand, they were not free to live as Jews; on the other, they were also barred from integrating as Soviet citizens. 

For this reason, hundreds of thousands of Jews were desperate to flee the Soviet Union. Requesting exit visas was considered an act of treason. In order to apply for exit visas, Jews first had to quit their jobs; however, this put them at risk of being accused of “social parasitism,” which was considered a crime. After having their visas refused, Jews were also then prevented from obtaining new work. Then, this joblessness was criminalized. Soviet Jews were stuck in an impossible living situation.

POLAND

n 1968, a series of student-led protests broke out against the Communist government of Poland. The Polish government responded to the instability by scapegoating their now tiny post-Holocaust Jewish community, enacting a a massive “anti-Zionist” propaganda campaign, spreading conspiracies that Zionist were plotting to take over Poland. 

The Polish public was then forced to renounce Zionism, and Jews, whether they identified as Zionists or not, were purged from their positions in the government and other sectors, accused of holding dual loyalties to Israel. Many were arrested, beaten, and tortured. In its efforts, the Polish government created lists of Jews, eerily echoing the policies in Poland under Nazi occupation just several decades prior.

As a result of these campaigns, 15,000 out of 25,000-30,000 Jews in Poland were stripped of their Polish citizenship. The 1968 Polish political crisis is sometimes called a “symbolic pogrom” because Jews experienced such severe disenfranchisement that many took their lives in a string of suicides.

ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF IRAN

According to Iranian-American policy analyst Karim Sadjapour, the three ideological pillars of the Iranian regime are “compulsory hijab, death to America, and death to Israel.” 

Immediately after the Iranian Revolution and the rise of the Islamic Republic to power, the Israeli embassy in Tehran was attacked and turned into the Palestinian embassy. To this day, the Islamic Republic has erected an “Israel annihilation clock” in Tehran, counting down the days to Israel’s supposed destruction. Incitement against “Zionists” and the “Zionist entity” is commonplace in Islamic Republic political discourse; for example, in 2006, then-president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad stated, “The Zionist regime will be wiped out, and humanity will be liberated.” 

About a month after the Islamic Republic came into power, the Ayatollah Khomeini made an example of a prominent Jewish community leader, Habib Elghanian, by accusing him of “Zionist espionage.”He was arrested, tried in a sham trial that lasted less than 20 minutes, and executed by firing squad.

Incidents such as this one prompted 80% of Iran’s ancient Jewish population to flee the country. Today, the 8,500 Jews still living in Iran are subject to second-class citizenship and are constantly under the suspicion of the regime, for which they must tread carefully, never openly criticizing the regime’s implementation of Sharia Law or revealing any ties -- however tenuous -- to Zionism or the State of Israel.

ETHIOPIA

In the late 1970s, a new Marxist government rose to power in Ethiopia. An antisemitic, anti-government right-wing group began a killing spree in 1978, cutting children’s feet off, bludgeoning babies, castrating men, raping women, torturing elders, and selling women and children into slavery.

Instead of condemning the attacks, the Ethiopian government decided to crack down on its Jewish community. They claimed to do so in the name of combatting “Zionist propaganda.”

Because of the worsening conditions, Ethiopian Jews tried to flee to Israel. As a punishment for “Zionism,” Jews were collectively arrested, tortured, and hung.

LIBYA

After the establishment of the State of Israel, Libya criminalized individuals who communicated with anyone in Israel, creating a difficult situation for Libyan Jews, most of whom have family in the Jewish state. By 1961, all but six members of the ancient Libyan Jewish community were denied Libyan citizenship.

OTHER

A number of other countries, such as Pakistan and Algeria, have passed laws criminalizing Zionism after the entire Jewish community was already expelled or fled from the country. In Pakistan, the criminalization of “Zionism” means that carrying a Jewish symbol like the Star of David can land you in prison.

SOME TAKEAWAYS

(1) Zionism is a political movement…a political movement, which, whether you like it or not, is objectively rooted in 3000 years of Jewish history, culture, and tradition. Anti-Zionists overwhelmingly reject not only Zionism as a political movement, but the 3000 years of Jewish history, culture, and tradition that precede it, because such history, culture, and tradition may provide an “explanation” or “justification” for Zionism. Therefore, it’s no surprise that, for example, a Jewish man in Iraq was charged with the crime of Zionism for owning a Biblical Hebrew inscription or that the Egyptian authorities did not differentiate between Zionist activism and teaching about Judaism. History shows us that crackdowns on “Zionism” always, without fail, turn into crackdowns of any and all expression of Jewish identity (which is precisely why anti-Israel protestors were shouting “we don’t want no Zionists here” in front of a Jewish hospital, which has no specific ties to Israel or Zionism). 

(2) Polls consistently show that between 80-97% of Jews identify as Zionists and/or believe in the State of Israel’s right to exist. There isn’t much difference between marginalizing 80-97% of Jews and marginalizing allJews. 

Perhaps it’s time to consider that the overwhelming majority of Jews identify as Zionists not because we are collectively evil, but rather, based on our own experiences and understanding of our history, identity, and tradition. Perhaps it’s time to consider that you don’t understand how Zionists define their Zionism.

(3) When you don’t want “Zionists” in Israel and you don’t want “Zionists” wherever else it is you live, perhaps the problem is not where we live, but that we live.

Anti-Zionists claim anti-Zionism is not antisemitism, and yet, every single "anti-Zionist" campaign in history has resulted in antisemitism.

After everything our own parents and grandparents went through, why should we trust that your anti-Zionist campaign is any different?

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and  Patreon. 

rootsmetals

Jewish historical literacy is knowing that once they start going after “Zionists,” anti-Zionist Jews won’t be spared, either.  So have some self-respect and stop groveling to people who hate everything about your Jewish identity.

[mayapapaya33]

I hope in the animated mighty nein show they keep Nott repeatedly endangering/ killing Caduseus with her recklessness with the exploding arrows (or at least have the one big moment). I also hope they do a bit more with it in the show, like some sort of mild confrontation about her behavior. Idk, Caduceus is so kind, maybe there could be slightly more emphasis on it considering she LITERALLY KILLED HIM lmfao. (C2 E55 4:03:40)

Maybe one of the others could be like wtf? You killed Caduceus! holy shit! And then the two of them could have a nice chat like they did when Taliesin got back (I so wish he hadn't been absent that next episode, but it is what it is). Percy got punched in the face by Vax for forgetting to check for traps, which accidentally killed Vex, which they very much amped up for the animation into him coaxing her into being reckless. Veth ACTIVELY exploded Caduceus to death because she wasn't paying attention to where she aimed or collateral damage radius to her weapon! They've gotta play with that!

It can also set up a pattern of recklessness that pays off in the fact that she very much got herself killed fucking around dismantling deadly traps. I don't remember if she was drunk or nott; C2 E83 (3:19:15) AND how later on her and Jester being loud and reckless endangered her both their friends and families and got Veth's son killed. I'm not still salty about C2 E129 no siree, I'm not still irritated that Veth and Jester couldn't sit still for 10 fucking minutes to let Caleb cast the dome, nope, not me lmfao. (Speaking of life lessons I hope they emphasize a little harder in the animated show, Marion and Yeza are waaaaaay too nice hahaha. Also they didn't really know it was 100% Jester and Veth's fault but I digress). Combined with her arc about alcoholism and self worth I can see a really great storyline. Those are very strong, interesting themes to write about.

Maybe she goes on a mini bender out of guilt for hurting Caduceus after or something, or just some actual conversations between the characters about it, anything really to have it in the narrative. That death is when he gets his first in campaign major vision from the Wildmother as well, so that would be very interesting to see. Especially if they manage to preserve the blink and you miss it information buried in a beautiful conversation with his sister later on that he used to eat lilies (which are poisonous plants irl) to try to talk to the Wildmother when he was all alone. Campaign 2, Episode 130 (2:37:32) The subtle tragedy of his loneliness and isolated devotion are so slept on sometimes so I really hope it's addressed more.

They said they were changing things; that's one of the things I hope gets fleshed out a bit more. Taliesin really played support for most of C2 and he did it wonderfully, but I hope they take the opportunity to bring some of his more subtle character journey to the forefront for the show.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Austin Grossman’s ‘Fight Me’

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Fight Me, the novelist and game developer Austin Grossman uses aging ex-teen superheroes to weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark:

http://www.austingrossman.com/fight-me

It is, in other words, a very Gen X kinda novel. Prodigy (AKA Alex Beekman) is a washed-up superhero. As a nerdy high-schooler, he was given super powers by a mysterious wizard (posing as a mediocre teacher), who gave him an amulet and a duty. Whenever Alex touches the amulet and speaks the word of power, reaclun (which he insists is not "nuclear" backwards) he transforms into Prodigy, a nigh-invulnerable, outrageously handsome living god who is impervious to bullets, runs a one-minute mile, and fights like a champ. Prodigy, he is told, has a destiny: to fight the ultimate evil when it emerges and save the world.

Now, Alex is 40, and it's been a decade since he retired both Prodigy and his Alex identity, moving into a kind of witness protection program the federal government set up for him. He poses as a mediocre university professor, living a lonely and unexceptional life.

But then, Alex is summoned back to the superhero lair he shared with his old squad, "The Newcomers," a long-vacant building that is one quarter Eero Saarinen, three quarters Mussolini. There, he is reunited with his estranged fellow ex-Newcomers, and sent on a new quest: to solve the riddle of the murder of the mysterious wizard who gave him his powers, so long ago.

The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than Alex/Prodigy, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet's greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads' "Once In a Lifetime"). With flashbacks, flashforwards, and often hilarious asides, Prodigy brings us up to speed on how supers fail, and what it's like to live as a failed super.

The publisher's strapline for this book is "The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club," which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn't "The Breakfast Club," it's "The Big Chill."

When I realized this, I got briefly mad, because I've only had two good movie high concept pitches in my life and one of them was "Gen X Big Chill." Rather than veterans of the Summer of 68 confronting the Reagan years, you could have veterans of the Battle of Seattle living through the Trump years. One would be on PeEP, one would be an insufferable Andrew Tate-quoting bitcoiner, one would be a redpilled reactionary with a genderqueer teen, one would be a squishy lib, one a firebreathing leftist, etc. The soundtrack would just be top 40 tracks from artists who have songs on "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schoolhouse_Rock!_Rocks

Every generation has some way in which they seek to overthrow the status quo and build a new, allegedly better one, after all. "Big Chill"'s impact comes from its postmortem on a generation where it was easy to feel like you were riding destiny's rails to greatness thanks to the sheer size of the Boomer cohort and the postwar prosperity they lived through. A Gen X Big Chill would be a stocktaking of a generation that defined itself as a lost generation reared in the Boomers' shadows, armored against the looming corpo-climate apocalypse with the sword of irony and the shield of sincerity.

Which is basically what Grossman is doing here. What's more, doing this as a superhero story is a genius move – what could be a better metaphor for a teen's unrealistic certainty of destined greatness than a superhero? Superhero fantasies are irreducibly grandiose and unrealistic, but all the more beautiful and brave and compelling for it.

You know, like teens.

At 52, I'm a middle-aged Gen Xer. I've got two artificial hips and I just scheduled a double cataract surgery. My hairline is receding. I'm an alta kaker. But I wasn't always: I was a bright and promising kid, usually the youngest person in the room where we were planning big protests, ambitious digital art projects, or the future of science fiction. I had amazing friends: creative and funny and sweet, loyal and talented and just fun.

We're mostly doing okay (the ones that lived; fuck cancer and fuck heroin and fuck fentanyl). Some of us are doing pretty good. On a good day, I think I'm doing pretty good. I had a night in 2018 where I got to hang out, as a peer, with my favorite musician and my favorite novelist, both in the same evening. These were artists I'd all but worshipped as a teen. I remember looking at the two selfies I took than night and thinking, Man, if 15 year old me could see these, he'd say that it all worked out.

But you don't get to be 52 without having a long list of regrets and failures that your stupid brain is only too eager to show you a highlight reel from. No one gets to middle age without a haunting loss that is always trying to push its way to the fore in order to incinerate every triumph great and small and leave ashes behind.

That's why there's a "Big Chill" for every generation. Each one has its own specific character and meaning situated in history, but each one has to grapple with the double-edged sword of nostalgia. Not for nothing, John Hodgman (a bona fide Gen X icon) calls nostalgia "a toxic impulse."

Grossman really makes Fight Me work as a Gen X Big Chill. He's a great Gen X writer; his first novel, Soon I Will Be Invincible, was a knockout debut about superheroes and supervillains that had a very "The Boys" vibe, you know, that neat little move where you contend with the banal parts of a super's life and show how super powers don't make you a good person, or even a competent one.

His followup to Invincible came six years later. YOU is a coming-of-age story about the games industry with a second-person narrator (think "Zork"). Grossman is an accomplished game dev (Tomb Raider Legend, Deus X, Dishonored, etc), and he uses YOU to really plumb the depths of what games mean, what fun is, and how working on games isn't just work, it's often really shitty work, the opposite of fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2013/04/16/austin-grossmans-you-brilliant-novel-plumbs-the-heroic-and-mystical-depths-of-gaming-and-simulation/

Grossman's last novel was Crooked, a very daffy alternate history in which Richard Nixon is a Cthulhoid sorcerer locked in a Lovecraftian battle of good and evil. This is a purely hilarious romp, wildly imaginative and deliciously certain to offend reactionary jerks:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/08/26/austin-grossmans-crooked-the-awful-cthulhoid-truth-about-richard-nixon/

All those chops are on display in Fight Me: a book that covers its brooding with wisecracks, that spits out ten great gags per page even as it drives a knife into your heart. It's a great novel.

Fight Me doesn't come out in the US and Canada until tomorrow (it's been out in the UK, Australia, NZ, etc for more than a month). Normally, I would hold off on reviewing this until the on-sale date, but this is my last day on the blog for two weeks – I'm leaving on a family vacation early tomorrow morning. I'll see you on July 14!

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/01/the-big-genx-chill/#im-super-thanks-for-asking