#Black Journalists on Twitter

[naylasavannah]

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[salmoncakepls]

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[liberalsarecool]

I owe my Trump-supporting friends an apology. I’ve been critical of the Trump presidency and am still exhausted from the experience.

But to be fair, President Trump wasn’t that bad, other than:

• when he incited an insurrection against the government,

• mismanaged a pandemic that killed over a million Americans

• separated children from their families

• lost those children in the bureaucracy

• tear-gassed peaceful protesters on Lafayette Square so he could hold a photo op holding a Bible in front of a church

• tried to block all Muslims from entering the country

• got impeached

• got impeached again

• had the worst jobs record of any president in modern history

• pressured Ukraine to dig dirt on Joe Biden

• fired the FBI director for investigating his ties to Russia

• bragged about firing the FBI director on TV

• took Vladimir Putin’s word over the US intelligence community

• diverted military funding to build his wall

• caused the longest government shutdown in US history

• called Black Lives Matter a “symbol of hate”

• lied nearly 40,000 times

• banned transgender people from serving in the military

• ejected reporters from the White House briefing room who asked tough questions

• vetoed the defense funding bill because it renamed military bases named for Confederate soldiers

• refused to release his tax returns

• increased the national debt by nearly $8 trillion

• had three of the highest annual trade deficits in U.S. history

• called veterans and soldiers who died in combat losers and suckers

• coddled the leader of Saudi Arabia after he ordered the execution and dismembering of a US-based journalist

• refused to concede the 2020 election

• hired his unqualified daughter and son-in-law to work in the White House

• walked out of an interview with Lesley Stahl

• called neo-Nazis “very fine people”

• suggested that people should inject bleach into their bodies to fight COVID

• abandoned our allies the Kurds to Turkey

• pushed through massive tax cuts for the wealthiest but balked at helping working Americans

• incited anti-lockdown protestors in several states at the height of the pandemic

• withdrew the US from the Paris climate accords

• withdrew the US from the Iranian nuclear deal

• withdrew the US from the Trans Pacific Partnership which was designed to block China’s advances

• insulted his own Cabinet members on Twitter

• pushed the leader of Montenegro out of the way during a photo op

• failed to reiterate US commitment to defending NATO allies

• called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries

• called the city of Baltimore the “worst in the nation”

• claimed that he single-handedly brought back the phrase “Merry Christmas” even though it hadn’t gone anywhere

• forced his Cabinet members to praise him publicly like some cult leader

• believed he should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize

• berated and belittled his hand-picked Attorney General when he recused himself from the Russia probe

• suggested the US should buy Greenland

• colluded with Mitch McConnell to push through federal judges and two Supreme Court justices after supporting efforts to prevent his predecessor from appointing judges

• repeatedly called the media “enemies of the people”

• claimed that if we tested fewer people for COVID we’d have fewer cases

• violated the emoluments clause

• thought that Nambia was a country

• told Bob Woodward in private that the coronavirus was a big deal but then downplayed it in public

• called his exceedingly faithful vice president a “p---y” for following the Constitution

• nearly got us into a war with Iran after threatening them by tweet

• nominated a corrupt head of the EPA

• nominated a corrupt head of HHS

• nominated a corrupt head of the Interior Department

• nominated a corrupt head of the USDA

• praised dictators and authoritarians around the world while criticizing allies

• refused to allow the presidential transition to begin

• insulted war hero John McCain – even after his death

• spent an obscene amount of time playing golf after criticizing Barack Obama for playing (far less) golf while president

• falsely claimed that he won the 2016 popular vote

• called the Muslim mayor of London a “stone cold loser”

• falsely claimed that he turned down being Time’s Man of the Year

• considered firing special counsel Robert Mueller on several occasions

• mocked wearing face masks to guard against transmitting COVID

• locked Congress out of its constitutional duty to confirm Cabinet officials by hiring acting ones

• used a racist dog whistle by calling COVID the “China virus”

• hired and associated with numerous shady figures that were eventually convicted of federal offenses including his campaign manager and national security adviser

• pardoned several of his shady associates

• gave the Presidential Medal of Freedom to two congressman who amplified his batshit crazy conspiracy theories

• got into telephone fight with the leader of Australia(!)

• had a Secretary of State who called him a moron

• forced his press secretary to claim without merit that his was the largest inauguration crowd in history

• botched the COVID vaccine rollout

• tweeted so much dangerous propaganda that Twitter eventually banned him

• charged the Secret Service jacked-up rates at his properties

• constantly interrupted Joe Biden in their first presidential debate

• claimed that COVID would “magically” disappear

• called a U.S. Senator “Pocahontas”

• used his Twitter account to blast Nordstrom when it stopped selling Ivanka’s merchandise

• opened up millions of pristine federal lands to development and drilling

• got into a losing tariff war with China that forced US taxpayers to bail out farmers

• claimed that his losing tariff war was a win for the US

• ignored or didn’t even take part in daily intelligence briefings

• blew off honoring American war dead in France because it was raining

• redesigned Air Force One to look like the Trump Shuttle

• got played by Kim Jung Un and his “love letters”

• threatened to go after social media companies in clear violation of the Constitution

• botched the response to Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico

• threw paper towels at Puerto Ricans when he finally visited them

• pressured the governor and secretary of state of Georgia to “find” him votes

• thought that the Virgin islands had a President

• drew on a map with a Sharpie to justify his inaccurate tweet that Alabama was threatened by a hurricane

• allowed White House staff to use personal email accounts for official businesses after blasting Hillary Clinton for doing the same thing

• rolled back regulations that protected the public from mercury and asbestos

• pushed regulators to waste time studying snake-oil remedies for COVID

• rolled back regulations that stopped coal companies from dumping waste into rivers

• held blatant campaign rallies at the White House

• tried to take away millions of Americans’ health insurance because the law was named for a Black man

• refused to attend his successors’ inauguration

• nominated the worst Education Secretary in history

• threatened judges who didn’t do what he wanted

• attacked Dr. Anthony Fauci

• promised that Mexico would pay for the wall (it didn’t)

• allowed political hacks to overrule government scientists on major reports on climate change and other issues

• struggled navigating a ramp after claiming his opponent was feeble

• called an African-American Congresswoman “low IQ”

• threatened to withhold federal aid from states and cities with Democratic leaders

• went ahead with rallies filled with maskless supporters in the middle of a pandemic

• claimed that legitimate investigations of his wrongdoing were “witch hunts,”

• seemed to demonstrate a belief that there were airports during the American Revolution

• demanded “total loyalty” from the FBI director

• praised a conspiracy theory that Democrats are Satanic pedophiles

• completely gutted the Voice of America

• placed a political hack in charge of the Postal Service

• claimed without evidence that the Obama administration bugged Trump Tower

• suggested that the US should allow more people from places like Norway into the country

• suggested that COVID wasn’t that bad because he recovered with the help of top government doctors and treatments not available to the public

• overturned energy conservation standards that even industry supported

• reduced the number of refugees the US accepts

• insulted various members of Congress and the media with infantile nicknames

• gave Rush Limbaugh a Presidential medal of Freedom at the State of the Union address

• named as head of federal personnel a 29-year old who’d previously been fired from the White House for allegations of financial improprieties

• eliminated the White House office of pandemic response

• used soldiers as campaign props

• fired any advisor who made the mistake of disagreeing with him

• demanded the Pentagon throw him a Soviet-style military parade

• hired a shit ton of white nationalists

• politicized the civil service

• did absolutely nothing after Russia hacked the U.S. government

• falsely said the Boy Scouts called him to say his bizarre Jamboree speech was the best speech ever given to the Scouts

• claimed that Black people would overrun the suburbs if Biden won

• insulted reporters of color

• insulted women reporters

• insulted women reporters of color

• suggested he was fine with China’s oppression of the Uighurs

• attacked the Supreme Court when it ruled against him

• summoned Pennsylvania state legislative leaders to the White House to pressure them to overturn the election

• spent countless hours every day watching Fox News

• refused to allow his administration to comply with Congressional subpoenas

• hired Rudy Giuliani as his lawyer

• tried to punish Amazon because the Jeff Bezos-owned Washington Post wrote negative stories about him

• acted as if the Attorney General of the United States was his personal attorney

• attempted to get the federal government to defend him in a libel lawsuit from a women who accused him of sexual assault

• held private meetings with Vladimir Putin without staff present

• didn’t disclose his private meetings with Vladimir Putin so that the US had to find out via Russian media

• stopped holding press briefings for months at a time

• “ordered” US companies to leave China even though he has no such power

• led a political party that couldn’t even be bothered to draft a policy platform

• claimed preposterously that Article II of the Constitution gave him absolute powers

• tried to pressure the U.K. to hold the British Open at his golf course

• suggested that the government nuke hurricanes

• suggested that wind turbines cause cancer

• said that he had a special aptitude for science

• fired the head of election cyber security after he said that the 2020 election was secure

• blurted out classified information to Russian officials

• tried to force the G7 to hold their meeting at his failing golf resort in Florida

• fired the acting attorney general when she refused to go along with his unconstitutional Muslim travel ban

• hired Stephen Miller

• openly discussed national security issues in the dining room at Mar-a-Lago where everyone could hear them

• interfered with plans to relocate the FBI because a new development there might compete with his hotel

• abandoned Iraqi refugees who’d helped the U.S. during the war

• tried to get Russia back into the G7

• held a COVID super spreader event in the Rose Garden

• seemed to believe that Frederick Douglass is still alive

• lost 60 election fraud cases in court including before judges he had nominated

• falsely claimed that factories were reopening when they weren’t

• shamelessly exploited terror attacks in Europe to justify his anti-immigrant policies

• still hasn’t come up with a healthcare plan

• still hasn’t come up with an infrastructure plan despite repeated “Infrastructure Weeks"

• forced Secret Service agents to drive him around Walter Reed while contagious with COVID

• told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by”

• fucked up the Census

• withdrew the U.S. from the World Health Organization in the middle of a pandemic

• did so few of his duties that his press staff were forced to state on his daily schedule “President Trump will work from early in the morning until late in the evening. He will make many calls and have many meetings,” allowed his staff to repeatedly violate the Hatch Act

• seemed not to know that Abraham Lincoln was a Republican

• stood before sacred CIA wall of heroes and bragged about his election win

• constantly claimed he was treated worse than any president which presumably includes four that were assassinated and his predecessor whose legitimacy and birthplace were challenged by a racist reality TV show star named Donald Trump

• claimed Andrew Jackson could’ve stopped the Civil War even though he died 16 years before it happened

• said that any opinion poll showing him behind was fake

• claimed that other countries laughed at us before he became president when several world leaders were literally laughing at him

• claimed that the military was out of ammunition before he became President

• created a commission to whitewash American history

• retweeted anti-Islam videos from one of the most racist people in Britain

• claimed ludicrously that the Pulse nightclub shooting wouldn’t have happened if someone there had a gun even though there was an armed security guard there

• hired a senior staffer who cited the non-existent Bowling Green Massacre as a reason to ban Muslims

• had a press secretary who claimed that Nazi Germany never used chemical weapons even though every sane human being knows they used gas to kill millions of Jews and others

• bilked the Secret Service for higher than market rates when they had to stay at Trump properties

• apparently sold pardons on his way out of the White House

• stripped protective status from 59,000 Haitians

• falsely claimed Biden wanted to defund the police

• said that the head of the CDC didn’t know what he was talking about

• tried to rescind protection from DREAMers

• gave himself an A+ for his handling of the pandemic

• tried to start a boycott of Goodyear tires due to an Internet hoax

• said U.S. rates of COVID would be lower if you didn’t count blue states

• deported U.S. veterans who served their country but were undocumented

• claimed he did more for African Americans than any president since Lincoln

• touted a “super-duper” secret “hydrosonic” missile which may or may not be a new “hypersonic” missile or may not exist at all

• retweeted a gif calling Biden a pedophile

• forced through security clearances for his family

• suggested that police officers should rough up suspects

• suggested that Biden was on performance-enhancing drugs

• tried to stop transgender students from being able to use school bathrooms in line with their gender

• suggested the US not accept COVID patients from a cruise ship because it would make US numbers look higher

• nominated a climate change skeptic to chair the committee advising the White House on environmental policy

• retweeted a video doctored to look like Biden had played a song called “Fuck tha Police” at a campaign event

• hugged a disturbingly large number of U.S. flags

• accused Democrats of “treason” for not applauding his State of the Union address

• claimed that the FBI failed to capture the Parkland school shooter because they were “spending too much time” on Russia

• mocked the testimony of Dr Christine Blasey Ford when she accused Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault

• obsessed over low-flow toilets

• ordered the re-release of more COVID vaccines when there weren’t any to release

• called for the construction of a bizarre garden of heroes with statutes of famous dead Americans as well as at least one Canadian (Alex Trebek)

• hijacked Washington’s July 4th celebrations to give a partisan speech

• took advice from the MyPillow guy

• claimed that migrants seeking a better life in the US were dangerous caravans of drug dealers and rapists

• said nothing when Vladimir Putin poisoned a leading opposition figure

• never seemed to heed the advice of his wife’s “Be Best” campaign

• falsely claimed that mail-in voting is fraudulent

• announced a precipitous withdrawal of troops from Syria which not only handed Russia and ISIS a win but also prompted his defense secretary to resign in protest

• insulted the leader of Canada

• insulted the leader of France

• insulted the leader of Britain

• insulted the leader of Germany

• insulted the leader of Sweden (Sweden!!)

• falsely claimed credit for getting NATO members to increase their share of dues

• blew off two Asia summits even though they were held virtually

• continued lying about spending lots of time at Ground Zero with 9/11 responders,

• said that the Japanese would sit back and watch their “Sony televisions” if the US were ever attacked

• left a NATO summit early in a huff

• stared directly into an eclipse even though everyone over the age of five knows not to do that

• called himself a very stable genius despite significant evidence to the contrary

• refused to commit to a peaceful transfer of power and kept his promise

And a whole bunch of other things I can’t remember .

[serenamediafoundations]

Rather than standing in the middle of the street and shouting to deliver information that affects readers' lives, journalists who want to connect with Black Twitter are encouraged to be "their real selves" on Twitter. Article: #BlackTwitter by Meredith Clark

[allthecanadianpolitics]

A Canadian journalist is defending his decision to travel the U.S. in blackface and write a book about racism, after facing a storm of criticism online.

"Last summer, I disguised myself as a Black man and traveled throughout the United States to document how racism persists in American society," Sam Forster, who is white, posted Tuesday on X, formerly Twitter. "Writing Seven Shoulders was one of the hardest things I've ever done as a journalist."

The reaction was swift and brutal, with X users expressing anger, amusement and confusion, and telling Forster he should have simply spoken to Black people to understand their experiences.

"It's hard to simultaneously draw the ire of black people, white people, conservatives, AND liberals… But I think you've just done it," rapper and podcaster Zuby replied on X.

Several Black scholars who study race relations and write about the Black experience told CBC News that Forster's use of blackface is dehumanizing and troublesome, regardless of the context. Forster himself defended the book and the methods he used to write it in an interview with CBC News. [...]

Institutional racism (the anti-Black variety) is effectively dead," Forster concludes in the book. "Most of what's left of racism in this country are the few, socially narrow opportunities for soft interpersonal racism: shoulder racism." [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland, @vague-humanoid

[delulujuls]

tinder buddies | ln4

hi! i have no idea how to comment on that. i've got inspiration from the rumors that are now going on twitter and tiktok about lando and his activity in sm and i thought man, i need to write something in this narrative because sexting with him??? scuse me??? but of course all of this is fiction and and i dont have any statement on the rumors about lan, mostly because all of these are rumors and not facts. anyway, pls leave his poor papaya ass alone and enjoy this instead!

summary: when you met your tinder buddy irl and realize how indeed world is small

warnings: masturbation on cam (both male and female), bit of swearing, in general alott of sexual tention

pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris

Y/N thought that she was good at what she was doing. She thought that despite her young age she fit in the world of motorsport really well. Sometimes it even crossed her mind that she was no different from her older colleagues, what's more, sometimes she even thought that she was better than them. However, she admitted this only to herself with complete modesty and behind tightly closed doors.

Apart from the fact that Y/N was a really good journalist whose career was growing at a surprising pace, at the end of the day she was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who, like many other twenty-two-year-old girls in the world, had her smaller and bigger sins.

Y/N breathed heavily as she entered her hotel room. She set her suitcase and bag aside, taking off her shoes and plopping down on the bed. It was well after midnight, her flight was delayed by several hours and she was simply exhausted by the passing day. Even though she was excited about the events that awaited her in a few hours, right now she was just tired. However, she knew perfectly well what would help her relax before going to sleep. Not so much what, but who.

The girl unlocked her phone and easily found the Instagram icon, clicking on it and going straight to the messages. She entered the first conversation and was about to write some prosaic message, but she didn't have time to type out half of the sentence when a new message appeared in the chat.

"u up?"

Y/N smiled to herself. It looked like she could count on a pleasant end to the day.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing"

The reply message appeared a moment later.

"i was waiting for you to be available. i thought the evening would be wasted"

"And yet you see, surprise"

The person on the other end smiled and untied the drawstring on his sweatpants. He quickly wrote his answer with one hand.

"wanna call?"

"I think you know the answer"

She smiled and reached for the switch and turned off the light, pressing the camera icon with her other hand.

Y/N and the boy she had been messaging with for a little over a month knew next to nothing about each other. She had a private account and a few photos, he had a black icon and an empty profile. He only knew her name, she only the first letter of his. They met on Tinder, their profiles there looked quite similar. She has a few photos, more of the body than the face, he has the same, mostly in black and white. They had never seen each other's faces, but they knew each other's bodies inside and out.

Y/N placed her phone on the table and leaned it against the lamp, which she turned on a moment later. The light from it was dim, but it illuminated her body enough. The angle her phone was at only showed her from the neck down. She was perfect at maintaining her privacy.

"New background?"

He asked, seeing that the surroundings behind her were different from those he had seen before. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in only a bra and a thin t-shirt.

"I'm away from home"

"Work?"

"Too many questions"

There was quiet laughter on the other side. He liked her temperament. He liked her curves even more and the sounds she made when, at his command, she pushed her fingers inside her and brought herself to orgasm. Yes, he liked that too.

"Yeah, you're right. Strip."

Y/N pulled the t-shirt over her head and her interlocutor saw a red, lace bra that he never seen on her before. He smiled and ran his hand over his crotch. He felt a chill run through him.

"You look good, baby. Red suits you"

She laughed and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

"Is this the first time you gonna tell me to keep my bra on?"

"For now, yes. I'd love to look at it for a while" he squeezed his cock and began to lightly massage it through the fabric. "You know what to do, dont'cha?"

Y/N bit her lip and lifted her hands, placing them gently on her shoulders. She slowly moved them down her body and when she found her breasts, she slowly started massaging them in circular motions. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, hearing the sigh that came from her phone. He watched her carefully, following her every move.

"Take it off," he said after a while, "It's pretty, but I think I prefer you without it."

She quickly took off her bra and threw it aside. He smiled at the sight of her breasts. Y/N returned to them, continuing their massage. As she lightly pinched her nipples, she moaned softly. His cock vibrated at the sound that came from his headphones. He smiled.

"Does it feel good, baby?"

"Mhm, yeah" she answered, looking again at her phone "But you're playing unfair again. I have to see you too."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"You don't let me enjoy you"

He replied and put down the phone, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. He fell back on the pillows and turned on the light on his phone. Y/N smiled at the sight of the familiar, slightly tanned and toned torso. Her interlocutor didn't see it, but she smiled even more when he tightened his hand on his cock, which was now clearly visible on the gray material of his trousers.

"Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down"

He ordered. Y/N obediently lay down, taking off her pants and underwear. When the rustle of fabric could be heard on the other side, he easily freed himself from his pants and tight, slightly damp boxers. He spat on his hand and spread the saliva over his cock, feeling it tighten under his touch. Fuck, what he would give if instead of his hand it was this tiny hand that disappeared between the pair of thighs he saw on the screen of his phone.

The girl complied with his command and he saw her middle finger slowly sinking inside her, only to come out after a while covered with her juices.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, "You're so wet, baby."

“I wish you were here and licked me clean.”

Y/N said, rubbing her clit. She felt that she wouldn't need much to reach orgasm.

Her interlocutor smiled under his breath, but she wasn't able to see it.

"I'm afraid that i would make you even more wet."

"Someone has quite an ego here"

"I know my capabilities, baby."

She snorted under her breath and made herself more comfortable, inserting her finger into herself again. First one, quite slowly, and soon she added another one. A long moan filled the hotel room as she began to move them, imagining that it was not her but him who was fucking her. And not with his fingers, but with his wet, hard cock.

"Yeah, just like that, baby. Keep going."

His eyes carefully followed the screen and the activities taking place on it. His hand moved smoothly over his cock, his lips were slightly opened. As he was stroking himself, the glass of his watch on his wrist reflected the light from the phone. He wore it every time they cam together. Y/N didn't know anything about watches, so she didn't know what brand it was or whether it was expensive. They never talked about it, honestly, they basically never had a normal chat. However, he once asked her about the tattoo on her forearm, just below the inner bend of her elbow. He noticed it after the first time they met on camera. When it was all over and they were about to hang up and return to their real lives, he asked about it.

"What does 33 mean?"

He asked when the girl started getting dressed.

"What?"

"Tattoo on your arm"

The girl looked at her forearm and only then did she understand what he was asking about.

"I can't tell you because you'll make fun of me"

Hearing this, he smiled. Not because there was probably some stupid story behind it, but because the girl was concerned about not looking bad in front of him. Even though they absolutely didn't know each other.

"I barely know your name, I don't know why I would make fun of you."

Y/N was silent for a moment, glancing at her tattoo and lightly stroking it with her thumb.

"Do you know Formula 1?"

He smiled and nodded. His reaction, however, was beyond her reach.

"I know a thing or two"

"My favorite driver drives with this number. Well, actually he did, now his number is 1. But for me it will still be associated with 33"

The girl explained. She felt a bit embarrassed to expose herself to him, especially with something like this. However, he did not laugh at her or comment on her confession in any negative way.

"I have a friend who is also involved in motorsport and has the same number. Actually, not anymore, because he also had to change it. But for me it will also be associated only with 33"

Y/N smiled at his words. Sometimes she wondered if they could become friends and get to know each other a little better. But then she decided to come down to earth and remind herself that she had no time for relationships or friendships. Now the most important thing for her is work and career, everything else can wait. After all, no one will satisfy her as much as herself. Right?

"Fuck, I could fill you so good, baby," he moaned, gasping for breath. He felt that he was only seconds away from orgasm "You have no idea how much pleasure I would give you."

The girl's lips were opened, her eyelids were shut tightly. She massaged her clit with her left hand and moved the fingers of her right hand inside her in quick, uneven movements.

"I'm about to- I…oh my god-"

“Yes, baby, thats it" he gasped, speeding up "Cum for me.”

She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. The moment her back arched, she heard a long "fuck" coming from her phone. He came shortly after her, staining his toned abs with his sperm. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, trying to calm his breathing. There was silence on both sides for a moment, neither of them moving an inch.

After some time, Y/N sat on the bed and reached for a tissue, wiping her hands on it.

"I have to go now. I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow."

"Me too. I wanted to let you know that we may not be able to have a call tomorrow."

He answered, also wiping himself.

“It's okay, no big deal,” Y/N replied and took one last look at the muscled, tanned torso visible on her phone screen, “Good night. And good luck with your chores tomorrow.”

“Good night, baby. You too.”

She smiled and reached for her phone, ending the call. Exhausted from the previous day and the evening cam session, she just buried herself in the blanket and shortly after fell asleep. The next day, when her alarm went off, she was full of energy despite several hours of sleep. She couldn't wait for saturday's qualifying and all she was thinking about as she was getting ready was whether she would be able to get good material.

As she put on her red bra, she smiled involuntarily as she remembered last night. She wondered if he had already gotten lost in the whirlwind of his today's duties. Y/N quickly got dressed, gathered her things and, putting her pass around her neck, left the hotel. When she got to the track and was in the paddock, she couldn't think about anything else. Her only thoughts revolved around what was going to happen on the track in a few dozen minutes. However, for a split second she wondered what her tinder buddy actually knew about Formula 1. Maybe they could have something to talk about? Maybe she could even take him to some grand prix?

Her thoughts disappeared when she noticed Lando Norris hanging around the McLaren garage. The girl asked the cameraman to prepare the equipment and she would ask the Brit if he would be willing to have a short conversation. She squeezed the microphone in her hand and without thinking, she approached him, introducing herself and asking if it was possible to record a short conversation.

Hearing her name, his heart did a flip. He knew that name very well.

"Sure, no problem"

He replied with a smile, obviously not revealing himself, and ran his hand through his hair. The glass of the watch strapped to his wrist gleamed in the sunlight. Y/N had seen this watch before. Many times.

The girl smiled back and, hearing his agreement, gave a thumbs up to the cameraman. When she raised her hand, the sleeve of her shirt rolled up, and Lando's eyes involuntarily caught the tattoo on her forearm. A slight 33, just below the bend in the elbow.

He felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him. It's a coincidence, right? It must be.

"How's your mood before qualifying?"

Y/N asked, putting the microphone down and straightening her shirt. As she was arranging her collar, Lando's eyes caught a glimpse of her red bra strap. He smiled to himself and looked down. He wondered how many accidents and coincidences had come together in the universe and resulted in this situation.

"What? Something wrong?"

The girl asked, not knowing what made him react like that.

He shook his head and after a moment looked up again. He looked at the girl carefully. However, she was completely lost and looked at him questioningly.

"Sorry, as you can probably see, my mood is great. I'm positive about today's qualifying."

Y/N tentatively gripped her microphone. When the cameraman approached them, they started recording the footage and she had no time to analyze Lando's strange behavior. In fact, it was possible that this was their first and last conversation ever, so why should she care about it. When they managed to record a short material, Y/N thanked him and wished him successful qualifications. After that everyone went their separate ways.

Immediately after entering the garage, Lando found his phone buried in a pile of his things. He quickly entered his latest conversation on Instagram and, without thinking, decided to send the girl a message. Worst case scenario, he'll just make a fool of himself, which isn't a big deal since they don't know each other at all. At best, he would spend tonight as he had long dreamed of.

"ure even prettier than i thought, baby."

Y/N felt a vibration in her pants pocket and without thinking, she unlocked her phone. She was surprised to see a notification coming from Instagram, and she was even more surprised when she noticed who sent her the message. After reading it, she felt a cold sweat break out on her. However, she decided to think and act soberly.

"How do you know what I look like?"

"turn around"

Lando replied quickly and leaned against the threshold of his garage. The girl clutched her phone in her hands and obeyed his command with her heart beating wildly. Lando smiled at her, holding his still unlocked phone. Y/N felt a lack of saliva in her mouth. It's impossible, it's not really happening.

"Are you sure we're looking at the same person?"

She replied, having difficulty pressing the appropriate keys with her fingers. He was amused by her reaction. This whole situation didn't make sense to him. It was crazy.

"im looking at a pretty neat journalist with a mad bunda who has a tattoo with my friend's racing number. and u?"

Y/N blushed. Fuck. It's him.

"I see that your jumpsuit is a little tight in some places."

Lando snorted under his breath. The girl wasn't lying. The whole situation made quite an impression on him.

Y/N bit her lip and looked up. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't arousing.

"u know exactly why its tight"

"I guess I have to find out in real life. The camera likes to lie."

When she sent the message, she looked up again and their eyes locked. The Brit winked at her and quickly replied, turning on his heel and disappearing into the depths of the garage.

"my driver's room in five minutes. ill be happy to dispel your doubts"

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[occamstfs]

Ni Hao!NYC

Morally conflicted journalist puts off questions of ethics until it's just too late. Finally assigned to put his name next inflammatory content Sam finds himself more than appreciating Chinese culture.

Various white to Asian Muscle growth and racial change ahead!

Like many, I saw the final pictures on twitter and had to do something with them haha! Ended up with a piece just a tad different than usual! Hope you all enjoy! -Occam

Samuel Johnston knew he worked for a rag but as long as the checks cashed he could afford to mute his conscience. They made money not from sales so much as some rightwing think tank who wants their views affirmed in any way they can get it. So he lays low and pens little puff pieces, avoiding anything too controversial and introduces himself as an accountant to anyone he cares enough to lie to.

He’s quite adept at staying out of sight and mind when it comes to the doling out of any especially charged or problematic issues. Making sure to bury his own work any chance he gets, even using a pen name in case someone accidentally stumbles on his writing. It’s gone well enough so far he thinks! Sam tells himself that really working for NY:Red isn’t that bad, surely it’s even good that he’s got the job rather than anyone who believes the shit they write. Right?

No job is without its problems, he tells himself. So far he’s done a commendable job keeping his nose down with an almost supernatural ability to duck away from bigwigs or management. That is until now as he’s summoned by name to his boss’ side. His proficiency at staying off the radar of management has kept him from a one on one with the man in charge for some time, but now he is sitting on the top floor outside of Mr. Howard’s office, surely waiting to be assigned some horrible project.

“Come in!” Sam hears the surly man shout before promptly stepping into the gaudy office. He’s immediately taken aback as somehow the editor looks almost younger than he does in the many pictures Sam has seen. Sam hides his shock at the man’s jet black hair as well as he hides the general fear and disdain that begins to send adrenaline pumping towards his mind. Mr. Howard doesn't notice at least, getting straight to business, “I can tell from yer writing that ya like the city Sam, can I call ya Sam?”

Samuel opens his mouth to reply but the chief just continues on, “Anyway I love all yer little toilet paper stories but how do ya wanna write with the big leagues?” This time Samuel stays strong and gets a word in before being steamrolled again, “Actually I-” “I’m puttin’ you on the most important case we have Sam. Surely ya’ve noticed all this, what's da word, influx? Invasion? Bah. All the Asian shit that’s startin’ ta creep in on our city’s culture!” Samuel makes an awkward face as despite knowingly working for the racist, it’s different to hear the words out loud.

He holds his tongue out of shock or fear and his boss continues on his diatribe, “The last couple a schmucks I had on the beat just up’n left me high and dry can ya believe it! Old friends I thought!” He grumbles as he scratches his chin, moving away his hand it seems his beard thinned? He shakes his head in irritation and Sam would swear he saw his jowls tighten and wrinkles smooth over. “Anyway kid. Go out and do some prelim research. Have something on my desk by Friday or yer out just like those galoots!” Samuel stands for a second unsure if he’s allowed to leave before his boss looks up to glare with eyes Sam would’ve sworn were blue when he walked in.

Sam rushes out the door and to the elevator, riding it back to his floor, debating between writing a preemptive resignation or keeping mum and keeping on payroll for one last week. Profiteering from a culture war he may be but he’s not about to regurgitate genuinely racist talking points. He taps his foot impatiently as he thinks about just how cushy this gig is though. “Fuck!” He decides to call the only other confirmed decent human being he knows here, his friend Nick who works in the fashion dept.

The two go to grab coffee at a chain next door, Sam tries not to notice how they’ve started selling Vietnamese iced coffee. “Fuck man I can’t do it! Literally just one conversation alone with Howard was a wake up call.” Nick smiles like he has no problems with working for the dirtiest rag in the city, “Chill out Sam. Huward had my manager on the same beat and he, uh, Hidaka said that is said to just look busy for a bit and we won’t need to worry about all this racist shit anymore.” Sam squints his eyes at his friend, he’s not usually so easy breezy about work. He also racks his brain trying to figure out who Hidaka could possibly be. That can’t be his boss. No way Howard would let someone not white lead a department.

Seeing Sam lost in thought Nick reaches out and grabs his hand in a way Sam couldn’t imagine him doing before this second. In fact as the second drags on he stares down in the hand in shock, feeling the warm hand squeeze his forearm. He looks up to his friend’s face searching for any clue to the cause of this odd behavior. Sam smiles awkwardly and half-jokes “Hah hah, uh- Who are you and what’d you do with Nick… Hah.” Nick bursts out laughing, patting him on the arm jovially and leaving a hand larger than Sam remembers resting on his own. “Hidaka-san just showed me how to worry less about this job un?”

Sam inspects him closely for anything amiss, it looks like he’s picked up a bit of a tan? His hair is messier than usual and definitely a little darker, his skin is alluringly smooth and Sam can feel the heat his body is generating despite sitting across from him. Looking at his clothes Sam finds another surprise, his shirt almost looks strained! As if Nick has been hitting the gym for sometime, maybe it’s just been a while since he’s seen his friend in person? 

Assuaged in the slightest, Sam ignores the glowering red flags and follows this lede, “Woah Nick have you been working out?” Nick blushes and Sam at the very least sees his friend is as shy as ever. He goes to scratch the back of his head straining his shirt almost to its ripping point as he responds, “Ah a little haha! どうぞ(please) don’t you worry about me. Since you have no desire to write the article, why don’t you go ahead and check out the little Asian market down the street for fun? It was quite a good time when Hidaka-san brought me earlier this week!”

Sam awkwardly smiles as he wonders why on Earth Sam is suddenly referring to his boss like this, it’s almost like he’s performatively speaking Japanese. Taking a second to pause Sam looks at the haircut as hands unseen style it into something fashionable he puts two and two together. Thinking to himself, ah! Nick must just be a weeb! Tension disappears from his body with a sigh of relief as he wonders how he didn’t notice before now. He gets up to follow his friend’s advice, what better way to stick it to the man than support the people he aims to malign right?

He bucks up and grabs a Vietnamese iced coffee for the road, tossing a “Sayonara,” at Nick with a wink to which he perks up and slightly bows. Man, how did he not notice before Sam thinks yet again. Blissfully unaware, leaving just as kanji symbols appear on Nick’s keyboard and his friend responds to an email in a language he didn’t know this morning. Blue eyes growing coal dark as his tanned, increasingly muscular arms tap away at the keyboard.

Sam spends the bulk of his day at the little Asian street fair and has an absolute blast. Any residual stains on his mind from his unpleasant morning absolutely fade away as he goes from booth to booth sampling cuisine and chatting with diasporic cultures the world over. Time flies as he goes into journalist mode and basically interviews first gen Chinese immigrants about their time in the city. He finds himself beyond immersed in the conversation, continuing to learn from the couple as the tables around them begin to pack up for the day. 

He offers to help the older couple pack up and they happily take the aid, striking him bashful as they talk of what a sweet young man he is. “Wa! 哇强 (strong) Too!” The wife chuckles as she jokingly feels his less than impressive arms. He was having a better time at this little fair than he ever could’ve imagined, enough so that he thinks about going to stick it to Huaward then and there. Huaward? Whatever. His mind slightly off put by whatever that was, in an uncharacteristic act of transparency, Sam lets it slip that he works for NY:Red. The expressions on the kind couple’s faces immediately sour and Sam is quite shocked that they even know what the paper is.

There is a glint in the husband’s eyes as he starts to motion Sam away from any further aid, “谢谢 (Thank you) for your help, Sam. There have been a few, hm, bad men wandering around from that paper and I uh-” He looks around his table and grabs some miijiu they hadn’t put away yet. His wife nods, her face somewhere between rueful and hopeful as she watches her husband offer Sam the glass. “Again, 谢谢, er thank you for your help young man, enjoy this for the road 好的? (Yeah?)” The two turn to each other and begin talking to each other in mandarin alone and Sam takes the hint.

Kicking himself that he fumbled the capstone on such a pleasant afternoon, though finding solace in the rice wine he’s walking away with. He is blissfully unaware as the couple watch him drink and head down the street debating if everyone from that paper really is an asshole. Grimacing as they think about the vitriol spewed at them by NY:Red readers they decide they had no other recourse. Pleasant as he seemed Sam was consciously working on the side of hate and that could not be simply overlooked.

Sam quite enjoyed the rice wine the couple left him with, it immediately smooths over any lasting regret or concern about his interaction with the couple. They don’t know anything about him! He’s nothing like his other coworkers. It feels as if he’s had far more to drink than the small container they left him with should allow, but every time he looks down there always seems to be more mijiu to entice him. It would be impolite not to finish their gift he thinks; his confident stride quickly shifting to a stumble as he wanders home. 

His phone goes off as he gets an email from his boss, Mr. Huang?  Can’t be right. He squints at the email, deciding he must really have overdone it on the mijiu and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. Beyond the obvious difficulties in ambulation being drunk, Sam is unable to notice as his proportions slowly begin to shift. His ever-so lanky body begins to feel dull and heavy as the warmth of the wine fills his chest to capacity and then some as he leans against his apartment door, wiping his feet on an unfamiliar doormat. 

He kicks his shoes off by the door on some new instinct and immediately goes to collapse on the couch. His small sofa creaking as he puts more than his usual dead weight on it. His legs that usually hang off the end lengthen even further as his thighs grow meatier. Pecs press into the cushions as he snores. He is swiftly ushered into an unfamiliar dreamscape, the jubilee of the fair and the bewildering amount of wine he drank produce a vivid carnival of culture in his subconscious.

He sees the old couple at their stand and begins to speak with them in their mother tongue, seeing the delight as a load is taken off their shoulders. His dreamself seamlessly conversing with a fluency unearned. Sam stirs in the waking world as his mind existentially changes to match his morphing body. His blond hair grows thin and longer as its tint stains darker. Twitching in REM the green eyes that he prides himself on speckle with brown before they are entirely overtaken, becoming a rich cacao like the thick eyebrows framing them.

The discomfort of a new language forcing itself into this memory begins to wane as he prides himself on how fluent he is in both Chinese and English. His hand goes to scratch his pecs and he smirks in his sleep as they pulse larger, knowing pride is not the only thing surging within him. At the edges of his mind he feels the memory of learning a language, words written on a blackboard in chalk, English and Chinese both. For the life of him he cannot recall which of the two he’s learning second. An alarm set on his phone blares and he jolts awake to get ready for work.

Throwing on a shirt, Sam freezes as he sees his reflection. Hundreds of little questions seize his mind, those aren’t his eyes are they? Did he dye his hair last night? Are those abs? God his arms look good don’t they!? As they race through his mind and grow rampant they fixate on how attractive he suddenly feels. Rubbing his pecs and feeling them bounce he cries out to himself, “该死！Uhhh, Damn I look good!” He poses in the mirror and takes in every new angle of his powerful body. Taking note as his body hair seems thinner, and decidedly darker wherever it remains. He looks close at his pit seeing his once dense bush of curly hair thin out and straighten, before the memory of even having dense body hair is washed from his mind.

His phone goes off again and his work is immediately brought to the forefront of his mind. “Fuck I didn’t read Huang’s message!” He finds email after email from his boss, only the first few mention the wretched assignment they last talked about. Sam’s eyes widen as he continues to skim through the emails as the topic lines quickly show some drastic re-prioritization from his boss. Only then does he realize that he’s been reading his boss’ name as Huang. His boss is white. Rather his boss’ whole identity is based around being white! Huang isn’t, right? Incredibly he clicks the last email, subject line Vacation, and is immediately greeted with a mouth watering picture of a powerful man. Everything comes to a stop as he can’t help but gawk at this man’s body.

Ni Hao Sanuel- take the day off shi de? Still only half dressed Sam balks at just how bizarre this is, rereading the name Sanuel he is thrown for a loop as his mind reconfigures this. Tearing his eyes from the man’s torso he finally looks at the cocky face and sees a thread he recognizes,  “天啊! (Holy Shit!) That’s Mr. Huang!” He shuts his mouth before he drools like a dog at his boss’ arms. God, this is unlike him though right? He tries to dig through his memories of the editor in chief as the caustic racist he was yesterday, but with each uncovered the image of Huang changes as this dreamboat playboy overrides more of what was.

Sanuel readies to just stay in for this day of assigned vacation before he gets another notification, this time from his friend, Nobu? An image of Nick flashes through his mind, a handprint burns on his arm, and the taste of Vietnamese coffee dances on his lips. “Meet me on the boardwalk うん？” Sanuel rolls his eyes at his friend tacking on Japanese like that, willing his mind not to think about how his friend’s contact ID now says Nobu. Must be one of those, uh, his own thoughts trail off as he successfully abandons concern to head to meet his friend.

Nearing the meeting spot he looks for his usually cleancut friend, the only body present however is a massive Japanese man awkwardly flexing at himself in a reflective surface. Sanuel shyly speaks up, “Ni Ha-, uh Hey? Have you seen a guy named Nick around here?” The apparent bodybuilder beams and goes to engulf Sanuel in a hug shouting, “Oi! Shan! took ya long enough!” His eye twitches hearing the name, as this man effortlessly lifts him off his feet in a hug far too intimate for colleagues, and certainly from whoever this stranger is!

Shan pushes against the massive man, his body heat broiling him on this already warm day. He strains his eyes looking at the man grabbing him and suddenly it hits him, “Nobu?” The man promptly lets him go and pats him on the back with a laugh he would’ve never expected to come from his sheepish friend in the fashion department. “Wanna go have some ice cream or something Shan?” He feels the need to push back against his friend calling him Shan but as he hears it a second time he can’t recognize the names as anything but his own.

Shan pauses as he sees Nobu stop to chat with some Japanese tourists and something about the picture doesn’t sit right. God it’s that talk with Huang getting him all worked up again that,uh, racist? He clutches his head as contradictions between his past and present collide in his head and he slams his eyes shut as he cannot determine what is true about his current reality. Shan falls to the ground with a deep thud, slightly hyperventilating, his body grows larger as he takes deep breaths from the stress.

Hearing him collapse Nobu runs over to help him up, this time with more effort as his friend’s comatose body continues to put on muscle and grow heavier. Still, having the impressive figure he does, Nobu rather easily gets him on a bench and sits next to him, “クソ野郎？(Fuck dude?) You alright?” Shan slowly nods as his friend throws an arm around him. Looking down at his own arms as they pulse with muscle, he feels his eyes strain as the structure of his face begins to change.

Shan's jawline sharpens and his skin smooths. Stubble that has been a cornerstone of hiding his facial blemishes vacates as his hair stains black and flops longer. He feels clarity grace his mind as he stares at large hands on the ends of pale, hairless, muscular arms and he wonders if he is even himself.

He voices these concerns to Nobu who just laughs them off. “Hah! Of course dude, same Shan I’ve always known!” “那- that’s not my name Nobu.” His friend grins shyly in concern for his friend's mind. “It can't be my name. I’m-” grimacing before he continues as it takes everything in his power to speak against the realities in front of him. Memories of a world quite far away, moving to New York long ago, the youngest in a family of Chinese immigrants, “I’m white aren’t I Nobu?” 

Nobu can’t help but laugh again at the beyond bizarre statement. He jokes about Shan hitting his head when he fell. “You’re the most 2nd Gen Chinese わるがき(brat) I know bro! Imma go get us some ice cream while you chill out.” Shan stares at his friend as he abandons him, feeling his eyes tighten as they shift into the monolid eyes that his memories swear he’s always had.

Shan retreats into his mind racing against his changing memories to find a pillar of truth to grasp on. He sees himself at the gym with Nobu, his black mop of hair flicking sweat into the air as he poses with his bro. He sees just yesterday at the Asian fair, helping an elderly couple pack up their table, twitching as he would’ve sworn that went differently. He remembers sitting at the office getting no work done as he plays on his phone, 是的！that’s it! His job. There’s something there, if only he can remember what the problem was there.

He sees Nobu begin walking back with sweet treats, Nobu works at the paper too. Oh 呃/Duh! He smirks as he goes for his wallet to grab a business card. His eyes see the obnoxious red logo he knows before they read text that will send him irrevocably forward, Shun Jiang - Ni Hao!NYC. His body fills with warmth like a machine overworking as his mind races with information about his new reality. Sweat drips from his hair as he can no longer even struggle to recall his claimed existence as a bystander at the vile paper they produced. His brown eyes steep to a dark black as they glaze over.

“Shan-baka! Here’s a popsicle!” Nobu shouts as he returns to his overheated friend who immediately bursts from his stupor. “混蛋!(Asshole!) It’s Shun- thought we were close!” Nobe smirks as he starts to eat his own ice cream. Unable to recall anything too in depth he feels a pause as he wonders what his Japanese friend is doing working for a Chinese newspaper, before he answers it himself. Clearly his subconscious is more at place in whatever new reality he faces. Their paper is for all NYC’s Asian immigrants. Nobu works writing, or more often modeling, for Konnichiwa!NYC! Huang really was a genius for the idea.

Shun smiles, thinking fondly of his boss as he enjoys the short break from the summer heat that Nobu brought him. Back at the headquarters of their paper everything shifts from the rag it was and into a paper connecting the disparate Asian immigrants of the city, printed in any language they can find translators for, Ni Hao, Konnichiwa, Annyeonghaseyo, Namaste!NYC. Each day striving for a better, more inclusive New York City. Shun beams with his new face, no longer burdened with the just concern of his peddling vitriol, instead possessed with a desire to spread his culture far and wide.

———————————————————————————

As I was writing I remembered a similar series by the now gone Dumb-and-Jocked!

If interested do check out Horizon Zero: One, Two, and Three for quite a different take on a journalism themed Racial Change!

[goodluckdetective]

Twitter collapsing does really feel like a modern day Tower of Babel situation: breaking lines of communication that connected the entire world.

Scientists used Twitter to do science communication and to work with other scientists. Twitter’s API allowed scientists massive access to data that could be used to track pandemics, bias, and other metrics that can be really hard to collect in such massive numbers (this isn’t to say that data collection doesn’t come with ethical issues, but that’s another story).

Journalists used Twitter for breaking news updates and to connect with sources. I saw quite a few Twitter journalists upset about restrictions to DMs because it was how sources often contacted them. If you had a newsworthy problem, like an unfair eviction, you could reach out to local reporters and maybe get them to pick up the story.

Artists and other creators used Twitter to spread their art and build small businesses. I have bought art prints that I have since framed of artists whose work I first saw on Twitter.

Activists have used Twitter to challenge institutional narratives and to make their movements visible and loud. All across the world, people who’s stories would have never been heard have used Twitter to make sure the truth is out there.

Social and cultural groups have used Twitter as a way to connect and build community. I am obviously not qualified to talk about the importance of Black Twitter so here’s a link to Doctor Meredith Clark discussing archiving Black Twitter with NPR.

To see all of that break in one day really feels like watching just this ability to communicate crumble. From the ability to translate Tweets, to the ability to collect data, to the ability to simply see what people are saying, all of it has crumbled. But unlike the story of Babel, this isn’t an act of God: this is just the whim of one man who took a look at this flawed but impressive communication hub and decided to tear it down.

[visualbutterflysworld]

Meet my girlfriend | VHackerr

While on stream the chat hears you in the background and begs to met you.

love you vin ! this is for my black girls frfr but only a section

“AH FUCK!” Vinnie hears you scream. He would’ve hurried to your aid but he’s frozen because he’s streaming. With you being so loud the chat hears you. Vinnie’s eyes shift to his monitor partly afraid and partly intrigued

“Who was that?”

“Was that a girl!?”

“WHO WAS THAT?”

“Vinnie you’re cheating on me!?”

“Ahhh! I knew he was dating someone!”

Vinnie licks his lips as he can’t come up with an excuse. He sighs heavily before he starts to talk. “That was my girlfriend. Who screamed.”and that’s when the chat blows up. He sees the views ranking up which means he’s probably trending on twitter not even 5 minutes after he said that.

“Babe!” Vinnie yells for you. You come quickly, standing in the doorway with a confusion look as you know he’s streaming. He relaxes in his chair as he looks at you with a lazy smile. “They heard you. The chat wants to meet you.” You widen your eyes. “Oh! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know I was that loud.” You put your head down in disappointment.

“It’s okay, love, please come say hi.” He smiles even harder as you slowly make your way to him. You glance at the chat. You see so many comments.

“HE CALLED HER LOVE”

“SUCH A WARNER MOVE”

“AHH SHE SOUNDS SO SWEET AND INNOCENT”

“SHE SOUNDS LIKE SILK”

“AHHH”

“Say hi.” Vinnie says as you look unsure. “Can i stay out the frame?” You ask and Vinnie nods, honestly glad he could keep what you look like to himself. “Hi, chat.” You say shyly. “This is my girlfriend guys. Should we give her a nickname?”

The chat floods the comments section with ideas and names. “Mm. Buttercup? I like buttercup. She acts like her from the power puff girls.” “I do not!” You yell! Vinnie laughs as he looks at your little pout. “She does too! Don’t let the cuteness fool you!” Vinnie smiles as he sees more questions pop up.

“Okay, baby, you wanna play lighting round? Answer real quick and short?” Vinnie asked before looking at your almost bare legs. His imagination going off the rails. “Sure.” You put your arms behind your back.

“What’s your age?”

“I’m 23!”

There were a few comments about you and Vinnie’s age gap but hey it could be worse.

“Occupation?”

“I’m a journalist.”

“Favorite color?”

“Depends on my mood. I like sage green, lilac, blue and light pink. Sometimes green and yellow.”

“How long have you and Vinnie been dating?”

“Almost five months!”

“Favorite physical part of vinnie?”

“His smile. He has one of the most beautiful smiles.”

Vinnie couldn’t help but smile. “Compared to her’s mine is pure shit.” You hit him and that’s when the comments blew up more.

“SHES PAC?!”

“BEEN KNEW VINNIE LIKED BLACK GIRLS”

“TWITTER IS FINNA FREAK!”

“VINNIE GOT HIM SOME SPICE!”

“BEEN WAITING FOR HIM TO GET A PAC GIRL!”

You laughed at all the comments. “Yes, I’m black. Thank you guys for noticing.” Vinnie snorted. “Now everyone can shut up about what I like.” You rolled your eyes as you continue reading the comments. Some were unfriendly but it didn’t faze you too much. It was an inevitable thing to happen.

“Well, everyone, I liked chatting with you all but I want to go lay down now so bye!” You waved and make your way out of his room. “I’ll be there in a little bit babe!” Vinnie called out. “Alrighty!”

Well, that went better than you could hope.

[lo-fag]

JK Rowling’s funeral will be beautiful.

The cameras, the faceless attendees, the press swarming outside the gates. The touching notes left by her followers, thanking her for building their childhoods. The radfems mourning the loss of their god.

The grey-faced family and friends, escorted out of the gates by countless bodyguards, hounded by journalists and flashing light that illuminates all of the little details in their hand-woven black clothes.

Every stitch, every seam, there on display. Every tear, every bloodshot eye for the world to see.

But then They come. After the last stragglers of the funeral have left, whether it be hours or days, We will arrive.

Black combat boots and worn Converse, crop tops and baggy jumpers, ripped jeans and tartan skirts.

We will find our way in, jumping fences and picking locks, weaving through the neglected stones of others until we reach the corner that she bought for herself.

Her gravestone is inscribed and decorated, at least twice as big as the others in the graveyard.

We read it aloud.

“Mr. and Mrs.Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Thank you Joanne, for making our childhoods.”

We laugh. The angel over the grave, hands clasped in prayer, neck and wings strung with scarves of red, yellow, green, blue seems to smile with us.

We take the books first. Most of them are signed copies. They will make our kindling. The scarves and cloaks are too polyester-stuffed and mass produced for that.

We burn the books, dancing and laughing in the dying light, mocking her denial of the burnings back in the 40s.

The pictures are next. Portraits of her, posing elegantly, smiling gracefully. The kind face that hides bigotry and disgust at fellow human beings.

We burn them. Their ashes fuel our crazed laughter.

We celebrate our childhoods. We celebrate the world, the magical, fantasy world she crafted for us. We do not celebrate her. We celebrate her soon to be deleted Twitter account, after one last mournful post about how incredible she was.

We shall mock it, tomorrow. But tonight we celebrate.

[mariacallous]

Kamala Harris may have sat down with CNN’s Dana Bash for her first big interview since she became the Democratic presidential nominee last month, but that doesn’t mean she was willing to play the network’s game.

Since getting the nomination, Harris and running mate Tim Walz have connected with voters mostly by doing rallies and working with content creators, while ignoring sit downs with legacy media outlets like The New York Times, CNN, and others.

The policy has some merit from a strategic standpoint, considering many of those outlets have a bad habit of framing their presidential coverage as a “horse race.”

That means that even though mainstream journalists might gripe that Harris needs to answer their questions about what she would do as president, that’s not what they ask when they have the chance to talk with her.

Instead, reporters mostly want her to respond to wackadoodle things Trump said.

But it doesn’t look like Harris is going to do that moving forward, based on how she responded to one of Bash’s Trump-framed questions during the interview.

Bash asked Harris to comment on remarks made by Trump at last month’s National Association of Black Journalists convention in Chicago about her racial identity.

During his train wreck Q&A at the event, Trump attacked Harris’ biracial identity.

“I didn’t know she was Black until a couple of years ago when she happened to turn Black,” he said. “And now she wants to be known as Black, so I don’t know ― is she Indian or is she Black?”

During the CNN interview on Thursday, Bash asked Harris to comment on Trump’s questioning about her racial identity.

Harris had a succinct response: “Same old, tired playbook. Next question, please.”

Harris’ refusal to answer a question that doesn’t have anything to do with her ability to lead the country got raves from people on X, formerly Twitter.

Many people felt that if the media was going to ask questions like this one, then Harris had a good reason for previously avoiding reporters.

[haartemis]

I love you, it's ruining my life | Part IV

pairing: Kylian x black!fem!Reader

word count: 6.2k

part one, part two, part three

A/N: as always, please let me know what you think in my inbox <3 Like this post if you'd like to be added to my taglist.

IV. Summer 2023 through Spring 2024

July 2023

“Tic Tac!” The man on the TV had wide, and quite frankly, manic-looking eyes. “Tic Tac!”

Kylian quickly grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, releasing a sigh of relief at the ensuing silence. It was all noise these days, the minute he turned on the TV, or opened Twitter and Instagram, or even glanced at a newspaper. His name in big bold capital letters, in a headline that almost always contained the words “leaving” or “staying”. Everyone wanted to know. The paparazzi stalked his every move, yelling out the million dollar question to him any chance they got – “Kylian, are you leaving PSG?”  as if he’d respond to them. People on twitter tracked his flights, trying to see if any of the planes he boarded were headed to Madrid. Self- proclaimed insider journalists went viral on social media with their ‘scoops’, causing a flurry of conversation, and depending on which day it was and which side you were on, either joy or sadness. Turtle emojis haunted his dreams, and now, thanks to the Spanish TV channel he’d accidentally come across, so would the words ‘tic tac’.

He was a good sport about it, most times. But at times it was all too much. Like today. He’d spent the majority of it in a meeting with his mother and legal team, discussing  PSG negotiation strategies. Then he’d come home to take an afternoon nap, only to be woken up by his lawyer calling him to deliver the news: PSG had frozen him out of the first team. He’d proceeded to go to his living room and open the TV,  mindlessly scrolling through the channels, happy to not just think for a couple of minutes, to let the disbelief and anger marinate inside him until he could express it at a later time . But that was all gone when he happened upon the Tic Tac man, who apparently hosted a show that was dedicated to the Mbappe - Real Madrid Saga. Now it was back to stressing about his present, and his future. 

Truthfully, everything had started unraveling the day he’d royally fucked everything up with Y/N, back in December. The heartbreak he’d felt had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, so all encompassing that it had left him at a loss of equilibrium. It shook him to his core.  He didn’t just lose the girl he loved, he lost his best friend too.  He’d decided to pour everything he had into football, and he’d quite literally been rewarded for it when he’d become PSG’s top goalscorer. He felt happiness he hadn’t felt in a long while when he stood there in the stadium that evening, thousands cheering him on as he held up the trophy. But then all of it had dissipated back in his apartment, his friends and family gone after a night of celebration,  the golden 201 staring at him from his trophy cabinet. What good was any of it if he couldn’t call and share his joy  with the person who mattered to him the most? He’d felt incredibly lonely then, more lonely than when he was just 14 alone in the Monaco academy for the very first time.  Y/N had left a big, wide hole in his life, and no matter how he tried to forget it, it was still there. 

His phone, which he had  carelessly tossed across the couch, started to vibrate. It was his mother, probably calling to check on him, maybe offer some words of comfort. He ignored it. He didn’t want to speak to anyone at the moment; He didn’t have the energy to pretend he was ok, , to feign acceptance of his uncertain future and Y/N’s absence from his life. Instead, he headed to the fridge and grabbed a rare beer. He wasn’t going to be playing  professional football anytime soon , so who cared how much carbs he consumed? 

He watched his phone continue to vibrate as he took a gulp of beer. It periodically flashed different names: his parents, his brothers, his sister in law,  Tchaga. He was happy to ignore all of them in favor of wallowing in his sadness. It went on like that for an hour or so, his phone occasionally lighting up with someone calling as he sunk deeper into his misery. Then, a name appeared on the screen that made him almost choke on his beer.

He quickly grabbed the phone and answered. “Hello?” 

 “Hi” Y/N’s voice was tentative, almost shy. “Are you okay, Kylian?”

“Yeah” He managed to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, I’m okay”

“Are you sure?” her voice was tinted with concern. “It’s all over the news here. Plus, your mom is worried, said you’re not picking up your phone” 

He winced. “ Don’t mind her, It's probably all the stress from the negotiations taking a toll”

“And you?”

“And me what?” he asked.

“Is it taking a toll on you?” She clarified

“No, I’m good” he said defensively. “I’m great, actually”

His beer bottle that had been teetering on the edge of his coffee table suddenly tumbled down and crashed to the floor. 

He cursed. “Sorry, my beer just went everywhere…” 

“Beer?” She sounded surprised. “You don’t drink beer. Especially so close to the season starting”

He sighed. “Y/N, we haven’t spoken in more than 6 months. Since you fucking broke my heart, mind you. I don’t think you can confidently say you know me anymore”

“Harsh” She replied. “But maybe deserved”

He heard shuffling at the other end, and the unmistakable sound of a cat’s meow. “Is that a cat?” he asked.

“Yup. I adopted one about a month ago” she replied. “Her name is Luna”

He snorted. “Half the cats in the world are named Luna. Couldn’t you be a little original?”

“Shut up” She chuckled, then paused. “And I still know you well, by the way”

“Mmm?” He was searching for a broom and dustpan to clean up the beer bottle mess. He couldn’t find them anywhere. He was shamefully clueless about this stuff, seeing as he had a cleaning person come take care of things  like that. 

“Yeah. I can bet my salary you’re looking for something to clean up your mess with but you can’t find it” The sound of her giggle made his heart skip a beat. 

Kylian smiled in spite of himself and muttered “Fuck you” under his breath.

He finally found the broom and dustpan. 

“You know what else I can bet?” Her tone softened, turned more serious. “I can bet that the Kylian I know wouldn’t let this type of stuff get to him. No matter what pressure he’s put under, no matter what they say. He’d just let his football speak for itself”

“Yeah well, they’re not even letting me play football. That’s the issue. It’s either renew my contract  or I won't play a single minute this season. And that’s a problem, Y/N. Because if I don’t play, then It means I start getting out of form. And I can’t have that. There’s too much on the line. The Euros next summer, and then maybe the Olympics…” He’d swooped up all the broken glass carefully and was now wiping the excess beer. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone”

“What about… What about here?” 

He knew ‘here’ meant Madrid, but the way she said it made it sound like ‘here’ was more personal. For a moment he imagined a world where they were together, a world where he’d be able to find solace with her – in her city, her apartment, her bed. He quickly dismissed that thought before it could hurt him.

“I want to finish my PSG contract first” It was a line that almost felt robotic the number of times he uttered it to the press, but it was still true.

“In any case, I don’t think you should worry too much, Kylian. You have great lawyers, great people behind you. They’ll figure it out” Her voice was comforting, and for the first time, he believed those words that had been told to him by friends and family countless times. 

The door to his apartment rattled just then, and he cringed. The timing couldn’t be worse. He disposed of the glass as he heard the door unlock from the other side, and then the sound of clicking heels approaching. 

“Kyky, are you okay?” She asked, just as she came into view. “You didn’t pick up when I called”

She saw that he was on the phone, and Kylian was about to open his mouth to explain when she whispered “Is that Fayza?”

He didn’t know what possessed him to lie, but he did. He nodded a yes. 

She gave an understanding nod, before motioning that she was headed towards his bedroom.  Kylian watched as she went up the stairs, overnight bag in one hand and the sound of her heels echoing. 

A brief silence, and then, “Who was that?” from the other end of the phone. 

“You remember Sophia from Monaco? She lives in Paris now” Why did it feel like he was delivering bad news? She was the one that had left him heartbroken. “And we’re dating”

“Dating dating or are you still just hooking up?” Her voice was unreadable. 

“No, we’re dating. Shocker, but I’m actually capable of being in a relationship”

“Why did she move to Paris?” She ignored his pointed jab. “What does she even do now?”

“She’s a model” 

She snorted. “ There it is”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s your usual type, no?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Not really. My type was you. Just you.  You thought I was using you for sex, though. That’s why we didn’t work out right?”

“Well—”

“But yeah, she is a model” He ignored her, not wanting to prod his own open wound.  “Not all of us can be super smart, saving people’s lives…”

“I don’t save lives” She pointed out. “At least not directly. I’m in nonprofit work, remember?”

He did remember. He knew everything about her, admired and cherished every single detail. Yet, she wasn’t his. He’d gotten close; those 10 days after his birthday were the best of his life. But she ran away. And maybe it was his fault. It was a thought that haunted him till this day. Maybe I should have been more forward. Told her how I felt. Told her I love you.

He cleared his throat. “You know, we’re doing an event next week for the kids in my foundation. About getting into STEM fields.”

“I know” She responded. “I’m going to be there”

“What?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. 

“Yeah, your mom invited me. I’m going to be one of the speakers” She sounded amused that he didn’t know.

“Oh… I guess I’ll see you then”

“Yeah, I’ll see you” she said quietly. 

There was a brief silence, and Kylian thought it was the appropriate  time to wrap the conversation up. Any other time and they’d spend minutes in comfortable silence, speaking only when they felt like it, and on things that ranged from random to deep. But this was the first time they were speaking in months, and there was another girl waiting for him upstairs. 

“Thank you for calling. For calming me down. You’re very talented at that ” He let out a sad laugh.

“Of course. I’m always your friend, Kylian. No matter what” She said it with so much conviction it almost made up for everything else. 

He thought she was going to add something else, but she didn’t. They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone.

October 2023 

The second time they spoke on the phone, he was on a flight back from a game. It was a loss, and no one was happy, so there was a muted atmosphere on the plane. Despite that, the adrenaline still running through his veins prevented him from falling asleep. He kept awake, fidgeting in his seat, trying to fend off the thoughts that usually assailed him after a loss. Could’ve made that pass. Should’ve scored that goal. 

He decided to distract himself. He pressed play on the latest episode of his favorite show, but he couldn’t concentrate. He contemplated playing a game, but he didn't want to think. Next to him, Dembele was softly snoring. He instinctively reached for his phone, and before even thinking about it, called Y/N. 

She picked up almost instantly. “Hello?” Her groggy voice made him realize it was well past midnight in Madrid.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. We can –”

“It’s fine, it’s fine” Her voice was soft. “What’s up?”

He looked out at the night sky through the small airplane window. “Nothing, nothing. Just couldn’t sleep, and thought I’d try and talk to someone” 

She chuckled. “Well, you’re in luck, because I’ve been sitting at my desk for the past hour trying to study. You caught me just when I started to doze off”

“Study for what?” He kept his voice low to not wake his neighbor. “I thought you were done with all of that”

“Decided I have one more degree in me” She said. “I started a masters program”

“Wow. So you’re juggling classes, your job, and being a mom to Luna” He tsked jokingly. “That’s a lot on your plate”

“Tell me about it” She yawned. “I’m fully embracing the cat lady stereotype these days”

“What, no guys hitting you up?” He kept his tone teasing, but he was very curious.

“Don’t have time, is all” She responded. “I barely leave the apartment during the weekends… I barely even see friends”

He frowned, imagining her cooped up in her tiny apartment all alone, straining her eyes by poring over her books. Neglecting herself. “Y/N, you work so hard, don’t forget to take care of yourself”

“I’m managing” Her tone was soft but strained. His frown deepened. How had he not noticed the deep tiredness in her voice until now?

“So, what are you doing this weekend?” She asked, clearly trying to change the subject. “Any plans with Sophia?”

“Well, we have two days off, so I was thinking–” A lightbulb flickered inside his head. “I’m actually going to be in Madrid”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah” He lied. “ I’ve got a Nike photoshoot”

“So, I’ll get to see you right?”

“Yes, of course. You’ll have to text me your address and stuff and I’ll come by..”

She didn’t express any excitement, and he didn’t blame her. He felt nervous himself,  seeing as this would be their first meeting alone since December. He’d come up with the idea on the spot, lying about a photoshoot,  because something in her voice was off. He wanted to see her, to check on her. Plus, he missed her. 

He texted his assistant to arrange a flight and a hotel to Madrid before the plane even landed in Paris. He rushed back to his apartment just to shower and to pack a bag, then he was once again on a plane, making his way to Y/N. 

By morning, he was in sunny Madrid. By mid-morning, his driver was taking him to Y/N’s apartment. His heart was beating out of his chest as he knocked on her door. A few seconds, and it opened. And there she was. 

He was struck by a sense of longing, the heartache he’d felt all those months compounded tenfold at the sight of her. He couldn’t dwell on that, though, because the longing immediately gave way to a wave of concern. She looked exhausted, her curls frazzled and dark circles visible on her tired face. Despite this, she smiled at him wordlessly and let him inside. 

Her apartment was a reflection of her current state – chaotic and disheveled. Papers and books were scattered across surfaces, take-out boxes on the floor. 

“Sorry about the mess, I got swept away with work” She shrugged at him in embarrassment as he cleared away papers on the sofa to take a seat.

“No worries” he said, looking around her apartment. This was his first time in her living space.

“Do you want me to get you anything? Water?” She asked, just as a blob of gray fur suddenly flew across the room from nowhere and leaped at him.

“ Ow!” Kylian exclaimed as the cat’s claw made contact with his face. He looked down at it with a disapproving look.“ You must be Luna. Thanks for that”

Luna meowed at him contentedly from her perch on his lap. Y/N chuckled, but her laugh quickly turned into a yawn.

He scratched Luna’s ears and gave Y/N a serious look. “ You need to sleep. Now” 

“But I— 

“No buts. You need rest” He said firmly “ You go take a nap, I’ll chill with Luna”

“ But you just got here!”

“ We have the whole weekend to hang out”

She frowned. “ You came here for work though”

He ignored her comment. “Just go sleep,Y/N”

With a resigned sigh, she made way to the bedroom. 

He looked back at Luna, then at the messy apartment. A former coach of his had once told him a person’s living space was a reflection of their mental state. He sighed at the British shorthair. “Let’s get to work Luna”

He started by gathering the books and papers, carefully arranging them so they were all in the right place. Next, He cleared away all the trash and disposed of it. He wiped all the surfaces of the living room and kitchen, restoring some sense of order. Luna trailed after him all throughout his cleaning, rubbing her head against his leg once in a while.

After some contemplation, he decided to take the risk and walk to the grocery store across from her apartment building.  Thankfully, the store clerk didn’t recognize him in his cap and sunglasses so he got his shopping done without any hassle. Back in the apartment, he replaced the wilted flowers on her kitchen table with the fresh ones he’d gotten, then put away the groceries he’d picked up. 

He’d never cooked a meal in his entire life, but he figured he’d be able to follow a recipe. So he pulled up youtube and searched up a simple pasta recipe. It took him longer than he’d anticipated, but by the time Y/N woke up, there was a steaming home cooked meal waiting for her on the kitchen table.

She broke into a giggle as soon as she walked out of her bedroom, her eyes lighting up in delight. “You did all this?”

He raised his arms up in mock triumph. “I’m not a completely useless human being outside of football, you know”

“Never said you were” She took a seat by the kitchen table, eagerly stabbing a fork through her pasta.

He watched her take a bite, a grin spreading across his face as she gave him an approving thumbs up. Nothing he loved more than validation from Y/N.

He plated up some for himself, and they ate in companionable silence. Afterwards, Y/N insisted on cleaning up and he didn’t protest, seeing as doing the dishes had always been his least favorite chore ever since he was a kid. He watched her move around the kitchen, already sensing less tension in her after the nap and meal. 

When dusk rolled around, he turned to her and grinned. “Time for you to show me your city”. And so they set off, him dressed modestly in just a T-shirt , sweatpants, a cap and pair of sunglasses not to attract attention and her in a pretty yellow sundress. This was his first time venturing outside without a bodyguard in years, and he was sure his mother would have a heart attack if she found out, but he didn’t tell Y/N; he wanted her to feel completely at ease. As they walked, she pointed out some of her favorite things about the city: the mix of historic and contemporary architecture, and the street art. He listened attentively, though his anxiety was growing. It would take only one person to notice him for word to spread around and a mob to form. Then he could do little to protect Y/N or himself. 

She must have sensed his worry, because shortly after she pulled him into one of the less crowded cafes. They took a seat outside, his back facing the streets. He watched her people watch, the setting sun casting golden hues over her face. She’d gotten a scoop of ice cream while he was sipping on peach iced tea. 

“You know, I hate to complain, but sometimes I wish it was easier” His tone was heavy. “Whenever I’m outside, it feels like I’m always on guard. ” He turned and looked wistfully at the bustling street.

“On the bright side, you’re living your dream” She reminded him with a sympathetic look. “Not many people can say that”

He nodded in agreement, then paused. “Do you think, you and I,  if there wasn’t all of this”–He gestured vaguely at himself – “would we have worked out?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, clearly surprised at his question. “I don't – Kylian, I–”

He interrupted her, snorting bitterly. “Remember when you basically told me I’m a fuckboy athlete using you for sex?”

“We don’t need to talk about that now, Kylian” She looked down at her ice cream.

“No, I think we do” He said firmly. “Do you know how much you hurt me?”

She looked up at him. “ Kylian… I’ve seen the pictures, heard the stories. Plus the way you behaved during our…situationship or whatever you call it.  You can’t fault me for thinking that way”

“What do you mean the way I behaved?” He laughed bitterly. “ You were the only person I was seeing.  Holding hands, kissing, I’ve never done that in public before with anyone else.  All because I was proud you were mine… at least I thought you were going to be mine.”

“Well that’s the issue, Kylian. You never told me any of that. I was hurt.. I thought I was just a temporary distraction to you” She said quietly. “I thought you were throwing away our friendship just for sex”

He was hurt that that was the way she viewed him. But he hadn’t led her to believe otherwise, had he? He’d never entertained the idea of a relationship with anyone before her simply because he’d never liked someone so much before her. And so most of his late teen years and early twenties had been spent in a cycle of casual flings, never letting anyone get too close. He could see why she’d thought that way.

“Y/N, I never meant to make you feel like that,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ve never been in a place where I cared about someone as much as I care about you. Maybe I didn’t show it right, but it was never just about a fling for me.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, though” She continued, locking eyes with him. “We have two completely different lifestyles… it would never work” She said the last part quietly, as if it was a painful truth she would’ve rather be false.

“So your answer is yes?” He tried to hide the pain in his voice.

“What?”

“The answer to my original question, about my career being in the way, it’s yes right?”

She slowly nodded. He nodded back, a silent acceptance passing between them. Perhaps she was right; they lived in different countries, worked two completely different jobs. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. He had Sophia– who lived in the same city as him, who ran in the same circles, who had no problem throwing herself into his world. That should have consoled him, but he couldn’t help but feel that this would be the ‘what if’ that haunted him forever. 

She reached out and took his hand. “But Kylian, your friendship means the world to me. I want that forever.  I mean look at me, I was on the verge of collapse before you visited. Thank you, by the way” She added, giggling self-deprecatingly. 

He managed a small, bittersweet smile. His phone rang just then, and Y/N snatched her hand back when she saw the caller ID on his phone. It was Sophia, wanting to know how his photoshoot was going. He weaved a web of half-truths while Y/N looked down, playing with her ice cream.

By the time he hung up, the sun had completely set and the bustling street outside was bathed in street lights. He’d drunk the last of his iced tea while Y/N spooned the final bits of her ice cream. He found himself watching, mesmerized as her tongue peeked out of her mouth to lick her spoon. Her tongue darted out again to swipe the remaining ice cream from her plump lips.  His mouth slightly gaped as she closed her eyes, letting out a  soft moan of satisfaction. “That was really good” She said as he moved his eyes away and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Even after the painful conversation they’d had, she was capable of getting his blood flowing to all the wrong places in his body. He didn’t know if it was pathetic or funny. 

He cleared his throat. “Let’s head back, shall we?”

February 2024

“Look this way, you two!” The photographer shouted over the loud chatter. Kylian had slowly grown irritated throughout the night; first it was the itchy jacket that clung to him, then the seemingly endless stream of people coming up to him asking for pictures, and now it was this nosy photographer trying to get a snap that he could sell to the tabloids. He knew he was hired by Tchaga to document the opening of his new business, so he tried to keep a polite facade. “No thanks,” He said. “We’re good”

The photographer moved along, clearly disappointed. Next to him, Y/N gave him a playful pout. “You don’t want  pictures with me?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “You know why”

She smirked at him as she took a sip of her drink. “Can’t help it if people think I’m hot”

A few weeks ago, a video of Y/N speaking at his foundation event back in July had resurfaced online and gained traction on Twitter and Tiktok. People were commenting on the ‘insane chemistry’ between her and Kylian, and how they looked like the perfect match. Up until then, Y/N had been able to maintain her anonymity; she was never photographed with Kylian or seen out with him. She’d always joked about making her public debut in his documentary fifty years from now, where she’d recount embarrassing stories from his childhood. But that video going viral meant she’d had hundreds of thousands of people camping out on her Instagram page, convinced she was his latest love interest. A few tabloid articles soon followed the social media buzz, lighting up even more speculation online.  The irony of  all of that happening just  as they finally moved past their short lived romance was not lost on Kylian. 

Though she hadn’t mentioned it, he knew she wasn’t taking this invasion of her  privacy lightly. He felt a pang of guilt,  especially since this wasn’t the expected outcome when she’d volunteered to speak to the kids. So he overcompensated sometimes, like in this instance, to make sure no photos of them leaked online or on tabloids to fuel further gossip. 

He watched her open her email app for the third time at night, anxiously refreshing it to see if there were any new messages in her inbox.

 “Stop that” He snatched the phone out of her hand.  

“Give me–” She started protesting, but he’d already replaced her empty hand with another drink.

“You need to relax, they’ll get back to you when they get back to you” He said.

She sighed, nodding hesitantly. She’d come to Paris for a job interview with a company she’d been impressed by for a while. She wasn’t very stressed before the interview, saying she’d rather stay at her job in Madrid anyway, but no one likes facing rejection. As a result, she kept checking her phone for updates while in the middle of the party,  which she’d been able to attend because it had coincided with the day of the job interview. 

They watched as Tchaga made a speech, Kylian clapping proudly for his best friend. Y/N left shortly after he cut the ribbon, citing exhaustion. Kylian offered his driver to take her home but she declined, so he walked  her out of the party and waited for her Uber with her. 

“Where’s Sophia tonight?” She asked, shivering slightly in the cold evening air.

“Oh, we broke up” He said casually, shedding his jacket and holding it up for her.

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned around, letting him drape the jacket over her shoulders. “I didn’t know that”

He shrugged. “ It wasn’t working out. We wanted different things”

“And what were those?”

“She..” He paused, measuring his words. “ She wanted to be more public. And I didn’t want that”

It was more than that. She’d started posting photos of inside his house, which Kylian had expressed his discomfort at. She didn’t understand where he was coming from though, didn’t understand that as someone who was in the public eye from a very young age he placed a high value on his privacy. Then it was calling photographers whenever they were out together– at events,  restaurants, you name it. He’d always known that being her boyfriend increased her profile in the modeling world, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in the entire relationship just for the spotlight. So, he’d called it quits. Her reaction had confirmed his suspicions – he’d seen pictures of her out and about with an A list actor just a few days after their break up.

“I’m sorry, Kyky” She gave him a hug, wrapping her arms around his torso. He rested his chin on the top of her head, fighting the urge to kiss her wind frazzled curls.

“You haven’t called me that in a long time” 

“ Just wanted to reclaim the nickname I gave you, now that she’s out of your life”  She grumbled.

Kylian chuckled, feeling slightly satisfied by the jealous undertone in her voice.Y/N had still never met Sophia but she always overheard her call him Kyky over  the phone. It was true that she was the one who’d come up with the nickname when they were younger. He liked that she was possessive over him; over a part of him, at least.

They said their goodbyes after a few moments, and he watched her uber speed away. He only went back inside when the car turned the corner and disappeared. 

Inside the party, he mingled with friends of friends and other acquaintances. An hour or so went by before it was just his inner circle left. He stood around with Ethan, his father, and Tchaga, chatting about the week’s football and other random tidbits. 

Ethan pointed at the small beard on his chin, laughing.  “You’re still growing that out? We told you it sucks” 

Him and Tchaga had teased him mercilessly about it last time he’d grown it out, saying it was tacky. He’d quickly shaved after that.

“Oh, Y/N said she liked it so I just kept it” He shrugged.

“You’d probably wear clown shoes if she told you they looked good”  His father muttered quietly.

Ethan and Tchaga burst into laughter, while Kylian’s face flushed. Seeing his son's embarrassment, Wilfried quickly corrected himself.

“What I meant to say,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, “is that you clearly value her opinion more than anyone else’s.”

“Which is great” Tchaga added “If you both weren’t running away from your feelings”

Kylian groaned.

“It’s never going to work out” He automatically repeated the words she’d said to him, the same words he said to himself during sleepless nights.

His father squeezed his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “To me, it just seems like you’re both scared. Maybe take a leap of faith. It’s obvious you two care about each other a lot… If you don’t give it a shot, you’re going to regret it. Trust me”

You’re going to regret it. Wasn’t he already? Deep down, he knew there was no one else for him besides her. Anyone else he kissed, slept with, dated, or even had a fleeting connection with was just second best. No one knew him like she did, no one else had his heart in the palm of their hand. If he didn’t tell her now, then they’d start drifting apart. Separate futures.  Separate lives with different families and different partners. A life of misery is what awaited him.

He sighed. He knew what to do.

April 2024

Kylian had arrived in Madrid on that April morning  with two missions; First to sign the most important contract of his professional career so far, then to tell his best friend he was in love with her. The first part was straightforward; himself and his group of lawyers had met Real Madrid’s lawyers, signed the papers, and sealed the deal. Just like that, the most dramatic football transfer saga of the decade came to an end. 

The second one he’d been more nervous for. He’d tried to come up with a script, something romantic like in the movies. But it felt disingenuous, so he decided he’d make it up as we went along.  Hey, I know you said we’re never going to work out, but we’re going to be living in the same city soon so why don’t we give it a try? Nah, that was too simple. He needed to come up with something better.

He met her at her apartment in the evening, leaving behind his mother and the rest of the team who’d come along for the contract signing.

“He’s off to see his girlfriend now” His mother had announced to the table when he excused himself after their late lunch. 

He’d flinched at the term and whispered, “She’s not my girlfriend”

“Oh, really?” She shot him a look that could melt steel.  “And why is that?” 

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Don’t even start with the ‘I don’t have time’ excuse . You two  can spare 2 hours a day to talk on the phone, so you clearly do have the time”

He didn’t respond, just gave her a small smile. Being called out by both parents for unresolved feelings wasn’t for the weak.  Hopefully, he'd give her good news by the next day. 

Now, he was in Y/N’s living room, waiting for her to finish getting ready before they went out to dinner. After contemplating how he’d talk to her about it, he’d decided dinner was the best option so he’d proposed the idea that they go out for a nice meal.  He entertained himself by playing with Luna as he waited for her, watching the cat run around the apartment leaving chaos in her wake. 

He looked up when he heard the sound of heels.  Y/N emerged out of her room, looking beautiful in a white dress that hugged her figure gracefully. It was knee length, sleeveless and was complemented by a pair of tall white heels. Almost involuntarily, his gaze wandered up her legs, admiring the way the white of her dress contrasted with her brown skin. His eyes traced the curve of her hips – he’d once had the privilege of laying his hands on them, but now he could only stare longingly.

She cleared her throat and his eyes immediately darted away. She had an amused look on her face, clearly aware of where his thoughts had been. He just smirked back in response, as if to say “sue me”.

“You look beautiful” He said quietly.

“Thank you” She said. She was glowing more than usual, the happiness on her face evident. 

“You look really happy” He noted, smiling at her. “It suits you”

“Well, it’s because I got that job I told you about!” She squealed in excitement. 

His smile faltered. “What?”

“I was going to tell you over dinner, but I couldn’t wait” She shrugged happily, her delight evident.

“Wow” He was well and truly speechless. “Congratulations”

“Thank you” She beamed at him.

“So, you’ll be moving?” He dreaded the answer to that question.

She nodded in affirmation. “I’m really excited���

He thought about the cruel coincidences that had followed them for years; She left Paris as soon as he came back to Paris, and now she was leaving Madrid to Paris just as he was leaving Paris to come to Madrid. It felt like a cosmic joke from the universe, a message that they were never meant to be. The thing he wanted most in the world at the tip of his fingers, now gone. He felt tears prick his eyes but he blinked them away. 

“Kylian, are you okay?” Y/N gave him a concerned look.

He put on his best fake smile, the one he reserved for journalists. “Yeah, I’m fine. Come on, let’s go celebrate”

tags: @kyliansonlygf @ynkfreeastheocean @scottishthistle @user6373738 @lucysantos6-blog @tuliptopiasstuff @kennasutopia @cinderellawithashoe @akiracim @kymb-10 @germanapples @ariesmai

[hussyknee]

Video description:

Preface reading: "Rafeef Ziadah, 12/11/11, London". The video begins showing a young woman on a stage, her hair cut in a sharp, short bob, wearing a gauzy black dress with red accents to match the stage wall behind her. She speaks into a mic in a blend of Canadian and Palestinian accents:

Transcript: "I'll start with this poem I wrote. This poem—when the bombs were dropping on Gaza I was the media spokesperson for the coalition, doing a lot of the organizing, and we'd stayed up to about six o'clock in the morning perfecting every soundbite and by the end of—you know most Palestinians get tired and start pronouncing our "P"s as "B"s so we could become "Balestinians" by the end of the day. So I was practicing my "P"s all night, and the next morning one of the journalists asked me, "Don't you think it would all be fine if you just stopped teaching your children to hate?"

I did not insult the person, I was very polite, but I wrote this poem as a response to these types of questions we Palestinians always get."

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre. Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits. Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits filled enough with statistics to counter measured response; and I perfected my English and I learned my UN resolutions—But still, he asked me, "Ms. Ziadah, don’t you think that everything would be resolved if you would just stop teaching so much hatred to your children? Pause. I look inside of me for strength to be patient but patience is not at the tip of my tongue as the bombs drop over Gaza. Patience has just escaped me. Pause. Smile. "We teach life, sir." Rafeef, remember to smile. Pause. "We teach life, sir. We Palestinians teach life after they have occupied the last sky. We teach life after they have built their settlements and apartheid walls, after the last skies. We teach life, sir." But today, my body was a TV’d massacre made to fit into sound-bites and word limits. And— "Just give us a story, a human story. You see, this is not political. We just want to tell people about you and your people so give us a human story. Don’t mention that word: “apartheid” and “occupation”— This is not political. You have to help me as a journalist to help you tell your story which is not a political story—" Today, my body was a TV’d massacre. "How about you give us a story of a woman in Gaza who needs medication?" "How about you? Do you have enough bone-broken limbs to cover the sun? Hand me over your dead and give me the list of their names in one thousand two hundred word limits." Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits and move those that are desensitized to terrorist blood. But they felt sorry. They felt sorry for the cattle over Gaza. So, I give them UN resolutions and statistics and we condemn and we deplore and we reject and— These are not two equal sides: occupier and occupied. And a hundred dead, two hundred dead, and a thousand dead. And between that, war crime and massacre, I vent out words and smile (not exotic), smile (not terrorist) And I recount, I recount a hundred dead, two hundred dead, a thousand dead. Is anyone out there? Will anyone listen? I wish I could wail over their bodies. I wish I could just run barefoot in every refugee camp and hold every child, cover their ears so they wouldn’t have to hear the sound of bombing for the rest of their life the way I do. Today, my body was a TV’d massacre And let me just tell you, there’s nothing your UN resolutions have ever done about this. And no sound-bite—no sound-bite I come up with, no matter how good my English gets—no sound-bite-no sound-bite-no sound-bite-no sound-bite, will bring them back to life, no sound-bite will fix this. We teach life, sir. We teach life, sir. We Palestinians wake up every morning to teach the rest of the world LIFE. Sir.

End transcription.

I think this twitter thread gives some necessary political context for the poem, so you can really understand the cruelty and barbarity of that question, and why Western media insistently shies away from "political" answers:

Cursory Google check corroborates all the info except for the number of peace settlements Israel's rejected. I can't find the exact number off the first page of Google and my head is throbbing too much to look deeper. I'm going to leave that for y'all to fact check.

(I went and looked Rafeef Ziadah up to check whether she's still alive (because that's what we do with Palestinians now) and she's safe in London, teaching Politics and Public Policy at King's College. You can find the rest of her poetry here.)

[lover-of-mine]

Twitter is an absolute dumpster fire right now 😂

Maddie is a murderer and a worse person then Tommy ever could be because of it.

Chimney and Tommy fics are on the rise tonight as he is just pinning away for Tommy. (I guess because he needs to be kept away from black widow Maddie 💀)

Buck needs to have a sex scene to prove his sexuality.

A journalist said “if Tommy were to be developed over the next few episode” and now everyone is convinced BT is endgame. (Bingo plot twist no one saw coming it wasn’t even Max Gao who said it for once)

Hen and Bobby are also murderers and that makes them worse then Tommy ever could be (Hen and that ambulance accident and Bobby and Minnesota)

There is now a BT sweatshirt and a BT hat (funnily enough the hat has a misspelled word on it 💀)

And that man is “oh so sweetly and gently correcting” his fans to call them Tevan instead of bucktommy

And that’s what you missed on 👐 Glee Twitter. 👐

Honestly, I'm just gonna post this one because I love this format.

[ibroughtumybulletz]

MCR’s Ski Masks at the NME awards explained:

(credit for the gif: @rubbish78 )

A Master Post Because I couldn’t find one! Lmk if I missed anything :)

.

.

So way back in 2010, the British magazine NME (New Music Express) published a multi-page spread about the band. In that article, “journalist” Luke Lewis wrote:

Both men are rail-thin something Way attributes to not eating, rather than exercise, which he hates. For the new albume he wanted to look staving and on-the-run, though he actually looks healthy, certainly in comparison with his Xanax and cocaine days pre-Black Parade, when he ballooned to 200 pounds and got so blitzed his trousers fell down onstage. Back then, unkind souls dubbed him the emo Meat Loaf, such was his shambolic demeanour. Now he looks more like Christina Ricci. In the background lurks guitarist Ray Toro the archetypal heavy metal nerd, with corkscrew hair and a wheedling voice. He doesnt look starving and on-the-run: when he takes off his Randy Rhodes, I notice doughy love handles spilling over his belt.

(Here’s a link to the scanned article)

Ray responded on his Twitter:

MCR was set to preform at the NME music awards a few months later, in February of 2011. At that show, they preformed in ski masks.

(credit for the gif: @rubbish78 )

When Frank and Gerard were asked about why they did so, in an interview, Frank explained:

“[it’s] about the music, not the messengers, you know?”

(at about 3:20)

My Chemical Romance received the award for “Best Music Video” that night, and when present with the award Gerard said this in his speech:

“Don’t ever let the media tell you what your body is supposed to look like. You’re beautiful the way you are. Stay beautiful[…]”

(at about 8:30)