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hedwigstalons · 4 years

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High Expectations - Ch12

Just a little sketch to see if I could tackle proportions and pose, no references used. Yes I know I have made absolutely no attempt to make the brothers look like anyone, particularly Scott, I’m very much still learning (and struggling).

I’m normally very clean with my fics but one or two swears crept in this time, blame Scott. It’s not littered with profanity though.

This chapter (and the next one) were really saved by @willow-salix who stopped me from deleting the whole thing in a crisis of confidence. She is lovely.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven

AO3 chapter link

Chapter 12

Virgil ran his fingers through his hair and wondered what the hell to do for the best, he was completely out of his depth and floundering. He had made it his personal duty to keep an eye on Gordon ever since that fated visit to Denver but now the red flags were flashing and he was feeling ill equipped to deal with it. His cheerful brother, normally so driven and bursting with barely contained energy, was wilting before his eyes.

With each passing call Gordon had become more listless, less talkative, dropping into the stupor of the repressed. He should have been worried when Gordon switched from video calls to voice only but he had been too busy with his own course to pay much heed to the change of routine until today. He was pretty sure that Gordon had activated the video screen by accident; the face that greeted him was sallow, the eyes red rimmed and framed by heavy black bags. It hadn’t taken long but Gordon’s lean and athletic form displayed change quickly, his little brother was a mess and looked visibly ill.

Of course he had heard all about the Marineville incident and their father’s ultimatum so he knew the cause but not the solution. He couldn’t even have Gordon up to stay with him again because Jeff’s total control over Gordon’s life had extended to him refusing even this escape for the teenager. He had already tried that route but their father had held firm that Gordon had not yet earned the right to freedom.

With his father holding on to the unshakable belief that Gordon needed tough love and firm handling Virgil turned to the only other person he thought could make a difference. After a quick check of the time he picked up his phone again and called Scott.

“Hi Virg, what’s up?” Scott took in his brother’s agitated demeanor causing his usually cheerful tone to change to one of concern. “Hey, are you ok?”

“Not really. I think I need your help.”

“Everything ok with your project? Or have you finally got girlfriend trouble?”

“This is serious Scott” Virgil admonished, not impressed at his brother’s attempt to lighten the mood. He ran his fingers through his hair again, it was a sure tell of his barely contained worry and a gesture that made Scott sit up and take notice. “I’m fine but I’m worried about Gordon.”

“Gordon? What has he done now?” With Gordon pretty much confined to quarters since Marineville Scott wondered how much trouble could his brother could get into really? Surely if he had run off again it would be Dad on the phone to him, not Virgil.

“Nothing, as far as I can tell. But I spoke to him tonight and I’m worried about him, he seemed so low and upset.”

“Are we talking ‘Alan breaking his octopus model’ upset, or ‘losing the state final and nearly being booted from the national squad’ upset.”

“I mean looking like he hasn’t eaten or slept for a week levels of upset.”

“Shit. That bad?” To Gordon the body was a tool and a temple, the words ‘optimal nutrition regime’ had been bandied about from an age when most kids would still happily eat candy for breakfast if given half the chance. Gordon had never not taken care of himself.

“Yes, that bad. I’ve never seen him like this before, it’s like all the spark has gone out of him. He’s got nothing to aim at and nothing to live for. Dad is adamant that he needs to go to college but that has never been part of his life plan and he has got absolutely no confidence in his own abilities even if he wanted to go on to further studies. Do you think you can go back and check on him? I know it’s a big ask but I’m tied here for the next few weeks otherwise I’d go myself.”

Scott knew that Virgil wouldn’t make this request lightly. They had spent so long looking after the kids together back in Kansas, each supporting the other while their father focussed on his business or his grief, that he trusted Virgil’s judgement to be sound. If direct intervention was requested then that was what was needed.

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got some leave due at the end of the month, I might be able to get it brought forward.” He made a mental note to cancel his airfield slot in New York, whether his leave got moved or not it looked like he was going to be spending it in LA rather than the Big Apple.

“Thanks. You know I wouldn’t ask this if I wasn’t sure it was necessary.”

“I know. Look, it’s fine. I’ll get down there as soon as I can and report back to you. Now go get some sleep, you look done in and it must be gone midnight for you.”

“Okay. Night Scott.” A wave of relief washed over Virgil as he closed the call. If Scott hadn’t been available the next step would have been to head back himself; he would have been on a flight already if his project wasn’t at a time-critical stage. Scott would soon get to the heart of the matter and everything would be fine. He hoped.

Several states away Scott ran his fingers through his own hair in a gesture that mirrored his brother’s earlier action. He hadn’t seen Virgil this rattled about a brother’s health since John’s suspected appendicitis eight years ago. That had been for a scary time for them all with Jeff away on a business trip and Scott left in charge of the kids, ably backed up by Virgil as his reliable second in command; a role his little brother had assumed without asking ever since their mother had died. Now Virgil was asking him to step up again and it was time to answer the call. They had worked as a team then and they would work as a team now.

xoxoxox

In less than a week Scott found himself outside the apartment door. He hoped Virgil was wrong and that this was a wasted journey but his brother had an uncanny skill at being able to see beneath the surface. It was his trust in Virgil’s opinion that had him citing ‘family emergency’ and ‘compassionate leave’ at his own commanding officer before making the trip south.

He entered the cool darkness of the hallway and was hit by the wall of sound spilling out from the cracked doorway of Gordon’s room; a telltale sign that his brother was there but noone else was. There was no way Jeff would have put up with that sort of racket as the beat of the music thudded through his bones. He wasn’t particularly keen himself but at least it meant he could make his entry undetected. It also meant that he was guaranteed some time alone with Gordon; Alan should be out at school for at least the next few hours which would give him the opportunity to try and get Gordon to open up without the pressure of an audience.

Pausing only to deposit his kit bag in the room that had never really felt like his, Scott made his way to the kitchen and started digging through cupboards until he found the cocoa. It was a comforter, a treat reserved for those times when someone was particularly upset or recovering from illness. The dark playlist that was still reverberating around the apartment suggested it was going to be necessary.

Bearing two steaming mugs Scott nudged the door to Gordon’s room wide open and stepped in. The curtains were still closed despite it being the middle of the day and the room smelt stale. The figure on the bed sat up with a start at the sudden intrusion and confusion crossed Gordon’s features at the unexpected visitor. For Scott the shock was different in nature, even in the darkened room the physical change in his brother was profound. Gone was the tanned skin and glossy hair, instead Gordon’ locks sat limp and flat, framing a face that was several shades too pale making the dark eyes look like wells into oblivion. The haunted look that greeted him caused Scott to curse himself for for not realising that things had gotten this bad, for not being there and for leaving Virgil to be the one that kept a check on everyone’s wellbeing.

He put the mugs down and hit the off switch on the stereo, causing a deep silence to fall over the room, before throwing open the curtains. The sudden change in light levels made Gordon wince and the natural light he was now bathed in only served to enhance how pale he had got. Scooching Gordon’s legs out of the way so he could perch on the end he joined his brother on the bed.

“I couldn’t find any of that caramel syrup you like, sorry.”

“S’ok. Coach doesn’t like us having too much refined sugar. Didn’t like. Don't suppose it matters any more.” The reminder that he no longer had a coach was like a punch to the gut and his shoulders slumped just that little bit lower.

Picking up the mug Gordon took a deep pull at his cocoa. The warm sweetness hit the back of his throat invoking memories of Kansas; recovering from a cold or mourning a lost race, Scott’s cocoa was a band-aid for the soul. Even without the syrup the hit of sugar that came with the drink gave his thought processes a jump start. He blinked, then looked at Scott as if properly seeing him for the first time. Yes, big brother really was in his room.

“Why are you here?” Suspicion crept into his voice. The last time he’d seen Scott it was Marineville; he wondered if this was another visitation orchestrated by their father, have big brother there during the day as another layer of control.

“Had some annual leave to use” Scott shrugged. “Didn’t have any plans so I thought I would stop here for a few days.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Gordon rolled his eyes at the blatant falsehood. “Try again.”

“Okay. Virgil was worried about you and asked me to look in, call him if you don’t believe me. It’s true I had some leave to use up though.”

“Does Dad know you’re here?”

“Not yet. I wanted to see how you were for myself first and frankly Gordon, you're a mess. When did you last swim? When did you last even shower?” With the curtains now open and the sun streaming in the room was warming up, amplifying the odour of unwashed body.

“Was at the pool maybe 2 weeks ago. Don’t really know any more. Not much point now I’m off the squad.”

“C’mon Squid, you’re better than this. Finish your drink and get your running shoes on, you need some sunshine and you need it now.”

“Can’t. Gotta get my personal statement finished before Dad gets home.” The half-empty mug was set down with thud, the cocoa suddenly seeming bitter. Storm clouds brewed behind his eyes at the reminder of their father and the rules he imposed.

“And how’s that going?” Scott raised an accusatory eyebrow at the rumpled bed sheets. There were some jotted notes on the desk but it didn’t look like Gordon had made much progress. “I’ll give you a hand with it later but I need a run and you are coming with me, it’ll make you feel better.”

Gordon knew better than to argue. The Scott of Kansas, the one that provided cocoa, was also the Scott that had spent night after night getting him to complete his homework or making him tidy his room. He’d had a counter to every single one of Gordon’s tricks or arguments then and the look on his face showed he wasn’t going to take no for an answer now. He hauled himself up and hunted for his running shoes in the closet while Scott disappeared off to his own room to get changed. The very fact that he couldn’t lay his hands on his running kit straight away just showed that Scott was probably right, he had been shut away and static for too long and needed to move.

The pair set off at an easy pace, their feet thudding against the sidewalk as they headed towards the nearest green space. For Gordon, who had been neglecting his fitness regime of late, it took a while to shake the stiffness out of his limbs. The sun felt dazzling as it reflected back up from the flagstones after shutting it out of his room for so long.

Scott made sure to stay a couple of steps behind to start off with, supposedly so that Gordon could direct the route, but really so that his younger sibling could dictate the speed without being pressured. He had always been the faster runner, his long limbs easily able to outstrip his brother’s stockier build, but the pace as they set off felt particularly sluggish. There was no attempt at competition either. Despite their differing talents the Gordon of old would always put up fight, trying to achieve the impossible and beat him to the finish but there was no fight today. Staying a few steps behind also gave him a chance to take a proper look at his brother. Scott noted with worry that the muscle definition in his arms and legs was softer, his steps heavy and less springy and the tee-shirt hung limply off a form that seemed thinner than before; the family athlete was a long way off peak condition and far from his usual energetic self. Compared to the powerful figure he had watched sprinting to the finish of the assault course at Marineville Gordon was practically unrecognisable.

They ran in silence along shaded boulevards and down wooded paths, the sounds of the city muted by the greenery of the park. The path looped and twisted and you could almost forget the world that existed on the far side of the railings. As they approached the gates that would release them back into the city Scott turned onto the grass and slowed to a halt leaving Gordon to follow him with a puzzled look.

“Stretches” Scott answered in response to the unasked question in Gordon’s eyes, “or have you forgotten how to do those too?”

Gordon didn’t grace that with a response, just rolled his eyes and started running though his post-workout routine. It really had been too long since he had given his body a proper challenge and his limbs were protesting. He was still fit by average standards but he knew that if he hit the pool now he would be miles off gold medal pace.

Stretches complete Scott flopped down on the grass and patted the ground next to him in a gesture that was more command than invitation. Gordon’s legs complied, gratefully collapsing to the floor, and he was soon sprawled beside his brother on the warm turf gazing up at a sky criss-crossed by contrails.

“So Gordon, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Gordon’s head snapped round at the blunt outburst. “Don’t you start too, I’ve already had all the lectures I can handle.”

“I’m not here to lecture. Seriously though, what the hell has been going on? First you’re storming your way to a world record, then you’re putting yourself through one of the toughest military selections in the world and now you look like you couldn’t do either.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need to be able to do either, do I. Dad has made it perfectly clear I’ve got to go to college. I’m not allowed to compete any more and you hauling my ass out of Marineville kinda blew any chance I had with WASP.”

A look of anger flashed across Gordon’s eyes as he threw out that barb. He was pissed at himself for how hard he had found the run and cursing his lapse of discipline, Scott was an easy target for his frustrations. For Scott it was the first spark of real emotion he had witnessed since arriving.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I didn’t really have a lot of choice. I must admit I was surprised though, you’ve never shown any interest in the military before.”

“Never really had the time. I’d spent so long throwing everything I had at my swimming I really thought that was going to be my life. I honestly thought I could make him proud. Turns out in Dad’s eyes though it could never be more than a hobby. Now Coach won’t have me back on the team even with Dad’s permission; he said he needs commitment and can’t risk putting in the work only to have me pulled again.”

The pain in his brother’s voice was clearly evident and Scott couldn’t blame him. Gordon has spent years devoting himself to his sport, making significant sacrifices along the way. Their father had always told them to give whole heart to a cause, that half measures would only lead to failure, and when it came to swimming Gordon had followed that advice to the letter. To have all that dedication and commitment wiped out in the eyes of his Coach by the actions of that same father must have been a bitter blow.

“Ok, forget Dad for a minute, tell me what you want. I don’t care about what Dad thinks or what your Coach says. If you could do whatever you wanted with your life what would it be?”

If Scott was expecting to be left waiting for an answer he was in for a surprise. There was no hesitation in Gordon’s response, a small part of him might still doubt Scott’s intentions but it felt good to actually be listened to and to get his frustrations off his chest.

“WASP. It...it felt good there. I felt good. I felt like I belonged and I could actually see myself having a decent life. I honestly thought I could make it but I guess now I’ll never know, I’m probably permanently blacklisted.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Ok, faking the forms really wasn’t the smartest of moves but you won’t be under age for much longer.”

“I still couldn’t get it past Dad though.” The thought of his Dad had Gordon curling his fists in rage. A handful of grass stems ended up decapitated with a satisfying ripping sound as they were torn up by the roots. “I can’t just fly up there and try again, Dad would never arrange the ticket and my allowance has been cut off completely.” Another handful of grass lost its grip on the ground. “I can’t even call a cab without needing to run it by him to get some funds released. Hitting 18 isn’t going to buy me any more freedom.”

Scott winced inwardly as the pile of broken stems beside his brother grew with each angry tear at the ground. The restrictions being placed on Gordon’s life were draconian to say the least. The stupid thing was they were doing more harm than good but evidently their father was too certain of his own righteousness and was blind to the damage he was doing. He knew that if this carried on much longer Gordon could end up both mentally and physically broken, cowed into submission with all his spark gone.

Just recently Scott had begun to have some appreciation of what it felt like to be under the controlling shadow of his father. Every phone call between them came with the reminder that he was expected to become pilot in his father’s rescue organisation idea. He hadn’t been asked, just presented with the future as if it were a foregone conclusion. The difference between him and Gordon was that he had already stepped away from his father’s control. Jeff couldn’t tender his resignation for him, much as he might like to, and so he still had a say in his own future. Gordon had no such power . His resolve to help his brother hardened.

“You leave Dad to me. If you’re sure WASP is what you want…”

“Yeah, it is.” The response was strong, showing some of the old confidence Scott was more used to associating with his brother.

“...then I’ll do what I can to see you get your chance. Of course, actually getting through selection will be up to you but from what I saw before you seemed to have that sorted. Now come on, up with you.” Scott hauled himself up off the grass and extended a hand to his brother, pulling Gordon up and then into a hug. He stood there for a moment, arms wrapped around the shorter form, feeling the head buried into his shoulder in silent thanks, before reluctantly breaking the contact that his brother obviously needed so desperately. “We ought to be heading back, it’s getting late. And you seriously need to hit the shower.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #my art #high expectations #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #depression #brothers supporting each other #controlling parent

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lavender-rebellion · 5 years

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The Reality of Existence Chapter one

Masterpost

AO3 Link

Ships: Analogical and Royality

Description: "Thomas looked around his living room and felt a stone in his gut. He had four freshly human sides before him. Four human, terrified, grown adult men who had never lived a day in the real world. Four men who didn’t legally exist, permanently in reality. They were in his care now, and that dormant panic made itself known once more.“ A story about learning to live and learning to love. But also about being roommates, first jobs, being an adult, and that friendship really is the strongest force on earth. They all have things to teach and things to learn, but that’s part of being human. (They have to learn how to do that too, though)

TW for a panic attack and what can be seen as depression symptoms.

Thomas closed the door noisily behind him, letting out a heavy sigh and quickly making his way over in front of his TV, the familiar spot lending him some comfort and he could feel most of the anxious energy fall from his shoulders. He took a moment to take in the new perspective of his living room the spot gave him, before rolling his shoulder and finding the threads inside him. Thomas tugged at the one thrumming with more nervous energy than usual, watching Virgil appear on the stairs nearly immediately. Seems he was waiting for him, which was fair considering that Thomas had been thinking of this all day.

“It’s bad.” Virgil agreed quickly, wrapped up tight in his hoodie with darker bags than usual. Thomas still wasn’t sure if they were natural or makeup, and Virgil always dodged the question. Honestly, he didn’t know which one was more troubling, if Virgil apparently hadn’t gotten a good days sleep ever or if he thought it was a good fashion choice. Speaking of bad fashion choices…

“I knew it, they hated it!” He despaired, running a hand through his hair. Virgil nodded solemnly.

“There is an unusual amount of icky-sticky energy in here.” Patton rose up, hands on his hips. “If I didn’t know better I’d think your name was Vicky!”

Thomas let out a small chuckle at the Fairly Odd Parents joke because while it wasn’t Patton’s best it was clear that he was trying to cheer him up. Virgil sent a tense smile at the other side, who seemed to pick up on the mood and clapped his hands together.

“Alright then, what’s the problem, kiddo? I’ve got my listening ears on and I’m ready to ear you out!”

“It’s his new shirt!” Virgil chimed in, gesturing. Patton looked confused.

“My friends hated it!” Thomas clarified, “I looked awful all day, and they kept sneaking looks at it with this look on their face..”

“Thomas have we not already gone over your cognitive distortions? It was only a few months ago, surely you remember?” Logan rose up, flipping through a planner. He looked up to give Thomas a disapproving look, before returning Patton’s wave and sharing a smile with Virgil.

“Well yeah, but this is different.” Thomas insists, feeling a little silly but mostly like he needs to change his name and go into hiding.

“Look, Thomas, there is only one option and you know it. It’s time to move away to a remote village and become a hermit, never showing your face again.” Virgil cut in, chopping his hands down to emphasize his point. He nodded along, crossing his arms and wondering how long it would take to pack up his entire house and buy a new one. One without internet access, he couldn’t ever go online again.

“Uhhhh….” Patton looked up at Virgil dubiously. Logan shot him a similar look.

“That’s a bit of an overreaction, is it not? We can’t just go into hiding over a bad ‘look’.”

“Watch me.”

“What’s wrong with his shirt, again? I’m lost.” Patton asked.

“And why are you reacting so strongly to this, it’s hardly the worst thing you’ve worn out of the house,” Logan added, and Thomas clutched at his chest, offended. What could he possibly be talking about, and why was he so quick to remember it? Was it recent? Had Thomas just been walking out of his house looking like he got dressed in the dark for ages?

“Not helping, Lo!” Virgil ran his hands over his face, dark bags still perfect afterward which lent weight towards the natural theory..what were they arguing about again? “Anyway, that’s not the point, the point is that Thomas looked ridiculous all day and it’s all on camera!”

Oh right, that.

“OH! That’s right, you were filming that collab today weren’t you?” Patton jumped, clapping his hands together again. “How did that go?”

They all looked over at him, disbelieving, before turning back to the conversation.

“Everyone is going to see my stupid shirt and laugh, and screenshots are going to be all over Tumblr and there will be memes-”

“Are you really that worried about a bunch of 13-year-olds making fun of you?” Logan interrupted. Thomas ignored him.

“-and people are going to think I’m silly and then they’re going to realize that I’m a weird 30 year old who records himself talking to himself and posts it on Youtube-”

“Tumblr is not just a bunch of 13-year-olds, there’s plenty of young adults and adult adults. I mean, we’re on Tumblr, and so is Joan.” Virgil argued.

“Plus 13-year-olds are really mean,” Patton whined. Still ignoring them.

“-and they’re going to stop watching my videos which means I’m going to steadily lose money until I’m making none and then I’ll have to get a stuffy desk job-”

“That’s true. It’s like the John Mulaney skit, ‘13-year-olds are the meanest people in the world because they will make fun of you, but in an accurate way’.” Virgil quoted.

Patton gasped, “Oh I love John Mulaney! He is a very funny man.”

“That’s ridiculous, there’s no factual evidence that 13-year-olds are meaner or more observant than any of the ages near them.”

“Clearly you’ve never spoken to a 13-year-old.”

“-and I’ll spend the rest of my days living in a grey, unfulfilling haze where my coworkers make fun of me and send office emails around full of my earliest vines and those awful screenshots-” Ignoring them, just continue ranting.

“We are both sides, I’ve met every 13 year old you have.”

“And you’re still defending them?”

“Yeah, I’m on Virge’s side in this, Logan. 13-year-olds are just cruel.”

“I’m not defending them, I’m simply saying that there’s no logical reason-”

“There’s no logic in pre-teens-”

“Not even a teen- sy bit-”

“-and that will be my life, mockery and the cold confinement of office routine, no friends or boyfriends and I’ll die alone, without even a cat for company because I have this stupid allergy-”

CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP

They all went quiet, echoing the clap and looking over at Roman, who had appeared a second ago while they were bickering.

“How am I supposed to practice my one-man duets if you are all making a racket?” Thomas squinted at the gaudy necklace he was wearing, a giant ruby pendant resting in the center of his chest. While he watched, it flashed a dim red light. Must have been the light catching the gem.

But everyone else glanced at it as well, including Roman. He looked pleasantly surprised.

“I didn’t know it did that. Neat!”

“What on earth are you wearing?” Logan sighed, glaring at the necklace in suspicion.

"Oh, it’s a best friend necklace! The Dragon Witch gave it to me-”

“The Dragon Witch?” Virgil interrupted, looking at him like he was crazy. Roman glared at him, but it lacked any real heat. He placed a hand on his hip and popped it dramatically.

“Yes, the Dragon Witch. We totally patched things up and are now great friends! Honestly, it was super judgy of me to declare her as evil just because she happens to be a dragon and a witch. She can’t help that! And there are good witches and dragons! Like Sabrina, or the characters from Dragon Tails!” Roman argued, waving his hand around. Patton nodded along, looking proud.

“That is so true! That’s so cool of you, Roman! And may I just say it is be- ruby -ful!” He beamed.

“Ayyyyyyy-” Roman pointed at him, looking delighted. Thomas hid his laugh behind his hand.

“That feels ill-advised,” Logan argued, Virgil gesturing at him in agreement, looking baffled. Personally, Thomas didn’t see the problem with it. But they were once again off track, and Thomas’s problem still hadn’t been solved, so he shrugged and decided that there were no real arguments against Virgil’s idea and that must mean it was fine. He turned and moved to grab his suitcases out of the hall closet.

“Maybe you should evaluate why you hate dragons and/or witches because it’s not her problem that you have a bias.” Roman sassed.

“I have no problem with either of those things, I’m simply saying that prior behavior suggests- Thomas where are you going?” Logan cut off, confused. Thomas blinked and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Gotta pack, so I can become a hermit.”

Logan sighed and adjusted his glasses. “You are not becoming a hermit.”

“I’m not?” “He’s not?”

Logan glared at Virgil and Patton. “No, you aren’t. Thomas, I know you remember our conversation about cognitive distortions so I’m not going to bother rehashing it, and instead let’s get to the root of this problem. Yes, you may have looked silly today, and your friends may or may not have noticed it. Your outfit will certainly be in the video, and others may or may not make fun of it. But we both know that is where it will end, and that it is a minor problem. So why are you making such a big deal about it?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s not like you to make mountains out of mole-hills.”

It was Thomas’s turn to sigh, body slumping out of its tense position. “You’re right- (“I’m always right.”) - I’m overreacting. I’m just worried about Cartoon Therapy.” He admitted.

“That’s the new script you and Joan are working on, right?” Patton wondered.

“Yes! It’s going to be amazing, you are just going to love the therapist, Pat!” Roman gushed.

“But that’s the thing, what if it isn’t amazing? What if it sucks? I’ve never made such a long scripted episode, what if it gets boring or repetitive? What if people don’t like the new characters? I mean it isn’t like I made you guys up, and I don’t write our scripts from scratch-”

“Take a deep breath, Thomas.” Virgil soothed, looking a little frazzled but much more relaxed compared to earlier. Thomas hadn’t even noticed his anxiety ebb into a dull static. He did as he said, sharing a smile with him at the reference.

“Thanks.” He murmured quietly.

“Give yourself some credit, you’ve created characters people have loved before, in much shorter bits. Take your personification of Sleep, for example. He is well-liked and barely fleshed out. I’m sure characters you can take your time establishing will be just as well received.”

“And if you can’t give yourself credit, give some to Joan. We all know they are a creative genius.” Patton added, speaking softly. “The script will be fine, and the characters will be great. All you can do is give your best try when writing, and watch it come to life.”

“For now, distract yourself and allow yourself to calm down. Put on Parks and Recs! It’ll work out.” Roman suggested. Thomas nodded, feeling much calmer than when he came in. He took another deep breath and grinned at his sides.

“Thanks, guys.”

“It was no problem, I a- shirt you.” Patton shot him finger guns and winked, and then-

Just stood there. Thomas’s brow creased in confusion, watching panic slowly bleed into his expression.

“Pat?”

“I-uh,” The others were looking at him in concern now, “I can’t sink out.”

“What?”

“I can’t sink out.” He stressed, and Logan fidgeted with his glasses.

“How is that possible, Patton-”

“I don’t know!” Patton snapped, looking very upset. “I just know I can’t!”

“I can’t either.” Virgil blurted out, his voice layering.

“This is probably nothing. Lets just all take our own deep breaths, close our eyes and focus on the living room.” Logan said, terse. Thomas watched them all do so, fear rising inside of him at an alarming rate. None of them sunk.

“What’s happening?” He asked. They all looked a little crazed, wide eyes darting around.

“I don’t know, this shouldn’t be possible! What could have-” Logan’s head darted up from where it was buried in his hands. “Your necklace!”

Roman jumped, alarmed at the outburst. A lightbulb went on over Thomas’s head.

“It flashed earlier! When you arrived!”

Roman looked even more alarmed, hands going to the chain and frantically yanking it up over his head, tossing it to the ground. There was a split second of relief on all of their faces before the ruby once again lit up, this time with a blinding red light that filled the entire room, too bright to see through. Thomas could hear the sounds of bodies thumping to the floor and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from his eyes.

Four men were crumpled on the floor (and stairs), but they weren’t the men who were there just a minute ago. They were all dressed like his sides, but it wasn’t his face looking back at him. He could feel his breath hitching in his chest, his lungs empty and his chest burning. He sunk to the floor and curled up, sticking his head between his legs. He could fuzzily recognize this as a panic attack, though he had never had one this severe, and clumsily went through tactics he remembered reading when researching Anxiety. It took him a while, but eventually, he was back to being aware. The men were still on his ground.

In Patton’s place was a man with curly blond hair and a scattering of freckles across his rounder cheeks. He was a bit softer all around, and round glasses lay on the ground next to him. Roman had been replaced with a tanner version of him, a face that was similar to Thomas’s, but his hair was a dark ginger and thicker, his swoop larger than usual. He seemed broader than usual as well, but he was crumpled oddly and Thomas couldn’t be sure. Instead of Virgil, there was a slight man with wild purple hair, lightly curling around his face. It looked like there was a suggestion of freckles on his pale skin as well, but he was too far away and the maybe-freckles were light if they were there at all. His makeup -or not?- was gone, replaced with very real eye bags that were much less severe but still noticeable. And not-Logan was, well, tall. Not giant, but he appeared taller than before, with black hair neatly styled out of his face, which also looked much like Thomas’s own. Actually, they appeared like they could be siblings, and not-Logan looked the most like who he should be. Does that make sense? Thomas didn’t really care, he was still panicking.

Not-Patton looked the least like Thomas, with not-Virgil hovering somewhere between him and not-Roman. There was a strong suggestion of Virgil’s features but they were more…delicate somehow. Like a distant relative of Talyn’s and a less distant relative of his. Patton didn’t look much like him, while Roman could be a cousin and Logan could be his brother. Because that’s who they were, he knew it and he had to stop lying about it. Those were his sides, only they weren’t very side-like at all.

A low groan came from Logan, the body shifting on the floor and pushing up into a sitting position. Thomas froze, looking at the strange frame which suddenly felt like it was sitting much too close to Thomas’s own. He scooted back, tense. Logan blinked the spots from his eyes as well, before freezing. He was looking straight at Patton. Thomas was sure he was just as startled as he was, but then Logan relaxed and leaned back against the wall.

“Oh good, we’re back.” He hummed quietly to himself.

“Uh, what the fuck ?” Thomas blurted, feeling somehow more confused and nervous. Logan nearly jumped into the air, head whipping around to face him, dark blue eyes blinking once more at him. His brow drew down in confusion.

“Thomas? But how did you- maybe the light….no, because we never appear like this with you around…” He muttered. They were both interrupted by movement on the staircase, Virgil righting himself on the steps, holding his head. His face was scrunched tight in discomfort, and Logan’s attention snapped to him.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked Virgil, lowly. Virgil nodded, eyes clearing the last of the light and locking with the other sides.

“Fine, Lo. We’re back then?” He noticed the tight line of Logan’s mouth and suddenly Thomas was staring into green. Virgil’s eyes aren’t brown anymore, either, a grey-green color replacing the familiar warmth. They narrowed.

“That’s not right…”

“What is going on?!” Thomas asked forcefully. He doesn’t get an answer, Patton stirring by the curtains interrupting them. He fumbled for his glasses, clumsily shoving them back on his face and opening his eyes.

“Well, that sure was a pain in the neck , very ruby of that Dragon Witch if you ask me.” Patton joked, though it lacked humor. Just like the other’s his body went slack when he noticed the others, but straightened as he immediately took note of Thomas. He absentmindedly noticed that Patton’s eyes were a sky blue. “Why are you in our living room?”

“I-what-” Thomas spluttered. Patton’s attention shifted just as fast as it came, and he let out a little gasp when he noticed Roman’s unconscious form.

“I don’t think he’ll be waking up for a couple of minutes, at least. It appears we woke up based on how close we were to the initial blast.” Logan offered, his eyes darting back to Virgil every so often, who was also watching Roman with concern.

“What happened?” Patton asked, distressed, and Thomas could have laughed.

“That’s what I’ve been fucking asking!” He burst out, earning a startled expression from Patton.

“Language.”

“That is the least of our problems, Patton! You all knocked out and you aren’t you and you’re still in my living room and no one is telling me what’s going on so take your language and shove it. ” He snapped, and his sides reeled back in shock. He felt a little hysterical, he might laugh anyway. It was either that or scream, because one of them was climbing up his throat.

“We don’t know what is going on, any more than you do,” Logan said.

“But, you- you look!”

“This is how we appear in the Mind Space. When you manifested us for the first time you did so with an image in your mind, so that’s how we appeared.” Virgil explained carefully, looking wary after Thomas’s outburst. “In fact, we look like the short’s characters you imagined us as, so while some features you seemed aware we had, like glasses, the rest of it wasn’t originally us.”

What? “So I decided your faces and clothes and personalities, and forced it on you?”

“Not quite. Admittedly, we dressed very similarly before manifestation, and our personalities have been ours since we started existing. You’ve always been aware of those things, just like you’ve always known our functions and of our existence.” Logan corrected.

Patton piped up, though he wasn’t meeting Thomas’s eyes. “It’s just part of being a manifester, kiddo. Well, we assume so, there isn’t exactly a guidebook on it.”

He suddenly felt bad about his outburst, the metaphorical wind leaving his metaphorical sails. “I’m sorry, Patton, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. At any of you.”

“It’s fine! We’re all freaking out, I can understand your reaction.” He was warmer this time, and Thomas sighed.

Roman let out a dramatic groan and made to sit up against the TV stand, body swaying unsteadily as he adjusted to being conscious. These eyes were familiar and comforting, even squinting suspiciously at him. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Patton tapped the ground to get his attention and quietly started filling him in on what little had happened, while Logan started looking around the living room.

“Earlier, you said we were still in your living room,” Virgil commented, watching Logan. He nodded, and Logan mirrored it.

“He’s right, this isn’t our living room. The pictures are wrong, and things are displaced. Like, look, your blankets are not on the couch, and my book and our tea are missing from the table.” He pointed out, and the other three glanced around.

“We didn’t sink out.” Patton devastated.

“And we’re in our real forms, which shouldn’t just happen out of the Mind Space,” Virgil added, grave.

“Something is very wrong.” Roman finished.

“Nothing would be wrong if you hadn’t worn a necklace from the Dragon Witch.” Logan pointed out, edgy. Roman looked a mix between guilty, stricken, and offended, and it twisted his face into something that could have been funny outside of the circumstances. Thomas still wanted to laugh, but that might be the shock setting in. Was this shock? He thought for a second and decided it didn’t really matter. But maybe he should get a blanket?

As the sides began some tense arguing, he spotted his phone lying where he dropped it in his panic attack and realized what would help even more than a blanket. He grabbed it and opened up the call feature. (When was the last time he did that, honestly?)

“It was a gift given of good will, I had to wear it! How could I have known she would do this?”

“Maybe because she was the Dragon Witch ?!”

“Listen, just because she’s the only female in the Mind Space doesn’t mean she has to be the villain!”

“No, she’s the villain because she’s evil! ” Virgil argued.

“He has a point though. Why is the only woman in our realm a villain?” Patton offered, hesitant.

“Roman created her. And he accepted the necklace that got us into this mess!”

“Are you saying this is my fault, Virgil?”

“I’m not not saying that.”

“Virgil!”

“What, Patton? I’m not wrong.”

“But you shouldn’t say it..”

“Patton!”

Thomas hung up and clapped to get their attention. They went quiet once more. “Joan is on their way. Maybe they’ll have some ideas on what’s going on.” And they can tell me I’m not going crazy, he thought, but maybe that was preferable to this situation.

For the first time in his memory, they all lapsed into uncomfortable silence, Virgil tossing his hood over his head and withdrawing into himself while Patton wrung his hands, Roman sulked, and Logan fumed. He had never seen them like this, never known them to be this upset, especially with each other. Things have gotten tense, people have gotten upset or argued, but this disconnect? It was new and somewhat frightening. Minutes passed like snails, slow and dragging, leaving a film behind. Maybe that was the shock.

Finally, a knock on the door drew them out of their heads, and Thomas got up to let them in. They were in their pajamas, and it was only then he thought to check the time. Midnight.

“I’m sorry for dragging you out this late.” He said automatically, but Joan waved him off.

“It’s clearly important, and what are best friends for if not traveling across town at midnight when something important happens?” Joan joked, but Thomas could only give him a weak smile. “You said something happened with the sides?”

He gestured them in, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not good. I was just chatting with them after I got home, everything was normal, and then they couldn’t sink out.”

“They couldn’t leave?”

He shook his head, hovering by the door and speaking quietly. No point in causing the arguing to start back up before it was necessary. “Roman came in wearing this necklace the Dragon Witch gave him-”

“The Dragon Witch?”

“Apparently they made up recently. Today, I think, the others didn’t seem to know about it. Anyway, they figured that was what was preventing them from leaving so Roman took it off. But it let out this bright light, completely blinded us. I heard them all fall and when I could see again they were unconscious and in their real forms.” At their look he tried to explain, feeling jittery and uncomfortable. That was the panic. Shock? “They look different in the Mind Space, they said. They’ve never looked like this outside of it, apparently, they actively control the change. They still can’t sink out, and they keep arguing..”

Joan placed a hand on his arm, seeing him start to panic (had he ever stopped, though?) and Thomas lent into the steadying touch. He smiled at them, thankful. Finally, they moved into the living room, where the sides were waiting. If their new appearances startled them, they didn’t react.

“So you guys are stuck.”

“Understatement of the year,” Virgil grumbled, and Thomas gave him a disapproving look.

“Don’t be mean to Joan. They are just trying to help.”

“Sorry.” He looked guilty, but Joan waved him off.

“Everyone is upset and tense, I understand. But arguing isn’t going to help anything so can we leave that for when this really bad thing isn’t happening?”

They all nodded, and Joan clapped their hands. “Alright. So, once again, you’re stuck. You’ve all attempted to sink out after you woke I’m assuming?”

“Yeah. Before I felt a barrier, almost. I didn’t notice it at first but looking back it was definitely there. But now…now I don’t feel anything at all.” Patton answered, looking down at where his hands were fidgeting in his lap.

“It’s like the Mind Space is just gone.” Virgil agreed. Logan messed with his glasses again, looking agitated.

“But that’s not possible, unless Thomas had something severe happen to his brain or…he wasn’t breathing anymore. Clearly, neither of those things have happened.”

“Yeah I haven’t bonked my head recently, and I’m still kicking. I think?”

“You are,” Joan assured him, seeing the distress in his eyes. “So that means you’ve all lost your connection with the Mind Space, most likely. Can you still conjure things, or access any of your Mind powers?”

They all waved their hands around to no avail, looking crazy. Frustration was clear to read in all of their expressions. Joan grimaced.

“And my shadows are gone,” Virgil said, rubbing his thumb under his eye. “I’ve always had them, I don’t..”

“So, no powers, no shadows, no connection to the Mind.” Joan ticked off. “Forced appearances, as well. Thomas,”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“You once mentioned you could feel the connections to them, like strings tying you together. Are those still there?”

Oh. He reached deep into his chest, where the strings he had used to call Virgil had always lied. There was just empty. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this empty. The tightness in his throat returned, and his face fell. A sob burst from his lips. “No. No, they aren’t there anymore. I can’t feel them, I can’t feel you guys.” Tears welled up in his eyes but he didn’t care, struck by the realization. “It’s all empty. I thought that was shock, but..”

Joan looked upset, and he distantly felt bad about bringing them into this, but now he was crying and he couldn’t stop. He was reeled into an embrace, and he went willingly.

“It might be shock, from having the connection broken,” Joan admitted, before looking over his head. “Do you guys still feel..”

It was clear from how they trailed off that the answer was no. They couldn’t feel Thomas anymore, and that wrung another shaking sob from him. It took him a few minutes to gather composure, but eventually, he straightened from the awkward hunched position he had had to make, making a small wince at the wet spot on Joan’s chest. A glance at the other sides showed that he wasn’t the only one crying though. He wiped his eyes.

“So, you have no connection to the Mind, or Thomas. But you’re still corporeal, I can see and hear you. Maybe….you’ve become real people. Somehow.”

Oh. He had been so wrapped up in what had happened, he never stopped to think about what it meant. The others looked just as gobsmacked.

“That’s impossible, though,” Logan whispered, but it was obvious to himself.

“Let’s test it. Have any of you moved from your spots?”

“I’m just so used to not being able it didn’t even occur to me,” Virgil admitted, getting to his feet. He swayed a bit, but didn’t fall. The rest rose as well. Patton took an unsteady step forward, likely stiff from hours sitting, and when he didn’t hit a barrier he took another. Virgil climbed down the stairs to meet him in the middle, and Roman stepped forward too. Patton’s eyes brightened slightly, and he reached for Roman.

“I wonder…” He grabbed Roman’s arm and pulled him into a hug. Roman gasped, eyes going wide, and when Patton pulled back he gave Roman a wobbly smile, face brighter.

“You felt it, right?” He asked, before gesturing Virgil to come closer and pulling him into a hug as well. Virgil let out the same surprised gasp and gripped Patton tight.

“Everything feels like it’s dialed up to, like, 15. Lo, come feel this!” He held out a hand to Logan, who placed his own on top and wove their fingers together. His eyes widened. Patton released Virgil and moved hesitantly in front of Joan.

“May I?” They nodded and suddenly Joan had an armful of Patton, who was beaming like it was Christmas.

“I can touch you,” Joan exclaimed, looking shocked. While they had always been able to see the sides, they had never been able to touch them before. Their hand had always gone right through them, like ghosts.

Thomas looked around his living room and felt a stone in his gut. He had four freshly human sides before him. Four human, terrified, grown adult men who had never lived a day in the real world.

“Is this permanent, do you think?” He asked.

“I think, Logan said haltingly, unsure, “ That we have to assume it is. Go into this with a ‘worst-case scenario’ mindset.”

Four men who didn’t legally exist, permanently in reality. They were in his care now, and that dormant panic made itself known once more. He couldn’t take care of them. He didn’t have the space, let alone the funds. And again, they didn’t legally exist. And how was he going to explain this? Only Joan and Talyn knew he was a manifester!

He caught Virgil’s eye and could tell he was thinking the same thing, saw him work himself into a similar panic.

“How can we live? We don’t exist in the eyes of the government, we have no papers! And without papers, we can’t get jobs! Where will we live? What will we do?” Virgil echoed his earlier thoughts, and Patton’s face fell. Roman was still quiet, arms wrapped around himself and staring at the ground. Logan looked deep in thought, lips moving silently. The tension in the room was back, and suddenly Thomas felt exhausted down to his bones. He just wanted to sleep, and let everything disappear. Just for a little while.

Joan seemed to pick up on this, and as frazzled as they now looked, standing in the center of Thomas’s living room in their pajamas at nearly 1 am, they once again smiled. “It’s late. Let’s order a pizza, I’m sure we’re all hungry, and then call it a night. We aren’t going to get anywhere tonight. Figure it out tomorrow.”

They all sagged, and while Joan quietly ordered they all moved to sit. The sides collapsed, leaning against each other, on one part of the coach while Joan and Thomas sat on the smaller side. He absently thought how lucky he was his couch was too big, but mostly he thought about how comfortable it was, and once again how much he wanted to sleep. There was quiet while they waited for food, but it was born out of exhaustion instead of anger.

Once they started to eat, however, some energy managed to fill them again, and quiet chatter started up. Roman mentioned quietly to Patton how cool it was to have a full sense of taste, while Joan struck up a conversation with Virgil and Logan on living in the Mind Space. He listened to them talk about the bookcase filled with books Thomas has read, about their rooms and the emotions connected, but only when Thomas was with them or they were feeling heightened. Roman chimed in with talk about his Realm filled with creativity and stories, while Patton mentioned the dog they had conjured and kept for a couple of weeks.

By the time the food was gone Thomas was nodding off, but he managed to get up and gather four sets of pajamas, mismatched and some grabbed simply because he didn’t know what would fit them. Like Virgil, who seemed too small for his pants and instead got a pair of boxers he bought a size too small, and Patton who he had to dig out one of his slightly larger shirts for. He wandered back to the living room on autopilot and took them all up to the spare bedroom.

They took the clothes from him and Patton grabbed a bunch of spare blankets, setting up two beds on the floor. They looked as out of it as him, and the chorus of “Goodnight, Thomas”’s were more mumbles than speech. He closed the door behind him and went back down to Joan, who was dozing on the couch.

“Thank you for coming over.” He said softly, “And thank you even more for being so helpful. I couldn’t have made it through tonight without you, and I’ll never be able to express how much it meant to me.”

“Everything is going to be alright, Thomas.” Joan insisted, and he smiled.

“Yeah, it probably will. But would you do me a favor and spend the night, so I know it’s not all some crazy dream tomorrow when I wake up?”

They took the hand he offered and pulled themselves up, giving him a teasing grin.

“What, you thought I was going to leave? It’s nearly 2 am, you owe me a place to sleep, dude.”

They headed sluggishly to bed, and everything else was tomorrow’s Thomas’s problem.

(tagging @strickenwithclairvoyance because they told me to, and they inspired me. Hope you like it! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters! (Also bold of you to assume there won’t be Deceit because he wasn’t ejected.))

#analogical #royality #fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton

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grxywxrn · 5 years

Text

Alive part two

Nathaniel sat on his and Nico’s couch as they watch a match of Exy on the TV.

“Watch this!” Nico pointed at Andrew in goal. The ball was just about to get in, but Andrew twisted his body and caught it. He threw it down court into Kevin’s racket with such force someone on the other team dodged out the way.

Nathaniel il could imagine the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he flung the ball down court. Yep, he was not ace like he previously thought.

The game finished, Andrew’s teams favour. Nathaniel didn’t actually know any of the teams, there was just Andrew’s team and every other team.

“Can we watch a Fox game?” Nathaniel asked. Nico happily put on a match, Foxes vs Catamounts.

It was impressive, it really was. Neil Josten was amazing and faster than anybody else on that court. Number 8 getting in a fight was funny because Nathaniel knew he wasn’t the type to throw a punch. He didn’t know how he knew, it was like a feeling.

Andrew shut down the goal and the Catamounts didn’t stand a chance.

When Nathaniel watched this game, it felt like he had been there before. Almost like he had played this game.

The Foxes won something to something and everyone went crazy. Josten was jumped on by number 8, but he was watching Andrew in goal.

The way he watch Neil made it painstakingly obvious of his feelings. Nathaniel didn’t understand how the public didn’t know anything about their relationship.

Andrew didn’t look different today that he did in this footage, just with more stubble and muscles.

Nico has gone into the kitchen to start on dinner so Nathaniel was left in the lounge room alone. He couldn’t find the remote so the next video to play couldn’t be shut off.

“It is speculated that Andrew Minyard has been secretly dating a mystery man.” The lady on the TV was say. “He was seen in a Berlin shopping centre heading to a coffee shop with an unknown green haired man. When the press caught up with them, Minyard began leaving with his hand on the mans back, whispering into his ear.”

The lady was around Nathaniel’s age and was wearing a blue jersey with the number 5 on it with the name Minyard.

“Later, Minyard would punch a reporter for asking, quote, ‘How would Neil feel knowing you are moving on?’ This has lead fans to believe that Josten and Minyard were involved in an intimate relationship before Jostens kidnapping and death.”

A photo of Andrew and Nathaniel came up on screen. It was taken from behind so Nathaniel could see Andrew gripping his shirt.

Nathaniel turned off the TV as Nico came back in to the lounge room holding a bowl of tortilla chips.

“Wanna go get tattoos?” Nathaniel asked randomly.

“Did you remember something?” Nico asked. Neil only got tattoos of things he remembered. The doctors said he probably would remember anything but sometimes Nathaniel got flashes of a memory.

“Keys, something about keys.” Nathaniel replied. Nico sent a questioning gaze to him. Nathaniel tried to remember more. “Someone gave me keys to something.”

“Weren’t you found with a set of keys?” Nico asked. Nathaniel couldn’t remember, he just has a set of keys in his draw that he didn’t remember having.

Nathaniel went to find them, it took a bit of shuffling around, but right in the back of his desk were keys.

Nathaniel knew them, knew of them anyways. He knew the dips and the teeth of them by heart.

He walked out and threw the keys onto Nico’s lap.

“Wow, now try to remember who gave them to you.” Nathaniel closed his eyes, the smell of cigarette smoke and whiskey wrapping around him like a blanket. He remembered the feeling of anxiety in his chest. No, that wasn’t anxiety, it was shock. He remembered fingers digging into the hollow of his neck, the collar of his shirt being tugged. Nathaniel flicked through the keys, tracing the teeth until he found the one that matched the memory.

“This one.” Nathaniel opened his eyes, Nico was about to ask what it did but Nathaniel interrupted. “Someone...died, I think, and a different person gave me a key to...the...car- house it was a house.”

“Nathan, buddy, I think you dated someone before what happened.” Nico said. Nathaniel laughed.

“Yeah right.”

Right then, Nathaniel’s phone started ringing. He put it to his ear, not checking the caller ID.

“Hello, is this Nathaniel Wesninski?” A sweet voice said on the other end of the line.

“Yes, who is this?” Nathaniel replied.

“My name is Renee Walker, a friend of Andrew’s.”

“Is everything alright?” Nathaniel asked, worried. Nico look concerned from the couch.

“There’s been a bit of an accident, and I didn’t want you to find out over the media.” Renee said.

“What do you mean accident?” Nathaniel gripped the keys in his hand.

“I am sure you know about him and Neil, correct?” Nathaniel grunted. “Well, around this time of year Andrew gets...self destructive, more than usual. I thought it was over so I let him be.” Renee started sniffing. “Andrew went out to the bar at Columbia, someone gave him something with his drink. He was driving back to New York, drunk and high and still going. He took something else, I know he’d never tried it before, he overdosed while driving.”

Nathaniel didn’t speak, he didn’t breathe, he couldn’t see.

“Is he going to live?” Nathaniel murmured. Nico was up off his seat, in front of Nathaniel as fast as he could. “Is Andrew going to make it?”

Nico gasped.

“I-“ Renee choked. “They won’t tell me anything. They said they would only tell family. Andrew doesn’t have family!”

“Aaron?”

“They aren’t on speaking terms.”

“Nicky?”

“Stuck in Germany.”

“I’m coming.” Nathaniel said before hanging up. “I’m going to America.” He said to Nico.

“What happened?”

“Overdosed.” Nathaniel ran into his room, grabbed a bag, a shirt and pants, his laptop and shoes.

“Nathaniel, calm down.” Nico yelled. “You aren’t going to get a flight in such sort notice.”

“Well have you got any better ideas?”

“My dad owns a jet, remember?”

“Screw you and let’s go.”

All they had had to say to Nico’s insanely rich father was, “Nathaniel’s boyfriend is going to die!” And they were in the air.

When they plane took off Nathaniel got hit with another memory.

“You weren’t lying when you said you were afraid of heights.”

He was looking out over planes through a glass panel. Andrew was standing next to him.

Then it was gone, and he was back on the jet and going to New York.

Nathaniel had always wanted to go to New York, but he didn’t have time to sight see. He didn’t even remember getting to the hospital.

“Andrew Minyard!” He called to the lady at the front desk.

“How are you related?” The nurse asked.

“Husband.” Nathaniel claimed. A girl with a cross around her neck and white and rainbow hair gripped his arm.

“I told you he was coming from Germany, ma’am.” She said. This was Renee, Nathaniel knew it instantly.

“You aren’t here.” The nurse said, pointing at the computer. “Mr Minyard isn’t married.”

“He is! Please, at least tell me if he’s alright!” Nathaniel pleaded.

“You aren’t Familly-“ The nurse started but cut herself off when she looked behind Nathaniel.

Nathaniel turned to see Andrew falling against the wall, blood running down his arm from where he ripped the IV out.

“N-N-“ Andrew was trying to say something, reaching an unstable hand to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel ran forward and caught Andrew as he fell.

“Andrew, Andrew.” Nathaniel held him. “I’m your husband, just go along with it.” He whispered into Andrew’s ear. Andrew buried his face into Nathaniel shoulder, trying to speak but there was no sound. “Shh, shh.”

It took four nurses to get Andrew back to his bed. Nathaniel was allowed in, so was Renee and Nico. Kevin came later, saying that Aaron was in the waiting room.

When Kevin had seen Nathaniel, he gasped. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Renee had said his name very sternly and left to talk to Aaron.

“The other person in the car was killed.” Kevin said. Nathaniel didn’t even know there was another person. “I don’t know the guy, he was older and definitely the guy who drugged Andrew.”

Nathaniel flinched.

“First Drake and then this guy.” Kevin mumbled.

Drake.

Nathaniel saw blood and an Exy racket. He saw Andrew laughing and bleeding. He was scars and a body.

Andrew turned over in his bed, just slightly so it was easier to see Nathaniel.

“Screw you Josten.” Andrew said to Nathaniel.

“Andrew, I’m not-“ Nathaniel stopped, because for once he couldn’t be sure of who he was. He had all these memories that had Andrew in them, but he had only met Andrew a month and a half ago.

Five months later and he was still in the US. He was staying with Andrew in Andrew’s apartment and he never wanted to leave. This place had an arcade, indoor swimming pool, ice cream stand and a destruction room. The TV on the fourth floor was the size of a movie screen and the popcorn bar was heavenly.

“Why do you ever leave your house?” Nathaniel had asked.

“Because I have the worst job with the worst co-workers.” Andrew replied.

Nathaniel was still stuck on whether to ask about his memories. There were moments when the words almost tumbled out of him, “did we know each other before?” Like when they were watching the lion king because neither of them could sleep. Or when Nathaniel was dyeing Andrew’s hair dusty purple to match his.

However, it was the high level of alcohol in his system that brought out the words.

Andrew wasn’t allowed to drink yet because he was still a bit weak from his overdose, but it was late at night and Nathaniel needed something.

“You’re a mess.” Andrew said.

Nathaniel was upside down on the couch. “Being drunk helps me remember.”

“Remember what?” Andrew took a seat next to Nathaniel.

“Anything!” Nathaniel sighed, exhausted. “Good or bad, really I just want to know something.” He sat up properly, looking at Andrew like a sad puppy. “Or you could tell me.”

Andrew’s shoulders tensed. “That’s impossible.”

Nathaniel shook his head, frustrated. Why does nobody understand. “No! I have all these memories of you, Kevin too! Even Renee! You were part of my old life, I know it!”

“You’re drunk-“

“You are afraid of heights and planes, I remember the planes. Drake and a club. A bus! I have all these little things I remember- keys, the keys!” Nathaniel jumped up and raced to his duffle bag from the bench. He dug out the keys and showed them to Andrew. “See! This one opens a house.” He showed the key to Andrew.

His face was blank but his shoulders were bunched. Andrew didn’t say anything for the longest time. He got up off the couch and headed for the door.

“Sober up.” He said.

“What happened to only wanting to kill me 90% of the time?” Andrew stopped dead in his tracks.

“You already died.” It sounded like Andrew chose his words carful but at the same time, like he didn’t mean to say them.

The next week Nathaniel was going along like that conversation a had never happened. He was pretty sure now that Andrew knew something he didn’t. Everyone did. Kevin always watched him suspiciously and conversations seemed to die when Nathaniel entered a room.

Nathaniel had to pick up Andrew from practice when Kevin wanted to stay longer. Kevin had given Andrew a ride there so Nathaniel had to use his car. That was another one of the keys. Why he had keys to Andrew’s car, he didn’t know.

When Andrew got into the car he grabbed the front of Nathaniel’s shirt and brought his face to his. Nathaniel’s breath hitches and he closed his eyes, subconsciously waiting for Andrew to do something.

Instead, he mumbled, “Take me to get ice cream.” Nathaniel was pushed back into the drivers side door.

Nathaniel had a feeling Kevin was watching so he did a few rings in the parking lot before heading in the way of the ice cream shop.

“Who taught you to drive?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t know. I just got in a car one day and the next thing I knew I was in Germany.” Nathaniel shrugged.

“You ran.” Andrew didn’t ask it like a question.

“It felt right, I don’t know, okay Andrew.” Nathaniel gripped the stirring wheel harder and turned a sharp right. “I don’t know anything about myself so leave it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Nathaniel parked across three spaces and got out with a slam of the door. He rounded the car and knocked on Andrew’s window. Andrew rolled down the window, looking at Nathaniel with a bored look.

“Stay here, I’ll get your order.” When Neil returned he had an espresso and vanilla for himself and a rainbow flavour and a caramel/chocolate/honey comb thing for Andrew.

Before he gave it to Andrew, Nathaniel licked his ice cream with his eyes locked with Andrew’s.

He handed it over and Andrew contemplated it. “Now it’s contaminated.” Andrew sounded grossed out but by the shift in his body tension Nathaniel knew his joke was more than that to Andrew.

Nathaniel licked his lips and hummed. He hated how sweet the taste on his tongue was but, shh.

“That’s good.” Nathaniel said.

“Unlike you.” Andrew snapped. “Just start driving.”

Nathaniel started driving to the public Exy court. Once Andrew realised, he groaned.

“I need you to help me practice.” Nathaniel told him when they stopped. “I was hoping you could help me with my stance.”

Andrew left the car angry.

The only armour they had was Andrew’s and he felt he didn’t need it so they went in unprotected.

Mid-practice Nathaniel’s phone started ringing with a picture of Nico’s face piping up on his phone screen.

“Hey, Nico.” Nathaniel puffed.

Andrew rolled his eyes, retuning to rebounding and catching the ball off the wall.

“Don’t, ‘Hey Nico’ me!” He yelled. “Look, bro, I get it, your boyfriend almost died but you still have friends back in Germany. Or did you forget?”

“Hey, Nico, calm down.” Nathaniel told him.

“No, we’ve heard nothing from you in four months! Laura is so worried you forget about us to go hang with your famous new friends.” Nico didn’t let Nathaniel interrupt. “Are you coming back to Germany, Nathaniel?”

“Nico.” Nathaniel didn’t add onto the name. He didn’t know what to say. He had forgotten about Nico and Laura. “I-“

“Are You coming back to Germany? Yes or no?” Nico demanded.

“Yes or no, Neil Josten?” Andrew hovered over him, eyes glazed. He said Neil’s name but his eyes locked on Nathaniel’s and they weren’t letting go.

“It’s always yes with you, remember?” Nathaniel had replied. Then they were kissing.

Nathaniel understood now. He understood everything.

“Nico, I’ll call you back to arrange flights.” Nathaniel hung up. His phone cracked when it hit the floor. Nathaniel left it there. “Andrew.” He said.

Andrew ignored him.

“Andrew!” He picked up a ball and through it at Andrew’s head, it just missed.

“What?” Andrew growled. He turned around and Nathaniel remembered every time he had looked up at Andrew.

“It’s always yes with you.” Nathaniel said just loud enough for Andrew to hear. Andrew’s shoulders tensed and the racket clatter to the floor.

Andrew’s black shirt cling to his body with sweat, the rise and fall of his chest more evident.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nathaniel asked. “Why?”

“Nathaniel-“

“Neil. I’m Neil Josten, aren’t I?” Nathaniel demanded. His head was spinning, he could hear his heart racing in his ears, blood almost drowning out Andrew’s voice.

“Neil.” That one word held so much pain in it. Too much for one person to feel, to keep inside for seven years. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Nathaniel remembered saying, knowing that that would be the last time he would see Andrew. “You were amazing.”

Neil Josten’s coming back from the dead stunt had shocked the whole world, Exy fans and others alike. Even ten years after disappearing people could not stop asking him.

Now he was back playing with Andrew and Kevin. They had won gold at the Olympics last year and they were back as the golden trio of Exy.

Andrew and Neil have been out since that game when Neil took Andrew by the collar and kissed him to the roar of the crowd behind them.

Nico had been at the engagement party with Laura by his side. Nicky let his daughters meet their uncle and Aaron texted Andrew for the first time in years.

Everything was going great.

Until Neil woke up with his pulse souring and sweating. His father grinned at him, clever glinting his cold death in his hand.

“Nathaniel, my greatest disappointment.” His voice rung out in Neil’s head.

Help me, help me, help me!

He gasped, a sound like Andrew’s name.

Andrew flinched awake. Neil grasped for him, needing something to keep him today and not then.

Andrew didn’t push Neil’s hands away when they touched his skin.

“Something from the road?” Andrew asked. Neil had had nightmares from when he was on the run with his mother.

“No- my father-“ Andrew rolled over so they were facing each other. He put Neil’s hand over his heart and his other hand tight in Neil’s white hair, tugging. “When they took me-he-Lola-“

Andrew tightened his grip in Neil’s hair. Neil breathed, thinking over the words he wanted to say.

“They hurt me.” Neil felt stupid for saying something so obvious. “They hurt me and all I could think about was coming home...to you.”

Neil slowly moved his hand from Andrew’s strong chest to his jaw, stubble grazing his palm.

“And you did come home.” Andrew told him. “You’re right here, in our apartment with our Olympic’s trophy right over there and big bed to share with just me.”

Neil let out a shaky breath. That was the closest thing to an ‘I love you’ as the two could get.

Neil lifted his and Andrew’s interlocked hands so his could admire the gold bands around their fingers.

Everything was going perfect.

It was Sunday morning and Kevin was texting them to meet him for practice. He was ignored.

Andrew rolled them over so he was looking down on Neil. He leant down, kissing the burn mark on Neil’s cheek like it would go away. He made his way down Neil’s body until head got to his chest.

“Yes or no?” Andrew said into Neil’s collar bone.

“Yes.” Neil replied.

Andrew lowered himself down until there was no space between them and Neil’s hear beat was evening out under his ear.

Then Sir jumped onto Neil’s face, King following by curling up on Andrew’s back.

Kk, this is done. I didn’t try on writing this alright so it is bad. At the end I just wanted to wrap it up so it’s rushed. There isn’t any detail and it’s super quick but whatever, I had an idea and I was to lazy to expand on it. Thanks for reading though.

Part one

#andreil #jerejean #allforthegame aftg #aftg #fiction #fanfic

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 7 years

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Ooh!! For your drunk drabble..Member: D.O, Phrase: "I can't let you get off that easy"

Criminal

Pairing: Kyungsoo x you

BAD DRUNK DRABBLE REQUESTS

The weight of the heavy knit sweater you clutched between your thighs pulled against your knees, making your walking stiff and funny and you adjusted the long skirt you wore, pushing the garment back up in between your legs when it started to slip down. You had exactly two more aisles to go before you would be out of this store and you could meet up with your two idiot friends who had dared you to steal the stupid thing in the first place.

Why did you pick the heaviest, most useless item of clothing to steal from this store? Well it was on the clearance rack and didn’t have a security tag that would surely give you away when you walked in between those terrifying looking black detectors positioned just before the exit door and if you happened to get caught, which wasn’t likely in this deserted store. There was not a single employee to be seen near the exit and the last you saw of the young kids working here, they seemed to be preoccupied with watching some sort of vine video compilation behind the registers as they ignored the very idea that they had a job and responsibilities to uphold.

It was the perfect situation to get away with this and once you completed this dare you would finally win this stupid game that had been going on for months now.

You eyed your surroundings once more, your nerves suddenly flaring up hot in your belly as you felt a sudden warmth at your back. Something that hadn’t been there an aisle back that left you with rattled nerves and a sinking feeling that you could not ignore.

The feeling was nagging and intrusive and you tried to remain as casual as you could as you looked around the store once more.

Eyes.

A pair of dark eyes watched you from the other side of the store, in between aisles of men’s clothing, directly below a large sign that read Men’s Khakis on sale two for one and you quickly looked away from the eye contact that felt too knowing for your liking.

Had he seen you? Did he know what you were doing? Was he calling the police secretly in his pocket as he perused last season’s knacki pants in all shades of ugly?

You took another step, closing the gap of the final aisle before the exit of the store and the warmth at your back grew hotter with those eyes watching you.

You had nearly made it when your curiosity had piqued to unignorable levels and you risked a look.

The man was gone but the feeling remained…even intensified as your eyes searched the surrounding aisles of the store for where he could have possibly gone to.

The pounding in your chest felt too noisy to ignore and you took another clumsy step toward the door, quickly pushing the clunky knit up further between your legs before it could slip out at the last minute and give you away.

The man was gone, his dark, intimidating, knowing eyes nowhere to be found and the exit was in your sights. All you had to do was make it those few final steps through the security detectors and you would be free. You could slip around the corner down the hallway that lead to the family style bathrooms where crying toddlers who were frightened of the automatic flushing toilets made enough racket to cover whatever noisy pounding your heart wanted to make, or chattering shivering your teeth caused as your jaw clenched together again and again.

Why couldn’t you be the calm, cool, collected criminal that you always envisioned in your dreams? Why did your anxiety and moral compass have to make you into a trembling chihuahua every time you did anything even remotely risky?

Two more steps and you found yourself inside the entrance. Directly in between the sensors and your feet moved quickly into the open hallway that sat directly outside of this store as half of your mind waited for shouting, sirens, bells, whistles, anything that would tell you that you had been caught and you were on your way to the big house.

The silence that filled your ears might have actually been worse for your nerves because nothing happened. The sweater between your legs was a bit itchy as the cheap wool scratched against your two-days-ago shaved thighs, and a soft laughter from behind the registers where the two employees laughed at the videos they watched made you jump as if laughter itself was the sound of your impending doom.

You forced your legs to move and you had made it around that corner, into that long hallway when you spotted a vending machine promising ice cold refreshments with drawn on droplets of water along it’s cover. This would have to do.

And you had nearly made it behind it when you felt the solid warm grip of a hand on your forearm. The warm kind of grip of the strong arm of the law coming down hard, striking the judge’s gavel against the block, the kind of strong grip that held onto the handle of an axe that cut the rope, sending the weighted guillotine blade crushing down to chop off your head.

You inhaled a deep breath and closed your eyes. The breath somehow sent your legs into a wobble and the itchy knit sweater slipped with a soft fwump down to the red carpeted floor.

“Excuse me,” a low voice spoke up from behind you and you winced as you slowly turned yourself around to face your captor. Would it be mall security? Was he riding a Segway and carrying a flashlight? Did he have a mustache maybe? And a habit of popping his spearmint gum when he was bored?

When you turned you saw eyes. Familiar. Dark. Knowing.

Aside from his eyes, your own vision drifted to the rest of him. Plump lips, tanned skin, too handsome and too put together to be an employee of a discount mall store that only seemed to hire high school kids with short attention spans and a penchant for not giving a shit. In fact the longer you looked at him, the wider his eyes grew, the softer his expression became and you saw a nervous swallowing in his throat as he cleared it to speak again.

“I–I ummm..” he struggled and you closed your open mouth and pulled your shoulders back a touch. Inhaling a breath to provide your brain with a litttle more oxygen so that maybe, just maybe you could deal with this guy who very clearly wasnt an employee of the store, or even of the mall. “You what?”

“I saw you.” He said quietly and you crossed your arms over your chest as you lifted your chin.

“What did you see?” His eyes widened even further and he looked away from your focus suddenly, looking up at the ceiling, to the left and to the right.

He clearly hadn’t thought this through beyond this point and you figured the guy was probably an ex Boy Scout who had gone camping a few times in the woods, made a couple of fires and decided that he was an expert on a vast many of the laws of this country.

“I, uhh…saw you take the sweater. It was only $5, i mean if you wanted it that badly you should have just paid for it….stealing is…wrong” you narrowed your eyes and took a step forward, leaning into him now. Although he had those big intimidating eyes, the more you got to look at him the more you saw what he really was. Slight bones, thin frame, sure he had an impressive face, and a strength in his forearms that peaked below the rolled up sleeves of his plaid button up, but the man was wearing khakis and loafers and argyle socks. He’d even rolled the damn pants up about four times so everyone could definitely see the argyle.

“So what are you going to do about it?” You did your best impression of a badass and you saw the edges of his lips tremble and turn up a tiny bit. He closed his eyes and bit down on the inside of his lips, seeming to hide a smile from his face. Perhaps you weren’t really that much of a badass. He must have found your attempts funny.

“Are you going to report me?” You offered when he didn’t answer but just stood there suppressing his stupid grin and you could see the slump of his shoulders as he seemed to shift his posture and lean against the vending machine that now trapped you on one side.

“Can’t you just pretend like you didn’t see anything? You said so yourself it was only $5.” Something in his eyes made you want to change your approach. The man didn’t seem like the type to be bullied, despite his outward appearance and perhaps you could appeal to his softer nature and he would simply let this go. “I mean I’m not…I’m not a shoplifter or anything, this was a stupid dare. I never do this and I’m not going to do it again, I swear.”

The softness you had seen in his eyes changed with the smile that broke free for a few seconds on his lips. He was quiet and he watched your face for what felt like ages before he pulled his own arms up and crossed them over his chest. You could see the struggle in his face and your heart leapt up at the possibility that he might just let this all go.

“What’s your name?” You said suddenly. He was watching you too closely, probably memorizing your face for the police sketch later and you felt the need to keep him talking out loud instead of thinking whatever dangerous thoughts he had going on inside his head.

“Kyungsoo,” he said softly and he blinked too slowly for a tense criminal interrogation. “What’s yours?” His eyebrow ticked up once, a light bounce on his forehand that drew your attention and you sighed and considered an alias.

But he was too…tempting for that, and there was something soft and charming about those rolled up khaki pants that made you want to be honest. So you were. You gave him your real name and his lips pulled into a small smile as he repeated it once in that deep voice that did something strange at the back of your brain. He was cute. And he didnt seem to be in any great hurry to haul you off to prison so you reached down to pick up the stolen sweater without breaking the careful eye contact you kept with him. His eyes stayed on yours as you moved and you wondered what in the world he was still doing watching you with those eyes, making you feel stupid things inside the back of your brain about his deep voice.

“Well…Kyungsoo, if you aren't’ going to call the police on me…I guess I’ll be going–”

“Wait…I can’t let you get off that easy” he suddenly said the second you began to take a step around where he blocked your way to the exit.

You knew it. It must have been too good to be true. Maybe he was the police. An undercover cop staked out in the mall ready to catch drug dealers, petty criminals, shoplifters, and scam artists and lock them away forever.

Perhaps he was part of a ring of cops who would work out a deal with those they caught, you know…catch the bigger fish using the small fries?

That had to be it. The man was here to bargain.

“What’s it gonna take for you to let me go?” You sighed and gripped the sweater tighter, ready to just throw in the towel and bolt if you had to. Or throw in the sweater to be more exact. He was chewing on the inside of his lip again and his big eyes were looking over your face as he went silent for a moment and you got ready to throw the knit in his face and make a run for the doors. Your heels were dug in and everything and you were sure that your cell phone was secure inside your back pocket so it wouldnt be lost in the scuffle. You lifted the sweater, ready to make it fly.

“Your number?” He finally said with a slight wince on his face and you froze with the sweater in front of your chest held tightly in both hands, yet somehow not quite ready to throw it in his face because he just…

“My number?” He nodded and his cheeks looked somehow pinker than before. “That’s it?” It was too good to be true.

“And a date.” He said, his head still nodding lightly before he shrugged and stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “You’re pretty cute for a criminal.”

#drunk drabbles #kyungsoo drabble #exo drabble #kyungsoo #fluff #bad drunk drabbles #kyungsoo drabbles

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blogwritetheworld · 7 years

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Featured Writer: Lei Mesina

Language enthusiast Lei Mesina is on a quest to become a bonafide polyglot. Lei already speaks Japanese, Dutch, and American Sign Language, and has set herself the ambitious goal of learning ten different languages! Imagine being able to speak to and understand people from all around the world?! As president of her school’s English Club, Lei also hopes to strengthen her grasp of English while also expanding her knowledge of English speaking countries like England and the United States. Today, Lei talks more about why she gravitates to languages and the inspiration behind her stunning piece about seeing her very first snowfall.

You speak a number of languages including Dutch, Japanese, and American Sign Language. What do you love about learning new languages?

Learning another country's language makes me feel like a part of their culture. It's almost like a trip around the world. And I've always had an interest in words. I find it a curious process to be able to understand a certain combination of sounds and gestures and to be able to communicate with other people through them.

You're the president of your school's English Club. Can you tell us more about this club and what a typical meeting is like?

My English Club has a variety of activities such as: watching English movies, eating foreign foods, and playing American games. I even played my first game of Monopoly and Scrabble in the English Club! The main goal is to be able to experience life outside of Japan. The things I enjoy most about English Club is being able to speak freely with our American teacher and having fun with my friends. At the moment, my club only has four members which is the minimum number of members before the club is disbanded. One of my jobs as president of the club is to introduce our club to the school and get new members. But other than that, my main duty is to borrow the keys to the Science Room where we usually do our activities.

Your Flash Autobiography response landed a spot in last month's Editor's Picks blog! Can you tell us a bit about your process for writing and editing this piece?

When I first read the description for the Flash Autobiography prompt, I ransacked my mind and knew that I would end up writing about that moment. My first encounter with snow fulfilled a lifelong dream of mine. Coming from the Philippines, I grew up in a warm climate where the closest thing to snow was rain. So when we moved to Japan, seeing snow was one of my most anticipated moments. I mindlessly typed what I saw and suddenly realized I was remembering things I didn't know I felt or thought at the time. The writing and editing process took about 45 minutes. It was one of my best experiences and I hope that other people find their own snow globes!

Who are some of your favorite writers?

Rick Riordan and Sabrina Benaim are two of my favorite writers. Rick Riordan has a gift of being able to continuously intertwine his writing with his great sense of humor. I honestly think he should write our textbooks! I've seen lots of his Youtube videos and he has taught me to never be afraid of rejection or criticism. There may be a time in a writer's life when they'll have to write a manuscript fourteen times. The most important thing about being a writer is to keep the passion burning.

Sabrina Benaim is a wonderful poet who made me realize my love for writing poetry. My first poem was written an hour after I watched her video, "Explaining My Depression To My Mother: A Conversation". Something about seeing her read her poetry out loud makes poetry less of a mythical thing to me. It turns fairy tales into flesh. And for that, Sabrina Benaim will always be a special writer to me.

Where do you see writing taking you in the future?

I've only started writing last year, and I have yet to explore its tiniest corners. There's plenty of room to strengthen my prose, my sentence rhythm, and expand my vocabulary. I can see myself writing novels and poetry, but I can also see myself as an editor. As young writers, we have time to explore and discover our strengths when it comes to words. We also have many chances to discover new things but I can always see myself coming back to the one thing that’s come so naturally into my life.

About Lei Mesina

My name is Lei Mesina. I'm almost 14 and barely 4'9. I used to live in the Philippines but I moved to Yamanashi, Japan about two years ago. On most days you can find me hanging around with my best friend Delilah (a pink badminton racket that I like to twirl around when I'm brainstorming for writing ideas) and listening to country music. I've been reading for as long as I can remember and my hobbies include dissecting patterns, taking photos of the sky and my cat, and dancing. I have a passion for metaphors and all things artistic and abstract. Some of the things on my bucket list are to reach 5'3, and become a polyglot who knows ten languages. I am trilingual and currently studying Dutch and American Sign Language (ASL). I'm also the president of my school’s English club here in Japan. Writing is the best thing I've ever come across. It's a great feeling to discover a passion at such a young age and I plan to continue living through words inside and outside my mind. My go to writing beverage: Ginger Water.

#wtwfeaturedwriter #polyglot #languages #rick riordan #sabrina benaim #amwriting #write the world

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presssorg · 5 years

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Twitter terror: Arrests prompt concern over online extremism

Twitter terror: Arrests prompt concern over online extremism GREECE, N.Y. — A few months after he turned 17 — and more than two years before he was arrested — Vincent Vetromile recast himself as an online revolutionary. Offline, in this suburb of Rochester, New York, Vetromile was finishing requirements for promotion to Eagle Scout in a troop that met at a local church. He enrolled at Monroe Community College, taking classes to become a heating and air conditioning technician. On weekends, he spent hours in the driveway with his father, a Navy veteran, working on cars. On social media, though, the teenager spoke in world-worn tones about the need to “reclaim our nation at any cost.” Eventually he subbed out the grinning selfie in his Twitter profile, replacing it with the image of a colonial militiaman shouldering an AR-15 rifle. And he traded his name for a handle: “Standing on the Edge.” That edge became apparent in Vetromile’s posts, including many interactions over the last two years with accounts that praised the Confederacy, warned of looming gun confiscation and declared Muslims to be a threat. In 2016, he sent the first of more than 70 replies to tweets from a fiery account with 140,000 followers, run by a man billing himself as Donald Trump’s biggest Canadian supporter. The final exchange came late last year. “Islamic Take Over Has Begun: Muslim No-Go Zones Are Springing Up Across America. Lock and load America!” the Canadian tweeted on December 12, with a video and a map highlighting nine states with Muslim enclaves. “The places listed are too vague,” Vetromile replied. “If there were specific locations like ‘north of X street in the town of Y, in the state of Z’ we could go there and do something about it.” Weeks later, police arrested Vetromile and three friends, charging them with plotting to attack a Muslim settlement in rural New York. And with extremism on the rise across the U.S., this town of neatly kept Cape Cods confronted difficult questions about ideology and young people — and technology’s role in bringing them together. —— The reality of the plot Vetromile and his friends are charged with hatching is, in some ways, both less and more than what was feared when they were arrested in January. Prosecutors say there is no indication that the four — Vetromile, 19; Brian Colaneri, 20; Andrew Crysel, 18; and a 16-year-old The Associated Press isn’t naming because of his age — had set an imminent or specific date for an attack. Reports they had an arsenal of 23 guns are misleading; the weapons belonged to parents or other relatives. Prosecutors allege the four discussed using those guns, along with explosive devices investigators say were made by the 16-year-old, in an attack on the community of Islamberg. Residents of the settlement in Delaware County, New York — mostly African-American Muslims who relocated from Brooklyn in the 1980s — have been harassed for years by right-wing activists who have called it a terrorist training camp. A Tennessee man, Robert Doggart , was convicted in 2017 of plotting to burn down Islamberg’s mosque and other buildings. But there are few clues so far to explain how four with little experience beyond their high school years might have come up with the idea to attack the community. All have pleaded not guilty, and several defence attorneys, back in court Friday, are arguing there was no plan to actually carry out any attack, chalking it up to talk among buddies. Lawyers for the four did not return calls, and parents or other relatives declined interviews. “I don’t know where the exposure came from, if they were exposed to it from other kids at school, through social media,” said Matthew Schwartz, the Monroe County assistant district attorney prosecuting the case. “I have no idea if their parents subscribe to any of these ideologies.” Well beyond upstate New York, the spread of extremist ideology online has sparked growing concern. Google and Facebook executives went before the House Judiciary Committee this month to answer questions about their platforms’ role in feeding hate crime and white nationalism. Twitter announced new rules last fall prohibiting the use of “dehumanizing language” that risks “normalizing serious violence.” But experts said the problem goes beyond language, pointing to algorithms used by search engines and social media platforms to prioritize content and spotlight likeminded accounts. “Once you indicate an inclination, the machine learns,” said Jessie Daniels, a professor of sociology at New York’s Hunter College who studies the online contagion of alt-right ideology. “That’s exactly what’s happening on all these platforms … and it just sends some people down a terrible rabbit hole.” She and others point to Dylann Roof, who in 2015 murdered nine worshippers at a historic black church in Charleston, South Carolina. In writings found afterward, Roof recalled how his interest in the shooting of black teenager Trayvon Martin had prompted a Google search for the term “black on white crime.” The first site the search engine pointed him to was run by a racist group promoting the idea that such crime is common, and as he learned more, Roof wrote, that eventually drove his decision to attack the congregation.

The latest on Sri Lanka's bombing investigation Israel's Counter-Terrorism Bureau issued a travel warning for Sri Lanka on Thursday, raising the threat level to indicate a "high concrete threat," ... In the Rochester-area case, electronic messages between two of those arrested, seen by the AP, along with papers filed in the case suggest doubts divided the group. “I honestly see him being a terrorist,” one of those arrested, Crysel, told his friend Colaneri in an exchange last December on Discord, a messaging platform popular with gamers that has also gained notoriety for its embrace by some followers of the alt-right. “He also has a very odd obsession with pipe bombs,” Colaneri replied. “Like it’s borderline creepy.” It is not clear from the message fragment seen which of the others they were referencing. What is clear, though, is the long thread of frustration in Vetromile’s online posts — and the way those posts link him to an enduring conspiracy theory. —— A few years ago, Vetromile’s posts on Twitter and Instagram touched on subjects like video games and English class. He made the honour roll as an 11th-grader but sometime thereafter was suspended and never returned, according to former classmates and others. The school district, citing federal law on student records, declined to provide details. Ron Gerth, who lives across the street from the family, recalled Vetromile as a boy roaming the neighbourhood with a friend, pitching residents on a leaf-raking service: “Just a normal, everyday kid wanting to make some money, and he figured a way to do it.” More recently, Gerth said, Vetromile seemed shy and withdrawn, never uttering more than a word or two if greeted on the street. Vetromile and suspect Andrew Crysel earned the rank of Eagle in Boy Scout Troop 240, where the 16-year-old was also a member. None ever warranted concern, said Steve Tyler, an adult leader. “Every kid’s going to have their own sort of geekiness,” Tyler said, “but nothing that would ever be considered a trigger or a warning sign that would make us feel unsafe.” Crysel and the fourth suspect, Colaneri, have been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, a milder form of autism, their families have said. Friends described Colaneri as socially awkward and largely disinterested in politics. “He asked, if we’re going to build a wall around the Gulf of Mexico, how are people going to go to the beach?” said Rachael Lee, the aunt of Colaneri’s girlfriend. Vetromile attended community college with Colaneri before dropping out in 2017. By then, he was fully engaged in online conversations about immigrants living in the U.S. illegally, gun rights and Trump. Over time, his statements became increasingly militant. “We need a revolution now!” he tweeted in January, replying to a thread warning of a coming “war” over gun ownership. Vetromile directed some of his strongest statements at Muslims. Tweets from the Canadian account, belonging to one Mike Allen, seemed to push that button. In July 2017, Allen tweeted “Somali Muslims take over Tennessee town and force absolute HELL on terrified Christians.” Vetromile replied: “@realDonaldTrump please do something about this!” A few months later, Allen tweeted: “Czech politicians vote to let citizens carry guns, shoot Muslim terrorists on sight.” Vetromile’s response: “We need this here!” Allen’s posts netted hundreds of replies a day, and there’s no sign he read Vetromile’s responses. But others did, including the young man’s reply to the December post about Muslim “no-go zones.” That tweet included a video interview with Martin Mawyer, whose Christian Action Network made a 2009 documentary alleging that Islamberg and other settlements were terrorist training camps. Mawyer linked the settlements, which follow the teachings of a controversial Pakistani cleric, to a group called Jamaat al-Fuqra that drew scrutiny from law enforcement in the 1980s and 1990s. In 1993, Colorado prosecutors won convictions of four al-Fuqra members in a racketeering case that included charges of fraud, arson and murder. Police and analysts have repeatedly said Islamberg does not threaten violence. Nevertheless, the allegations of Mawyer’s group continue to circulate widely online and in conservative media. Replying to questions by email, Mawyer said his organization has used only legal means to try to shut down the operator of the settlements. “Vigilante violence is always the wrong way to solve social or personal problems,” he said. “Christian Action Network had no role, whatsoever, in inciting any plots.” Online, though, Vetromile reacted with consternation to the video of Mawyer: “But this video just says ‘upstate NY and California’ and that’s too big of an area to search for terrorists,” he wrote. Other followers replied with suggestions. “Doesn’t the video state Red House, Virginia as the place?” one asked. Virginia was too far, Vetromile replied, particularly since the map with the tweet showed an enclave in his own state. When another follower offered a suggestion, Vetromile signed off: “Eh worth a look. Thanks.” The exchange ended without a word from the Canadian account, whose tweet started it.

A few months after he turned 17 — and more than two years before he was arrested — Vincent Vetromile recast himself as an online revolutionary. —— Three months before the December exchange on Twitter, the four suspects started using a Discord channel dubbed “#leaders-only” to discuss weapons and how they would use them in an attack, prosecutors allege. Vetromile set up the channel, one of the defence attorneys contends, but prosecutors say they don’t consider any one of the four a leader. In November, the conversation expanded to a second channel: “#militia-soldiers-wanted.” At some point last fall the 16-year-old made a grenade — “on a whim to satisfy his own curiosity,” his lawyer said in a court filing that claims the teen never told the other suspects. That filing also contends the boy told Vetromile that forming a militia was “stupid.” But other court records contradict those assertions. Another teen, who is not among the accused, told prosecutors that the 16-year-old showed him what looked like a pipe bomb last fall and then said that Vetromile had asked for prototypes. “Let me show you what Vinnie gave me,” the young suspect allegedly said during another conversation, before leaving the room and returning with black explosive powder. In January, the 16-year-old was in the school cafeteria when he showed a photo to a classmate of one of his fellow suspects, wearing some kind of tactical vest. He made a comment like, “He looks like the next school shooter, doesn’t he?” according to Greece Police Chief Patrick Phelan. The other student reported the incident, and questioning by police led to the arrests and charges of conspiracy to commit terrorism. The allegations have jarred a region where political differences are the norm. Rochester, roughly half white and half black and other minorities, votes heavily Democratic. Neighboring Greece, which is 87 per cent white, leans conservative. Town officials went to the Supreme Court to win a 2014 ruling allowing them to start public meetings with a chaplain’s prayer. The arrests dismayed Bob Lonsberry, a conservative talk radio host in Rochester, who said he checked Twitter to confirm Vetromile didn’t follow his feed. But looking at the accounts Vetromile did follow convinced him that politics on social media had crossed a dangerous line. “The people up here, even the hillbillies like me, we would go down with our guns and stand outside the front gate of Islamberg to protect them,” Lonsberry said. “It’s an aberration. But … aberrations, like a cancer, pop up for a reason.” —— Online, it can be hard to know what is true and who is real. Mike Allen, though, is no bot. “He seems addicted to getting followers,” said Allen’s adult son, Chris, when told about the arrest of one of the thousands attuned to his father’s Twitter feed. Allen himself called back a few days later, leaving a brief message with no return number. But a few weeks ago, Allen welcomed in a reporter who knocked on the door of his home, located less than an hour from the Peace Bridge linking upstate New York to Ontario, Canada. “I really don’t believe in regulation of the free marketplace of ideas,” said Allen, a retired real estate executive, explaining his approach to social media. “If somebody wants to put bulls— on Facebook or Twitter, it’s no worse than me selling a bad hamburger, you know what I mean? Buyer beware.” Sinking back in a white leather armchair, Allen, 69, talked about his longtime passion for politics. After a liver transplant stole much of his stamina a few years ago, he filled downtime by tweeting about subjects like interest rates. When Trump announced his candidacy for president in 2015, in a speech memorable for labeling many Mexican immigrants as criminals, Allen said he was determined to help get the billionaire elected. He began posting voraciously, usually finding material on conservative blogs and Facebook feeds and crafting posts to stir reaction. Soon his account was gaining up to 4,000 followers a week. Allen said he had hoped to monetize his feed somehow. But suspicions that Twitter “shadow-banning” was capping gains in followers made him consider closing the account. That was before he was shown some of his tweets and the replies they drew from Vetromile — and told the 19-year-old was among the suspects charged with plotting to attack Islamberg. “And they got caught? Good,” Allen said. “We’re not supposed to go around shooting people we don’t like. That’s why we have video games.” Allen’s own likes and dislikes are complicated. He said he strongly opposes taking in refugees for humanitarian reasons, arguing only immigrants with needed skills be admitted. He also recounted befriending a Muslim engineer in Pakistan through a physics blog and urging him to move to Canada. Shown one of his tweets from last year — claiming Czech officials had urged people to shoot Muslims — Allen shook his head. “That’s not a good tweet,” he said quietly. “It’s inciting.” Allen said he rarely read replies to his posts — and never noticed Vetromile’s. “If I’d have seen anybody talking violence, I would have banned them,” he said. He turned to his wife, Kim, preparing dinner across the kitchen counter. Maybe he should stop tweeting, he told her. But couldn’t he continue until Trump was reelected? “We have a saying, ‘Oh, it must be true, I read it on the internet,”‘ Allen said, before showing his visitor out. “The internet is phoney. It’s not there. Only kids live in it and old guys, you know what I mean? People with time on their hands.” The next day, Allen shut down his account, and the long narrative he spun all but vanished. —— Read more about the four charged in the New York plot here . AP investigative researcher Randy Herschaft in New York contributed to this story. Geller can be reached at ageller//twitter.com/AdGeller Published at Sun, 28 Apr 2019 14:30:01 +0000 Read the full article

#anonymous #attacks #bombs #censorship #muslims #srilanka #terrorism #twitter

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morganbelarus · 6 years

Text

Justin Paperny spent time behind bars. He’s got tough-love advice for suspects in the college admissions scandal.

(CNN)For people charged in the college admissions cheating scandal, Justin Paperny has plain-spoken advice: If you did it, admit it and take responsibility for your wrongdoings.

CNN has confirmed that Paperny has been hired by at least one parent associated with the college admissions cheating case. He says he’s speaking to multiple others as well.

“Their mood is one of shock and devastation,” Paperny said. “They never imagined in a million years they would end up as defendants in a criminal case.”

Fifty people were arrested in the investigation, with allegations they played a role in bribing college officials to have students recruited to schools as athletes, or for taking part in schemes to cheat on standardized college admissions tests.

The suspects include university coaches who allegedly took bribes, people accused of being paid to take standardized tests or students, and wealthy parents, ranging from actors to CEOs, who allegedly paid to get their children into elite schools.

The accused ringleader of the scheme, college consultant Rick Singer, pleaded guilty to four charges: racketeering conspiracy, money laundering, tax conspiracy and obstruction of justice. He is a government cooperating witness.

The college admissions cheating scandal hits close to home for Paperny, who played baseball at the University of Southern California — a school which has had five coaches charged in the case. More tdozen parents are accused of paying to get their children into the selective school.

“We were No. 1 in the country when I was at USC. It was done through hard work,” Paperny says. “(The allegations are) bothersome to me as a Trojan and a student athlete knowing how hard I worked. It would not have been accepted.”

From felon to consultant

Though he is now married with kids and running his own business, a decade ago Paperny’s life was drastically different.

At UBS Wealth Management, Paperny says he looked the other way when he learned a client was lying to his investors about his reported returns. The hedge fund chief was jailed and UBS said at the time it reimbursed clients for their losses.

Paperny pleaded guilty in 2007 to conspiracy to commit mail, wire and securities fraud. He was sentenced to 18 months in prison, which is where he developed the basis for a program he now uses with clients.

“While I was in prison, I documented my goals and shared them with the world,” Paperny said. “I began interviewing other men who, like me, were totally unprepared for prison.”

His firm has worked with over 1,000 clients since he started the business in 2009, Paperny said.

What does White Collar Advice do? The company has prepared clients for what life will be like in prison, managed their businesses while they’re incarcerated and even helped them write books. Everyone on his team is a convicted felon who served time in federal prison.

Clients can pay for a range of services, from $9 books and videos that explain the judicial process and the practicalities of prison life to one-on-one consulting up to $30,000, depending on the complexity and length of the case and prison time.

Paperny said he helps his clients with psychology as much as with strategy.

“This isn’t easy here — we’re rebuilding our lives in the age of social media and the internet it’s very hard to run from decision we made,” he said.

‘To not make matters worse’

Paperny tells clients their cases can spiral out of control if they lie to their attorneys or the government. They could get hit with other charges, he said. That’s why his clients often need to admit guilt, take a plea agreement and work with the government, he said.

“Our goal is to not make matters worse,” Paperny says.

Scott Michel, a defense attorney who specializes in tax cases, says it’s possible suspects in the college admissions cheating case could face more charges and harsher sentences if they go to trial.

“If (prosecutors) wanted to come up with more draconian charges here, it appears there would be an evidentiary basis from the four corners of the complaint,” Michel says.

Michel says there could be evidence already presented to the public for additional charges, including money laundering and tax evasion.

And more people could be investigated, said Meghan Biss, a former senior adviser at the IRS.

Dozens of parents who allegedly paid Singer by donating money to his non-profit organization have been named in the case. But anyone who gave money to his foundation could come under scrutiny, she said.

“The IRS does have a list of donors to the charity that none of us have,” Biss said, referring to a confidential part of Singer’s Key Worldwide Foundation’s tax filings.

Paperny said his biggest challenge is getting clients to face the harsh reality of their dilemma.

“They’ve got to begin to make better choices. I help them do that. Some will do it, some will not. Some will remain defiant and spend every penny they have on lawyers,” Paperny says.

“I can’t take your money if you’re not going to listen.”

This story has been updated to remove information that CNN has not independently verified.

Original Article : HERE ; This post was curated & posted using : RealSpecific

Justin Paperny spent time behind bars. He’s got tough-love advice for suspects in the college admissions scandal. was originally posted by MetNews

#MetNews

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willswalkabout · 8 years

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Ho Chi Minh, El Nido.

I can guarantee this blog will be the hardest to write of my travels. These have been the toughest and most unforgettable 9 days of my trip so far, but not without some great moments thrown in. (On completion I’ve also just done a word count and it’s really long again, sorry, but maybe one to print!)

When I left off last time I had just landed in Ho Chi Minh. It was about 11pm and although I was shattered, I really didn’t want to pay £15 for a taxi, so after some searching I found the 80p bus, which would drop me off 5 minutes from my hostel. On arrival the place seemed closed, though only because the reception desk didn’t function after 10pm. A security guard who spoke zero English met me in the lobby and took my passport in exchange for a key. Other than that he just motioned for me to go up the stairs, with no further direction. Unlike most hostels my bed number had no correlation to the floor number, which led to some confusion before eventually finding my mattress for the next 3 nights.

The next day was to be my touristy day, though it didn’t start till quite late due to tiredness from Thursday��s travel. I walked to the Independence Palace first. Ho Chi Minh’s attractions have odd opening times, as I discovered the palace was not to open till 1pm. It was around 34'C and so I decided to sit outside in the shade for about 40 minutes watching Vietnam’s most crazy city fly by. The palace itself is quite odd. It’s very typical 60s architecture, after its rebuild in 1966, and doesn’t really resemble a palace at all. On top of this it has never been inhabited by a King, and now only functions as a tourist attraction. It did play a pretty symbolic roll however in the “fall of Saigon” something that coincided with America’s evacuation of the country, so was a good reinforcement of my grounding in the events of the war. I find it sort of crazy that it doesn’t make up even a small part of any history course taught in school, despite it being the most monumental post-WW2 ideological war.

After this visit I engaged in culture of a different form, heading to the nearest Starbucks so I could stream Ed Sheeran’s latest album, which had just been released. I have been playing it practically nonstop since, through some incredibly arduous journeys which will be described later in the blog.

I then visited a very old post office, and Ho Chi Minh’s attempt at the Notre Dame, though, as mentioned earlier, odd timings prescribed that this building closed at 4, preventing me from going inside. I went back to the Hostel, which is effectively run solely by travellers who ran out of money and thought they’d chill in Ho Chi Minh for a bit. Although Flipside Hostels is Kiwi owned, the only staff I met were Canadian, British and Vietnamese. My route back to the hostel is actually a mini story in itself, as I had my first and last experience on a ‘Grab MotoTaxi’. Grab is Asian uber, and for 25% of the price you can sit on the back of a driver’s moped (helmet included!). It was more like a thrill ride than a taxi, as my driver swerved through non-existent gaps, and used the pavement as a 'shortcut’ when he got bored of the traffic. At one point during the ride he asked me to rate him 5 stars on the app at the end of the trip, to which I replied that I would do, if we made it that far. Beers at the hostel were cheap, and I spent most of the evening with a Canadian girl, and 2 Norwegian guys, all of which were in my dorm. It is fair to say we were all feeling the effects of the previous night on Saturday morning, but it was to my delight when at about midday a hilarious English guy called Joey, with a helicopter hat (baseball cap with the spinny thing), burst into our room announcing that we were going to a pool party. At this point I will admit that there many more cultural options in the city that I didn’t explore. For example the war museum, or tunnels. On the other hand I liked the people in the hostel, and in the past I thought pool parties only existed in LA, Vegas, or movies set in LA or Vegas, so I went. I would definitely like to return to see more of the city in the future.

It was a good laugh, and a very relaxing way to spend the day, with good food, and some fun conversations with one girl who was half Russian half Swedish, but about to go to University in Spain so she could be fluent in 4 languages by the age of 20. As well as a French man who decided we should try and have a conversation where we could only speak our native languages. This was a stupid idea, albeit with amusing consequences, given I got my French GCSE over 2 and a half years ago, and he was 30 and working in English. It did however give me the smallest of glimpses of how possible it could be to learn a language if you were forced to speak it full time.

I went out again that night with the same guys, and spent much of it playing ¾ rounds of pool with 2 Indian guys while discussing the IPL.

I left Ho Chi Minh the next morning with an English traveler who was heading to Sydney, my next stop being Manila. I hijacked his pre-booked taxi, my 3rd time doing so on this trip, however due to his nerves about missing his flight I did arrive at the airport 3 and a half hours before my own. Something I was prepared to take for the ease and cheapness of getting to the airport. El Nido is impossible to reach from an international destination in less than 2 days realistically, unless you align everything perfectly and don’t take a single rest. It is 7 hours drive north of Puerto Princessa, the island’s only airport, which is an hour and 50 from Manila. Therefore I spent Sunday night in Manila, in a small hotel about 15 minutes from the airport. People generally don’t hang around in Manila, I can’t honestly pass judgement on the claims of dirtiness and roughness, however my hotel’s location was certainly not somewhere you wanted to spend any time. I was able to locate a McDonalds a 10 minute walk away, but that was enough of Manila for me in this case.

The next day I had to leave at about 5 to get my 7am flight. I got a van from Puerto Princessa at 11am, getting me to my El Nido hostel at about 5pm. The bus journey is infamously horrific, not a view I can personally attest to. The road itself is reasonable for South East Asia, and my driver was fast and very friendly. The ticket was 1000 pesos return, about £16. I also managed to persuade a girl that had somehow booked the front seat of the minibus next to the driver, that with long legs in comparison to her stature of no more than 5ft1, my need was greater. I think the driver had in fact invited the woman to that seat, no reservation had been made, and she was quite relieved to move.

To reach my hostel you had to tramp 50m along the beach, to a view I don’t think I would ever get tired of. There are maybe a couple of photos of it on here, but I may have taken close to a hundred. My roommates were Catie and Lucie, recently qualified nurses from Northumbria.

I haven’t planned how to write this next paragraph, but am aware I would like to print this entire blog on its completion as a permanent memory of the adventure. El Nido is somewhere I will never regret visiting, with crystal clear waters, stunning sunsets and perfect weather. There are factors however that take a little away from the paradise, these being next to no internet connection and frequent power cuts. For these reasons notifications come in sporadically and in clumps. On Monday evening I suddenly had missed calls from mum and dad across 3 different platforms. This is a sight that truly does make your heart skip a beat. The connection was not strong enough for us to attempt any of the video calling methods of the last 5 or so weeks, WhatsApp, FaceTime or Google Duo. I slipped in my UK SIM card to the phone and made an international phone call from the beach, where I found out my Granddad, mum’s father, Reginald Flatman had passed away. Reg first got ill around Christmas, and had been in and out of hospital since, with various issues that were increasingly hard to diagnose.

I visited Reg a few days before I set off when he was in high spirits. I discussed my trip with him, and witnessed him as his trademark jovial self, as he laughed at mum’s gardening course exam, where she had somehow managed to hit the pass mark exactly…

Reg was possibly the kindest man I’ve ever known, with hardly a bad word to say about anyone. His only criticisms were directed at the attitude of the Ipswich Town football team, something I always found odd given his total indifference towards competitive sport of any kind. I’ll never forget walking the fields of Zoe and Des’ farm with him and the dog, when I would go down to Suffolk to work in the summer. I also had a memorable conversation with him 18 months ago at the reception of James and Vicky’s wedding, where he was utterly bemused by the 'racket’ coming out of the speaker system during the reception. I was delighted to be able to invite him to our school’s big band concert at Chelmsford cathedral last year.

Reg was a man of simple pleasures who would always refuse as best he could to trouble anyone for anything. We would rarely be able to contain our amusement at dinner, as when Reg was asked “would you like some more food”, he would reply with “that was great thanks”. Nana’s firm toned “Reginald”, uttered when he made a funny face across the table, nudged one of us under it, or tried to steal a roast potato, never failed to make myself or Kate laugh. Reg was to us polo mints, shredded wheat, and a day concluded with cheese and biscuits. Reg never bothered taking life too seriously, a characteristic summed up by a set of four photos in a frame at home, of him and Nana. He is screwing his face up in an effort to make the photographer laugh, in three of the photos. If this was a school photo session with a 10 year old, you would pretend the first 3 didn’t exist and just print the fourth large. The first three however said far more about Granddad than a composed shot ever could.

I will fly back from Melbourne to London on Sunday 19th to be with family for the funeral on Thursday 23rd. Then fly back out on Friday 24th to Auckland, NZ.

So El Nido. The nights are all very boring here as I did not have the energy or desire to go out. On Tuesday I accomplished a goal I’ve had for a long time, to visit a particular beach by the name of Nacpan. There is a particular travel blogger on YouTube by the name of Christian Le Blanc. While I was doing my exam revision last year, Christian was traveling the Philippines, and his trip to this particular beach was one that really drew me to the area. You have to drive 45 minutes north of the main town via scooter to get there. This is 25 minutes of glorious winding road up the coast, before a horrific 20 minutes along an unpaved dirt track to the beach. The reward is one of the largest and most untouched spots along the coast. Fine white sand and beautiful water. However I imagine it is becoming less and less 'secret’ by the month. Even in comparison to the video I saw 8 months ago there are now a few more food and drink stalls, a relatively organised parking scheme, and a far bigger sign from the main road. The one way in which El Nido has developed impressively is in its number of high end restaurants run by Europeans, in order to serve those visiting the town from nearby resorts. This did mean I enjoyed a great pizza that night, with about 10 others from the hostel.

The next day I did the hostel’s combined package of Tour A&C. The El Nido bay is very comparable to Halong Bay in Vietnam, except for more islands with beaches, as well as individual lagoons, in comparison to Halong’s mystical 1969 limestone rocks. At some point the tourist board must of grouped different combinations of the lagoons, beaches, islands, viewpoints etc, into tour A, B, C and D. There are now dozens of outlets selling these tours at prices from 1000-2000 pesos, (£16-£32). In the vast majority of cases you should try not to book tours and other items through your hostel. They will rarely be providing the service themselves, and will therefore be taking a cut simply for making a phone call to one of the companies on the street on your behalf. For example hiring a scooter from the hostel was 700 pesos a day, though I found one in town for 350. Saying all this the hostel ran their own in house tour which was a combination of tour A and C. It was 1700 which was nearer the pricier end, but the advantages were that it left from the hostel’s own beach, and you could do it with people you knew. I did love the experience, the videos of which online were another draw for me visiting the area. I snorkelled and got some decent GoPro footage of a small jellyfish that went on to sting me as I swam away. Taking photos on my phone and proper camera though was a more hap-hazard venture, with the boat being occupied by 16 soaking wet passengers constantly walking up and down around the kit. I also started to wonder if I was really getting the most out of the day, when seeing it partially through a lens. I was never going to get the greatest of photos, for that you’d need a chartered boat where you could specify time in each place. So I put the camera away for the most part of the trip, and enjoyed just sitting on the edge of the boat and taking it all in. Sunburn was the only tarnish on the day.

Thursday started with a torrential storm, which in typical Philippines style concluded with the weather returning to normal service in the space of 5 minutes. Myself, Catie, Lucie and a Swiss guy called Kevin went to do a zip line which was pretty awesome. I’d thought at the start of the day that I would be riding, and so brought my bike helmet with me. This meant rather embarrassingly this was to be my head protection for the experience, complete with visor. I managed to fashion my camera bag shoulder strap into a way of securing my phone to my harness, so I could film and photograph the ride. After this I returned to the hostel to relax a bit before planning to return to Nacpan to try and capture the sunset. This plan in hindsight was rash. Though cloudy, I was overly trusting on one German guy’s words that “his app said the sunset would be good”. It was not, with the clouds concealing nearly the entirety of the sun. I still enjoyed seeing the light shade of pink that took over the bottom third of the horizon, but it was not something I managed to pick up on the camera. What made the decision particularly stupid was that I then had to go back down the entirely unlit gravel path in the dark. I dropped off my scooter in town before meeting the girls for a meal at a traditional Philippino restaurant that had been recommended.

What followed was one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life, something I think I am only now really coming back from 2 and a half days later. Food poisoning hit me bad all night, as it did Lucie also. The plot thickens however, when we both awoke in the morning to find at least 7 others in the hostel had experienced identical symptoms overnight. I could not join up any dots with any of them leading some people to wonder if there was something airborne going around. I don’t think we’ll ever know, but it made Friday’s van journey even more daunting.

As mentioned earlier I had booked a return trip with the company that had brought me up, however the way it seems to work is that nobody drives if their vans are not full. This meant when I arrived at the bus terminal all the other companies that were present were enquiring about my departure time. My theory is that they knew my provider wouldn’t show. So at 1:35, five minutes past my supposed leaving time, a bidding war ensued. I was eventually bundled onto someone’s minibus. I can only assume after they took photos of my ticket, that they will get a refund off my people. This was not the main frustration of the journey unfortunately. The driver still had 4 free seats, and so he transformed into a hop on - hop off service for the whole island. This meant stopping for every random person on the side of the street, negotiating a price for their destination before letting them on. We must have made around 15 stops, something my stomach was not pleased with. 6 hours later we had arrived at Puerto Princessa airport. Advice I am giving myself for the future is not to book the cheapest hotel for short 1 night stopovers. This decision on Friday night involved a 20 minute tuk tuk ride to an area I was advised “not to walk at night”. The only pleasant anecdote in this experience was the fact my driver’s sister was a nurse in Ipswich, probably at the hospital granddad was receiving such good care. It was an incredibly odd and heartwarming meeting, as the driver spoke enthusiastically about his new brother in law, who runs a barber shop on the Woodbridge road. My room itself would be more accurately described as a cell. The bed was like a roll mat, and my troubles were furthered in the morning, when the building “ran out of power”. This was an impressive feat in itself as I was the only occupant in the entire 12 room hotel. I’ve got no idea how it copes with more than 5 customers… The power cut meant I woke up with no air con and no running water. I think I may have left without paying but the owner was so confused and I was so angry at the whole situation, I think the 600 pesos might remain in my pocket.

The next day I took a flight to Manila, then another to Kuala Lumpur. I’m writing this from the final couple of hours on what’s been a pretty grim overnight flight into Melbourne. I think when flying west-east you’re supposed to sleep, something I’ve completely failed to do.

I have a 2 hour domestic to Sydney and then the 47 hours from El Nido are complete. I think I have 14 hours to Abu Dhabi and then another 8 home next Sunday, so will try and summarise my week in Australia then.

Till the next time.

#Vietnam #hochiminh #Philippines #elnido #outpost #travel #gapyear

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whichchick · 6 years

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A while ago, I posted the list of odonates I *should* find in my county. It’s here, if you want to go look at it, but I’m thinking it’s an unambitious list because it had like six things missing from it when I first looked at it. If a comprehensive list is missing ten percent of the things (was missing 6 but had 53), then it is not a very good list. The list is now 59 because I am over here improving the scientific record with proof. (Pix or it didn’t happen!)

Thing is, the odonatacentral.org county level checklists, generated from Actual County Observation Records, suck. They're better if you live in a county with a major land-grant university (Centre County, PA, home of Penn State, comes to mind), a flashy and substantial water feature (Raystown Lake, Huntington County, PA, I am looking directly at you), or a couple of state parks. But if you live in plain old Greater Rednecklandia, the county records for your county probably suck and the more Greater Rednecklandia you are, the worse the records are likely to be. As a consequence of the paucity of the scholarly record, the procedurally generated county level checklists from over at OC... suck. (Science needs more boots on the ground, is the real problem.)

The OC county checklists are better than nothing, but they are not as good as they COULD be. So wah wah, my county list from OC is not particularly great because whiny amateur me half-assedly proved it wrong in a month or so. Could there be a better county list? Certainly!

I want a better county list because observers see, a lot of the time, only the things that we are looking for. (That video with the gorilla suit person amongst the basketball players comes to mind) Basically, an insufficient checklist might lead someone to not look for or recognize stuff that could totally be out there. Totally. Like in McElligot’s Pool.

So, the current science-y records over at OC for my county (Fulton County, PA) are shittastic and I whine a lot. Fulton County is a rural county with very few people (less than 20K residents). It lacks universities, fancy water features, or any other reasons for the presence of a gung-ho odonate observation force. The records for my abutting counties (Bedford, Huntington, Franklin in PA, Washington in MD) are fuller. I feel like the records for “possibly available in Fulton County” would be more informed if I included in the “possibles” list all the stuff found in neighboring counties. Odonates do fly, after all, and if my own county is poorly surveyed, maybe... maybe I should be looking for more things than are on the official list.

So, I’ve gone and done that -- pulled the species checklists for the above listed counties from odonatacentral, thrown them into a text file, and pushed them through assorted linux command-line script filters to generate some information that might be useful to me in terms of What To Look For and How Likely Finding Them Might Be.

Methodology: Pull the county checklists off of odonatacentral, paste into a flat text file on the dumbest text editor you can find, using “paste as plain text”. You’ll get entries that look like this:

Aeshna canadensis Canada Darner

Aeshna constricta Lance-tipped Darner

(etc)

These need to be cleaned up and made all one line, which I did with shell scripting. I am THE WORLD’S SHITTIEST SHELL SCRIPTER, just putting that out there right now. I do not shell script for a living any more than I chase the odonates around for a living.

Here’s what I did:

cat fivecounties.txt | xargs -n3 -d'\n' > test1.txt

(In english: read file fivecounties.txt, which is the plaintext paste file of all the county checklists, go through and take out the newline character three times (one for after scientific name, one for after common name, one for blank line), throw the result in new file called test1.txt)

Your output should look like this:

Aeshna canadensis Canada Darner Aeshna constricta Lance-tipped Darner

(One line per species, no blank lines)

Next, I sorted the file:

sort test1.txt > test2.txt

Output should look like this:

Aeshna canadensis Canada Darner Aeshna canadensis Canada Darner Aeshna constricta Lance-tipped Darner Aeshna constricta Lance-tipped Darner Aeshna tuberculifera Black-tipped Darner Aeshna tuberculifera Black-tipped Darner...

(All like kinds grouped together and this is not a big enough text file for it to matter what mechanism linux uses for sorting. Does Not Matter.)

Then I did

cat test2.txt | uniq -c > test3.txt

for an output like this...

2 Aeshna canadensis Canada Darner 2 Aeshna constricta Lance-tipped Darner 3 Aeshna tuberculifera Black-tipped Darner

Finally, I picked out the ones I wanted (by number) and formatted them for easy pasting in tumblr, an effort which took about eight tries and a lot of google because I freaking SUCK at sed. sed hates me. I did each iteration (1 through 5) seperately because I am no coder.

cat test3.txt | grep '5' | sed -e s/[[:space:]]*5[[:space:]]*//g > 5counts.txt

for an output of:

Anax junius Common Green Darner Argia fumipennis Variable Dancer Arigomphus villosipes Unicorn Clubtail...

So what did we get?

STUFF IN ALL FIVE COUNTIES (my county of Fulton plus the ones around it: Bedford, Huntington, Franklin in PA and Washington in MD), ones I do not have a verified photo record of are bolded:

Anax junius Common Green Darner (I can’t catch them. We have ‘em.) Argia fumipennis Variable Dancer Arigomphus villosipes Unicorn Clubtail Calopteryx maculata Ebony Jewelwing Celithemis elisa Calico Pennant Dromogomphus spinosus Black-shouldered Spinyleg Enallagma aspersum Azure Bluet Enallagma civile Familiar Bluet Enallagma signatum Orange Bluet Epitheca cynosura Common Baskettail Epitheca princeps Prince Baskettail Erythemis simplicicollis Eastern Pondhawk Hagenius brevistylus Dragonhunter Ischnura posita Fragile Forktail Ischnura verticalis Eastern Forktail Libellula cyanea Spangled Skimmer Libellula incesta Slaty Skimmer Libellula luctuosa Widow Skimmer Libellula pulchella Twelve-spotted Skimmer Macromia illinoiensis Swift River Cruiser Pachydiplax longipennis Blue Dasher Perithemis tenera Eastern Amberwing Phanogomphus lividus Ashy Clubtail Plathemis lydia Common Whitetail Sympetrum rubicundulum Ruby Meadowhawk Sympetrum semicinctum Band-winged Meadowhawk Sympetrum vicinum Autumn Meadowhawk

These All-Five-Counties odonates are the guys I should be able to find in my county. The official list says they’re here and they are also in all the bordering counties. I should make more of an effort on these because they’re probably here.

Next, I have four-out-of-five. These are likely but not 100%. Bolded the ones I do not have and probably I should read up for better stalking of these jobbies. Lurking in the usual hangouts, etc.

Aeshna umbrosa Shadow Darner Argia apicalis Blue-fronted Dancer Argia sedula Blue-ringed Dancer Argia translata Dusky Dancer Basiaeschna janata Springtime Darner Boyeria vinosa Fawn Darner Calopteryx angustipennis Appalachian Jewelwing Chromagrion conditum Aurora Damsel Didymops transversa Stream Cruiser Enallagma basidens Double-striped Bluet Enallagma divagans Turquoise Bluet Enallagma exsulans Stream Bluet Enallagma geminatum Skimming Bluet Enallagma hageni Hagen's Bluet Epiaeschna heros Swamp Darner Hetaerina americana American Rubyspot Lestes rectangularis Slender Spreadwing Leucorrhinia intacta Dot-tailed Whiteface Libellula semifasciata Painted Skimmer Phanogomphus exilis Lancet Clubtail

And three out of five. Maybes but worth looking at if I have the appropriate habitat. Need to up my darner game. I’ve bolded what I don’t have.

Aeshna tuberculifera Black-tipped Darner Aeshna verticalis Green-striped Darner Argia moesta Powdered Dancer Boyeria grafiana Ocellated Darner Cordulegaster maculata Twin-spotted Spiketail Cordulegaster obliqua Arrowhead Spiketail Enallagma traviatum Slender Bluet Enallagma vesperum Vesper Bluet Helocordulia uhleri Uhler's Sundragon Ladona julia Chalk-fronted Corporal Lestes vigilax Swamp Spreadwing Pantala flavescens Wandering Glider Somatochlora tenebrosa Clamp-tipped Emerald Stylogomphus albistylus Eastern Least Clubtail Tramea carolina Carolina Saddlebags Tramea lacerata Black Saddlebags

Two out of five. Here we’re going to bold and italicize what I do have. I don’t have most of these.

Aeshna canadensis Canada Darner Aeshna constricta Lance-tipped Darner Amphiagrion saucium Eastern Red Damsel Celithemis eponina Halloween Pennant Cordulegaster bilineata Brown Spiketail Cordulia shurtleffii American Emerald Enallagma antennatum Rainbow Bluet Epitheca canis Beaverpond Baskettail Gomphaeschna furcillata Harlequin Darner Gomphurus fraternus Midland Clubtail Gomphurus vastus Cobra Clubtail Hylogomphus abbreviatus Spine-crowned Clubtail Ischnura hastata Citrine Forktail Ladona deplanata Blue Corporal Lanthus vernalis Southern Pygmy Clubtail Lestes congener Spotted Spreadwing Lestes dryas Emerald Spreadwing Lestes forcipatus Sweetflag Spreadwing Lestes inaequalis Elegant Spreadwing Libellula axilena Bar-winged Skimmer Libellula vibrans Great Blue Skimmer Macromia alleghaniensis Allegheny River Cruiser Nehalennia irene Sedge Sprite Neurocordulia obsoleta Umber Shadowdragon Ophiogomphus rupinsulensis Rusty Snaketail Pantala hymenaea Spot-winged Glider Phanogomphus spicatus Dusky Clubtail Rhionaeschna mutata Spatterdock Darner Somatochlora linearis Mocha Emerald Stenogomphurus rogersi Sable Clubtail Sympetrum obtrusum White-faced Meadowhawk Tachopteryx thoreyi Gray Petaltail

1 of 5 -- I figure this stuff is longshots but do note that the lilypad forktail, bolded and italicized below, the ONE record in the five county area -- that’s my record. I found that. That was me. So possibly...

Anax longipes Comet Darner Archilestes grandis Great Spreadwing Argia tibialis Blue-tipped Dancer Calopteryx amata Superb Jewelwing Cordulegaster diastatops Delta-spotted Spiketail Cordulegaster erronea Tiger Spiketail Dorocordulia libera Racket-tailed Emerald Enallagma anna River Bluet Enallagma annexum Northern Bluet Enallagma carunculatum Tule Bluet Enallagma ebrium Marsh Bluet Gomphurus lineatifrons Splendid Clubtail Hetaerina titia Smoky Rubyspot Hylogomphus viridifrons Green-faced Clubtail Ischnura kellicotti Lilypad Forktail Lanthus parvulus Northern Pygmy Clubtail Lestes australis Southern Spreadwing Lestes disjunctus Northern Spreadwing Lestes eurinus Amber-winged Spreadwing Lestes unguiculatus Lyre-tipped Spreadwing Leucorrhinia frigida Frosted Whiteface Leucorrhinia hudsonica Hudsonian Whiteface Leucorrhinia proxima Belted Whiteface Libellula auripennis Golden-winged Skimmer Libellula flavida Yellow-sided Skimmer Libellula quadrimaculata Four-spotted Skimmer Nasiaeschna pentacantha Cyrano Darner Nehalennia gracilis Sphagnum Sprite Neurocordulia yamaskanensis Stygian Shadowdragon Ophiogomphus carolus Riffle Snaketail Ophiogomphus mainensis Maine Snaketail Phanogomphus borealis Beaverpond Clubtail Phanogomphus descriptus Harpoon Clubtail Phanogomphus quadricolor Rapids Clubtail Somatochlora elongata Ski-tipped Emerald Somatochlora walshii Brush-tipped Emerald Stylurus laurae Laura's Clubtail Stylurus spiniceps Arrow Clubtail Sympetrum internum Cherry-faced Meadowhawk

Anyway. That’s how I buffed up my “things to look for in my area and how reasonable they are for me to be looking for them” list for dragonflies. Seems legit to me, anyway.

#odonata #checklists #mcelligot's pool #what I might find

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movietvtechgeeks · 7 years

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Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/just-maurice-symonette-aka-donald-trumps-michael-black-man/

Just who is Maurice Symonette aka Donald Trump's 'Michael the Black Man'?

Who is Maurice Symonette? In another charlatan tactic employed by the Trump administration, the individual also known as "Michael the Black Man" is a political propaganda character that serves as a distraction, making Trump and the Republicans look grossly incompetent and devastatingly desperate.

Since his Phoenix rally earlier this week, Trump has reintroduced us to his new campaign tool – Symonette, a.k.a Maurice Woodside. Many outlets have already profiled the man holding a sign that said, “Blacks for Trump,” digging deep into his background as a criminal, cult follower, and militant negro. Along with holding his perfectly placed sign (right behind Trump in view of all the cameras) Symonette also wore a t-shirt that let the world know, “Trump and Republicans are not racist.” The one-time cult member who belonged to Temple of Love in the 90’s, looks to be a reformed pro-black activist who now makes YouTube videos about the goodness of white people, the dangers of Cherokee Native Americans (who are the real KKK racist slave masters per Symonette) and the evils of Hilary Clinton and her Islamic State connections. The man also considers white people “White Gentiles who are Black Peoples Republican Emancipators,” which is why I am sure he fits right into Trump’s overall plan to win the White House a second term. While I understand but do not agree with, white people’s move in having a token black person as a means to show other black people that they aren’t that bad, it rarely ever works. And when you use any ole person for the sake of “representation” it becomes more of a joke than a serious attempt to reach minorities. Such is the case with Michael the Black Man and Trump.

A part of me doesn’t even put all the blame on Symonette. The man clearly has signs of someone who deals with mental illness. I would not be surprised if he genuinely believes what he says and Trump and his people happened to stumble upon him and said, “Just go with it.” The other part of me believes that Trump has paid this man to be the face of his 2020 campaign that is aimed at getting black people to finally accept him. But speculation aside, this just looks bad on all sides because instead of focusing on dealing with the issues this country is facing, Donald Trump is on the campaign trail… for 2020.

The real focus should not be on the black man holding the sign because anyone in their right mind isn't paying him any attention. I actually laugh at the fact that Trump's people thought it was a good idea to let him be on camera. The outrage, anger or however people are feeling about the situation should be aimed at the man who 53% of college educated white women voted into office. Why is the president of the United States, who just took office a little over eight months ago, spending time at campaign rallies? You won Trump! You should be focused on leading this country to greatness, not maintaining or getting support for 2020. I mean, if you were smart, you would understand that being presidential and acting like an adult who holds the important position in America is what will secure a bid for you in the next election. But I digress because the key word here is “smart” and from what I’ve seen, intelligence is just not something at work in the White House right now.

As I said earlier, this is a distraction. We have become so consumed with the things Trump does, that weighs no kind of significance to the overall well being of the nation, we don’t see these antics for what they are. I 100% guarantee you that white people are laughing at Symonette and if they were wise, they would have no business with him. His presence only adds to the lack of credibility already associated with #45’s presidency. Michael the Black Man is a conspiracy theorist who no member of the sane voting population gives any real thought to because he’s so all over the place. Nothing he says can be considered valid.

All of this just speaks to the absurdity that is our country’s leaders right now. This is embarrassing. It is not funny and from my point of view, only serves to show how lost we truly are under Trump’s rule. Nobody who is serious about their position as president of a country would embrace this foolery let alone allow it to be a fixture at his rally.

Alas, what more can you expect from the circus that is America 2017? Maurice Symonette is a non-factor who doesn’t deserve our attention. He doesn’t represent on any level how black people feel now or will in the future about Trump.

5 Facts About Michael Symonette

His Site Gods2.com Leads Visitors to HonestFacts.com, a Site Listing Conspiracy Theories About the Cherokee Indians

Symonette’s site Gods2.com leads visitors to HonestFacts.com. That site is one long page listing strange conspiracy theories about the Cherokee Indians and Hillary Clinton. The first one claims that the “Real K K K Slave Master Revealed & is the Cherokee!” Symonette claims that Trump will “Solve America’s debt” and “make all Indians pay Taxes!” The page also alleges that President Barack Obama, Clinton, and Senator Al Franken are Cherokee and Republican Senators John McCain and Jeff Flake, along with Mitt Romney are “White hidden MORMOM/CHEROKEES.” “ Republican Senators who’re against Trump’s HealthCare Policy & all of his Policies are Mormon Cherokee’s. They are the Racist that believe White Gentiles & Black Republicans are Idiots & are not worthy to Rule,” the site reads. Symonette also has a YouTube channel, where he has videos that go with many of his theories. He also refers to the Confederate Battle Flag as the “Cherokee Democrat Flag.”

Symonette Was a Member of the Violent Yahweh ben Yahweh Cult Led by Hulon Mitchell Jr.

According to the Miami New Times, Symonette was a member of the Yahweh ben Yahweh cult. The cult was led by Hulon Mitchell Jr., who adopted the name “Yahweh ben Yahweh” and spent 11 years in prison from 1990 to 2001 on violating the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. Mitchell and other members of the group were convicted of conspiracy in over a dozen murders. Symonette himself was charged with allegedly conspiring in two murders, but he was found not guilty. During the trial, his brother claimed Symonette helped beat a man who later died and stuck a stick in another man’s eye. The Southern Poverty Law Center called the cult a “notorious black supremacist religious sect” and feared it was growing after Mitchell’s death in 2007. Symonette, who was “Maurice Woodside” before joining Yahweh Ben Yahweh, explained to the Miami New Times in 2011 that he first met Mitchell around 1980, when he was 21 years old. He also said he was inspired by seeing Roots. “I was shocked and I was upset, so I became a warrior against the whites,” he told the paper. “I went insane.” Yahweh Ben Yahweh is still a major influence in Symonette’s life, as evidenced by HonestFact.com. He even includes a disclaimer to show that he was not convicted of criminal charges related to the cult. “BLACKS FOR TRUMP founder Maurice Symonette/Michael the Black Man was found innocent in YAHWEH Case after witnesses admitted they we’re lying to get a good Deal from the Gov. So after being questioned by YAHWEH Atty,” his site reads. “Congressman Alcee Hastings who caught Rosier lying about seeing an incident Sept.17.1983 but could not have seen this because Atty. Hastings proved that he was in Jail between Feb.1983 until Jan.1984 in Jacksonville Fla. at the time of of the made up incident in that never happened in Miami! google this!”

Symonette Also Organized Blacks Behind Obama & Claimed Obama Wanted to Kill Him

In 2008, Symonette made a name for himself as the leader of “Blacks Against Obama.” In an October 2008 interview with the Miami New Times, Symonette also claimed Obama wanted him assassinated. “This was supposed to be an assassination,” Symonette told the Miami New Times. “Obama’s people were behind it.” Symonette claimed that on September 25, he was getting on a bus to go to Mississippi and protest the first presidential debate with 30 other men. A man ran out of the shadows with an AR-15 and grabbed Symonette’s brother. “I bit his leg, right above his knee. He screamed and let the AR go,” Symonette claimed. Symonette told the New Times that two other gunmen came out. He described the scene as if it was an action movie. “I got up and started running in a zigzag, and one of my shoes done came off,” he told the paper. “One of the bullets … grazed my head, on the right side. When I put my hand there, I felt all the blood.” Police did report a shooting and Symonette’s brother Al was taken to a hospital because a bullet went “straight through his arm.” The gunman was identified as Taytreon Edwards, 25, and the two other gunmen were never found. Symonette told the New Times that a friend heard one of the gunmen say, “Where is the guy that Obama wants dead?”

Symonette Said He ‘Completely’ Despises Hillary Clinton

After appearing at Trump’s Lakeland, Florida rally in October, Symonette explained to the Miami New Times why he couldn’t support Hillary Clinton. “One reason is because Hillary’s last name is Rodham, and their family members are Rothchilds, who enslaved 13,000 slaves as collateral,” he told the paper. “She’s also on camera kissing the head of the Ku Klux Klan and saying, ‘That’s my mentor.’ That’s all on my website.” He added, “I completely despise Hillary. I hope the very worst for her chances for the presidency.” Symonette has been charged with four felonies in his life but never convicted. In 2009, he was charged with grand theft auto. In January 2017, he was charged with violating a city ordinance for a noise complaint.

Symonette Once Opened a Rick Santorum Rally & Was Praised by Glenn Beck

Symonette earned the attention of other conservatives before Trump. Back in 2010, MediaMatters noted that Glenn Beck praised him and other “black conservatives taking a real stand in the face of adversity.” The Miami New Times also notes that Symonette was invited to a January 2012 Rick Santorum rally in Florida. Symonette, who was gaining attention among the Tea Party, told the audience that Democrats are “Nazis” in disguise. “The Democrats, they’re the worst thing that ever happen to the black man,” Symonette told the crowd. “They’re the slave masters.” In 2011, The Miami New Times reported that one of Symonette’s nephews, Adolphus, was accusing him of trying to create another cult. “Adolphus is just telling you what he thinks will get him out of prison,” Symonette told the paper.

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#Barack Obama #Donald Trump #Featured #Hillary Clinton #Maurice Symonette #Michael Symonette

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