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justinspoliticalcorner · 7 months ago

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Bill Prutt for Slate:

On Jan. 8, 2004, just more than 20 years ago, the first episode of The Apprentice aired. It was called “Meet the Billionaire,” and 18 million people watched. The episodes that followed climbed to roughly 20 million each week. A staggering 28 million viewers tuned in to watch the first season finale. The series won an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Reality-Competition Program, and the Television Critics Association called it one of the best TV shows of the year, alongside The Sopranos and Arrested Development. The series—alongside its bawdy sibling, The Celebrity Apprentice—appeared on NBC in coveted prime-time slots for more than a decade. The Apprentice was an instant success in another way too. It elevated Donald J. Trump from sleazy New York tabloid hustler to respectable household name. In the show, he appeared to demonstrate impeccable business instincts and unparalleled wealth, even though his businesses had barely survived multiple bankruptcies and faced yet another when he was cast. By carefully misleading viewers about Trump—his wealth, his stature, his character, and his intent—the competition reality show set about an American fraud that would balloon beyond its creators’ wildest imaginations.

I should know. I was one of four producers involved in the first two seasons. During that time, I signed an expansive nondisclosure agreement that promised a fine of $5 million and even jail time if I were to ever divulge what actually happened. It expired this year. No one involved in The Apprentice—from the production company or the network, to the cast and crew—was involved in a con with malicious intent. It was a TV show, and it was made for entertainment. I still believe that. But we played fast and loose with the facts, particularly regarding Trump, and if you were one of the 28 million who tuned in, chances are you were conned. As Trump answers for another of his alleged deception schemes in New York and gears up to try to persuade Americans to elect him again, in part thanks to the myth we created, I can finally tell you what making Trump into what he is today looked like from my side. Most days were revealing. Some still haunt me, two decades later. [...]

Now, this is important. The Apprentice is a game show regulated by the Federal Communications Commission. In the 1950s, scandals arose when producers of quiz shows fed answers to likable, ratings-generating contestants while withholding those answers from unlikable but truly knowledgeable players. Any of us involved in The Apprentice swinging the outcome of prize money by telling Trump whom to fire is forbidden. [...]

Trump goes about knocking off every one of the contestants in the boardroom until only two remain. The finalists are Kwame Jackson, a Black broker from Goldman Sachs, and Bill Rancic, a white entrepreneur from Chicago who runs his own cigar business. Trump assigns them each a task devoted to one of his crown-jewel properties. Jackson will oversee a Jessica Simpson benefit concert at Trump Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City, while Rancic will oversee a celebrity golf tournament at Trump National Golf Club in Briarcliff Manor, New York. Viewers need to believe that whatever Trump touches turns to gold. These properties that bear his name are supposed to glitter and gleam. All thanks to him.

Reality is another matter altogether. The lights in the casino’s sign are out. Hong Kong investors actually own the place—Trump merely lends his name. The carpet stinks, and the surroundings for Simpson’s concert are ramshackle at best. We shoot around all that. Both Rancic and Jackson do a round-robin recruitment of former contestants, and Jackson makes the fateful decision to team up with the notorious Omarosa, among others, to help him carry out his final challenge. [...]

Trump will make his decision live on camera months later, so what we are about to film is the setup to that reveal. The race between Jackson and Rancic should seem close, and that’s how we’ll edit the footage. Since we don’t know who’ll be chosen, it must appear close, even if it’s not.

We lay out the virtues and deficiencies of each finalist to Trump in a fair and balanced way, but sensing the moment at hand, Kepcher sort of comes out of herself. She expresses how she observed Jackson at the casino overcoming more obstacles than Rancic, particularly with the way he managed the troublesome Omarosa. Jackson, Kepcher maintains, handled the calamity with grace. “I think Kwame would be a great addition to the organization,” Kepcher says to Trump, who winces while his head bobs around in reaction to what he is hearing and clearly resisting. “Why didn’t he just fire her?” Trump asks, referring to Omarosa. It’s a reasonable question. Given that this the first time we’ve ever been in this situation, none of this is something we expected. “That’s not his job,” Bienstock says to Trump. “That’s yours.” Trump’s head continues to bob. “I don’t think he knew he had the ability to do that,” Kepcher says. Trump winces again.

“Yeah,” he says to no one in particular, “but, I mean, would America buy a n— winning?” Kepcher’s pale skin goes bright red. I turn my gaze toward Trump. He continues to wince. He is serious, and he is adamant about not hiring Jackson. Bienstock does a half cough, half laugh, and swiftly changes the topic or throws to Ross for his assessment. What happens next I don’t entirely recall. I am still processing what I have just heard. We all are. Only Bienstock knows well enough to keep the train moving. None of us thinks to walk out the door and never return. I still wish I had. (Bienstock and Kepcher didn’t respond to requests for comment.) Afterward, we film the final meeting in the boardroom, where Jackson and Rancic are scrutinized by Trump, who, we already know, favors Rancic. Then we wrap production, pack up, and head home. There is no discussion about what Trump said in the boardroom, about how the damning evidence was caught on tape. Nothing happens.

We attend to our thesis that only the best and brightest deserve a job working for Donald Trump. Luckily, the winner, Bill Rancic, and his rival, Kwame Jackson, come off as capable and confident throughout the season. If for some reason they had not, we would have conveniently left their shortcomings on the cutting room floor. In actuality, both men did deserve to win. Without a doubt, the hardest decisions we faced in postproduction were how to edit together sequences involving Trump. We needed him to sound sharp, dignified, and clear on what he was looking for and not as if he was yelling at people. You see him today: When he reads from a teleprompter, he comes off as loud and stoic. Go to one of his rallies and he’s the off-the-cuff rambler rousing his followers into a frenzy. While filming, he struggled to convey even the most basic items. But as he became more comfortable with filming, Trump made raucous comments he found funny or amusing—some of them misogynistic as well as racist. We cut those comments. Go to one of his rallies today and you can hear many of them.

If you listen carefully, especially to that first episode, you will notice clearly altered dialogue from Trump in both the task delivery and the boardroom. Trump was overwhelmed with remembering the contestants’ names, the way they would ride the elevator back upstairs or down to the street, the mechanics of what he needed to convey. Bienstock instigated additional dialogue recording that came late in the edit phase. We set Trump up in the soundproof boardroom set and fed him lines he would read into a microphone with Bienstock on the phone, directing from L.A. And suddenly Trump knows the names of every one of the contestants and says them while the camera cuts to each of their faces. Wow, you think, how does he remember everyone’s name? While on location, he could barely put a sentence together regarding how a task would work. Listen now, and he speaks directly to what needs to happen while the camera conveniently cuts away to the contestants, who are listening and nodding. He sounds articulate and concise through some editing sleight of hand.

Then comes the note from NBC about the fact that after Trump delivers the task assignment to the contestants, he disappears from the episode after the first act and doesn’t show up again until the next-to-last. That’s too long for the (high-priced) star of the show to be absent. There is a convenient solution. At the top of the second act, right after the task has been assigned but right before the teams embark on their assignment, we insert a sequence with Trump, seated inside his gilded apartment, dispensing a carefully crafted bit of wisdom. He speaks to whatever the theme of each episode is—why someone gets fired or what would lead to a win. The net effect is not only that Trump appears once more in each episode but that he also now seems prophetic in how he just knows the way things will go right or wrong with each individual task. He comes off as all-seeing and all-knowing. We are led to believe that Donald Trump is a natural-born leader.

Through the editorial nudge we provide him, Trump prevails. So much so that NBC asks for more time in the boardroom to appear at the end of all the remaining episodes. (NBC declined to comment for this article.) [... So, we scammed. We swindled. Nobody heard the racist and misogynistic comments or saw the alleged cheating, the bluffing, or his hair taking off in the wind. Those tapes, I’ve come to believe, will never be found.

No one lost their retirement fund or fell on hard times from watching The Apprentice. But Trump rose in stature to the point where he could finally eye a run for the White House, something he had intended to do all the way back in 1998. Along the way, he could now feed his appetite for defrauding the public with various shady practices. In 2005 thousands of students enrolled in what was called Trump University, hoping to gain insight from the Donald and his “handpicked” professors. Each paid as much as $35,000 to listen to some huckster trade on Trump’s name. In a sworn affidavit, salesman Ronald Schnackenberg testified that Trump University was “fraudulent.” The scam swiftly went from online videoconferencing courses to live events held by high-pressure sales professionals whose only job was to persuade attendees to sign up for the course. The sales were for the course “tuition” and had nothing whatsoever to do with real estate investments. A class action suit was filed against Trump.

That same year, Trump was caught bragging to Access Hollywood co-host Billy Bush that he likes to grab married women “by the pussy,” adding, “When you’re a star, they let you do it.” He later tried to recruit porn actor Stormy Daniels for The Apprentice despite her profession and, according to Daniels, had sex with her right after his last son was born. (His alleged attempt to pay off Daniels is, of course, the subject of his recent trial.) In October 2016—a month before the election—the Access Hollywood tapes were released and written off as “locker room banter.” Trump paid Daniels to keep silent about their alleged affair. He paid $25 million to settle the Trump University lawsuit and make it go away. He went on to become the first elected president to possess neither public service nor military experience. And although he lost the popular vote, Trump beat out Hillary Clinton in the Electoral College, winning in the Rust Belt by just 80,000 votes.

Trump has been called the “reality TV president,” and not just because of The Apprentice. The Situation Room, where top advisers gathered, became a place for photo-ops, a bigger, better boardroom. Trump swaggered and cajoled, just as he had on the show. Whom would he listen to? Whom would he fire? Stay tuned. Trump even has his own spinoff, called the House of Representatives, where women hurl racist taunts and body-shame one another with impunity. The State of the Union is basically a cage fight. The demands of public office now include blowhard buffoonery.

Bill Pruitt wrote in Slate that Donald Trump used the N-word on the set of NBC's The Apprentice in 2004 when referring to a Black contestant (Kwame Jackson)'s chances of winning the competition by saying "would America buy a n***er winning?"

This is yet another example of Trump's long record of anti-Black racism that dates back to the 1970s.

#Bill Pruitt #Donald Trump #The Apprentice #Kwame Jackson #Reality Television #Race #Racism #Anti Black Racism #Bill Rancic #Trump University #2005 Trump Access Hollywood Tape #Omarosa Manigault #Carolyn Kepcher #George Ross #Jay Bienstock

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bharv · 5 months ago

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Will you maybe share your Lady Vanthampur HC? 👀👉👈

I can't believe I never got to this in my mad Gortweek posting! But she featured or was name checked at least three times.

So I think (?) from the module she has a bathing house over a temple to the cult of the dead three in Heapside. The cult sprung up after the sundering when the worship of the three ceased to be a formal religion - most Mykulites started worshiping Kelemvor, most Banites went to Cyric, and most Bhaalists grew the fuck up did too - but there were small pockets of hangers-on that kept the faith alive. And because she is the master of the Drains and Underways she truly knows the whole network.

And she's pledged to Zariel, which is also interesting! Unlike Gortash who is a business partner and Wyll who is sort of pledged to Zariel by proxy, Thal is a full on fucking devil worshipper for power. Was she part of the brokering of Gortash's initial relationship with Zariel? She almost certainly knew of his connection to the hells, even if I go back-and-forth on her knowing he's the High Imperceptor of Bane.

But my main HC is that she is fucking no-nonsense, absolute wall of a woman, who shares Gortash's absolute distain for the Patriars and is in a race to the top against him. I would have LOVED her fingerprints to be all over BG3, but alas, it wasn't to be. I reckon her and Helsik regularly share a tipple, that she knows everything about the Bhaalists, whom she works closely with, and that if there's one thing she hates more than ridiculous snobbery... it's a bloody law-man like Ulder.

#thalamra vanthampur #people please share your hcs for her

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itsnotablogsblog · 1 month ago

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GOSSIP AND RUMORS LEAD FANS BAFFLED ; KNOCKED LOOSE AUDIENCE WANTS FORMAL APOLOGY?

Rumors about Bryan and Poppy. Jimmy Kimmel Apology, and the theory on music

This is solely for entertainment purposes only, if you have any theories and or questions about whats happening, feel free to comment down below

Hello! Welcome back to another tea rant.

Good morning! Good afternoon, and good evening!

Today it’s gonna be a little different than my usual routine.

We’re going to deep dive into this music industry, and how many artists today have marketing teams into getting fans to buy their music, albums, and much more.

And the tea about what’s been revolving around Jimmy Kimmel and the audience wanting a formal apology.

THE POPPY AND NOAH SITUATION

Of course, this long rant about people saying they’re “dating” or they’re not “dating” has been for a long while.

Ever since Noah asked Poppy about being in a collaboration, many fans speculate this duo is actually a thing.

Sounds like fans are getting confused.

What more grabbed my attention is the third user who had a very interesting theory.

PLANNED IN SECRECY? A Theory

In their post, they state that Noah and the band disappear for awhile, and when they come back either to drop a new photograph of Noah, or him showing off new merch, it seems to be all planned out.

I don’t know where to start, so let’s start out with the basics, how does the business actually work?

This theory led me to think and process what companies really want. Which is money. I think I’m going to break it down bit by bit into categories. Since this user is being specific.

CATEGORY 1 : LABELS

This is label marketing. The term used for music label industries, in which they want to sell items and sell products for bands

Such as Linkin Park, BabyMetal, Metallica, Knocked Loose, Bad Omens, BTS, anyone that has some type of contract with different music industries.

Now labels, they get you anything in the business. It’s their way to market off of your money for them to sell you what you want.

It’s not a bad thing actually, it’s been happening for decades. So it’s pretty normal for companies to do this.

Category 2: ADVERTISING

In this category, once they have a good understanding and both parties agree to run an advertising strategy or product they usually put it out on social media.

They can advertise a band, making collaborations with a person to help them out and find new audiences.

It’s their own way to market off and get money from their consumers.

Like for example how they did with Poppy and Bad Omens.

Poppy signed the contract with Sumerian for her new album “Negative Spaces”

This led Sumerian find different ways to advertise her in many articles, being photographed with Noah, and being photographed with the group to promote one of their songs.

I’m telling you now, please do not come after Sumerian Records, this is just how they do things and business. It’s normal for companies to do things like this. It’s their job.

With advertising, since each label manager has an employee their financing from, it’s a lot more easy to have them produce songs.

Category 3 : MANAGERS AND PR TEAMS

So as you might have guessed, each front person, has an individual label manager or management and what they call assistants PR teams.

So what do they do?

In short terms, they are responsible for everything, just like the band is responsible for gaining profits.

1. Booking Gigs

2. Negotiate contracts

3. Promote

4. Arrange schedules

5. Broker deals

6. Financial management

7. Advising bands on career decisions

8. Band scheduling

9. Booking and scheduling

10. Securing record deals

11. Attending a bands performance

12. Artist development

13. Branding

14. Career Development

15. Encouraging and supporting their bands

16. Network with other band managers

17. Record label representation

18. Working as hard as the band

If you haven’t seen the movie “American Satan”

In terms it’s like that movie, where a band is wanting a career path into the music business.

So why have managers?

That’s easy to say.

A band can’t do it alone. They need an anchor to support them. In this case management. Management can bring a band together to promote them.

For example, since Bad Omens is the new band and the most popular, my guess is that they signed with Sumerian Records for their talent.

See each label looks for talent or in terms “make the scene”

There’s a lot to explain here, from what I mean by this statement is that record labels look for talented musicians who in their eyes can become very successful in the long run.

As for PR management, their job is to solely focus on making sure they get their band visibility on various platforms. Like social media.

They are also responsible for scheduling interviews, make sure the frontman or lead singer gets a highlight of their performance, make sure they advertise their music. They’re responsible for scheduling tours.

Category 4 : MONEY INCOME

So this leads us to this theory this user mentioned.

Bands just don’t announce a new album or new merchandise until they have or have been set on how much they’re going to sell.

If it’s behind the scenes then i say it sure is dealt with secretly.

Money is a distribution. A lot of it comes from on how many people want to become rich. It’s a huge product among the United States.

In this case we could think of it as the higher ups.

This distribution is normal. It’s used for marketing, it’s used in jobs, it’s used in your day to day lives.

Money nowadays gets us everywhere. It gets us our groceries, it gets us monthly or weekly payments due to working regular jobs and eight hour shifts.

Well in huge companies, like music industries money is a huge deal. It’s a way of making money from advertising and selling products.

But that’s all I know so far.

This brings the theory into if it is actually all planned out

PLANNED OUT IN SECRECY

The user above mentioned that it could potentially be planned out.

I mean planning out every little thing that the band agrees on doing could be possibly the next big thing.

If they want to profit off anything, they have the power to do so.

If Bad Omens doesn’t post for many days or weeks at a time, maybe they’re planning out something big.

But this also revolves around how many tour dates and schedules they have to attend. Now this is where it gets interesting because whether or not we know how this music industry works, it makes a good theory.

THEORY #1: The Band Profits off of what fans buy.

Bad Omens is a good example on this subject. It brought me back to what I delve down into the rabbit hole.

For instance, concerts.

In this particular case, from what I’ve heard from many people that surprised me was the way they profit money from selling tickets.

This can be a good tactic, especially if they want to get fans to buy tickets. It’s their way to make the fans happy by giving them the option to buy merch, buy vinyls, albums, and many more.

THEORY 2: THEY LURK

For instance, this is just an FYI we know that Noah doesn’t have socials, and deleted everything off the web.

Just like Matt Dierkes, Bryan, and Ryder, they have socials. But what do they use them for?

I think if Noah was aware of what is happening around social media, he might be the one behind the Bad Omens official social media.

Maybe, he sees everyone’s comments and posts. To where they might have seen every beef and every rant that each fan posted.

This leads to the theory they might be lurkers and peep at every little detail that comes right out of the social platform.

Maybe Ryder and Matt keep tabs on everything and monitor what fans want.

Could it just be coincidence or is it real?

In the past, we know Noah talked to fans and kept them in the loop for new music and new albums back in 2019.

But after he disappeared from social media, this leads to the theory that he is still on socials.

But we can’t know for sure.

This has lead to many deep fakes and fake Noah Sebastian accounts that led many people to believe they are talking to the real Noah.

If people say to you he’s a real person talking behind the screen, then it’s probably not the real Noah Sebastian. A lot of fans joke about it, but I think it’s just dumb trying to troll other fans that he’s real.

I think it’s highly annoying that this shit keeps happening.

So why do they lurk?

This brings back to the tea blogs on this app, that many people have conversations about. But since they’re just speculations, it’s not something to deeply worry about.

It’s completely normal for people who work with bands have social media. This is another way to get fans and get followers to interact with the band and their assistance.

Whether they lurk on social media, they have known about situations.

They look out for the good comments and bad ones.

This theory also applies to them planning things out for the long run and possibly plan ahead for the fans to enjoy.

This includes their merchandise on their official website, their albums, and more likely their music.

What the fans look for and what they want in specific items, etc.

A band isn’t just people playing drums, guitar, bass, and backing vocals and having a lead singer.

It is a business.

If we understand that what they look for is good then they’ll find a way to advertise it. Planning it out in secret.

I’m not against anyone but it sounds fairly smart for companies to do this.

MORE BUYS = MORE BUSINESS

quality over quantity.

MORE BUSINESS = MORE MONEY

So when it comes to their merchandise, they look for the best quality of products to sell. This includes them making them in a factory where they work with several artists and producers.

Since Bad Omens have been doing this for years, they’re the ones buying the most to get what the fans want.

This is where when they put out their merchandise, fans buy the items and Bad Omens profit from them.

Now that’s a good way to make business.

And no, they’re not using AI to produce these results.

People tend to manipulate others into thinking it is AI, just because they want to start drama.

In this case, they are definitely not using anything related to AI.

That’s why they have the best tattoo artist and comic book writer Davis Ryder.

I think a lot of people tend to forget that they have a tattoo artist in their band which is Nicholas Ruffilo and Davis Ryder, who is responsible for making these designs stand out than most.

I’m not too sure about Jolly. But he does play a role

This leads to Jolly being the second person to help Noah produce and co-write songs.

Jolly and Noah have been doing this for years. They wrote Dethrone together and the past two albums of their launching careers.

Nicholas has been with them since they first met.

Folio came afterwards after finding a good person to play drums.

So for anyone thinking it is AI, it’s not. These men have been doing business since the very beginning of their careers.

Noah knows a lot about this business, since he was a teen.

He grew up knowing his way around bands.

From starting out to play guitar in one of the bands he used to be a part of in Washington, to moving to Los Angeles.

THEORY 3: SUMERIAN RECORDS

So, this leads to theory 3 being Sumerian Records and how they navigate through the music business.

Like I said, Sumerian records is a huge company. They are responsible for everything and everyone.

This leads them to the list of supporting the band.

They navigate their way through social media and putting out what profits them.

I’m not saying it’s bad for them to advertise their band. It’s actually good for them.

This has the best opportunity for the band to get money from the fans and tours for them to entertain. After all it’s an entertainment industry.

If you have seen American Satan, then it plays a role into this theory.

Bands look for what they want for fans to enjoy music.

This led to Bad Omens to support Linkin Park on them starting a new tour. With them bringing Erra, for Anything > Human.

Sumerian Records does support Bad Omens. They’re not putting them aside. If they were putting them aside for not showing them support then it would be the complete opposite.

If you guys remember they are working on a new album and new merch. Just like they did the past few years. Starting from 2019 to current 2024.

CONFUSION ON FANS

So if there is a theory that Sumerian is just doing this for marketing reasons there’s no need to worry.

It’s all part of the process for bands to do this.

There’s been a lot of speculation about it.

But since this is all just rumors and people gossiping that they’re definitely doing this for marketing purposes, it’s basically normal.

It’s not illegal to do.

The good news on this is that they’re gaining more money just by selling items that the band produces and makes.

Making fans happy and making the metal industry entertaining.

But a lot of fans are simply confused if Poppy is actually a stunt artist, that Sumerian put in order for her album to sell.

I think it’s a way to say

CONSUMER BEFORE THE BUYER

By this I mean the company that profits most from a band is that the band themselves is a consumer for the company.

They work with bands, make music and if they hit a million streams on this specific song it goes out to the public before they start buying vinyls and merchandise.

This makes a lot of industries take action and gain money.

THIS BRINGS ME BACK POPPY

If fans think that Noah and Poppy are dating then why isn’t there more publicity on them hanging out together?

From what we’ve seen and heard is that yes Noah likes to keep everything private.

Since we haven’t seen a lot of photos of them together, the rumors on them being involved romantically is a very low chance.

This brings the fact that maybe paparazzi are being paid to catch Noah in photos, with Poppy like going to Jimmy Kimmel.

I mean paparazzi, there’s a reason why celebrities hate people who take pictures. They can stalk you, they can come out of nowhere, they have things organized.

It’s all due to their own management and bosses that tell them what to do and when to be there.

Also journalists and media outlets.

The acting and music industry is big, bigger than any other business out here in the United States alone.

This keeps the fans and the audience guessing if they’re actually dating.

If this was all organized and planned out then the theory of being a secret to the audience might be correct.

Maybe it is planned out secretly.

Poppy alone, wouldn’t be doing this on her own. Sumerian always has something up their sleeve for their contract employees to gain popularity.

Anyways on the good side of things I have more tea to spill out

BRYAN AND POPPY

It sounds like this particular fan is suggesting that Bryan and Poppy are having a thing right after they looked at each other on Jimmy Kimmel.

Also blaming the bad omens fans for being weird?? How does that correlate to them having an idea if the Noah situation with poppy is real?

I mean would you rather get controversial and have the fans come after you?

Also who is this Andrew Davis??

Obviously he was replying to the OG Poster.

I think they’re just rage bait, but I don’t think Poppy would have sex with anyone just because she’s famous right? I mean she was engaged in 2021 I think.

But what about Jordan and Poppy?

Like heck forget Noah and Poppy, like if Jordan was to date Poppy, what would happen to his kids? Is he divorcing his wife? Is he no longer happy in his marriage?

Also this leads to my question if Jordan and Noah are friends.

Also did anyone see Bad Omens on Jimmy Kimmel? Or was it just Knocked Loose?

There’s a lot of speculations, and a lot of rumors.

What do you think?

PUBLICITY AND FAME

So where I left off on paparazzi, there’s always going to be a publicity being made.

In this case we see it a lot more when bands are out in the public eye, and where they are being seen.

If Noah and Poppy aren’t being photographed everywhere they go, then it’s probably because the media organized the whole event. Not just to promote them but promote their work and their brand.

But don’t let that stop you from buying from Bad Omens or Poppy.

In all honesty Bad Omens is a great contributor for letting their fans enjoy music.

Whatever tea blog you have read that said Noah doesn’t care about fans, then they’re probably in the wrong.

Noah wouldn’t create a band, he wanted to create a band, but he wasn’t expecting to get big. Now that he has grabbed attention and fame, this gives him the chance to make more music and more money to his expenses.

Bad Omens makes sure that what you buy from them are good quality. They have a great support system and merch support team that allows the seller to communicate with the buyer if some of their merchandise arrives damaged.

They make sure each fan gets what that they enjoy the most.

JIMMY KIMMEL FORMAL APOLOGY

This leads to my last rant that I recently seen which is that various audiences that saw Knocked Loose on Jimmy Kimmel want a formal apology.

It sounds like Jimmy Kimmel is getting bashed over how many audience viewers complained about Knocked Loose performance on “SUFFOCATE”

Let’s be real for a second, in the music industry there’s always going to be a lot of hate.

But this is tea where some audience viewers just didn’t like the performance.

So I watched part of the clip on YouTube since I don’t really watch television. The performance of Knocked Loose I mean if I was being absolutely honest, it wasn’t good.

Poppy’s moaning and screaming felt like a kid trying to get ice cream from a parlor.

It didn’t really sound so good at all. Also Bryan, could’ve done more to his part in my opinion.

But since this was at Jimmy Kimmel, the audience didn’t like it. So they decided to get a formal apology from either Knocked Loose or Jimmy himself.

I mean if you hated the performance, I think there must have been better ways rather than asking someone for an apology that they brought a good band out there to perform, but if that’s what you think then I’m not gonna question anything more about it.

To me frankly when they came out and sang the song, I could not even understand a word they were saying.

It was like they didn’t even try to sing the lyrics.

Here are what other people have said:

Facebook user recounted the show’s impact on their teenage son, writing, “I was sitting on the couch with my son who is an ADOLESCENT waiting to see the musical guest because we like the nice music the show usually books. By the third or fourth ‘JUNT’ from the guitars my son was in tears. He doesn’t like scary things and quite frankly I think the Kimmel show and its staff should make a formal apology.”

Another “keyboard-warrior” detractor echoed the age-old metal critique: the lyrics were unintelligible, and the screaming was unbearable. “If I have to read the lyrics I’ll just read them and not listen to someone yell them”. Another frustrated commenter expressed disdain for the chaotic energy, saying, “This what not enjoyable. And you can’t understand more than 5% of the lyrics. Moshing doesn’t not equal dancing.” The confusion in their typos only seemed to amplify the melodrama.

A “music expert” went on to say it wasn’t even music: "How do I sing along with this??? Lol sounds just like a screaming frenzy to me!! Actually starting to hurt my ears!! People who listen to this have no room to complain about crying babies or screaming two-year-olds taking a tantrum!! Ha ha unreal!!! They call this music Jimmy??"

That’s a lot of hate.

I think having them collab with Poppy was a bad idea.

Other people can think otherwise. I don’t get why Poppy is so popular when they ask to collaborate with her in particular.

Why do bands like her?

This might seem like a big jump but I feel like they just want Poppy’s attention and time to make a good impression on their album. But with what’s been happening with Bad Omens and them having new bands or new starting artists as fans and audiences, the newer generation of new bands want to be just like them.

They’re taking a big interest on Bad Omens, more to where they are inspired to do what Bad Omens is doing.

All of this is very weird to me.

#bad omens #bad omens cult #spill the tea #poppy and noah #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #jolly karlsson #noah sebastian davis #drama #noah sebastian

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yohohonabottle · 2 months ago

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Potions mishap -Dire consequences (Reposted from A03)

🖋️Summary: Usually his smooth-talk is enough to get him through the day, except this time things went down differently and the situation got...Out of hand. Very out of hand, in so many ways. You'd think he was attempting to fill out a bingo card of 'what could possibly go wrong' that day. Also 'Merlin' happened to be close-by, too. Funny how it's always the two of them whenever trouble crops up, maybe funnier how no matter what- They seem to always inadvertently run into each other at the worst of times. It's like fate has it out for them for whatever reason. [❗] Trigger Warning:{❗} Obsessive, manipulative, love-sick and overall toxic behavior all across the board. Also mild foul language. 📖 Work status: Completed one-shot. (Chapter II is a bonus.) ----------------------------------------------- Notes: Had this brain-rot spawn in randomly, so I gave it the bum's rush. 🎧 Song recommendation: -> Butcher vanity -> Stalker's tango

Just your typical run-of-the mill day in Rustport, the town ever so steadily on its way to getting better, now that the Immortal Fleet are gone and there's no fog or kraken in the way. But change doesn't turn up overnight even as things are several ideas better looking for the next tomorrows. The Water Wights, leaderless now and in slightly more declining numbers, are still a damn menace. I may be a captain and a hero of this dear town now, but money won't pool itself at my feet. Still gotta work, gotta hustle.

It's not like Sonja can keep a hawk-eye on Brineville nowadays either. If anything, her 'free time' is over and she'll be busy drowning in heaps of work from now on, and it would only pile on up higher.

Plus, the newly acquired Chainkeeper is still out of commission and will be in Hugin's care for a while, so no adventuring or treasure-hunting. Which means-- Back to intel-brokering and scurrying for whatever other opportunities that flit into his line of sight or grasp, or both. Today's deal looks to be pretty promising, and after that- A bit of networking, a bit of bounty-hunting, a quick stop at the Golden guest for a drink..

Boy didn't that deal turn out to be a surprise. A not so good one.

As soon he reaches the meet-up point in a back alley on Shark street by the Warehouse district, things swiftly spun for the crazy.

Holding a pick between his teeth, Sinbad reaches into his bag and pulls out a scroll, unrolling it. Names accompanied by dates and places, and notes look back up at him, some crossed out and others circled or underlined with some question marks. Little miscellaneous notes he'd jotted down about each client- Intel he'd gotten from his wide network that he has meticulously built up over the years and whatever info he'd managed to get by doing his own thorough research. Plus what to dig more into later.

One in particular jumps out at him-- A nameless chap going by a pseudonym strictly, a rather elusive one at that. The only thing he's come to know is that the fellow is from the Wights and dabbles in potions or drugs, having gotten hired several times. And yet, each time- It was never in person, always through letters and smaller fry.

Each time he manages to remotely begin to catch a pattern, he's been met with either a dead-end or a massive red herring that makes everything prior look nonsensical.

—"Alright, should be here.. Now, the carrier pigeon should be turning up about any moment." Wonder who would it be this time. -The sailor hums with a laid-back charming smirk, looking up from the scroll as he quickly rolls it up. But nothing out of the ordinary comes up. No courier, no lackey, no boss. Only him and the silence of the shaded corner, the sun high and the seagulls flying overhead. Tucking the rolled-up paper back into his bag and keeping his calm face on, he reaches for his daggers slowly, stance deceptively relaxed but on guard and on-edge.

Taking a leisurely stroll to scope out the place while waiting, Sinbad moves the pick to the other corner of his mouth, taking stake of his surroundings. Still no hair or hide, the hour of meeting is passing, the minutes wheezing by. This is the place, Atropine clearly specified in the letter earlier. Where's that bookie? Nowhere.

Ten more minutes go by which easily string into fifteen then twenty. No bookie or henchman turns up.

Was I duped? Not the first time to happen, but I did make sure to be locked-in when doing my homework. Did I overlook something somehow?

"I'm just wasting my time. Guess deal was postponed or called off." And right as the blond intel-trader mutters this to himself under his breath with a displeased sigh, preparing to leave--

Something darts like a flash, a silhouette.

On alert, Sinbad sharply turns on his heels, ready to fight and about to yell 'Who's there? Show yourself!'-- all the daring street-rat gets, is a glimpse of a person in a high-collar trench coat and a hat. But it's impossible to tell if it's a man or woman under those, and everything happens in seconds, he could barely react at all. A bottle is thrown straight at him, the cork bouncing off the wall like that from a bottle of champagne and whizzes past like a bullet, missing his head by centimeters as he stumbles with a pained curse, dropping his weapons.

Wiping off the liquid from his face and clinging onto consciousness like a drowner with adrenaline screeching like a kraken in his veins, he shrugs off the blow, blinking to clear his vision. But the blasted scoundrel is gone, had bolted like a coward. Bending to pick up his daggers and sheathing them, the tanned man staggers a little but retains his balance through sheer stubborn will. A step, two, away from the crates of the deserted warehouse- His vision blurs and the world spins, then turns black.

It's a few long moments of drifting in the weightless void, that the seaside savant finally comes to. What greets him, is a familiar face of a friend and that voice... It's the sweetest music to his ears. His mind immediately drops everything else to laser-focus on those things alone- the sight and voice, the perfume or cologne Pirin wears, the fancy tailcoat, shirt, the red embroidery on it, sash and slacks- committing it all to memory fully. Like the greatest, most precious treasures. Sinbad has never felt this strongly enraptured--Never needed or revered someone so, very, terribly badly before or had the insurmountable compulsion to keep that person by his side, safe and sound. All to himself body, mind and soul, surrender himself fully with near religious devotion and worship the very ground they walk on, no hesitation, regrets or second thoughts.

Until now.

Until laying his eyes on the best, most lovely gem one could possibly wish for. No pearl, diamond, moonstone, opal or quartz can come remotely close.

No matter what the cost, everything else be damned.

Forever.

—"Sinbad? Sinbad!" -A very much anxious Pirin barks, tone sharp with worry barely concealed, shaking the man by the shoulders with a death-grip. A pang of relief washes over him when the sailor's rum-like brown eyes open and meet his own pearlescent, vision focused and clear. Conscious and responsive, good.

The relief instantly fizzles out the second he takes notice of the look in that gaze, one he's been unfortunate enough to have gotten acquainted with a little too well.

Devotion that goes beyond what's healthy, reverence that crosses far from normal admiration. Fanatic, obsessed. Like that of a maniac. It sends chills down the vampire's spine, chalk-pale face going even paler with dawning horror as a ghastly realization strikes, one that entirely confirms his suspicions as to why a particularly cold feel of dread has been tailing him this day. Something happened here, Sinbad no doubt has gotten himself into trouble like the bloody magnet he is for it. If the glass shards lying around on the ground a meter or two behind his back are anything to go by.. Then it appears whatever was in that bottle, a potion or drug maybe, is causing this state. "..No..." Not this again! For gods' sake not again! How many times would this thing be happening? First it was Valen and solving that problem was a bitch, then it was Soren who fell prey to the same 'plague'. And both times Berial turned out to be the culprit for casting that disastrous jinx. And now it's Sinbad who's affected! How did that wretched clown get his gangly little hands on him?? How?! Each time someone fell victim to this accursed madness, hell was one tiny step away. Waking them up only got harder and more complicated, preventing chaos and unnecessary deaths even more so.

Merlin's hamsters nearly died those two times, the call much too close.

This one won't be all too different, will it? Could be, for worse unfortunately.

Letting go of the blond's scarred shoulders as though slapped, Pirin hastily gets up to his feet from how he was crouched down by the man's side and almost stumbles as he backs away from him. As if stung, narrowly tripped over his own feet. His brain instantly blanks--

Whoever this is, isn't his trusted friend he has been adventuring with all these months while stuck in Rustport. Not Sinbad, no- only a lunatic wearing his skin and voice. It reels as he keeps his eyes trained on the other like how he'd watch a lethal foe. Someone is targeting me. Someone really wants to rattle me, poisoning my friends like this to severely hurt us both in the most sadistically diabolical way.

"Pirin?" -He distantly hears the scruffy young man breathe in a confused tone of mild concern, sitting up and getting up on his feet shakily. The small spike of excitement and happiness a smidge too strong doesn't go unnoticed. "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like this?" Like I'm a madman to be scared of? No answer falls out of his lips, too shocked and stifled to speak, only shakes his head as he keeps backing away. Distance that the tanned orphan closes with steady yet swift strides, a comforting smile on his stubbled face.

It's not reassuring at all. It makes matters worse, somehow makes him look deranged instead of the usual charisma. A monster.

—"Hey now, it's me- Sinbad, your old mate! I'm a friend, remember? Come on, I'm not going to hurt you. I would never want to!"

Almost misspoke there, said 'love'. Whoops! "There's nothing to be scared of." -His tone softens ever so slightly, loosing its light-hearted vivaciousness. But it doesn't dip low enough as to sound threatening or intimate and loving. Adoring. Devoted. No, no. It would only spook his poor 'Little finch', his dear lovely siren, scare him away. Can't have that happening, can we? Instead it's sincere.

—"You can trust me, you know that, right?" Or do you still not trust me at all after all the trials we went through? Do I still seem that unreliable to you as I did on day one?

—"You're not yourself." -The shorter, slimmer man finds his voice at last, uttering the words hardly above a whisper with a shake of his head. Images resurge into his mind's eye, vivid memories of desperately fighting to keep matters under control so tragedies don't occur. Having to deal with his friends' worst tendencies rising and twisting them into senseless love-sick creeps. Potential stalkers and murderers.

How on Esperia he managed to dodge getting assaulted, Pirin has zero clue, but it was a close call. Instead he made sure to steer things right back to friendly, mildly affectionate territory or put distance and shut it down before matters could snowball into unwanted directions.

But dear gods did they made it hard at each turn. If there was any genuine interest and desire prior to the illness, it was cranked up to terrifying intensity of lustful desperation. And where there were none, the curse warped its victim's mind to reach the same result.

"I don't know how you got hit with that plague- But you're not yourself." You're sick. Corrupted.

And I'm terrified of what disaster you'll become.

A part of him wishes to run back towards the baffled, lost sailor and offer comfort- Promise the man that things will be back to normal soon. Gods know how pained he feels right now somewhere deep down, how scary it must be.. to be still lucid and see the changes taking place. Like rotting from the inside out alive, and unable to put a stop to it on his own--Only watch helplessly as the curse keeps on gnawing away like ravenous maggots. The strained look lurking underneath the slowly settling madness is proof, a strangled muted cry for help. And it tugs at his own bleeding heart to be seeing his companion in such a state. The look on Sinbad's scarred angular visage, crestfallen and pleading like a kicked lost dog- It pulls on his heartstrings like playing masterful arias.

Pirin wants nothing more than to pull the weathered intel-broker into a bear-hug. But the knowledge of how the hex festering under the man's skin is ever so slowly but surely distorting him into someone else, into a threat-- It holds him firmly at bay. Rooted in place, keeping a wary eye on how the distance between them shrinks with each careful step Sinbad takes so to back away if he gets too close.

—"Seriously, Sinbad- tell me...How's it that you always get yourself neck-deep in trouble?" -The vampire huffs with a small haggard laugh and a weak smile, attempting to lift both their spirits with humor. Which isn't too far from a genuine question. For all those months he's spent in this rundown coastal town and by Sinbad's side, trouble always somehow found its way to nip at their heels tirelessly without fail. You'd think the adventurous savant is doing it on purpose. And sometimes, that is the case. However most of the time, it happens on accident. A trouble, hazard-magnet.

Problem is, he himself isn't much better in this regard- Pretty much on the same scale as Sinbad.

And what happens when you put two equally strong trouble-magnets together?

Nothing good, that's what.

—"Sometimes I honestly think you're using it as a strange way to 'advertise your intelligence-gathering skills' and draw in clients. No PR is bad PR, right?" Too bad I know better. And already just as neck-deep in this mess.

Yet the thought of leaving this punk alone feels like a bad idea, considering how unpredictable he is with what kind of shenanigans he tends to get into one way or the other. Unlike the knight of Holistone who has always given him the feeling that he'll be fine. No need to worry about him and be on-edge. Something I wish I could confidently say about mister seadog here. Already, Pirin's mind whirls to work on quickly analyzing the current predicament and how to fix it. This isn't about him being Merlin's little helper and substitute, carrying the legendary mage's long-winding heroic legacy. It's a personal matter, about saving a friend first and foremost. The rest being safe from danger is a major bonus, granted everything works out long before any damage is done.

Would it be as simple as 'confessing' like it was with Valen? Or would it be as risky as playing along to get close and extract the curse like it was with Soren? ...Or would it be worse? It's almost as though whoever it is behind this maddening plague is mocking him. Can this even be reversed?

The disheveled young man chuckles at his words, appreciating the gesture while also feeling a stab of guilt and throb of sick thrill. It's comforting, knowing his dear friend cares about him, is willing to flip the world upside-down without batting an eye, just to help him in any way possible. Just as Pirin would do for his other comrades. He could see the gears in his mind rapidly turning, thinking up of a solution and several back-up plans.

Dimly, Sinbad remembers the show-down with the Immortal, when he had managed to use Merlindabest and get in contact with Sonja and Pirin while distracting Hodgkin so they can strike from behind.

When the pale mage had seemingly sassed with him as he asked if everyone is okay, saying he should be asking that. At the time, he had assumed that the 'Magister' was just sarcastically deadpanning, implying to him that he can't be relied upon in the least. In truth, looking back at that moment and disregarding his role as Merlin, Pirin actually meant it genuinely, as in 'Are you okay?', worried-sick.

It shouldn't be such a big deal, that the pale man cares about him, it's completely normal after all. It's what friends do. But by the gods, does the potion amplify and blow it out of proportion. It skews his thoughts and messes him up, fans the wildfires of desire with each second. It..taints the tiny, flickering, embers of real much deeper affection that have recently come to life at the back of his mind and heart. Corrupts them into foul decay of infatuation and bloodlust, plants nagging intrusive thoughts filled with a sickening giddy excitement. Perverted. The last few make Sinbad visibly shudder with a wince. The most scary part is that they're slowly beginning to not repulse him as much, instead feel like something completely mundane. Natural. Appealing, even.

The world is fading away, narrowing down to only one, single thing- The breath-taking angel standing in front of him. Pirin. Perfect, beautiful Pirin. My Pirin. My dear, gorgeous, siren. Only mine.

Oh how he just wishes to run his hands through that snowy, silky hair, feel the ice-cold skin shivering under his lips. Just for a little bit. Imagine those thin, pretty lips screaming his name, claws digging in his back and wanting for more- how wonderful it would be.... But he restrains himself, firmly keeping his hands at his sides.

—"You could say that, yeah. What can I say? Guess not even danger can resist my handsome charm." A small step closer with a shrug of his shoulders, fingers itching to reach out and grab that pretty-face by the sharp elbow; Pull him into his embrace, wrap his arms around that slim form, curved trim waist and not let go ever again. Hold tight, tighter than a python constricting its prey.

Deep down, distantly, the sailor feels a creeping sense of cold dread and helplessness, buried under layers of infatuation and messed-up insatiably intense lust. The desire to fully possess and claim, hide away the ghostly beauty like a greedy old seawolf would his treasure or like how a dragon vehemently guards its hoard, is only growing more and more.

"And it's right on-brand, don't you think? Plus, I know you'll lend me a hand if things get dicey." Still, Pirin's words ring true and cut like a knife through his heart- More so the knowledge that he really is a threat to one of his most dear companions, knowing that he's not being himself. The tendrils of saccharine insanity wrapping around his sinking heart and throat in a suffocating grip like a kraken, drag him under the abyssal waters further. The urge to lunge in hurt, betrayed anger, shake Pirin up, make him see that he is his one and only, burns like a searing brand. Why don't you get it? I'm the only one who loves you, more than anyone else. We're meant to be. It's not that complicated.

The mere thought of someone else laying a hand on the vampire, having his love, make him happy-- sends a tsunami wave of pure, raw, intense rage. It makes his hands itch to grip the daggers on either side of his waist and spill the blood of any poor sod who so much as dares to lay eyes on his Pirin for a millisecond too long. Let alone try stealing the phantom away from him.

Already, simmering jealousy bubbles and boils within him. The way his love had recoiled away from him before he could reach out a hand, really wasn't the reaction he had expected or hoped for. It stung. And it was so nice, waking up with an angelic face looking down at him, cradling him close. The one time he's not being a charming smooth-talker with a dashing smile, and he's written off as a horrible monster. You'd think a vampire, out of all people, wouldn't be quick to judge. But oh well, it is what it is. I'll take it. I've had to make do with far less.

Another step closer. Almost there.

Looking down at the shorter man cautiously eying him and taking a small step back, the look of brewing ire melts away to something softer. Reverence, boundless love and adoration, marveling at the sight before him. The soft, triangular face, the sharp, pointy nose, the thin lips, and those mesmerizing pearl-white eyes with their vertical pupils – It's as if he's seeing them for the first time. And he can't tear his eyes away. For once Tritonus has smiled upon me. The mild scowl of wounded, wary and conflicted uncertainty sprawled on the humanoid's delicate, porcelain, doll-like features easily catches his eye.

I know that look.

Thinking, mulling something over more thoroughly. One, split-second of distraction and hesitation.

The cunning, savvy hustler closes the gap swiftly before the opportunity slips by.

Placing a hand on the other's waist and pulling him close, a legend that he's once heard idly rises to Sinbad's mind as he cups that pretty face - Of a stunning young shepherd man whom was chosen by the gods as their cupbearer. How fitting. The downcast, clear pale eyes instantly snap up to meet his like a deer caught in headlights. Goes stiffer than a plank, torn between attempting to flee and fighting back, or melting into the touch. Gotcha.

It appears the pretty-boy has had developed a pretty hard crush on Sinbad ever since the man had first found him washed ashore after the kraken had ruined his boat. What inevitably set off the events of their adventures like a chain reaction, all the way to facing off against the Immortal Fleet and its leader in one last showdown that ended Rustport's crisis for good and lifted the fog.

That crush hasn't dissipated throughout the duration of those adventures, even as the vampire dutifully played his role as the Magister Merlin and did his best to hide it. Even now, he still fights to wrestle it down, treating this situation as another day of being on-duty and prioritizing his recovery along with ensuring the safety of everyone else foremost. All while shoving his own personal feelings far aside to stay focused with as much of a brave face as he can.

In that regard, he's a lot like Sonja--Serious. Always serious and dutiful, focused on the mission at hand, barely smiles or laughs. Always acts efficiently to cold-bloodedly uproot the problem at its core while thinking of how to minimize casualties down to zero as much as possible.

Too bad the current issue is rather personal. Not much leeway to be 'Merlin' here. And that, unfortunately, is the chink in his armor. All of that, paired with this secret yearning for affection and love, and you've got yourself a weak spot. Maybe that's why he froze up like this, knows he has slipped and left himself open to fire, and it's too late to cover up now.

This is the problem with smart, perceptive and mighty sharp socially-skilled people like Sinbad and Valen. Almost nothing gets past them, whether it elicits a comment or not. It's even worse when those same folks actually know him pretty well, having spent enough time with him to observe and learn quite a lot. Little things like general attitude, mindset, fears and hopes, all the trivial ticks and habits that can help all the more to read him like an open book and make rather spot-on educated guesses.

Shit. I'm done for. He's got me.

A slow, sly grin spreads across Sinbad's face as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends goosebumps along the pallid skin.

—"Well, well, well." -He drawls, eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. "Looks like someone's been keeping secrets from me." No witty or refuting retorts meet him, the other lad mute as a fish and pointedly looking anywhere else but him. It's not like this silly little crush has really been a secret either.

Contrary to playing dumb and being a buffoon deliberately, Sinbad isn't blind. That look of strangled, suppressed, secretive desire and inner war about it isn't new to him, having seen it flash in the haunting depths many times over. At the beach, the inn, at the pier south of Brineville, the Chainkeeper and during the showdown- Every time their eyes met, it was there. Doesn't stop him from poking fun at the poor chap though, pretend to have just discovered this revelation.

—"I had no idea you felt this way about me." Sinbad continues, his voice dripping with seduction. "But now that I do, I'm not going to let you slip away so easily." And then his loose grip tightens, pressing their bodies close. Right away, that lovely delicate face turns a nice shade of red from shame, swallowing thickly with a hammering heart. And, by the god of the waves, the way Pirin's breath hitches and gets a tiny bit less controlled as he leans in ever so slightly- It sends his own heart thumping with anticipation. Satisfaction. His warm breath ghosts over that keenly sensitive ear of his, the claws gripping onto his shoulders try to push him away meekly.

—"You're a different kind of damedangler. Has anyone ever told you that, my dear friend?" A playful nip, and a little bit more of the stoic composure crumples to dust. Ever so steadily like a black widow, the captain spins his sweet web of smooth charm with a silver tongue. Like the poison coursing in his veins driving him mad. The tall sailor plays up his act, turning the heat up. Working up the poor bat and drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

"You could sing, walk me right to my death. And I'd gladly follow with a smile...My angelic siren." A pinch of flattery murmured in a soft lilt that teeters on being husky, wear away more of the defensive walls. And finish it with a pleading whisper of sincerity as though confessing to a sin or deepest secret. "Stay here, in Rustport. Stay with me."

Of course Sinbad knows what he's doing, how he is taking advantage of the night nymph's spark of vulnerability as he used his second of hesitation to make a move and how he's being an underhanded manipulator.

Oh but it'll be worth it.

He'll be sure to make up for the slights in full with no regrets guaranteed soon enough.

The small hands on his shoulders tighten for a brief second like the flutter of a butterfly's wings upon sensing imminent danger. Relax their hold slowly.

—"What, are you talking about Sinbad?" -A weak, strained attempt to put up resistance in denial. How endearing. A tad too late, however.

—"I've seen the way you look at me, when you think I'm not paying attention." His thumb brushes gently over Pirin's cheekbone, a feather-light touch that sends a shiver down the other's spine. There's no need to pull back to look into the clear pearls to see the war between duty and desire churning. It's palpable as the buzzing tension highly-strung between the two of them, and it breaks his heart. Sends it fluttering with giddy excitement.

"How about you let me make you forget about this incident?" Placing a teasingly light peck little under his love's jaw, his tone rolls down to a seductive purr at the end, the hand resting on the shorter man's waist slides under the hem of his shirt to feel the cool and smooth skin.

"I promise it'll be worth your while."

Let me love you. Please, Pirin- Don't make me beg.

Still, the youthful-appearing doll doesn't go under without a struggle, like the whale tugging at the Billy 'O Tea from one of the wellerman's shanties. And much like the captain of that ship, Sinbad was dead-set on taking that whale in tow.

—"I'm not sure this is a good idea..." Playing hard to get, while ultimately slipping right into his grasp. Pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, he notices how the leaner man still doesn't have the courage to meet his gaze- keeping his hypnotizing eyes cast off to the side as though worried someone might walk in on them doing something...taboo, inappropriate. How Pirin has subtly shrank in on himself, uneasy and nervous. Ah yes, the age old dilemma- The rational mind says one, and the heart wants what it wants.

So close to victory.

And once again, the crafty captain dives in, snatching the opportunity without second thought to tip the scales fully into his favor. Sealing the deal with a deep kiss of hot, whirlwind passion without warning. The insatiable, all-consuming hunger for more burns as though melting him from the inside- like the green gravecalling magic fires of the Immortal. Drunk on the taste, high and addicted to the feel of that frigid skin pressed against his own. It's not enough. The frail-looking nocturnal being doesn't push him away, already under his spell and it's more than enough for Sinbad to take it as consent, getting all the bolder with his advances. His kisses are messy, fiery and deeply needy, barely giving much opportunity to gasp for air before reclaiming his lover's mouth again and exploring the form in his arms eagerly. The hand that is cupping the other's face move down to hold onto his waist to both steady and keep him in-place from slipping away like sand, savoring each muffled hum of protest like ambrosia. His other hand slinks up, fingers tracing over the lean stomach and the curve of his ribs, over the planes of his chest like handling a priceless artefact most sacred.

One by one the buttons are undone, loosening the linen garment around the narrow, sharp shoulders, giving a lovely glimpse of the flawless skin, a little tease of his prize. The hardy shmoozer has never bothered to hide his desires for money and treasures, always dreaming of adventures far and wide, but now both couldn't be any further from his mind--

Nothing matters. Nothing, nothing, nothing, only the elusive young man in his grasp. Nevermind how he probably looks like a downright wasted kook or an unhinged lunatic like Nara was. ...Or how disgusted and horrified this mess makes him be deep down inside with seeing himself spiral as though watching a stranger from the outside, so guilty, ashamed. Sick.

A new wave crashes over, the riptide throwing him back under the suffocating effects. Except no compass will save him from this one, left to fight for air, for lucidity and regaining control all on his own. For Pirin's sake, before it's too late and rapidly running out of time.

I'm sorry my friend...Please forgive me..

—"I want to make you feel good." -Sinbad softly murmurs in a low, amorous voice between kisses, nearly breathless. It's true, he's fallen hopelessly head over heels for the quiet, aloof lad since the day he first laid eyes on him --It's not true at all.--however the gnawing hunger had been suppressed for so long.. It's unbearable, bursting at the seams, trickling out like ale from a faulty keg. I want to know everything, all of you. With each kiss and touch, he only finds himself ten times more ravenous as if having been starved for ages. Once again, the vampire tries to fight against the sailor's charm, overwhelmed akin to swimming upstream against a mighty current. Fails. Barely manages to get a word in at all beyond the insistent 'Sinbad!' in objection with the barrage of hot kisses.

With a vexed hum at the next kiss, Pirin finally gives the blond's bare scarred shoulders a firm push, halting the man. Good grief, let me breathe for gods' sake! Damn!

Somewhere in his mind, a stab of bitterness and pain echoes.

For months and months he had waited, sighing over the guy like some love-sick loon but not once were those feelings met.

No, because Sinbad was too busy pining after the Carmine Whispers' leader, despite how the woman has never shown an ounce of interest back. And then the handsome info-gatherer had noticed him and his feelings, despite how much he's been trying to hide them away.

The bitter pain turns to sorrow in Pirin's heart, swiftly igniting to wrath.

Every time the tanned orphan had teased, skillfully played him like a cat toying with a mouse--It was like twisting a dagger ever so sadistically slow, after embedding it deep into his heart. But the flames have long started to die out now, reduced to mere flickering embers in preparation to let go..

How cruel of you to fan them now.

—"Sinbad! Knock it off!"- He huffs out, catching his breath at long last with an annoyed frown on face. Which the tall charmer certainly doesn't take seriously, rather finding it cute. This is no good- Things are going south too fast. How can I veer us back to friendly grounds? Or at least stall enough for the wretched drug to fizzle out.

Maybe offer to go for a swim or seashell- collecting? Make it a game to take the seafarer's attention elsewhere, like the friendly competition and 'adventure'?

By the look of things, the Seaside savant would still pivot them right back to this point no matter what he attempts. Looking back on the events earlier today, choosing to leave Chippy and Hammie with their rightful owner was a wise decision. Those two would've no doubt interfered in a pitiful attempt at saving him and gotten in terrible trouble, possibly get themselves killed instead of escaping with an extremely close call.

At least this way I'll be the only one in hot waters. No need for more casualties.

—"We'll get caught out here." The nerve of this shmuck. Even still, Sinbad isn't deterred, only so much more determined. Instead of taking the hint, he persists stubbornly, dives back in for more. Едно си баба знае, едно си баба бае.

—"C'on Vanya--I'll give you everything you've ever wanted, everything you've ever dreamed of. Just say "yes" and let me show you how much I love you." -The corrupted intel-trader murmurs, lips trailing along Pirin's jawline, fingers yet again find the hem of his shirt. In a single motion, the offending cloth is pulled over the assistant's head and tossed aside in a heap with his tailcoat. Without wasting time, con artist is quick to continue exploring fervently.

"You're beautiful."

With each heated, reverent kiss that the daring street-rat leaves-- along his neck, collarbone, down to the center of chest, over his navel--Merlin's substitute shivers involuntarily. The way Sinbad works his way lower, his callous palms resting on the waistband of his slacks and he traces the fabric as he looks up...It drives him utterly mad- both with rekindled desire and indignance. That old spark he's been fighting to smother suddenly blazing brightly anew much to his chagrin, the wooden floor beneath his back proving some much needed anchor. Worst part is that I don't actually want to resist...I've wanted this for so long....

With a soft sigh through his nose, a wry smile of mild amusement slowly slithers onto the vampire's lips as he sits up on his elbows. Reaching out with a hand, he gently grasps the seadog's jaw, lifting his head a little.

—"Какви медени слова ми думаш.. Почти ти се върза��." -His tone is a fond, softly tranquil murmur if not with a small lilt of mirth and longing as he holds the half-lidded smolderingly wanton gaze evenly. Pirin's grip sharply tightens, claws digging into the tanned skin. And whilst the look in his pearly irises remains warmly serene- his breathless, deathly, tenor adopts an edge of bitter humor.

"Нямаш си на представа колко ме дразниш." And then the calmness, mild amusement falls off to reveal the suppressed hurt anger that's been lurking underneath. Just as the smile fades away from his face. "I've been waiting for months, naively held out hope that maybe-some day- you'd come around. All while watching you hopelessly pine after Sonja, even though she didn't even once show interest back." Letting go of the man's jaw sharply, his claws leave stinging nicks.

Slipping out of Sinbad's grasp like sand or an eel, Pirin smoothly rises to his feet and crosses over to where his shirt lies discarded. Picking it up from the floor and slipping it back on, he fixes up the buttons. Deft, firm, steady hand. The shorter man's voice is.. steadier, more flat as he speaks up again, keeping his back towards the swindler he once wanted. There's still a listless note of pain in it, albeit much more withdrawn than mere moments ago.

—"I knew you were only larking back then, whenever you teased me with empty flirting." For a brief second his tone becomes humorous as he adds in after that. Self-deprecating. "Didn't stop me from wishing you wouldn't toy with me, though."

When he glances over his shoulder back at Sinbad, the hurt is gone. Steeled to affable fondness.

"And then came a point where I finally realized the day I'm hoping for won't come. So I resigned myself to accepting the situation and move on. Still sucked, but what to do? It happens."

And here you are, reopening old scabs all over again.

—"I'm still grappling with toning those feelings down, making myself see you as a friend and nothing else. But I've been getting better at it, slightly. I'll still love you just as deeply as I have before- Just through platonic lens."

Adjusting his tailcoat and smoothing out its wrinkles, he finally turns back to face his friend with a genuinely peaceful smile. Even if a tiny bit wistful.

—"And now you're pining after me, after I finally accepted you only got eyes for the Roses' leader." A chuckle. "Funny how the tables have turned, isn't it?"

Goodbye, my friend.

And then pulsating pain hits, like a sledgehammer coming down hard. Nearly makes his vison blur and swim. It stops, then comes back- just as merciless. The outlaw's hands snap up, back hunching over as he clutches at his head with gritted teeth. The hammering doesn't leave him alone, only pauses for a long second or two before coming back with the same brutal force.

Just where did these come from?!

This is pure torture- The rapidly start-stop cycling of the migraines pounding all over his skull. ..Oh boy, here comes the vertigo and nausea. Yup, there they are. What a horrible hangover. Several minutes pass by with this ongoing sporadic hammering haunting him without remorse. Serves me right for drinking ale like water, I guess. Honestly- Between the filthy water of those rusty old pipes and alcohol? Yeah, no- I'm sticking to ale, thanks. And then it all screeches to a halt-- The pain, the insanity and intrusive whispering voices and thoughts. Like they were all burnt away, letting blissful silence to settle over. Finally, clarity. Peace. Oh sweet, sweet relief.

A familiar voice seeps through the quiet, like the gentle and distant wash of waves ashore. Yet crystal clear all the same.

The words come as a slap and a gut-punch, leaving Sinbad reeling and winded. His hands drop at his sides, brows knitting together into a look of realization. The revelation that the vampire knew about his pursuing of the Whispers' head-honcho, that he kept silent about his feelings for his sake all that time-- It stings worse than the bleeding claw-marks on his jaw. Or any other physical blow ever could. It's mind-boggling and so heart-wrenchingly bittersweet, finally shaking him out of the potion's weak, wretched grip.

Suddenly the envious glances that Pirin threw the woman back when the five of them and Nara were about to depart from the Scandia Isles make sense. When Sonja offered him to be his first mate and he had reacted like a surprised love-struck fool, or whenever the nightly humanoid caught them bantering at the tavern and picked up on the subtle, hopeful flirting subtext lurking under his playful jokes. However not once did the other man complain or make a face, even less made an attempt to swoop in and proclaim his longings. And Sinbad perfectly knows, understands why.

Because above all else, Ioan wants for him to be safe, well, satisfied, and happy.

And if being with the mafia woman will make him truly happy, then so be it. Right as it seemed.

Pirin, the reckless, infuriatingly kindhearted soul he is, is more than willing to let his own yearnings die and become his wingman, and stay as a friend. The peaceful smile playing on the other man's lips and the look of serene, wistful acceptance leave him stunned, at a loss for words with an aching heart. You--!

Never before in his life, has the Seaside savant met someone this selfless. But it makes sense, doesn't it? It's so, obviously on-brand for Pirin to pull this kind of stunts, make great sacrifices in the name of those close to his heart.

There's still a chance to fix this mess, before that fool leaves and disappears to bury his hopes again.

Before Pirin really looses that spark and becomes cold.

—"Pirin, wait!"

Hastily getting up onto his feet, the brown-eyed man dashes to catch up with his companion's retreating form. There are still lingering effects from the toxin running in his veins along with obsession, but to hell with them! (They're so nearly gone. Barely but a tiny speck that gets washed away.)

Pausing in his tracks, the false magister turns his torso slightly to look at the other with a faintly baffled look. Immediately his expression morphs to one of shocked surprise as warm lips crash against his own in a brief, scorching kiss. Two arms encircle him fully into a tight hug, as though the scarred blond is scared he'd turn to smoke and fizzle out. The final blow was most shocking- Three, simple candid words said quietly in a voice raw with emotion, that it cracks. No bravado, no teasing yet full of many things left unsaid.

—"I love you." Pirin blinks, stumped. Did I hear right? I think I misheard.

What follows next throws him for a loop further. A stream of honesty that has never come out of the intelligence-gatherer before, the money-loving man pouring his heart out as though under another spell or potion. With being laid bare like this, he honestly has no idea what to do or say. It feels far too poignant to be merely an act. At the same time, it's not out of Sinbad's league to shed some mighty convincing crocodile tears in order to get what he wants. Just like how he's not averse to being silver-tongued, and concoct elaborate ruses and other questionable methods to reach his goals.

...And yet, he had distinctly chosen to trust this shifty weasel nonetheless on day one contrary to his own deeply-rooted trust issues screaming to do otherwise. That trust has been proven to be well-placed time and time again. Nothing jumps out as malign or false, triggers his intuition.

"I know I've been caught up chasing after Sonja while flirting with you on the side...When I should've seen what's right in front of me much sooner. I thought I could have my cake and eat it too, without pausing to consider how unfair it would be. Forgive me." Hesitantly, the magical creature hugs back. Allows him to go on- Once again places his faith in him without wavering or judgement.

It's all the courage he needs to continue. So Sinbad presses on.

"It had completely slipped my mind that you'd keep quiet like that for my sake. Even though I've already seen you make plenty of sacrifices before." A strained, humorless chuckle followed by a half-lighthearted remark. "Really blundered there, didn't I?" Pirin stays mute as a fish, an air of quiet understanding and compassion to his silence as he hears him out without interruption.

Like always.

Didn't matter in what kind of troubles he dragged him into or how much he bitched about things at times, passed out drunk or needed to be bailed and insensitively pulled his leg-- The 'ghost' remained by his side until the very end. Right from the very start, throughout the entire hellish craziness.

Sinbad had thought the man is just plain gullible, laughing off his faith in him and then moved on. Only to be astonished by the fierce loyalty later on, the humble but fiery spirit and quiet strength that he got to see; the witty sharp tongue and what a fiend the 'frail' night nymph is in action onto the battlefield, pitching in with his own strategies and ideas.

Unknowingly-little by little, that same allegedly naïve shorty became one of his pillars to draw courage and strength from. Find solace in during rough times.

His compass.

The thought of losing him, letting Pirin down is devastating.

—"I was, such a foolish idiot, taking you for granted." I won't make the same mistake again. "You're right--The tables have turned. And I can't imagine my life without you." Taking a moment to compose himself and get his thoughts sorted with a deep shuddering breath, Sinbad pulls back slightly to press his forehead against his partner's. A hopeful smile rests on his face.

If...the vampire rejects him, chooses to leave altogether, then..so be it.

At least he'd know the truth in full.

—"I know I'm making a tall order.. I get it if you refuse to hear me out on this one-And I'll respect your choice either way. I won't hold it against you." The moment of truth, huh? Sure is nerve-wracking. Mustering up all of his bravery, he finally forces himself to face his friend. Look him in the eye as just himself. Just, Sinbad. A flawed, knowledgeable, goofball of a man with his heart on his sleeve for once. Instead of running away from his desires like he's always done.

—"Can you give me one last chance, Vanya?"

There. Said it.

No answer. And then a small clawed had ruffles his hair harshly in a sign of playfulness, making it a far bigger mess than it already is. There's an affectionately amused grin in the shorter man's tone, the edge of feigned disapproving exasperation having no real bite as he mutters- "You really are something, alright."

Looking down at him with a sheepish grin, the sailor scratches the back of his head. Not quite sure what to make of this one.

—"So, uh- Is this a yes, or....?" What greets him, is a devious smirk quickly followed up by a brief peck to his lips as cold arms wrap around his neck and rest there casually. Tease.

—"Did I answer your question, Jolly sailor?" The silly nickname of endearment makes him smirk, certainly noticing how it thematically matches the one he gave. No doubt a playful nod to the Jolly sailor Bold shanty and their own respective backgrounds fitting with the story pretty well.

Everything considered, this incident wasn't such a misfortune eventually. Not bad at all. Maybe I should thank Atropine next time around. —"C'mere-" Hooking an arm under his love's back and under his knees, a small yelp slips from the doll as he hoists him up- It turns to a reserved giggle as he peppers his skin with kisses. The stubble on his chin tickles, causing the slimmer man to laugh, no longer able to stifle it.

Absolutely worth it, the way Pirin laughs-- It's music to his ears. Light, clear and ringing like windchimes softly jingling as they sway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------ 📑 Translations: ✒️ "Какви медени слова ми думаш.. Почти ти се вързах." - What honeyed words you're saying to me... I almost got fooled. ✒️ "Нямаш си на представа колко ме дразниш." - You have no idea how much you annoy me.

#afk journey #afk journey fanfic #fanfic #yandere scenario #oc #afk sinbad #tiny spice #reposted from ao3

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nicklloydnow · 1 month ago

Text

“The Syrian government fell early Sunday in a stunning end to the 50-year rule of the Assad family after a sudden rebel offensive sprinted across government-held territory and entered the capital in 10 days.

Syrian state television aired a video statement by a group of men saying that President Bashar Assad has been overthrown and all detainees in jails have been set free.

(…)

The statement emerged hours after the head of a Syrian opposition war monitor said Assad had left the country for an undisclosed location, fleeing ahead of insurgents who said they had entered Damascus following the remarkably swift advance across the country.

(…)

It was the first time opposition forces had reached Damascus since 2018, when Syrian troops recaptured areas on the outskirts of the capital following a yearslong siege.

(…)

The night before, opposition forces took the central city of Homs, Syria’s third largest, as government forces abandoned it. The city stands at an important intersection between Damascus, the capital, and Syria’s coastal provinces of Latakia and Tartus — the Syrian leader’s base of support and home to a Russian strategic naval base.

The rebels had already seized the cities of Aleppo and Hama, as well as large parts of the south, in a lightning offensive that began Nov. 27. Analysts said rebel control of Homs would be a game-changer.

(…)

The advances in the past week were by far the largest in recent years by opposition factions, led by a group that has its origins in al-Qaida and is considered a terrorist organization by the U.S. and the United Nations. In their push to overthrow Assad’s government, the insurgents, led by the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham group, or HTS, have met little resistance from the Syrian army.

(…)

Syrian Prime Minister Mohammad Ghazi al-Jalali said Sunday he does not know where Assad or the defense minister are. He told Saudi television network Al-Arabiyya early Sunday that they lost communication Saturday night.

He has had little, if any, help from his allies. Russia is busy with its war in Ukraine. Lebanon’s Hezbollah, which at one point sent thousands of fighters to shore up Assad’s forces, has been weakened by a yearlong conflict with Israel. Iran has seen its proxies across the region degraded by regular Israeli airstrikes.

U.S. President-elect Donald Trump on Saturday posted on social media that the United States should avoid engaging militarily in Syria. Separately, President Joe Biden’s national security adviser said the Biden administration had no intention of intervening there.”

“A fast-advancing rebel offensive in Syria threatens to dislodge Russia from a strategic linchpin that Moscow has used for a decade to project power in the Middle East, in the Mediterranean and into the African continent.

It also challenges Russian President Vladimir Putin’s efforts to portray Moscow as a flag bearer for an alternative global order to rival Western liberalism, and his defense of the Syrian regime as evidence of successful pushback against American dominance in the region.

(…)

Russia intervened in Syria’s civil war in 2015 to prop up President Bashar al-Assad against an armed uprising prompted by the Arab Spring, giving it a role as an influential foreign power in the Middle East. It sought to leverage its relations with rival powers such as Iran and Israel, as well as Turkey and Gulf states, to mediate conflicts and claim status as a regional power broker.

(…)

Syria has partly been an ideological project for Putin. The intervention in Syria became a way for Russia to extend its vision of a multipolar world opposed to the Western liberal order, said Nicole Grajewski, fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and author of a coming book on Russia’s relationship with Iran, including in Syria.

“To see Russian planes leave Syria as rebel forces move onward towards their air bases, and their assets in Damascus fall, this would be so devastating for the Russian image of itself,” she said. “It would be akin to a Saigon moment for them.”

Putin’s assistance was instrumental to Assad’s survival, and showed Moscow’s allies far beyond the Middle East that Russian intervention could help push back popular uprisings, said a former Russian official. African leaders began to invite Russia, and specifically contractors from the Wagner paramilitary group who also played a critical role in Syria, to help stabilize their regimes.

Syria holds significant strategic value for Russia as well. The Khmeimim air base near the coastal city of Latakia serves as a logistical hub for flights to Libya, the Central African Republic, and Sudan, where Russian private contractors and soldiers have operated for years.

A naval base in the port city of Tartus serves as the only replenishment and repair point for the Russian navy in the Mediterranean, where it has brought in goods by bulk through the Black Sea. Tartus has granted Putin access to a warm water port, something Russian rulers for centuries before him sought in the Middle East. The port could also potentially connect Russia to Libya—like Syria, a Soviet-era ally—where it seeks a naval base to extend its reach into sub-Saharan Africa. A rebel takeover of those Syrian coastal positions could jeopardize Russia’s global-power projection.

“Syria provided so many advantages at a low cost,” said Anna Borshchevskaya, senior fellow at the Washington Institute think tank and author of a book on Putin’s war in Syria. “Losing Syria would be a big strategic defeat that would reverberate beyond the Middle East. It would have global repercussions.”

(…)

“One way to see Putin’s ambition in Syria is as part of his larger imperial vision,” said Borshchevskaya. “That’s what Ukraine is, that’s what [the invasion of] Georgia was in 2008, and to some extent that’s what Syria was,” she said. “Now in 2024, Russia finally finds itself overstretched.”

(…)

The Russian intervention in the civil war turned the tide in Assad’s favor and helped Iran consolidate its military foothold all the way to the Israeli border. Western attempts to isolate Moscow and Tehran through sanctions have pushed them closer together.”

“For years, Syria’s complicated battlefields have been populated by shifting groups of militants battling a range of enemies, including each other, and proxies backed by outside powers. Iran and Russia have propped up the autocratic Assad regime for more than a decade, while Turkey and the United States have troops on the ground in areas outside government control, and each support local proxies.

News reports and videos posted on social media indicate U.S.-backed rebels, supported by American airstrikes, may now be battling Syrian government forces as part of renewed fighting in the east.

That U.S. backing means boots on the ground. Around 900 U.S. troops are deployed in Syria alongside private military contractors, in what one expert calls “arguably the most expansive abuse” of the war powers granted to the executive branch in the wake of 9/11 — and those troops have, on average, come under fire multiple times each week since last October, according to new Pentagon statistics obtained by The Intercept.

Since the war in Gaza began last year, U.S. forces have been under sustained attack by Iran-backed militants across the Middle East, with the Pentagon’s Syrian bases being the hardest hit. Since October 18, 2023, there have been at least 127 attacks on U.S. forces in Syria, according to Lt. Cmdr. Patricia Kreuzberger, a Pentagon spokesperson, and information supplied by U.S. Central Command, or CENTCOM. On average, that’s about one attack every three days.

(…)

Brian Finucane, a former State Department lawyer now with the International Crisis Group, said the ongoing bombardment of U.S. bases should prompt hard questions in America’s halls of power. “Why are U.S. troops in Syria? What is the mission? What is the endgame? And is this legally authorized?” are the questions that need answers, he said. “The administration doesn’t want to have that debate. Congress also seems perfectly fine avoiding it. And so, the legislative and executive branches are content to muddle along, avoiding their constitutional responsibilities — the need for congressional authorization — and really debate the merits of this conflict.”

THE U.S. MILITARY has been conducting operations in Syria since 2014. America’s bases there and in neighboring Iraq ostensibly exist to conduct “counter-ISIS missions,” despite the fact that the Pentagon concluded in 2021 that the Islamic State in Syria “probably lacks the capability to target the U.S. homeland.”

Around 900 U.S. troops — including commandos from Combined Special Operations Joint Task Force-Levant — and an undisclosed number of private military contractors are operating in Syria. In 2022, The Intercept revealed the existence of a low-profile 127-echo counterterrorism program in Syria targeting Islamist militants. Under the 127e authority, U.S. Special Operations forces arm, train, and provide intelligence to small groups of elite foreign troops. But unlike traditional foreign assistance programs, which are primarily intended to build local capacity, 127e partners are dispatched on U.S.-directed missions, targeting U.S. enemies to achieve U.S. aims.

The Syrian Democratic Forces, a Kurdish-led militant group based in the country’s northeast is America’s main proxy force in Syria. While the SDF fights Islamist extremists with U.S. support, it also battles Turkey and Turkish-backed militants. Turkey, America’s longtime NATO ally, opposes the SDF due to that group’s ties to the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, a Kurdish nationalist militant group that both the Turkish and U.S. governments, among others, have designated a terrorist group.

(…)

The future of America’s escalating war in Syria may face renewed scrutiny early next year. President-elect Donald Trump showed antipathy to the U.S. war in Syria and withdrew U.S. forces from the north of the country in 2019, opening the door to a Turkish invasion.

“When Trump ordered the removal of U.S. forces from Syria in late 2018, there was a scramble within the government to try to figure out what that meant and whether there were ways to walk it back,” said Finucane, the former State Department lawyer. “The Pentagon was fine to pull out U.S. troops from al Tanf because there was really no counter-ISIS mission. But in his memoir, [Trump’s national security adviser] John Bolton said he wanted to keep troops there to counter Iran.”

For four years, experts say the Biden administration has continued this shadow effort aimed at Iran under the guise of a counter-ISIS mission, fending off several congressional efforts to force the removal of U.S. troops from Syria. Last year, a bid by Sen. Rand Paul, R-Ky., to compel the withdrawal of all U.S. troops from Syria within 30 days also failed. “The American people have had enough of endless wars in the Middle East,” Paul told The Intercept at the time. “Yet, 900 U.S. troops remain in Syria with no vital U.S. interest at stake, no definition of victory, no exit strategy, and no congressional authorization to be there.” Those troops may be increasingly drawn into the Syrian civil war in support of their SDF allies.

“This is arguably the most expansive abuse of the 2001 AUMF in the history of the law,” said Erik Sperling of Just Foreign Policy, an advocacy group critical of mainstream Washington foreign policy, referring to the 2001 Authorization for Use of Military Force, enacted in the wake of the September 11 attacks. “We know from Biden administration leaks that the U.S. presence in Syria was part of an anti-Iran proxy war strategy but after Congress started voting to remove troops, they cracked down on those leaks and they said it’s only about terrorism.”

(…)

U.S. troops have, however, been relentlessly attacked across the Middle East since last October. There have been at least 208 attacks against U.S. forces in the region — two in Jordan, 79 in Iraq, and 127 in Syria — according to Kreuzberger and CENTCOM. In addition to coming under fire about once every other day, U.S. troops have been killed or seriously injured in these attacks. In January, three U.S. soldiers were killed and more than 40 other personnel were injured in an attack on a base in Jordan near the Syrian border. Eight U.S. troops also suffered traumatic brain injuries and smoke inhalation from an August 9 drone attack on the Rumalyn Landing Zone in northeastern Syria.”

“Israeli ground forces advanced beyond the demilitarized zone on the Israel-Syria border over the weekend, marking their first overt entry into Syrian territory since the 1973 October War, according to two Israeli officials speaking anonymously to discuss sensitive developments.

(…)

Israeli forces took control of the mountain summit of Mount Hermon on the Syrian side of the border, as well as several other locations deemed essential for stabilizing control of the area.

Lt. Gen. Herzi Halevi, the Israeli military chief of staff, appeared to confirm on Saturday night that Israeli forces had gone beyond a demilitarized buffer zone in the Golan Heights, saying Israel had “deployed troops into Syrian territory,” although he did not elaborate further.

(…)

More recently, the Israeli military has been more explicit about striking sites and people there, saying it was targeting Hezbollah’s supply lines. But the deployment of ground troops beyond the demilitarized zone in Syria marks a significant shift in policy as the first overt entry of Israeli military forces into Syrian territory since the 1974 cease-fire agreement that officially ended the last war between Israel and Syria.

The Israeli Air Force over the weekend was also striking targets in Syria to destroy government military assets that could fall into the hands of rebel forces and are considered strategic threats by Israel, the two officials said.

(…)

The targets included small stockpiles of chemical weapons, primarily mustard gas and VX gas, which remained in Syrian possession despite prior agreements to disarm, according to the officials. The Israeli military also targeted radar-equipped batteries and vehicles of Russian-made air defense missiles, as well as stockpiles of Scud missiles, according to the two officials.

(…)

Israel captured the Golan Heights during the Middle East war of 1967 and annexed much of the territory in 1981. The rest is controlled by Syria. Most of the world views this area as Israeli-occupied Syrian territory, though Donald J. Trump recognized Israeli sovereignty there in 2019 during his first term as president.”

#syria #assad #assad regime #ba’ath #ba’athism #baathism #middle east #arab #civil war #al qaeda #russia #putin #ukraine #iran #trump #biden #israel #golan heights #hezbollah #hamas

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