#but for real we should not sanitize the world because kids might be watching

[charles-leclerc-official]

Personally I think they shouldn't air a driver's radio unless they have said fuck at least 3 times in one sentence

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 3

3. i thought love was a kind of emptiness

Summary: So you’re in love with him. Not great. And you wanna tell your brother about it, but that means coming clean about everything, and you’re not gonna do that! So you’re just gonna suffer, because it’s for the greater good. And you’re not gonna make things weird. Speaking of weird though, how is this even going to end? Colson sounds kind of like a masochist when he talks about it, but there must be a way to make neither of you seem like the bad guy... When this all ends. Which it will, much to your chagrin.

A/N: watch me have no idea about american geography

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit

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For the record, and if anyone asks, when Colson sends you a photo of himself in full Tommy Lee makeup, your heart definitely doesn’t skip a beat. The long wig, the sharp contouring, the eyeliner, it does absolutely nothing for you. You definitely don’t spend a good five minutes contemplating how much you want his lipstick to stain your mouth. Because he’s not your real boyfriend. You’re doing this to minimize the amount of nasty messages you get online. The fact that he’s hot and funny and surprisingly kind and weirdly observant, and god, have you already said hot? Because he tends to walk around your shared hotel room in shorts and little else and it’s really not doing great things for your productivity. 

The point is, all those things are a bonus! A happy little accident, if you will, a positive side-effect of this whole arrangement. Like getting a job and realising that you’ll be working with your brother, who currently is quickly becoming very, very close with your fake boyfriend.

There’s no-one you trust more in the whole world than Douglas, but if you tell him that your relationship is fake, you’ll have to tell him why you’re in a fake relationship, and he’s not above starting an online rampage against people sending his little sister death threats. Which, by the way, you’re not getting a lot of since dating Colson, honestly you might even be getting less than before, so it’s working.

Your absolutely fake relationship with Colson Baker, whom you have no feelings for whatsoever is functioning exactly as intended. 

Except for the fact that when you’re on set, and you see him in costume, smiling, it kind of makes your day. Watching him play drums? He just looks like he’s having so much fun, and you can’t help but be endeared by it! This was outlined as low commitment, high reward, and now your feelings are ruining it for everybody. Well, just for you. Because it’s just a small crush, and he’s your friend, so you’re not going to make it weird.

Which, right now, it isn’t. He hogs the blankets, which you pretend you’re annoyed by, and sets about fifteen different alarms for himself that have you waking up at the crack of dawn so that he can go in early to get his tattoos covered, even though you don’t need to be there until much later than he is. So you grumble into the blankets, and when you get to set there’s always a hot drink waiting for you. 

He’s out most nights, not late enough that he’d need to oversleep to be functioning the next morning, but it’s not uncommon for you to be curled up on your side of the bed, usually scrolling through social media, and he’ll come in, sometimes humming something, sometimes chattering away on the phone. Sometimes he’ll shower, but he always smokes, watching the stars, right before he comes to bed.

Or you’ll join him. 

On the weekends, you’ll grab dinner together after filming, and he’s in his eyeliner, the foundation sometimes a little worse for wear, and you’ll explore the nightlife that LA has to offer, seeing live bands, or going to clubs. Of course, as a famous musician, DJs will pull Colson up into their booth, to play a song or two, and you, without fail, always managed to feel out of place. So you hang back, maybe have a dance, or maybe get a drink, or even just people-watch. You enjoy it, but you enjoy going back to the hotel more.

Tabloids, or the modern equivalent at least, get familiar with your name, and it’s not long before your image starts to change.

About six minutes into a twenty minute ‘tea spilling’ video, the host says your name.

“Now, [Y/N] Booth, DuckDuckBooth, whatever you know her as, has been all over the mainstream media lately because - shock horror - she’s in a relationship with someone with a bad reputation! Because that’s what we love here, ladies and gents; rumours and slander,” the host, a young woman with bleach blonde hair and a thick English accent rolls her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tongue, “so a bit of a run-down for those who don’t know, [Y/N] is a lifestyle and, I don’t know, entertainment industry insider - YouTuber? She makes videos on what it’s like to work all different jobs in the industry. And her brother’s famous? I think?” She looks to a point off-screen, presumably where her laptop was sitting, letting her look him up. “He was in Jupiter Ascending, he was the weird prince-dude; Douglas Booth, and he was in a bunch of stuff that was only really released in the UK.” 

It cuts to a new shot of the host tucking her hair behind her ears.

“So [Y/N] recently started dating Machine- MG- uh, I don’t know how to say it, it sounds wrong coming from me; Machine Gun Kelly? He’s a rapper I think? He’s been in a few shows on like, streaming services? I don’t know, I don’t know him that well, but apparently he’s one for scandal - allegedly.” She emphasises, before taking a deep breath, “and now he and [Y/N] are working on the same project, and have started dating, like two adults who like each other might start doing!” It’s condescending, as if directly responding to some less than polite criticisms she’s seen online, but she shrugs it off flippantly.

“Anyways, I’ve been following [Y/N] for a while, I’ve seen her recent uploads and Instagram stories and such; they’re cute, okay? I don’t personally enjoy his music, but that’s just my tastes, you know? And I don’t understand all the negativity she’s suddenly receiving; you all know she’s an adult, right? Like not just in the UK, she’s over 21, she’s allowed to go out and drink, and be a human being. It’s not like she’s suddenly become a different person; just because she’s not acting in the way your overly-sanitized view of her should, doesn’t mean she’s a different person, or that she’s corrupted or whatever. She’s not a bad person for enjoying herself.”

“Everyone speculating about whether it’s fake or not, like they have nothing in common, well it’s almost like you don’t know them personally; if it’s fake, who even cares, that’s -” she laughs a little, “that’s Hollywood, isn’t it? I think the people hating on her, or on him, or wanting them to admit it’s fake or just break up, are jealous, honestly, because even if it’s fake, it’s a hell of a commitment.”

“Do you ever worry?” You can’t help but ask, it’s late, much later than you know you should be up, but he’s awake too, yawning, looking at his phone. Both of you tucked up in bed, he takes a moment before looking at you. There’s something about the shadow of eyeliner he hadn’t quite been able to remove that just makes him look edgy and gorgeous.

��I try not to,” he answers candidly, “but about what?”

“About people finding out about us.”

“Usually,” he cracks a half smile, “when a girl asks me that, it’s about people finding out that we are together,” and he’s smiling, but you just frown in the dark, unable to appreciate the humour. 

“What’ll they say? Of course you’ll be fine, but I-” you swallow, shaking your head, “sorry, asshole thing to say; of course I care about what they say about you, just as much me, but -”

“But you’ve got a lot further to fall than I do,” he says with a surprising honesty, and you meet his gaze in the glow of his screen light, “honestly I have no idea how this is gonna end, I thought you did.” And you feel your stomach drop. 

How were you supposed to respond to this?! There is absolutely no way you can say what you’re thinking, that you don’t want this to end because you’ve started to catch real feelings. 

“I’m winging it,” you admit softly. Something about his expression softens, but his screen goes dark before you can see it, “I know you’re a good person but-”

“Then you don’t know me that well, Ducky,” he laughs a little, though the sound is hollow, and you can hear him rustling around as he looks up at the ceiling in the dark, “kid, you don’t know me at all -”

“Don’t call me kid,” you bristle, quietly defiant, but he just seems to ignore you.

“I know I’m a bad dude, okay? And if you want this whole thing to end with everyone thinking I’ve broken your heart, then do it, I’ve been through worse. I’ve done worse; if you wanna just worry about yourself, you can.” 

“So it’s black and white; I’m red riding hood and you’re the big bad wolf? That’s how we end this?”

“You think in fairy tale analogies,” he huffs an almost disbelieving laugh, “I’m just saying that if you didn’t have to be with me, you wouldn’t be; you wanted scandalous but not a scandal, I get it, okay? I’m good at that; good at both, actually, but I guess you’re cute enough that you can pick one and not the other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap, feeling angry, almost betrayed by his callous words. In the dark, you can make out the shape of his silhouette against the stars.

“You’re all clean and shiny and shit, you’ve got a philanthropist big brother, and a life in the entertainment industry without the actual pressure of being an actor, and yeah, YouTube is hard, I get that, now more than anything else, watching you ‘s definitely given me a new appreciation for the effort that goes in, but -”

“But what? It’s not a real job?”

That shuts him up fast. 

Fuming in the dark, you clamber from the bed, and head onto the balcony, slamming the door behind you. The night air is cool and crisp against the warm anger bubbling just beneath your skin, and you take a few deep breaths. Why you’re out here, you’re not sure; you should have gone down the hall and stayed with Douglas, but here you were, cooling off on the balcony. 

You’re in his seat, the seat he always sits in to smoke before bed, and it feels strange, but you’re not going to give up the seat, even as he opens the door. He doesn’t look at you, instead, he leans against the railing, looking out at the ocean glittering with stars.

“I wasn’t -” he starts, before sighing, “fuck, I know it’s a real job, okay?”

But he’s met with silence.

“I was gonna say - fuck, there’s like, a quote thing someone once told me, I think it was Shakespeare or some shit - there’s more things in Heaven and Earth, you know, than are dreamed in your philosophy.” He paused, “I’m dealing with more than just your shit, you know? Every fuckin’ person wants to hate me right now; your shit is small fish, Ducky. If you’re not getting hate, then it’s worth it, okay? And after all of this, I’ll still be averaging the same amount of hate as I always get, not that I give a shit. It’s pebble in a stream stuff.” When again, he’s met with silence, he sighs gently, hanging his head, before heading back inside, though he doesn’t close the door.

On your own, for only a moment, you feel your insides twisting, frustrated at overreacting, heart warming at his words, just a little. 

“Pebble in a stream stuff?” You ask quietly, when he joins you once more, this time with a joint and his lighter.

“Immutable,” he says, voice flat as he focuses on lighting up, before taking a long drag. After a moment of holding the smoke in his lungs, he breathes out, watching it as he speaks, “like a river, if you throw a pebble in, it creates a ripple, but the current always corrects itself. No matter what you do, the river just keeps flowing in the same direction.” 

“Deep,” you muse.

“It’s from X-Men,” he responded, and there’s a beat, before the two of you break out into laughter at the absurdity of it all, of his philosophical ramblings being ripped from a comic book movie, of the idea of the two of you ever getting into this situation in the first place.

When the laughter dies down, you find yourself smiling at him, watching him while his grin is turned up to the stars.

“You say I don’t know you, even though we’ve been doing this for almost a month and a half now; I wanna know you,” you tell him as genuinely as you can manage in your tired state, and he turns to you with an unreadable expression, and you catch yourself before you act on the fluttering in your chest, “to make it more believable.” You add, and he nods, and his gaze goes back to the sky; if it was a little disappointed, you try not to think about it too hard, “so you don’t like cutesy dates like fairs, what do you like?”

Licking his lips as he thinks, he finally turns to you, eyebrow raised.

“Honestly?”

Why does his gaze right now make your pulse race?

“Honestly.” You dare not break his gaze.

“I like going to clubs with you, to see bands and shit,” he tells you, and... oh, you weren’t expecting that. There’s that soft, unreadable expression again, though he seems endeared by your genuine surprise, “but I sometimes get the feeling that you feel, uh, out of place?” He seems concerned.

“I mean, not really, it’s fun and all!” You try, but he gives a smirk.

“You don’t have to sugar coat it -”

“It’s sticky, and it feels weird with all the dudes trying to grind up on me when I’m like, meant to be with you. I always feel like someone’s about to pull out their phone, snap a photo and accuse me of cheating.” You blurt out, and Colson’s expression turned from surprised to amused.

“Stick with me then -”

“I don’t wanna be a bother; I’m not a music person, I shouldn’t be in like, a DJ booth I don’t think.”

“You’re with me, you can go wherever you want.”

The night is cool and crisp, and he’s got an early start, but the two of you sit out there, talking, laughing, actually getting to know each other. He tells you all about Cassie, about how proud he is of her, how much he misses her, and how proud she is of him in turn. You, in turn, tell him stories of yourself and Douglas from your childhood, of how he’d always been your biggest fan, and your first defender, and how you’d been to all of his premieres. At this, Colson’s eyes glaze over a little, lost in thought.

“I have no idea how this is gonna end,” he says gently, before looking to you, “but whenever you wanna call it quits, say the word.”

But you hear I’m read to cut and run at any moment, and you know it’s selfish, but it’s not what you want to hear.

“Thanks,” you respond, with a small smile instead, “same to you; don’t just stick around for my benefit,” you try to laugh, but it doesn’t quite come out right. It’s quiet after that, though it had to be said, and it’s not long before the two of you go to bed.

It’s a turning point, it’s where you start to really try to get to know each other, rather than just being around each other. Maybe it’s just hope, but it feels a little more real with each day that passes.

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today we’ve got a very special guest! And if you’ve read the title of this video, you know who it is! That’s right, my boyfriend is going to try and teach me the basics of drumming!”

The comments of the video tell you that you both look so happy, look so cute, look so in love.

“You’re a good actor,” Colson tells you, as if he believes the starry-eyed looks you give him are a carefully calculated ruse. You, on the other hand, feel like a fool only moments from being outed as being in love with your fake boyfriend, which was ridiculous; he’s the only person who needs to believe it’s a ruse after all.

Even Douglas tells you the video is good, and suddenly you’re starting to feel like an asshole for lying to him for so long.

But it’ll work out. It has to. And neither you nor Colson is gonna be the bad guy. Because he’s not, no matter what he says .

He keeps buying you hot drinks if his alarms wake you up, and he keeps you close whenever you go out, and he gives you a blanket whenever you fall asleep in his trailer during breaks, and -

“Has Duck ever told you about how she found a frog when we were little, like a live frog,” Douglas was grinning over lunch, while you were slowly becoming more embarrassed by Colson's side, your forehead pressed to his shoulder as your brother recounted one of his favourite stories, “and she named it after me, because she was always a bit of a menace, but it got free, and mum and dad almost lost their minds when she came crying about how ‘Doug was missing in the woods!’” He grinned, both fond and a bit sharp, “they only realised she was talking about the frog when I joined the search party after getting home from a friend’s house.”

You heave a sigh, but Colson gives you a gentle, reassuring pat.

“No, that’s fuckin’ adorable, but no she hadn’t told me that; but I had heard about how you made the both of you duck costumes for your school’s Halloween,” and Colson gives him a toothy grin as Douglas flushes with embarrassment, though he seems endeared by the nostalgia of it all, “primary school, was it?”

“Not Halloween, it was a book fair,” Douglas corrected, and you surfaced finally, leaning into Colson, who wrapped an arm around you, and you level a soft smile at your brother, who returns one in kind, before his gaze flicks to Colson’s, and back. A smile. A nod. A silent approval. Fuck, you hate lying to him.

But you’re not above a little white lie to the internet for some advice.

r/AmITheAsshole posted by u/idkquackythrowaway

AITA for falling for my fake boyfriend and lying to my best friend about it?

So hello, throw away account because if either of them find this, I’ll be mortified and have to run away to canada and live as a goat farmer.

So I started ““““dating”“““ my “”””boyfriend””””, let’s call him C, a few months ago, because all of our friends kept accusing us of dating, and it was easier to just go along with it than deny it - there’s a lot of extenuating circumstances here; and yes I have issues lying to my friends, but I can deal with it for the greater good. It’s better for C and me in the short-term anyways.

Anyways so my best friend, D, is someone I’ve never lied to, we’ve always been so incredibly close, but now he’s getting to be good friends with C too, and approves of the two of us, but I’m just worried he’ll be betrayed if I tell him it wasn’t real.

Also, I might have real feelings for C, which he Does Not Have for me, so I feel like I’m betraying him too, by pretending that it’s not fake. ANd I wanna tell D about this, but then I’d have to come clean about everything, which....... its a lot. 

So Am I The Asshole for catching feelings in a fake relationship, and lying to my closest friend about it?

[324 comments]

The reaction is mixed.

And mostly unhelpful.

A lot of people are calling you the asshole, which, ouch, but you had kind of already come to terms with that. A lot more people, however, are just abstaining from making judgement, considering there was definitely more to the story. You’re not sure how to deal with those comments; you want to defend yourself, or give more context, but you also know you absolutely cannot. 

Eventually you decide to come clean.

“I’m in love with Colson.”

About the wrong thing. To the wrong person.

Douglas blinks slowly at you, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“Really really.” You sigh, with an air of defeat, though this has him frowning, putting his fork full of pasta down. 

“What’s wrong, did he do something?” Douglas is playing the protective older brother, just as he has done for as long as you can remember, but it’s all you can do to shake your head.

In truth, Colson’s been fucking perfect; despite his reputation, he’s a fantastic - fake - partner. Perhaps it’s that you work together, so he doesn’t have to find a distraction outside of his main focus. 

“Duckling,” Douglas says it so gentle, taking your hand over the dinner table, “I’m happy for you, as long as you’re happy.” And what can you say to that? Another lie? You feel like you’ll be ill if you let another lie pass your tongue in front of Douglas.

“I love him,” you say, weakly, and you feel your eyes misting at the implication, the reality of your words. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I-” you choke on your words, and tears start to gather, threatening to spill, “I think I love him more than he loves me.” It’s not a lie, but it’s enough for Douglas. 

“I’m sorry,” he sounds so genuine, holding your hand tight in his, finishing dinner, and taking you both back to the hotel. He does the only thing he can think of to cheer you up; put on a movie on his laptop and wrap you up in blankets like he would when you were kids. The movie’s a little outdated, but he’s trying, and that alone makes you feel a little better. 

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today we’ve just got a low-effort video, it’s just a top ten comfort movies from childhood that survive a modern rewatch! As decided by me and Douglas!”

Filming is set to move locations soon, from being on-location on the Sunset Strip to a back-lot about an hour away, somehow closer to the hills, and you feel like you can hear the ticking of a clock counting down.

“When filming’s over, we can end it if you want,” you tell Colson as you’re packing up your suitcases.

“Oh,” he seems surprised.

“Oh?”

“That’s soon,” is all the clarification he gives, but he doesn’t sound happy about it, “are you sure?” 

“I mean, I don’t wanna outstay my welcome,” you try to joke, but he makes a noise that you can’t quite decipher, “what?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Just thought it would maybe go until the premiere.” He admits, and you pause, actually surprised at his words, and he clears his throat, “it would be weird seeing you there if I was with someone else, right?”

“Right,” you muse quietly, before going back to folding your clothes, “that’s a year away still, I’m pretty sure.” You tell him, and he hums, but doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Well I’ve got a few events before then I need a date for,” he says, noncommittally, “and we’ll see each other before then; if you wanna be convincing you can crash at my place if you wanna, in The Hills, at least for a bit, if you ain’t got anything else to do sort of thing,” he actually sounds a bit hesitant, and you swallow hard, before letting yourself smile, pleased.

“I think you like having me around.” When you look at him, he’s trying to hide a smile of his own.

“'course I do.”

[dayables]

4 and Shin? That's a dark one, but you write him well so I'd trust you with it. If you want something lighter instead, 17 for Shin!

Thank you for asking this! As you can see, I got into a very deep ramble about his life pre-death game and it doesn’t really tie in but I’ve kept it there :)  The last few parapraghs are the actual answers ahaha. Play some sad music in those paragrapths because I nearly cried with halloween music in the background.    4) What they would do if they had one month to live.   If Shin had one month left to live? We see it in the game kind of. Or at least kind of. Obviously imitating your ‘scary friend’ most likely abuser to try and turn everyone against your biggest threat isn’t going to work in real life. 

What the game and his 0.0% score does tell us (or heavily shove in our direction so we infer it) is that Shin is petrified of certain death to the point of desperation.

I do believe/headcanon that he is a very logical person. Almost everything he does is backed up by logic in the death game except for his last moments because screw logic that’s never worked before.  (The opposite of Keiji who’s likely very emotional until his potential last moments but this isn’t about him). So the question is, when did Shin’s last moments begin for him?  As the player, it’s when it’s that final choice between him and Kanna. To Shin this is likely a very different response. His last moments start the very second he gets told he’s doomed to die. Almost all of Shin’s choices in the game are emotional. Trusting Sara or at least earning her trust is the logical choice here. Making yourself her enemy because you are scared is the emotional one. He just lies to himself on the basis that she’s untrustworthy. Which, you can trick yourself into believing is logical.  It triggers a kind of flight or fight response in all our characters when they realise they can die here. All the cast barr Shin choose to fight and try and escape. Shin chooses the flight option here. Nothing he does actually prevents his death in the end. He just runs away from the inevitable doom. 

 I am once again inferring by comparing him to rest of the cast the death is a deep rooted trauma (and I definitely have thoughts on why). While the concept of death is one that scares everyone, no one seems to revel in it the way Shin does. He is living an incredibly safe life. A free lance programmer (by the sounds of it)  which earns an average of £60 an hour. He has a side job at a convenience store (that wasn’t a lie). He doesn’t leave his apartment much meaning he doesn’t have much of a social life. Shin is in a position in life where it’ll be near impossible to hurt him. Obviously he isn’t earning 60 quid an hour, but he has the potential too. Once he’s set up and successful, he’ll be able to die old. Alone, maybe not happy, but old.  For a guy likely in his early to mid twenties, things are bound to change but only as much as he lets them. From one person who will happily spend all their life in their own company to another, Shin isn’t going to change that. Not when he’s too scared to let someone past arms width and will avoid doing so. By the time he gets his game together and his skinny self to therapy it’ll likely be too late to make the same connections he has the chance too at his current age.  It’s not emotional because even the most introverted of introverts desires a life all alone. It’s a logical one for the fears and life he has. I don’t think that means he isn’t happy. It just thinks there’s a potential that he could have been happier. 

For Midori to have gotten as close as he was and no one to pull up the red flags his friends either didn’t care or didn’t exist. Most likely the latter seeing as he is very much in the process of mourning three years after his friends death. He likely wasn’t close enough to his parents to feel he could go to them over something as silly as Midori’s death. In the aftermath, Shin will be confused and muddled. In some ways, he’ll be elevated because he is free, he can move on. In other ways he’ll be lost, devastated and empty. Shin will also have a semblance of independence back. He doesn’t think he shows enough gratitude to his parents for materialistic items. Midori’s abuse was likely emotional or verbal. It probably consisted of vague threats, put downs, anger, power dynamics and a shrug at Shin’s emotions. I’m in no way a professional but after years of this Shin is going to think his emotions are something he should be able to handle himself, something he might not be able to do if he started to repress them in his teens. Shin likely has a warped sense of independence. Instead of being free from others control, he’ll likely think it means he can’t get help and must deal with everything alone. 

Being told that his death is round the corner strips two things that he values most away from him. He now has zero control over his life and worse, it ends with him dyeing. Shin would grasp for straws to have that independence back and therefore escape his own death. If he couldn’t get his independence back then he’ll try and avoid the end outcome. 

His last month would be a goose chase to avoid death. There’d be a list of everything he has to do. Fuck his jobs, fuck debt he needs to get to the hospital. Get checked up! Make sure he’s well. He’d do it everyday. Does he have enough medicine? Wet wipes, stock up on healthy food, hand sanitizer? Does he have enough hand sanitizer? Make sure his room is squeaky clean, don’t let anyone in, don’t answer the phone. Bolt the windows and live off ramen and debt for the rest of the month. Beanie on, beanie off, what is he going to die from? Has he prevented any possible cause? He’s forgotten to call his parents. That’s fine because he shouldn’t be dyeing anyway. It’s logical. It’s all logical. This is not his fear of death speaking through everything he is doing is logical! Now he just needs to figure out what’s causing this all? How did that person know? Then on the last day. He’d just give up. He’d finally pick up that phone and call his parents. He’d thank them and explain. He’d apologize for the debt because he’s swimming in it then he’d hang up. Shin would then proceed to cry in bed all day and trying to sleep so he just doesn’t wake up.  Then, while it’s a tragedy, I think he’d accept it. I don’t think he ever really thought he had a chance but his emotions drove him round and round in circles. Maybe he would regret his whole life and look back on it all. In a none death game scenario Shin seems like a brooder. He doesn’t have Kanna to live for so he has no reason to push forward. I think in the end he’d reach the conclusion his life was pretty pointless. Just as he’d slip from consciousness I imagine he’d think of Midori. Nearly everything we know about Shin seems to revolves about Midori . We, the player, never know him before the guy entered his life. That guy has a big impacts in his life and in a world where that was the only person to leave such a big mark? I think he’d go back to Midori. Especially with nothing to distract him from his mourning. 

It’s quite sad really. He lets his fear control him too much. Midori controls him too much and they’re both aware of that fact. But in the short, Shin would try and avoid his death. Hell he’ll likely die of exhaustion or caffeine overdose

His ending in the main game, I think that’s the best way Shin could have gone at that age. Dying for Kanna and letting go of his cynicism. 

Ending this off with 17 because I need that jokeness now, after all that. 

17) What would they sing at Karaoke? 

Everyone expects Shin to like bang out with some Beyonce or something. Maybe one of those silly little disney parodies. Everyone would make a joke about what he should sing because he’s indecisive as hell. 

Keiji Kai and all of those mature adults suggest Single Ladies,  Mr. Brightside,  Fireworks, Wannabe because classic Karoke songs you actually have to be able to sing when Shin 100% can’t? Count them in! 

Midori would suggest something embarrassing he knew wouldn’t even be funny to watch. Just painful. 

Gin, Sara, Reko and Alice are snickering behind their hands as they suggest Poor Unfourtunate Souls,  How Bad Can I Be (Alice ended up doing that one), The oogie boogie song and the price Ali reprise. 

When he refuses Sara refuses to let him get away with not being painted as some corny villian and dedicates her singing of Cruella De Vil to him.

Then Kanna taps on his shoulder and tells him what to sing and A: It’s Kanna’s suggestion B: It’s not and a bonus C if he’s drunk: He gets to whack a certain police officer and teacher with a hockey stick. 

And my inner theatre Kid shines through as he I say Shin sings Revolting Children and can’t get his letters write, drunk or sober. 

‘R e v o t l i n !’  instead of ‘ R E V O L T I N G’ 

‘S P L L!’ instead of ‘ S P E L’ 

‘TOO LATE FOR YOU?’ Instead of  ‘ 2-L-8-4-U ‘

I kid you not I have knows this song for years and I still struggle. You can not do that spelling rhythm first time. 

Also the lines. The lines!   We will become a screaming hoard.//Take out your hockey sticks and use it as a sword.// Never again will we be ignored.//We'll find out where the chalk is stored// And draw rude pictures on the board.

It’s such a childish song but it’s so hard. He struggles and struggles and one day he will get it because it’s so simple and why can’t he do it roght! Also, it suits him. Sue me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6PXm34OBP8

[goron-king-darunia]

@hannikka Regarding a comment on this post. “i know this ask has nothing to do with me, but i will be honest with you, before you said to take this with a grain of salt i was going to fight you XD (not really, but still XD) because i definitely and actually fell in love as in real lovewhen i was very young and it lasted years, so i was horrified for a moment, but then again like you, said our experiences are not universa” Again, like I said, I have not been a child in a very long time and I am demisexual so my threshold for attraction is VERY different from the standard. I can only speak from my experiences as a child and what I’ve seen regarding other kids I’ve worked with. It’s not impossible to fall in love, real genuine love, as a kid. I just think that’s VERY rare for it to happen and it seems to be the exception rather than the rule. Obviously this is anectdotal rather than data driven and even then, in the USA, narratives involving children and romance are heavily sanitized because in the USA implying that children are people with feelings like adults is very scary strawberry territory for censors because god forbid we imply children are complex people. Even worse if we imply children and adults can be friends, good heavens. The USA tiptoes around intergenerational friendships like a plague corpse in the street because if something even remotely resembles pedophilia, it’s BAD. Like, the USA buries that shit so hard, to the point where when the Professor Layton games came out I was confused for the longest time about what relation Luke had to Layton because in the USA one does not simply just have a grown man mentoring a young boy that isn’t his son or a blood relative of some sort. Like... there were memes about Layton being a guy that kidnaps orphans because that, for some reason, seemed more probable than the actual explanation which is that Luke is the son of one of Latyon’s close friends, and he and Luke bonded over solving a mystery together in town. Hell, even Layton being adopted was kind of a revelation for me when that showed up in the narrative because the USA had a BAD track record of underrepresenting non-traditional family structures. So I’m sure my view on children is partially cultural as well. The USA doesn’t want to admit it but we’re STILL barely out of that old phase of “children should be seen and not heard” bullshit of treating kids like extensions of their parents and swung right around to some weird other extreme of “if we even acknowledge kids at all, we either make them wise beyond their years or infantalize them to hell and back because what even is a child anyway? Baby? Yeah, we know what that is. Helpless cinnamon roll that can never do anything bad ever. Teenager? Yeah we know what that is. That’s like that weird stage of development where you’re like an adult but with now power and lots of feelings and you’re terrible with everything. IDK if I just grew up overly sheltered (which is probably the case) but like... seeing all these new shows on Netflix that acknowledge that teenagers have sex feels... transgressive somehow. Like, I LIKE that we’re acknowledging it. Because we’ve known for ages it happens and clearly doing pearl-clutching and trying to pretend it doesn’t won’t stop teen pregnancy. But it feels so terribly RECENT that we’re actually not actively shoving that under the rug. The Lion King (the good animated one, not the CG one) firmly cemented in my head when I was a wee baby watching it that “friends” and “lovers” were separate categories (even though Nala and Simba are a couple, LOL) because like, yeah, thinking about getting married to my best friends was WEIRD (even at a time in my life when a lot of my friends were boys. XD) So I was totally with Simba when he was like “Ew, I can’t marry her! She’s my friend!” It’s really only been in recent years that the idea of friendship and romantic/sexual relationships aren’t mutually exclusive has become mainstream. Or at least, it’s only recently that I aged into a group where these stories were targeted. IDK, I feel like I’m getting into the weeds here and talking in circles. But the point is YES, I am totally only speaking from my own experiences here, I am 100% not an authority, I am only giving an opinion, and my opinion is largely shaped by experiences and media that are not universal by any means. XD. I was relatively sheltered, have conservative parents, was a neuroatypical child and still am neuroatypical as an adult, turned out to be demisexual which is pretty different considering most of the world is some flavor of allosexual, an I grew up in the USA where basically the only acceptable adult/child relationships are parent/child and teacher/student (and if you’re a teacher you’re on thin fucking ice, fucking YIKES) because the USA treats every other possible interaction between an adult and child as highly suspect. The only factors I have mitigating these views is that I’ve worked with kids and took developmental psychology in college. So I am aware children are a lot more complex than the culture in the USA gives them credit for being. Children aren’t some weird alien species. They’re largely just very tiny adults with very little power/little ability to act on their agency and very little experience. I have met 10 year olds I would trust more than I trust myself, honestly. Kids that are more mature than me and just... understand things I would definitely NOT have at the same age. So, like, again, I’m not saying it’s impossible for kids to fall in love. I’m just saying that usually kids aren’t concerned with that, and when they ARE, they’re usually practicing the particulars of love. but this is just from my own childhood and my limited experience working with grade school kids. Kids I worked with were far more interested in friendships than romances, and as a kid, my romantic interests were, like, Link from Ocarina of Time and I couldn’t decide if I liked fucking Knuckles the Echidna as a dad or as a boyfriend and I think I settled on dad material because I have an old old old illustrated story that I might have even uploaded here where Knuckles is my dad. XD So, like, for real, take my opinions with a FAT grain of salt because I am literally just a goofy goober and have been in exactly 2 romantic relationships and one of them only lasted a year. XD (The other is basically from college until now which is practically 10 years, but also largely long-distance so, like. Definitely not the usual experience. XD) But also, for real, if I say something controversial, weird, or just plain wrong, you can 100% feel free to fight me because I am an idiot and I say dumb shit all the time. That one debunked post that went around about the “Azhar Library bombing” is a big case in this. XD I am basically an educated adult child. I know some things, but more than anything I know enough to realized that I actually know VERY LITTLE and my whole life should be a learning experience. So I am absolutely not opposed to being wrong and getting taught things because that’s honestly half the reason I’m even remotely as good a person as I am today because I was a garbage kiddo and a garbage teenager and still probably a garbage young adult and was educated out of it. I have a lot of internalized beliefs that were changed because of college and listening to people online, and I can only learn more and grow more my having good friends throw down and fight me over stuff when I say a dumb thing. XD Literally I am probably only on the Left because good people educated me on politics when no one else would. I legit could have been one of those awful cases of a disenchanted teen that was led down the alt-right pipeline. Scary to think of but my parents weren’t teaching me so thankfully better people stepped up to do it. So, legit, you are welcome to fight me any time, man. I want to learn. I want to be inoculated against bad ideas and educated away from any bad opinions I hold.

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1987

Under the cut.

"Shake You Down" -- Gregory Abbot -- January 17, 1987

The only reason I've heard this song before is because of Todd in the Shadows' worst hit songs of 1987 video. I do not entirely agree with his list, but this one definitely belongs on it. I don't think the song's writer knew what "shake down" actually means. This is supposed to be a love song about how the narrator is missing the woman he's staring at (um) and wants her back so he can "shake you down." It sounds creepy, and yet the music is so painfully bland it can't even rise to that. It's no surprise it hasn't gotten radio play since it was a hit. That it was a hit in the first place is mystifying.

"At This Moment" -- Billy Vera and the Beaters -- January 24, 1987

A rather good blue-eyed soul song. The narrator is singing to a woman who just told him she's in love with someone else. It sounds like she's acting scared, and he's upset by that as well as by her leaving him, because "I'd never, never hurt you." And he'd give up twenty years of his life if she'd stay. There are some massive blues horns, Billy Vera sings it well, and it's cathartically sad. The song became a hit years after it was first released because it was on Family Ties. Billy Vera keeps on chugging, and he's also a music historian. He won a Grammy for "best album notes" in 2013 for a Ray Charles boxed set. I had no idea that was an award category.

"Open Your Heart" -- Madonna -- February 7, 1987

Watch out. When Madonna says "I've had to work much harder than this/ For something I want, don't try to resist me," it's absolutely believable. She worked incredibly hard to get where she was. I guess the song is stalkery when looked at from a certain angle, but that is not the angle I choose. I hear it as I did as a teenager -- as something aspirational, because I got huge and powerful crushes on guys (mostly friends) and then did absolutely nothing about it, both because I had no idea what to do and because I didn't actually want a boyfriend yet. (That changed in college.) Musically and lyrically, the song is Motown mixed with disco and updated, as most of the True Blue album is. It's a lot of fun.

"Livin on a Prayer" -- Bon Jovi -- February 14, 1987

I wonder what I'd feel about this song if it hadn't been overplayed for years and years. I don't think it was/is played more than "You Give Love a Bad Name," but I have never been sick of "You Give Love a Bad Name." This one... meh. I don't want to run screaming from it, even after hearing it a zillion times, so that's something. It's about a working class couple who's having serious money troubles. It's just a snapshot of this difficult time in their life, and how they're holding on to each other. I'd be happier with it if the story were rounded out, and especially if they got a happy ending. The music is fine, acceptable rock, but nothing special.

"Jacob's Ladder" -- Huey Lewis and the News -- March 14, 1987

This song is a "fuck off" to televangelists, though if you only listen to the chorus you might not know that. I always appreciate anyone telling televangelists to fuck off. I could use it being nastier, but you can't expect real nastiness from Huey Lewis and the News. Genesis would go there a few years later, and I like that song much better. "Jesus He Knows Me" is also more interesting musically. This one's fine, but not memorable.

"Lean on Me" -- Club Nouveau -- March 21, 1987

The original "Lean on Me" is one of the great songs. This version is annoying. A go-go beat and a faux-reggae break. The original of this song is deeply emotional and touching. This one is not even a good dance song. I liked it when I was a kid, but that makes sense, because it's a very kiddie song.

"Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" -- Starship -- April 4, 1987

This song is actually not bad. It's pretty good, even. It's a very slick synth-heavy drum machine love song, but I really like the way Grace Slick sings on it. Mickey Thomas, well, he hits the notes. Could be worse. If they'd gotten a male vocalist who could match Grace Slick on his part of the duet, this might be a great song. They didn't, so it's just pretty good.

"I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)" -- Aretha Franklin and George Michael -- April 18, 1987

George Michael is an excellent singer, but he's no Aretha Franklin. But who is? He holds his own pretty well here. As both Franklin and Michael know how to push emotion in a song, they end up with good chemistry on this one. Unfortunately, though the vocal performances are great, the music itself is dull. The melody slips out of my head while I'm listening to it.

"(I Just) Died in Your Arms" -- Cutting Crew -- May 2, 1987

*silent scream of anguish* I wish this song would slip out of my head permanently. It is my personal most overplayed song in existence. My hate for it could end worlds. I have no idea about what qualities it might or might not have. I just want it to shut the fuck up.

"With or Without You" -- U2 -- May 16, 1987

I don't think U2 actually counts as "alternative," but the alternative stations were the only ones who played them where I lived. The song is extremely structured and carefully designed, but it feels somehow raw at the same time. It doesn't have the layers upon layers of synth that most of the songs on the charts did. It has a beautiful melody. The lyrics are thoughtful, heartrending poetry. I'm not sure what I thought of the song at the time -- I associate it more with a couple years later, when my family moved to a town near a huge state college and I started listening to the college station. It hasn't aged a bit. An amazing song.

Also Bono’s personality is somewhat insufferable if one is silly enough to look into it. But his voice is incredibly hot, and I very much appreciate that.

"You Keep Me Hangin' On" -- Kim Wilde -- June 6, 1987

Back to the layers of synth. This is the Supremes song updated as a 1987 dance song, and it sounds exactly like you'd think it would. It's okay.

"Always" -- Atlantic Starr -- June 13, 1987

This is the kind of song I made gagging noises about at age 10, when it came out. I'm tempted to now too. It's like corn syrup, both lyrically and musically. It sounds like it was written for weddings.

"Head to Toe" -- Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam -- June 20, 1987

I liked this song a lot when I was a kid. I had a lot of fun dancing to it. Now I hear Lisa Lisa's vocals in the opening and chorus, which are kind of like a police siren, and want to cover my ears. I can't listen to it without getting a headache nowadays.

"I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)" -- Whitney Houston -- June 27, 1987

This is a Whitney Houston song I like. She doesn't oversing as much as usual -- she mostly, though not entirely, saves it for the chorus. She wants to dance with "a man who'll take a chance/ On a love that burns hot enough to last." It's a simple dance song that speaks to real emotion.

"Alone" -- Heart -- July 11, 1987

In the 80s, Heart did hair metal ballads. All the men who did the same were copying them. Including the hair itself. Heart did it first, and Heart did it best. So lyrically, why can't she get this person alone? Not even on the phone? Whatever, it doesn't matter. What matters is the emotion, the music, and that this is a great song to sing along with.

"Shakedown" -- Bob Seger -- August 1, 1987

Unlike Gregory Abbott, Bob Seger knew what "shakedown" meant. The song was written for Beverly Hills Cop II, and that's exactly what it sounds like. It's a good movie song, but doesn't transcend that box. Still fun though.

"I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" -- U2 -- August 8, 1987

This is a spiritual pop song. But it's very far from the sanitized happy clappy Christian-brand pop that's so foul. It's about a search for transcendence that's ongoing -- eternal, really. And while this song is explicitly Christian, it speaks to a universality that doesn't require religion of any kind. Also it's beautiful musically.

"Who's That Girl" -- Madonna -- August 22, 1987

I'm surprised this was a number one. Or even charted in the top 20. I'd have predicted #46 or something. The movie it was written for was terrible, and Madonna was particularly terrible in it. Like, aggressively terrible, when in most movies she was just kinda blah. I've never liked the song. I don't hate it either; I don't feel much of anything about it. That is very strange for a Madonna song -- "American Life" is awful, but it makes me feel things. (Mostly embarrassment.) But "Who's That Girl" is bland, which a Madonna song should never be.

"La Bamba" -- Los Lobos -- August 29, 1987

This is a nearly faithful rendition of Richie Valens' original hit, which was based on a Veracruz folk song. But where are the castanets? The original is better, a true classic, but this one isn't bad. It's simply... unnecessary. It was done for a movie about Valens, so I guess it was sort of "necessary" in that way. Skip this one and go for Valens' version.

"I Just Can't Stop Loving You" -- Michael Jackson with Siedah Garrett -- September 19, 1987

This is from the Bad album, which I did not like in 1987 and continue to not like now. I find this song extraordinarily dull. Whitney Houston and Barbra Streisand both turned it down, and I'm not surprised. This song weirdly makes me think of The Love Boat. Like it belongs in a television series. It's legitimately bad. When do we get to Janet again?

"Didn't We Almost Have It All" -- Whitney Houston -- September 26, 1987

I think the narrator in this song is trying to get an old flame back. It's a pretty melody, and the lyrics are wildly repetitive but not bad, but I can't get past Houston's oversinging. Anyone who doesn't mind that will probably enjoy this song.

"Here I Go Again" -- Whitesnake -- October 10, 1987

I wonder what makes one feel a song is "horribly overplayed" vs. just "played probably too much but I'm fine with it." This song is the latter for me. It's a really good song, so obviously that's part of it. The beginning is thoughtful and searching, with an organ and everything (or probably a synth on the organ setting), and has that same spiritual feel as "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." Then in come the guitars, which are awesome. It absolutely rocks, and the emotion is of "like a drifter I was born to walk alone" is amplified by the rock, rather than buried under it.

"Lost in Emotion" -- Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam -- October 17, 1987

Lisa Lisa does not sound like a police siren in this, thankfully. And I got frozen on this song because I listened to it over and over and managed to feel absolutely nothing about it. I guess she's falling in love with a friend and worried she's telling him too much, and I should identify with this because it's happened to me more than once. But I don't. I like the bass line, and it's updated Motown, so I should like that. But again, I feel nothing. Maybe it's the way Lisa Lisa sings it. I don't know, and I've wasted far too much time on something I cannot make myself care about in any way.

"Bad" -- Michael Jackson -- October 24, 1987

I think the Bad album is bad. Actually bad, as in not good. I was 11 when this hit #1, so everything in the universe embarrassed me, but this stood out. I no longer knew anyone who liked Michael Jackson. I certainly didn't. In my opinion, Jackson had exactly one good album in him, and that album was Thriller. Thriller is one of the greats. Bad is blah.

"I Think We're Alone Now" -- Tiffany -- November 7, 1987

I wonder what makes stations decide to play #1 hits and what makes them decide not to. I don't remember hearing this much at the time, and never after. It's a cover of a 1960s song that was never that great, and it's worse here. In 1967, the "ooh we're alone gonna do something naughty" idea was still edgy. In 1987 -- are you kidding? Madonna's tearing up the charts in 1987; what on earth is this thing doing on it? It's an annoying song, annoyingly sung.

"Mony Mony" -- Billy Idol -- November 21, 1987

I had to do aerobics to this in middle school. Next!

"(I've Had) The Time of My Life" -- Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes -- November 28, 1987

This is one of those songs I can't really evaluate because it feels like background music to my life. Not that it was ever particularly important to me -- it's not. But it's sort of like "Eye of the Tiger", movie song and all. Medley and Warnes are well-matched on the song, and they do a great job. I wish the music were more interesting, but well, movie ballad. It's a good one for what it is. By the way, Dirty Dancing is another movie I've managed to never see. For no reason -- I might even like it. But somehow, it's never come up.

"Heaven Is a Place on Earth" -- Belinda Carlisle -- December 5, 1987

Ooh baby, do you know what that's worth? Yes. I love everything about this song. It's a big and unashamed dance power ballad about how great love is, and the lyrics are simple but powerful. But I have  a question: What the heck is up with the video? It looks like she's being inducted into a cult, not like she's in ecstasy over great romantic love. Well, it was the 80s, the videos usually didn't have anything to do with the songs. Still, weird.

"Faith" -- George Michael -- December 12, 1987

I've known the lyrics to this song since it came out, but I never registered them before. Only "I gotta have faith, faith, faith." I remember the video, though, with its prominent focus on George Michael's butt. I'm watching the video now, and huh, there's a basically naked woman in it too. That, I didn't remember, because it wasn't relevant to my interests. Anyway, the lyrics are about how the narrator needs a break from relationships so is not gonna have sex with this hot woman. Sure, George, that's why. Ahem. Sorry, we didn't know then, and it doesn't matter one bit anyway, because the singer is playing a role. It's a fun song for which the lyrics don't matter at all.

BEST OF 1987 -- "With or Without You" by U2  WORST OF 1987 -- "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" by Michael Jackson with Siedah Garrett

[venting402]

So let’s just say I’m disgusted with my family now. TW// self harm, mention of suicide

Well like two weeks ago my cousin and my mom were on the sofa. Nothing wrong. I was putting away my grandpa’s old clothes into a vacuum sealed bag because he’s dead and his clothes would get dust sitting in the closet. My cousin goes over with her friends quite often, which I tell my mom that she should put an end to because it’s not safe. My mother NEVER listens to me on anything. When I brought up that they need to take the pandemic more seriously my cousin had the rebuttal of “well u went to ur friend’s house”. Less than a month into lockdown bc it didn’t reach my city yet, yeah. My mom was willing to risk it to go to a party, which I had to stop her from doing.

So my cousin went to her friend’s house over this past week. One of her friends already has a family member who lives with them test positive. On Saturday we went to get coats and in the car she was wearing her mask which I pointed out. Well later we stopped in a parking lot to eat so she took it off in the car so wtf. The next day she was watching music videos in the living room. Yesterday she found out the friend’s house she went to tested positive and she thought since her friend was not showing symptoms it was not a concern.

Of course my mom got mad. Told her she had to stay in her room for the next 10 days. Had yet to sanitize what’s in the house. Well today my uncle who went on a rant on Facebook saying how the fuck can the virus be real showed up at my house. Text my mom he’s here because he showed up with 3 of my younger cousins, not his, let him know. I have to go inform him because that’s the responsible thing to do. HE TELLS ME HES IMMUNE AND ONLY OLD PEOPLE GET IT. THAT KIDS HAVE YET TO DIE FROM IT.

I tell my mom how it played out because she blamed his rant on him being drunk so I tell her “it was not bc he’s drunk or high”. Her response? “Why would u tell him that. Him coming over is a risk they have to take!” ALL I TOLD HIM IS HE CANT COME OVER FOR A WHILE!!!!!!

She constantly gets mad over the news and how people don’t take it seriously yet told me, her only living child, that shit.

Around 9/10 ish I started to cut myself. I started to get more frustrated with my family then the world and one day before I even put a blade to my arm I told my mom, hyperventilating, that I wanted to die. Told me some “other people have it worse than you” bullshit. Among other reasons but that’s why I cut myself, I get so angry and I’m not a violent person. She took my blade away, didn’t stop me. Recently I’ve had it too much with her where the idea is tempting to say fuck it.

My mother is willing to risk my uncle getting covid, the twins he babysits getting covid, their younger brother, my diabetic tia and her diabetic husband, her two sons, grandchildren, that tia’s daughters and their families since they go over quite a bit, my other tia’s kids since my uncle stays over there, that tia’s grandchildren and her boyfriend. ALL SO MY UNCLE CAN HAVE A PLACE TO CALL IN MY HOUSE DESPITE THE FACT HE WAS SUPPOSED TO LIVE WITH US BUT HE DESIDED NOT TO BECAUSE HE WAS OK WITH GETTING HIGH RATHER THAN PROTECT HIS OWN DISABLED FSTHER FROM HIS DRUG ADDICTED BROTHER WHO VERBALY ABUSED MY GRANDPA. She doesn’t want to throw out his dresser full of clothes he doesn’t wear and hasn’t for years because it’s his even tho it creates space in her office room.

I swear I hate this. If I could I would try to be somewhere else but now I’m waiting for her to get home later and 100% fight with me. I’m sure we won’t speak to each other for a good 3 weeks maybe. I’ve been clean for so long I think today might break me.

[byronmuyimbwa]

20 Ideas To Help You Keep Your Livelihood During Quarantine

 So you’re in quarantine. You do not know what day of the week it is anymore, because you wake up only to sleep again. You just want to take a nap, after a long day of sitting around.

Come on fam, don’t be that guy.

You’re tired of watching the news, you’ve exhausted your play list and you have completed your Netflix list. There are still plenty of things to do. I’ve got you covered.

20 fun ideas/ways to maintain your livelihood.

1.       Do a Challenge

There are fun challenges going around on social media every other day, pick one you like (make sure you’re good at it). Scratch that; just have fun with it. What have you to lose?

Don’t mind the embarrassment. I mean it’s only going to be on the Internet forever. Here are some fun challenges to try.

2.       Stay Fit

It’s important to stay fit and healthy; you do not want to leave this quarantine with diabetes or some fitness related disease. One you could have avoided by just doing a few exercises. Find an online instructor, download a fitness video, stick to it, and be true to yourself.

For the first timers, be sure to warm up thoroughly before any routine and don’t push yourself too hard.

3.       Try something new

There are plenty of things to do outside your usual routine. Write a blog, create an app, write a book, do some art, learn how to play an instrument, try an on-line business, write a poem, try to rap.

Trust me you’ll have a new respect for the professionals in these different fields. And of course you’ll have fun, plus you may just be a Steve Jobs, Eric Worre, Mark Zuckerberg in the making.

4.       Plan life after

Well I hate to be the bearer of the good news, but the quarantine is ending soon, I mean it will end eventually. And when it does, you need to have planned your kickoff journey step for step. You do not want to be the snail in the race. You want to hit the ground running.

Also for recreational purposes; plan that family vacation, be intentional.

5.       Network

Connect with people. Your friends, your family, people you rarely talk to, your future workmates or business partners, people you look up to, celebrities, everyone. This is the time they’re not too occupied. You may learn something or just simply build your network.

6.       Grow Deeper in Knowledge

Read that blog, read a novel, read a magazine, read a Bible, read the TV remote manual, read the instructions on the sanitizer bottle, just read or watch a documentary.

Knowledge is power and it is satisfactory to know that you’re smarter than you were just a moment ago. No need to thank me.

7.       Know the back-story

Don’t you ever get curious about the most weird topics; like why is shoe polish black or how a TV came to be or why dinosaurs no longer exist or why that is your favourite movie of all time. What is the back-story? This is good a time as any to find out.

8.       Your own version

Make your own version of the harry potter novel series, try the moon walk or the nae nae and add your own spin on it, cover your favourite song, re-create the Monalisa, your favourite scene from the Avengers movie. Have fun, but be careful.

9.       In door games

Luddo, playing cards, chess, checkers, monopoly, snakes and ladders, indoor hide and seek, charades. The possibilities are end-less, you can even invent your own game. And if you’re home alone, try online games.

10.   Volunteer

Apply to organisations like VSO and be of good service to your community. Of course while following the safety measures provided by W.H.O and not breaking curfew. You can even be recruited as an E-volunteer. You can offer your skills and help the global community without leaving home.

Donating, sharing food and supplies to people in need is also one effective and important way you could volunteer. Big shout out to everyone doing this.

11.   Get Creative

Try a new recipe, do some DIY life hacks, do some art, make a dance routine, write code, knit a face mask, learn how to make a sanitizers or just soap, try new things, you may be surprised that you actually were or can get really good at something  you had just never tried.

This could also be one way to channel your emotions, and it’s definitely therapeutic.

 12.   Pray

Get down on your knees and pray. Be thankful that you’re still alive, but do not take it for granted. This is a wakeup call. PRAY!

13.   Solve a problem

Fathers, mothers, siblings, you have been successfully dodging the responsibility of helping your child, kid sister, or nephew with math home-work. There’s nowhere to run now, you might as well just dive in. Good luck!

14.   Do some chores

Husband, brother, uncle, working mother, step mother, student in boarding school; you’ve been dodging chores for quite a while now. The jig is up mate, just get to work. There’s so much to do; sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, slashing, washing dishes, doing the laundry, cleaning bathrooms, dusting, cooking . Wait on second thought; you should leave cooking to the pro’s ok.

15.   Deep clean your home

You know that kind of cleaning mother always makes you do when her in-laws are visiting the next day or right before Christmas, or right when you get your holidays. If you don’t, this is the time to find out.

Do some general cleaning; (de-clutter, re-organise, scrub, re-paint, and remove that cob-web). It should be fun.

16.   Talk to a loved one

This is the time to constantly check on the people closest to you. Make sure they’re safe and carrying on good. Send them a word of encouragement (SPEAK LIFE).  Help them out if you can.

If you’re in need, reach out to your loved ones, there’s no shame in survival. This is a life or death situation.

17.   Shoot your shot

Gents, you know that lady, the one that drives you crazy, the one you’ve never worked up the courage to go talk to. This is it, don’t wait. Ladies, there’s that one brother that is always allegedly too busy for you, well thank heavens he has no excuse now. Go for it. I mean, what have you to lose?  “If you die you die”.

18.   Throw-back

This is the best time to set up a slide-show (pictures, videos, recordings) and some good music; sit together as a family and journey through all those memories. The fun times, embarrassing times, triumphant times, emotional times, celebrations, losses. These are all important because they lead up to who you are now.

19.   Leave a mark

Write a book, an article, a blog, a song, invent a new sewing technique, create a master piece (art), play the guitar like no one ever has. Let this period be an inspiration to you. Let the world, your descendants or even just your grand children remember you for something you created during the lockdown (Covid 19). I mean all great innovators start somewhere right.

20.   What’s your take

I mean I know I promised y’all 20 ideas, but we all know there’s a lot more. And I do not want to make this blog one long boring grandma story, so I’ll just pass y’all the ball. For any ideas, tips and additions visit my comment section.

If I’ve been of any help to someone you’re welcome.

Shout outs!

To all the Health workers fighting at the fore-front of this pandemic, I salute you. The scientists working everyday towards getting a cure, the generous people donating and sharing something in their different capacities and capabilities, the governments making the crucial decisions to guide every sector accordingly, the volunteers reaching out to the communities globally at the local level, the security force making sure we maintain order where there should be panic and fear, the local food delivery guy and every single person helping out in any and every way they can; we’re thankful and grateful. You’re the real heroes. May God Bless You.

#STAY POSITIVE #STAY SAFE

by  ByronMuyimbwa on 24rd April 2020

[oh-suketora]

I know this is a weird question, but I want to know. With how much I've seen regarding bl/gei-comi and "problematic story elements" on Tumblr, has there been a movement to pushing out and sanitizing the content as well as the producers/consumers of the "problematic stuff" offline from their respective communities? If so, how heavily does it hit fans who find comfort in the "bad content ™"?

Well, a good portion of Tumblr itself is quite obvious in its “think of the children”-themed smear campaign over the littlest things they might find repugnant, to the point where it overshadows actually harmful activity that needs to be taken action against. But as a member of Eastern fandom as well as its Western counterpart, I think I can honestly say we’ve never had such zealous purge movements within fandom itself of the kind you see here in English-speaking circles.

Here in Asia fandom of any kind - be it anime and manga, music, games or whatever - is seen as disconnected with reality. Even when it involves actual people like historical figures and celebrities in stuff like RPF, the general view is that these characters (because these versions really cannot be mistaken for their actual selves) are far removed from one’s “real life”. Society thinks of fandom as entertainment; fans use it as an escape. Either way, it’s not supposed to actually be part of your life in the way your education or career or family does, because it’s all just a virtual universe that you should be able to exit whenever life requires you to. Fail to do so, and it’s an addiction.

“Addiction” is basically the Asian version of “fiction affects reality” except the reverse - instead of you simply adopting the fictional elements into your own personal life, it’s the fiction that sucks you in and traps you in a different persona. A common warning kids hear as justification for cutting down on their TV viewing is “if you watch too much TV you’ll think that you’re Superman/Harry Potter/[insert any character remotely capable of flight] and jump off a building". See how it says they think that they’re the character, rather than implying the kid thinks they themselves can fly. Xiaoming can’t fly, but because he watches too many cartoons he starts to step into the shoes of Superman instead of remaining as Xiaoming. He’s still there deep down inside, and if all is right he should shed his Superman alter ego and keep being ordinary Xiaoming.

Fandom in our part of the world was built by people who wanted to create these alter egos for themselves, where they wear a different skin and be a separate identity from the people they are in real life. These fictional self inserts can do all the things they cannot do themselves, assume roles denied to them, be free of whatever they’re bound to… but only in that virtual reality. At some point they step outside of that reality of their own free will, having found release or motivation or just a more positive feeling that they can get through whatever obstacle they’re currently facing just like that one character in that one story - because if they don’t retreat on their own terms, sooner or later life will come along to physically force them out and possibly destroy any chances of returning to that refuge they made for themselves.

And everyone has a different idea of what refuge they want! Some people use it for cathartic purposes, some just want to explore certain things that can’t be explored in their everyday life, and inevitably some will end up with creations that raise a few - or more - eyebrows. Because everyone has different needs and interests, and the Internet is wide enough to accommodate several different lanes as long as you stick to your own, avoid the paths you don’t want to cross, and set up the necessary road signs so that others can do the same. In any community there’s bound to be a minority that seem to regard breaking basic etiquette as their life’s purpose, but there’s almost always enough of a majority to drown them out and put them in their place. Even then it still isn’t a matter of what media they consume or even how they choose to consume it, but rather how they interact with both fellow consumers and non-consumers when they do so.

So in a nutshell, we’re basically regular people who know Santa Claus isn’t real but have fun imagining what he might say or do while he delivers his presents. Sure, there’s haters who think it’s childish to think about such things, or that it’s “gross” and unappealing, or a variety of other reasons - but nobody will actually tell others to stop imagining Santa Claus because he does evil things such as exploiting elves or preying on sleeping children, because that’s just a couple examples from numerous possible versions of Santa Claus that share the sole similarity of being imaginary. I mean, why would we do that to ourselves when we already have governing authorities who are more than willing to eliminate any and all mentions of Santa Claus and the people who mention him simply because they find him “unsuitable”?

Keep in mind that this is largely based on my own personal experience and does not provide a complete picture of Eastern fandom - if you don’t find all the answers you’re seeking in my reply @rottenboysclub may be able to help you further, and maybe @satans-tiddies can give a different perspective as well. I’m not sure if the original anon would find this since this ask came in quite a while ago, but if you’re reading this right now thank you for the question and I hope I helped explain some things! ^^

[josefkavalier]

25 DAYS OF FICMAS – DAY TWO

🎄 Gingerbread House for Jessie & Jamie // @ikubli

Having her in his house felt a bit weird. Having anyone in his house felt weird, and uncomfortable, but that wasn’t entirely the problem. It had been a mostly recent development that Jessie had been nice to him at all, let alone shown any interest in spending time with him outside of school. They didn’t talk often in the hallways, but their lockers were close enough together that sometimes she’d humor him with an offhand remark about how much one of their shared teachers sucked and he’d nod, somehow frazzled every time, and she’d nod just barely before continuing on her way.

So, he wasn’t sure if they were friends now. Jamie could certainly use more friends, or any friends, really. These were the sort of things he knew not to say to her, although she made it no secret that she thought he was pretty much a gigantic loser. Jessie herself didn’t seem to have a lot of friends, but the difference was that Jessie was anti-social by choice, and if she wanted to change that, he thought she could have. After all, she was pretty, and funny in a dark and cruel kind of way, and not on the verge of death at all times like Jamie.

Even when Jamie wanted to go out, either his mother would stop him or his numerous allergies would make it too dangerous. And Jamie wasn’t the kind of kid who would sneak out of the house, though he had done it once, and regretted it the moment he walked in to find his mother sitting splotchy-faced on the couch.

It was surprising when she allowed Jessie to come over for the afternoon, though not nearly as surprising as Jessie asking in the first place. He wondered if she had hoped he would ask first. Not only was he not the kind of person to make a first move (were they moving?), he never in a million years thought that Jessie would want to come to his house. Sanitized would be a kind way of describing it and his mother was overbearing in an embarrassing and slightly threatening way. But when he suggested they could go to her house, too, if she wanted, she was pretty set on her initial offer.

His mother had been making gingerbread all day, no matter how many times Jamie insisted that putting together a gingerbread house was not a fun (or romantic, but he kept that bit to himself) activity for teenagers, particularly not in the 21st century. Jamie had all kinds of video games, one of the few luxuries he was afforded because despite appearances, his mother did feel bad that he was forced to spend so much time inside, and at least this way he would have something to fill the time.

He was excited to spend time with Jessie instead of getting to the next level on whatever game was currently in his PlayStation, but the activity they would be forced to do together didn’t seem like her cup of tea. And Jamie didn’t know how yet, but he was sure that somehow, constructing a miniature house out of gingerbread would end in his humiliation. Most things did. When the doorbell rang, he scrambled up from the couch, relieved that his mother had left to buy more (unwanted) decorating ingredients.

“Hi,” he greeted, smiling even though Jessie didn’t do the same in return.

Her mouth twitched before she said hi back and looked at him expectantly.

“Wha--oh! Sorry.” Jamie stepped aside, realizing he was blocking the entrance to his house.

He watched her face as the scent of gingerbread inevitably filled her nose, but she didn’t give much away. Until, she scoffed quietly, but softened it with an amused smile. “Are we going to decorate gingerbread men or something?”

That might have been better, now that she said it. Or maybe building a house was better. Maybe they were both equally stupid, based on the way she said her question. It might have been rhetorical, but sadly, he had an answer.

“Oh, no, we’re...building a house...actually,” his voice all but died before he finished speaking and she wandered into his kitchen.

“Wow.” Jessie did not sound impressed. But she didn’t sound unhappy, exactly. “I thought we were just going to watch TV or something.”

“We can after!” He said too eagerly, before realizing she probably wouldn’t want to stick around for long. “If you want.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said with a shrug. Jessie sat down at the table and grabbed a tube of icing. “Well? Are you going to help or what?”

Jamie nodded, even though she was now focused on frosting on side of a wall, and sat down next to her. His arm accidentally brushed hers as he reached for another gingerbread wall and he pulled his arm back as if he’d been burnt. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him before shaking her head and turning her head back to the wall.

It took him a moment before he managed to grab the other icing tube without incident and for a moment, they iced their walls in silence. When she was done, Jessie set her wall against the platform his mother had already covered in coconut to look like snow. Jamie hurriedly finished icing his wall, then set his as the back of the gingerbread house so their pieces would stick together. They let go and the walls started slanting, both of them reflexively reaching back over to stand them up again.

This time, their fingers brushed clumsily and he managed to get icing on her hand. “Sorry!” He said again, just as flustered at the first time.

“It’s just icing,” she said before licking the icing from her hand. “This is actually pretty good. Did your mom make it?”

He blinked, thinking about how she’d licked the icing before he had the chance to shove a napkin at her, and how he had probably never seen her tongue before, it wasn’t as if they’d ever eaten ice cream cones together, and how seeing her tongue had felt strangely important in the moment but now he was just worrying that he was thinking about it way too much but also he didn’t really mind. Because maybe the whole fascination with her tongue was really more of a fascination with her mouth, and not even that, but her lips, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t looked at them while she was talking sometimes, and that he had never kissed anyone, which wasn’t remotely surprising, and therefore the whole concept was kind of nerve wracking, but he actually really wanted to kiss Jessie. Had she ever kissed anybody? She was so stand-offish, but guys liked that. Clearly he liked that. So maybe--

“I didn’t think that was a hard question but okay.”

“Y-yeah! She made it,” he said proudly, which was weird, but the fact that he had spent the last minute staring at her mouth and not responding was already too weird to recover from, so. May as well.

“Um. Jessie.” Jamie should not have even started this...whatever this was, because he didn’t know what to say, but he liked to think of himself as someone who was not afraid to voice his feelings, even when they were definitely unrequited. Plus, his mother wasn’t hovering, and that was a real rarity in his life.

“Um, Jamie?” She echoed, slightly taunting, and he almost expected her to roll her eyes.

“I’m just wondering, like, why you’re here?”

She stopped icing the other wall and he knew he had not phrased that correctly at all. “You said I could come over.” Jessie said this like it was the simplest thing in the world. Meaning she said it like he was an idiot. Which he was.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that...you seem kind of not that interested in me. Like we’re not on the same page.”

“Interested in you how?”

At this moment, Jamie really wished he could inhale a whiff of scented laundry detergent and be sent to the ER. That would be handy right about now.

“As a person? You know, in general.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said casually and returned to her icing.

“Oh.” He wrung his hands under the table, thinking this would be a good time to pretend he never said anything and save it for another time. But... “What I mean is, I really like--”

Jamie was cut off by the sound of a key in the front door. His mother walked in with a bag of groceries in one hand and forced a smile in their direction, though he could tell she was displeased she hadn’t made it home before Jessie arrived. It’s not like it mattered. Clearly she didn’t have any ulterior motives.

He glanced at Jessie’s lips one last time before getting up from the table to see what his mom had brought them.

[alistsupermodel-blog]

To bring you this urgent lifesaving and comprehensive imminent global infrastructure collapse update and survival guide, we have been collaborating with too many A-Listers to mention here and supermodels and our networks since Harvard named me “Supermodel Activist of the Decade.” I also share the Special Humanitarian Award from the International Film Awards. Numerous other awards and credentials are accredited. We have technically PERMANENTLY officially gone off grid and live in the oceanfront jungle totally on solar power only as surfer activists. If you Google in quotes world's most televised environmentalist you will discover I am #1!

I am urged by basic common decency and the will to survive to share the following with you: due to the drastic ways our environment has been hit - whether with shark finning or coral reef bleaching or plastics crippling the planet, it would appear that we are indeed headed for that proverbial “Day the Earth Stood Still.” Early 2018 there may NOT be ANY air travel, or cruises or any other kind of major travel. If you haven’t heard this yet it might be so no one panics (the same way no one was warned about the Great Depression so as not to cause some kind of mad rush or even looting). Imagine if folks knew how zero resources we actually are and everyone simultaneously scrambled to take one or two final trips to visit loved ones - it could cripple the tourism industry immediately.

Who am I? The first ever A List Supermodel. YUP!!! http://www.AListSupermodel.com .

As the international #1 bestselling supermodel author of “Healthy, Wealthy and Wise: The 5 Most Important Wellness Secrets of All Time;” recognized as Supermodel Activist of the Decade by Harvard and “Queen of Surfing” by the media, I enable people with active lifestyles, A-list celebrities, stay-at-homes, and those who care about their relationship with God pro-actively on our path of eternal youth, beauty, and longevity. I realize what I am saying may sound “a bit reaching” but we are simply sharing facts and if you have an ounce of truth serum running through your veins well, you can make judgment for yourself and decide how to SAVE YOUR OWN LIFE. And since I believe in karma, when someone’s life might not be optimized and I am INFORMED with TRUTHFUL inside information, then it is my moral duty to share. If it makes you feel better, that lifesaving piece of literature has been on TV too many times to mention, and I did set the world record for the most television interviews by an environmentalist in a short period - 65 interviews in 3.5 years just like this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYS-YxeKcsY .

Do you know how many HUNDREDS of producers and “their bosses” from EVERY station and network had to VERIFY all my facts before allowing me on their programs? That should tell you how credible I am. I am not just some YouTube activist. I have been on EVERY NETWORK REPEATEDLY verified for all my environmental causes, from plastics to shark finning - all the stuff that has now brought the planet to its knees. Just Google such things like “world resource clock” to put everything typed here in perspective or go watch my short 21 minute documentary on YouTube titled, “Worst Shark Attack Ever” for which I won the Special Humanitarian Award, from International Movie Awards, World Film Council, Film Festival Alliance, Russian Culture, iHebat International Volunteers, and Indonesia Without Discrimination Foundation.

Also I am the very first Supermodel to win a Supermodel Lifetime Achievement Award ~ 🥇 http://www.AListSupermodel.com 🙏🏽 I have literally had only 1 day off of every 6 in the past 6 years. Literally. While our planet may be graced with thousands of environmentalists who have “dedicated their charitable energies” in between personal relationships, raising kids, having day jobs, etc, I have NOT. I have only been immersed in environmental activism. No kids. No day job. No real significant other which may be why I didn’t miss the forest for the trees and was able to connect dots in ways the average activist might not have been able.

Who are you?

YOU ARE well educated so you may have learned that in previous millennia when our planet had suffered from raping and pillaging of its resources, cataclysms and severe weather patterns had decimated entire populations and the fact is we are there again NOW at the brink of cataclysm so be prepared not only with emergency supplies or whatever but with emotional fortitude to get over the shock and trauma.

That being said, you can research ALL the current environmental HOT button topics yourself:

GMOs

plastics in the ocean

shark finning

global energy crisis, etc

and you will draw the same conclusions: just remain grateful for the days we had together because travel and commerce may NOT continue much longer. The truth in inner circles predicts it to be in about a season. That is why we and many other “erudites” have disappeared - to remain prepared and hunker down!!! EVERY FACT stated within this article is simply that: facts. We can only share with you THE TRUTH and our TRUE action steps taken for our salvation and you decide if you are gonna save yourselves as well. Would Surfer magazine host this http://forum.surfer.com/forum/ubbthreads.php?ubb=showflat&Number=2686443#Post2686443 unless it has been well-verified by every possible credible source by now?

Well-researched “smarties with hearties” all over the planet have quietly gone off grid completely solar with sources of trees in a garden because we have been informed that it could all coming to a grinding halt within the next year. We swim in the ocean for “our bath” or any other toilet necessities and we lug ocean water in for our use. We live simply as if there was no electricity or infrastructure in place since this is all having come to pass shortly.

We have at least one year’s supply of food stashed already and then after that there are a bunch of fruit trees here in the garden but we must say that with all the changes coming to the planet, you must believe you are “saved” and will survive the inevitable lifestyle of no gasoline, electricity, or social infrastructure of any kind like hospitals and department of sanitation.

That aforementioned #1 bestseller we published on how to live FOREVER yes forever has been on numerous TV interviews like the links above discussing all the scientific evidence on how our body “the sacred temple” is actually built to last INDEFINITELY like a rechargeable battery.

This supports everyone through any situation that hits the planet. Also be aware that there is an intelligent breatharian movement - you may research on YouTube “how to be breatharian” as a way of optimized living. One may study “breatharian immortality.”

So no matter what happens, do NOT PANIC. The LONGER you can go withOUT food or water is actually better for your body and chakras. If you have to WALK / hot wire cars / forage for food and shelter as you make your way to somewhere permanently WARM with running fresh water and fruit trees, remember ALL the breatharian techniques you learned and KEEP CALM. Not only will you stay alive but you will THRIVE. You may YouTube “how to hot wire cars” or “how to siphon gas” to get you where you need to go when no more gas stations or stores are open and you realize that you really got to kick into survival mode.

If there was something we wish we would have included in that survival guide, “Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise The 5 Most Important Wellness Secrets of All Time”

it would have been all that breatharian stuff …AND a critical consideration to handle all the emotions that will come over the next year is to heavily get in touch with your FEMININE side, even if you have a penis - yes - coach those around you with one because there are too many PROVEN examples in nature where what remains healthy and viable from plants to bees are considered “female.”

Anything that insists on tapping into some made up version of existence called “masculinity” is doomed. Research this yourself or talk with scientists.

If “masculinity” were such a winner - we wouldn’t be reaching out online😜 Only those truly in touch with their feminine side has ANY success in life and EVERYONE inherently is aware of THIS. So laser that hair off your face to keep it off forever and same goes for tattoos!🌈

Ask ANY girl whose opinion you trust and she will tell you EVERYONE is better off clean shaven. Why do folks refer to their prized possessions OR ANYTHING THEY LOVE AND WISH TO MAINTAIN as a “she?” Is it purely psychological? Why are automobiles and boats “her?”

As a professional supermodel I can tell you the fashion industry won’t even allow anyone to be the main magazine cover photo unless their face is clean shaven.  Go ahead and research your stacks of magazines - all the cover homies are baby-faced. It is a hard rule! There has not been one single cover shot of any “People’s Most Beautiful” issue that isn’t baby-face.

We bet if you recall your OWN experiences whenever you were graced with success, it was because you maintained a well groomed feminine appearance!

Everything and everyone thriving is a “she.” Do not refer to “that person” as a brother - that is your sibling, etc. Try this feminization tactic during any periods of stress and you will find it effective. Feminization pulls you out of your head and into your heart. Better to make it your permanent state of consciousness for overall relaxation and wellness, as everyone and their networks in entertainment industry have.

Our Reverent and Beloved “Most High” says one main reason you (and your kids) could remain written in the “Book of Life” is because you choose to remain alive FOREVER (and program your kids to do so) and you adhere to ALL of creation as Feminine (anyone with a penis CAN still be considered female as long as they remain tapped into the feminine side). Search terms are in quotes; Google: “all female species” https://www.nationalgeographic.com/latest-stories/ “supermodel divine feminine” http://vividlife.me/ultimate/22454/read-tantra-and-the-divine-feminine-by-mahasatvaa-ananda-sarita/ “masculinity doomed” http://www.collegiatetimes.com/opinion/toxic-masculinity-culture-is-harmful-to-men-s-psychological-well/article_b572a25c-c3d6-11e7-bb4e-5756b4e69eeb.html “toxic masculinity” TOO MANY SCIENTIFIC LINKS. Just Google those two words. Masculinity is a disease and a lie!!! "TOXIC Masculinity is The BIGGEST Problem in USA" - X DEBATES With The Guest” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=290eollXo4A and so many others. Keep the aforementioned guide precepts~ “Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise: The 5 Most Important Wellness Secrets of All Time” with you forever as a reference to remember that HUNDREDS of MILLIONS of people across the planet have chosen to live forever even if they aren’t exactly where you are and no one is communicating via the electronic standards.

Consider that all the stuff that makes it to restaurants or groceries or any kind of store must use trucks, planes, and gasoline - what happens if gas runs out as may be predicted by 2018? It would only help you save your life “just in case:” YOU COULD IMAGINE AS IF NOTHING IN YOUR TOWN IS OPEN ANYMORE and stock up NOW on everything from gasoline to non-perishable food and grocery items to bicycles and GO SOLAR because this “Day the Earth Stood Still” could be coming in a few MONTHS and again, you must remain a survivor. Listen, from whom did you hear about Y2K? If you wanna believe that this is “only more of that,” all I have to share with you is FACTS about what too many of us CREDENTIALED environmentalists are DOING to save our OWN lives. This article is like putting an oxygen mask on your friend only because we already have ours on.

This next quarter, each trip to the grocery, consider returning with an extra month of non-perishable items for when commerce ends, as may be scheduled imminently due to environmental wipeout. This would facilitate the transition to organically living off the land and being more breatharian, which basically is your default. Every moment you aren’t stuffing your mouth with food or liquid you are optimizing your body solely with your breath and that is enough. So don’t force anyone to eat or drink anything. Your sacred body temple does just fine with sunshine, the air, the moisture in the air, etc to keep it running smoothly! The point is it is FALSE that you need food and drink to remain optimized. Go to YouTube and research “how to be breatharian.”

Research THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT WAY TO EXTEND LIFE EXPECTANCY numerous studies have revealed is through REDUCING CALORIC INTAKE. More support for the breatharian optimized lifestyle! The following should assist in that process:

FACT: ALL the food in groceries and restaurants are now GMO unless it actually says on the label “non GMO.” “Non-GMO” is about less than 1% of what is on the shelves and served in restaurants. Don’t be fooled with the word “organic.” GMO or “Genetically Modified Organisms” are considered organic BECAUSE OF HOW THEY ARE FAKE-GROWN IN LABS. They legally can trick you with that label “organic” because it still means GMO!

Every fact stated here with statistics you can verify yourself by researching online, making phone calls and sending emails to the companies in question, or by asking someone you trust and believe, like in the holistic industry or even petroleum industry.

Celebrities, art stars, and the highly ethical supermodel network are putting forth their versions of messages like this to their private networks or public media outlets so ASK around. Research!

Our planet had become restored from garbage landfill. There is a documentary online “Aqua Seafoam Shame” that will attest to this. Or the multi-award winning, celebrity laden “Worst Shark Attack Ever” (https://fawesome.tv/hollywood-ticker/10066850-worst-shark-attack-ever-documentary-with-veronica-grey-and-leonardo).

You KNOW that for ANY environmental issue these days, there is an honest documentary online exposing truth. Where is the one about how everything connected to our wiping out environment would lead to the collapse of our gasoline infrastructure?

As the group who was forced to create the plastics documentary “Aqua Seafoam Shame” featuring rock titans and a top athlete, and as the network forced to produce solutions on shark finning, “Worst Shark Attack Ever” we can say that this fact sheet is our version of directing a documentary on possibly imminently no more petroleum distribution as a result of environmental stress: COMMERCE HAS BEEN COMING TO A GRINDING HALT around you hasn’t it - just notice it - and remember everything you read here and TAKE ACTION! We thank FreeSurf magazine for spreading “Aqua Seafoam Shame” our plastics issue https://freesurfmagazine.com/the-ugly-truth-about-plastic/ because we wish we could create a similar documentary NOW explaining how to survive our PRESENT infrastructure’s IMMINENT COLLAPSE except everyone in our network is busy relocating to somewhere WARM (since there will ASAP be NO ELECTRICITY) and STOCKING UP while we still can. This article will have to suffice instead of our normal “we provide solutions documentarian” style.

To connect dots for you:  whether it be bees or fracking or the atmosphere changing to inhospitable for humans due to shark finning or global warming, or plastics crippling the planet (as of 5 years ago 1/3 of our planet had become garbage landfill!!!😪) every scientist was generously sharing their predictions on “how much longer our planet can sustain us.” Well that clock had run out this year. There is no way around it - we are now having to transition to a world without general commerce, travel, gasoline, electricity, or social infrastructure of ANY kind like hospitals or department of sanitation. There IS a pretty comprehensive documentary about how we painted ourselves into this corner~ “Apocalypse 2012: The World After Time Ends.”

THE ONLY WAY TO TOTALLY SURVIVE FOREVER is by ONLY THESE 1 to 3 responses to EVERY situation: 1. Energetically Neutral. It is like you agree anyway, by default, since we are a reflector, holographic Universe. Anything and everything you believe about ANYTHING else actually manifests in your own life and through you. 2. Agree. For the same reasons stated in #1. If you do not consider what it means to disagree for any reason, here it is in a nutshell. It means something isn't right about whatever it is with which you aren't agreeing, which actually only means that is true for you! Something isn't right about you! Is that what you wish to script for yourself? Not really. So wake up and make conscious choices. Anais Nin said, "We do not process the world as it really is. We process the world as we truly are." 3. Spin to Win. This means positive thinking. For all the reasons stated in #1 and #2. There is too much information out there on how positive thinking is the only way to live.

Get ready and stay prepared FOR ANYTHING!

It isn’t a matter of how much of this you believe. You probably already noticed that the energy everywhere is subdued lately. All we are saying is don’t just shrug it off and attribute it to an “unusually slow season” or “everyone must be on vacation - it’s that simple, and they’ll be back” or “it’s ok that this business is closing - something will replace it.” NONE of that is true. So as you ACKNOWLEDGE what is actually happening, RELOCATE, STOCK UP, and keep cool, like in the film, “I am Legend.” Some zip codes are already that “Mad Maxed” out. Tell you what, based on our friends / celebrities network, we spread out globally have gotten ready for life without electricity or travel or commerce.

REMAIN WITH US.

Go ahead and try it for yourself. Strike a conversation with the friendly gas station owner in your neighborhood and ask them to comment on whether or not anyone will be able to fulfill gasoline orders past the next quarter!!!

Also, is this why it seems everywhere online NO AIRLINE or HOTEL is accepting reservations past next year either. You could verify this for yourself. Maybe they all are “in the know” somehow and are leaving it up to us to figure it out and confirm it for ourselves the way they did.

Call your own electric company. You must be aware like we are how friendly their customer service actually is. It turns out that every power grid on this planet is run on gasoline. No gasoline = no electricity. Call them to confirm that. Go online and find all the verified research about the end of our petroleum addiction.

The global mass media artists are mega-intelligent; no one makes a film about “the near future” that isn’t reflecting it to be some kind of inevitable “Day the Earth Stood Still” (original-cut 2008 movie) situation when that is the truth. You cannot pretend to have a future shopping spree when you know your informed budget precisely; congruently no one smart can pretend there will be commerce or travel with what is now actually left in the environmental “bank account.”

How might this be possible you ask? Why didn’t we catch on sooner? Have you ever been to a party that was in full swing, enjoying yourself to the hilt, only to have it come to a grinding halt moments later for one reason or another, totally unexpected? Yeah, that happens. Occasionally it is the unexpected that catches us off guard and is possible. That has happened with our gasoline fueled social scene. No one realized the plug would be pulled. Ever. All our environmentalist crusades and we never considered checking petroleum reserves until now…we are fortunate to have three months to prepare instead of just days! DO THIS ANY WAY YOU CAN YOURSELF so you can add up the dots and make your own decisions to SAVE yourself based on facts, while you still can!

There is a huge intelligence movement now to live indefinitely instead of putting a time limit. Reincarnation is hogwash - this is it - your one life to live, if you were to “check out” you will never exist again. Of course, in that non-state, you wouldn’t even realize you don’t exist. What an infinite bummer.

Numerous spiritual disciplines talk about breaking the chain of birth, death, and karma and we have achieved that in this day and age. Yes we now understand HOW TO LIVE FOREVER and you may share this message verbatim with the masses!

That aforementioned bestselling supermodel author guide we published is endorsed heavily by too many celebrities to mention, our highly moral supermodel network, and world champion athletes; they all point to that piece of life saving literature. The only reason we drop names is to let you understand that these people’s networks are privy to the real truth society is facing that isn’t publicized unless we spread the word ourselves personally as in this message to you. The alarming truth is we have infrared and heartmath technology and can tell you that we could be heading for not even car travel by May 2018 and if no one is mega-publicizing it, it is simply due to “let’s keep them calm.”

That forever lifesaving literature guide download was only available online until 10/21/17. Obviously. Because many banks may be closed by March 2018 and there will be no place to spend proceeds soon thereafter.

We have a mobile home set up 100% solar “just in case” we must move comfortably with all our supplies. And tons of extra gasoline of course…it is silly to sit on a savings account when there may be nowhere to spend it after Summer 2018. Spend what you have now to OVERSTOCK and set yourself up comfortable, solar, with mobility options!

We can say with 100% accuracy that some celebrity, supermodel, and personal networks are not immediately right now settling down in some mansion. When you accept the facts about possibly no more travel or commerce as of Spring 2018 and prepare for yourself, you would most possibly take the precisely same action steps as many of us: girls have all chosen our FAVORITE vacation spot and manifested LAND there with space to grow lots of trees and whatever else - and some have ONLY A TRAILER of some sort like to “sleep in” like all the survivalists in the 1995 film, “Independence Day.” Favorite vacation spot is a must for our permanent relocation because YOU WILL NEVER GET TO LEAVE without gasoline or have ANY FORM OF ENTERTAINMENT without electricity or commerce except your hopefully non-electric based hobby or simple enjoyment of that vacation location. Location is everything for your survival and you MUST get there NOW while you still can to allow yourself ample time to manifest your “StarWagon” or whatever plus supplies and solar-ness.

MANY of us had to “go separately” from relationships when we realized that we didn’t share the same favorite vacation spot because “in the long run” no one wants to eventually have to entertain the other person with whom they are sharing land because newness of any relationship may inevitably lead to “I only moved here because of you but my interests / hobbies / passions are really elsewhere so now that the newness of us has passed, entertain me.” No one smart is taking that chance - that is energetically taxing for a couple no matter how tight you were so we in the celebrities and supermodel communities made it a hard and fast rule - no girl may relocate to anywhere for a person; ONLY for YOUR preferred hobby in YOUR preferred vacation spot. It IS encouraged for a homie to relocate permanently for a girl though and no other reason - not even a hobby. Those homies who do relocate to her village as such seem to enjoy lasting happiness with a girl.

Now all of us (supermodel’s networks and celebrities and personal networks) are focusing on our own personal wellness and relocation that CELIBACY is our unified pathway (but who is to say if that will last forever?) Maybe one day someone truly a perfect match will surprise each of us in our zip codes with their own RV or Airstream because it is also our hard and fast rule for smart survival as “smarties with hearties” network: only smart “RV” wheels for activism right now! Just like in the survival film “2012”. However, in the authentic spirit of celibacy, we are focused on IT, not on “falling out of celibacy if you meet someone special.” So just like all newly sober people support each other energetically, we are all supporting each other these days with celibacy in principle and the general good feelings for the planet of loving everyone in general (without getting physical) and no one in particular (except our Creator) and that is enough!

Also during these transitional months, do not teach kids about other cultures or lands or peoples as they most likely would never have the opportunity to go there anyway and meet anyone so why set them up for a loss? Let them remain obliviously happy within their zip code as if that is all they would ever know anyway and be enough. This will keep recovery, maintenance, and sustainability easier for everyone.

Even if the world were to now immediately transition to “all of a sudden only environmentally conscious people” it is too late to refill an already totally depleted global resource clock which will effect us to a NO petroleum line. You may research such topics as “global resource world clock” to understand that we have been at zero resources for months now and have basically been scraping the bottom of a barrel to get by on fumes.

There could be no gasoline infrastructure in just a handful of months to bring any products to stock any shelves. And that is that.

One of my favorite studies is by scientists in Colorado studying salamanders. Basically if the salamander lifestyle is at risk, it is a rather accurate assessment of the macro ecosystem at risk. You may research that yourself - 5 years ago, 70% of ALL rivers west of the Mississippi were too toxic for almost any kind of life. Who knows what those figures are now?

When you ever watched an “End of Days” scenario film, usually only the dramatic action is portrayed-not the three months leading up to the climactic “cataclysm.” Who’s to say that if those movies were real life, and they revealed the three months prior to its “apocalyptic scenario,” that it wouldn’t have included scenes of people like our networks alerting as many folks who would listen as we are now and scenes of people who take action actually doing so. Stuff like fact sheet could be like a three month warning.

As you live in the eternal now, if you ever remember any of the aforementioned artists somehow, or their networks and supermodels for any reason, KNOW FOR CERTAIN we continue to thrive on this planet as youthful and beautiful immortals in harmony with our Creator and all of creation which is why we strongly endorse that piece of literature, “Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise: The 5 Most Important Wellness Secrets of All Time.” If you were to go online and HEAVILY RESEARCH anything about “aging” you would discover NO ABSOLUTE TRUTH to it. If you were to heavily research “youthfulness” or “homeostasis” there are too many scientific journals out there providing hard scientific facts that eternal youth is our inherent and rightful state of being. We trust that everyone who manifested the precepts of what is in that guide are living immortally the same. No matter what happens, remember that enough people have decided to “break the chain of karma and live forever!” This is also all over YouTube!!! So even if it feels “deserted” around wherever you end up that doesn’t mean that is actually true. There ARE survivors, but maybe too spread out!

Obviously we would prefer global infrastructure to remain in place SOMEHOW maybe with different, alternative solutions and systems in place. If you have ideas...share. Otherwise there is pretty much no way around us becoming rather quickly like that recent television series “Revolution” which is post-global-infrastructure-collapse and no electricity.

Can we at least keep the peace throughout all of it??? Instead of turning on each other let us remember that maybe too many lives have passed already and let us cooperate as we co-habitate in a more sustainable way with our environment.

The most important of course is our relationship with our Creator so thank you for hearing us out with sincerity and understanding as we permanently sign off the internet.

Namaste and remain blessed forever - in God we trust, - #SupermodelIcon #SupermodelLegend🥂

[quakerjoe]

I hate to be the one to break this to the American populace, but reports of school shootings in the news should’ve stopped shocking the nation years ago. It’s old news. It’s time to move on to the next trendy news item.

Look, gentle American, the United States is the embodiment of violence. In your mind, run through the average teenaged boy’s day. His alarm wakes him up and music blasts from the speakers. It doesn’t matter if it’s rock or country, the theme of violence is there. Whether the music places him rallying around the family with a pocket full of shells or he’s got a shotgun, rifle, and four-wheel drive, an American boy will survive. But will he?

He turns on the TV. It’s laden with violence. He hops on Instagram, older men he looks up to are posing with their weapons trying their best to look like killers. Bored with that, he switches over to Twitter where he finds people discussing whether it’s ok to run people over with their cars for blocking a road during a protest over another unarmed person getting spattered by a cop, who is deemed a hero. People bring up the fact the deceased had too many tickets and how he should’ve just done what the man with the gun said. What’s the takeaway? Everybody has it coming, killing people over minor inconveniences is ok, and a man with a gun is unquestionable.

He goes to school, and a teacher assaults a student for not standing up for the pledge (Google it.) He remembers dad saying how he’d beat someone for burning a flag. That’s right. Violence is justified for insulting an inanimate object. It’s America, violence is always justified.

In homeroom, they watch the news. A bunch of brown kids in some far away land have been ripped in half by warheads from a drone. Oops. Just collateral damage. Life is cheap. He’ll watch the live footage of the dead kids as detached as any trained killer. He knows we’re ready to go to war in Syria and knows we should kill them, but neither he nor his parents could tell you why.

The refugees from that war? Pfft. Don’t send them here, even though US foreign policy triggered the war. They should stay and kill like real men. If they don’t want to, leave them to die.

He hears about the President saying he’d kill the family members of suspected terrorists. He hears him advocate torture. He hears him say those who didn’t stand for him or applaud the way he wanted are treasonous. The young man knows the traditional penalty for treason.

He hears about racists marching through the street advocating “peaceful ethnic cleansing” and “leaderless resistance”. He Googles the last term and reads about lynchings, church bombings, and shootings.

In history, he hears all about the glory of war, written by somebody who most likely never had a bullet fired at them. His JROTC instructor walks down the hallway, and he sees the ribbons.

On the bus ride home, he looks out the window at a stoplight and sees a bumper sticker informing him the vehicle is insured by Glock.

At home, he grabs the controller and starts killing “bad guys” in the latest video game. The characters he kills don’t soil themselves or cry for their mothers as they bleed out. They just vanish.

He turns on TV and watches the good guy biker gang off a bunch of Russians in a bad arms deal. Then the good guy meth cook kills his rival. He goes to the movies and sees the nation marvel at the latest true story of a war hero that conveniently sanitizes the reality of war.

At dinner, he eats alone, face in his phone watching videos of violence. As he goes to sleep, he’s laughing at the latest challenge: pointing guns at your friends.

The next day the cycle repeats, but after homeroom, some other boy with a similar daily routine and a lack of coping skills puts two in his chest. His death is livestreamed by another terrified student. That video is added to the library of death porn on the internet and some other boy watches with morbid curiosity later that night. That same boy hears from those shocked by the tragedy. One side says to put guns in the classroom, the other side says to send armed men to take the guns from “bad guys”. Either way, violence is the answer. That line between hero and criminal blurs more every day.

This is America. Of course, our schools are war zones. What else would they be?

If you’ve made it this far, you should know I’m not a peacenik. I carried a weapon daily for years. It’s precisely because I’m familiar with violence that I oppose it except in the most dire of circumstances.

Some might say the daily routine above doesn’t create school shooters. No, it doesn’t. It simply breeds familiarity with violence. It makes one intimate with death as an abstract concept. It breaks down the revulsion to taking another life. It doesn’t create school shooters, it just conditions young men to accept the concept of killing.

I’m not against guns. I’m against a culture that believes using one is good. I’m against a culture that glorifies violence against the weak. I’m against a culture pushing the idea that insulting a politician or flag is worthy of death. I’m against a culture that is so steeped in violence, they don’t even realize the amount of it they see daily. I’m against a culture that seeks to blame and punish innocents. I’m against a society that glorifies violence and ridicules restraint.

You want to know who to blame? That’s all the media has become lately anyway, right? Blame yourself. We created this culture. We spawned a generation of young men lacking integrity, accountability, courage, self-reliance, and coping skills. We created a world that contains violence at every level.

You want to fix this? Stop trying to put a band-aid on a bullet wound. There’s no easy fix. There’s no legislation to end it. It starts with you and your boy.

If you’re not willing to do that, shut up about how much you care about the victims. You don’t. Just like the shooter, you want to blame someone else for your failings.

Opinion by Justin King

[platinumshawnn]

strong | Shawn Mendes

Synopsis: Shawn having a talk with his premie daughter in the NICU.

A/N:  I have been trying to think of some sort of way to re-enter the world of writing about Shawn as I took a long hiatus (writer’s block and lack of motivation) and only just finally decided upon an idea of dad!Shawn to welcome myself back.

Word count: 1,538

 She was puny and red under the harsh fluorescent lights, fists barely the size of two of his fingertips and covered in wires that monitored her everything; white tape across her upper lip to hold a breathing tube in place up her little button nose. Her mouth was slightly parted, a slight frown on her face as she turned her head away from him, causing her hat to fall out of place on her head as it was way too big yet for her -- with a small smile, Shawn reached into one of the holes designed for arms to go in and out of, the closest to contact he had yet come with his daughter as he adjusted her hat back onto her head, his index finger lightly brushing her right cheek. Everything was too big for her yet. She looked preposterously small in the heated incubator, surrounded by hospital blankets that kept her in place, directly in the middle of the machine that was one among probably a hundred others; some occupied, a few he had noticed on his way in the very first time. But none of them were nearly as tiny as the little girl whose legs kicked around, eyes still closed as he carefully found one of her hands, holding it between his fingers, careful not to hurt her.

 She was fragile, Christ, was she ever. Both of them knew what to expect when they found out there was no postponing this, no way of getting her just to stay put for a little while longer when the doctor had finally come in and checked his girlfriend over, his face saying everything without words. She would be seven weeks early. Shawn had immediately started to think about how small she would be, would she fit her clothes back home? They never expected her to be this early and had bought for 0-3 months, some even 3-6 months so she could grow into them and when his eyes landed on her for the very first time, he knew it would be a long time until she could fit anything that they had gotten her; any of the clothes that were neatly placed away in her drawers. Shawn had lingered on the sight of little Gianna’s going home outfit that had been packed in the baby bag, holding it and looking at it as he pondered every possible question and scenario, wondering how his little girl was doing while his girlfriend slept; still hooked up to an IV drip, exhausted and worn from hours of sobbing and distraught cries, asking if Gianna was okay, what was going on, blaming herself like she had done something wrong. Like she could have prevented this somehow.

 They had allowed (Y/N) a few minutes to hold her after much consideration, her skin still pink and tiny as she laid against her chest, toes wiggling and little fists un-clenching and clenching with her eyes still closed. The time had gone by too quick and then she was being whisked away, leaving the two teenagers to stress over her well being and watch from a distance, leaving her in a bunch of stranger’s hands while nurses played messenger. Shawn, despite being exhausted, had remained awake long after (Y/N) had fallen asleep, tired out from all the crying and the long, grueling day today had turned into. He had waited to pull out the little wool outfit that consisted of brown leggings with hearts all over them and a wool sweater and a matching brown hat that his mother had bought them for her during the tiny spontaneous baby shower (Y/N)’s friends had thrown for them just a week earlier; head tilted and sighing.

 He had sat there like that a few hours longer, waiting until seven while (Y/N) was still asleep to go get himself a coffee from the cafeteria before making his way to the NICU; tired eyes and soft smiles as he bid good morning to doctors and nurses, other hospital staff, as he left his coffee on a table near the door and sanitizing his hands. He’d had to be shown to her bed, having never seen her yet, realizing much less had he not even held her -- he’d been too scared when they’d offered her to him before she was taken away, afraid he would mishandle her, hurt her because of how much bigger he was to her. He could easily just hold her in her hands and she would perfectly fit. It had sank in how real this was when he had held his hand over her, her body just a bit longer than his hand, skinny limbs and unable to breathe on her own yet.

 The smile was wiped from his face immediately by the realization, sitting back in his chair with a blank, glazed over look as he watched her, the room quiet aside from the beeping of monitors throughout the room that hung over each of the beds for each infant.The comments from the nurse earlier, explaining how she was doing had kind of gone in one ear and out the other because he just wanted to see his daughter, judge for himself how well she was because he was so desperate to say she was fine so they could just go home, he really hadn’t realized… it was about more than just her physical being. She wasn’t in the worst condition but it was an unpredictable case because things could go south in seconds, and the best place, despite his want to be selfish, for her to be was right there. In that bed.

 Shawn let out a soft, short laugh suddenly. “You...incredible, strong being you…” He said in a quiet voice, his exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulder. “You are quite the wonder. The nurse said yesterday was rough for you. Had to have a lot of shots, said you stopped breathing a couple times but you came screaming back to life every time. Your mom and I have been worrying about you all night.” He tiredly rambled, reaching in hesitantly to find her left hand; tiny fingers grasping weakly and twitching around the digit.

 “You were quite the surprise, you know.” He admitted, head tilting left and eyes still on Gianna. “Your mom got sick right all over my brand new shoes during tour and we just had this funny little feeling, you know...maybe it was you. Maybe you were in there. We didn’t know for sure because I was on tour and there just wasn’t many opportunities to go to the doctor’s or grab a test, but over time, it became obvious. I might have been a mess in ways and super naive before but the minute we found out about you, your mum whooped me into shape. Straightened me out.” He said, recalling the memory with a soft laugh.

 “She’s a strong woman, your mom, you know. I bet you know that already though. Probably better than anybody because I mean, she made you, like she carried you and gave birth to you all on her own. She’s always been tough.” He said, shaking his head and slipping his hand out of her grasp to gently stroke her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You got that from her obviously. Your strength. It’s incredible, you’re barely a day old and you’ve already inherited her strength and done some pretty big things. And look, if you’re scared, because they told us you may have to have some surgery to help you out...I’m scared too, but you gotta be strong for us both. Just this one time, because once you go in there, I can’t do anything for you. I’ll be stuck in the waiting room worrying and losing my mind so you need to be strong.” He quietly said, sighing.

 “You can’t understand me I realize, not yet.” He said, laughing stiffly at himself. “Still. We’re gonna need you to come right back out, alive and well, you gotta promise me. Your mother especially is going to need you, she can’t put up with me forever on her own, she needs more common sense at home. You just gotta promise you’ll come right back out, just as you are -- maybe a little better, maybe stronger. And even if it gets really scary in there, you have to...and know that when you come out, you’ll have someone right outside those doors who loves you. Me and mom will be here waiting for you.” He finished, going silent and swallowing thickly, leaning back in his chair and taking his hand back. With a yawn, he sighed and stood.

 “Should probably get back to your mom, she’s probably up now and I should try and get some sleep too.” He said, hand resting on top of the incubator and inhaling deeply, deeply sighing. “I’ll be back later, both of us maybe. Love you, little bear.” He softly said, hesitating before he turned to retrieve his coffee from the table and exit, bumping into other entering parents who were arriving to visit their own kids, nodding them a ‘good morning’ on his way out.

[tankermottind]

Cooped Up, Well Armed, and Strung Out: Gun Culture’s Vision for American Society

We all know the drill now. Every time a mass shooting happens, the right immediately talk about how there are not enough guns. Not enough armed people. Let’s give the teachers guns! Let’s give the children guns! Liberal and leftist writers point out, correctly, that teachers and children will be poor performers in a combat situation and having them throw themselves at shooters to try to “contain” them will lead to the killers killing even more kids. That’s part of the point. They want kids to get killed fighting.

The right’s most cherished fantasy is that of the hero, the alienated but mighty übermensch who imposes his (always he, or else a “Strong Female Character” who behaves effectively as an angry straight man with a vagina, toxicity included) will on the lesser humans who are too weak for their lives to matter. His domination over the normies and collateral slaughter of them in his fight against the villain is a purifying, positive force (there is nothing more hated in this fantasy than the weak and dependent, even the villain is more respected than the extra). It is often directly violent, but not always--libertarianism, especially of the Ayn Rand school, is the heroic fantasy applied to economics, as I will explore in more detail later. The project of gun fondlers and hoplolators is to make this fantasy manifest in the real world by any means necessary.

Make no mistake, they are not telling the truth when they say they don’t ever want to have to use them. A situation where they feel justified whipping our their rifle and killing people is a situation that makes them important, superhuman, heroic. An armed society would be a “polite society” because it would give would-be Batmen and Punishers the “respect” (deference; the right deliberately conflate the deference owed to a superior to true respect between equals) they believe they deserve. The danger this poses to a democratic society, and anyone who doesn’t dream of being a space marine or superhero or Western gunslinger cannot be understated. It is the absolute antithesis of democracy. Instead of “nothing about us without us”, the heroes decide things for the weak, because they’re self-evidently superior. If the normies’ lives, feelings, and agency mattered, they would become heroes themselves. Of course, many of them would, in practice, have others risk themselves and die on their behalf, but the same is true for real-life armed conflict. Generals become “heroes” without directly participating in the violence, by appropriating the death, killing, and sacrifice of their underlings. Much like a general consumes the sacrifice of his soldiers and experiences it vicariously to burnish his heroism, so would “first responders” and gun nuts vicariously consume the suffering and death of gun-toting schoolchildren in a school shooting that went down their way. This might sound contradictory, but fucked-up ways of thinking like this always have contradictions embedded in them.

This fantasy, and the fact that it’s easily turned into a vicarious one where the protected leader feeds off the hardship sacrifice of the underlings and the sheeple, is just as easily applied to the market as to the battlefield. Ayn Rand made her entire writing career out of portraying heroic industrialists like Hank Rearden, the sanitized hero versions of charlatans like Steve Jobs who steal the labor and accomplishments of the people in the company who do all the actual work (or other companies entirely, like Xerox PARC, who basically invented the Macintosh ten years early) and get lauded as “visionaries”. One libertarian I spoke to framed his entire objection to socialism in terms of not allowing such a person to become a hero and be elevated over others. He could not conceive of a reason to accomplish or create anything except to acquire heroic power. But I digress; back to gun fetishism and why reactionaries might think dead kids are good.

Meet Col. Jeff Cooper (1920-2006), WWII Marine Corps officer, OG gun nut, stone-cold racist, and a current resident of the seventh circle of hell. A very large portion of the culture, knowledge, and practices of modern American gun culture comes directly from him. The firearms safety rules your local NRA chapter teaches are his. The popularity of large-caliber self-loading handguns among cops and gun nuts as opposed to smaller pistols or revolvers comes from him. And his idea, taken from US Marine Corps doctrine from the WWII era, of color-coded “Conditions” are effectively gun culture’s vision of how we, as ordinary Americans, should live (if you think taking your idea of how to live from guidelines given to soldiers fighting in WWII is perverse, it’s even worse than you think).

Most of us who aren’t gun nuts, PTSD sufferers, constantly threatened, or violent criminals live in what Cooper called “Condition White”. In Condition White, you’re at ease, comfortable around others, not particularly concerned about your immediate safety, and focused on the things or people you are interacting with over your general surroundings. If you’re in Condition White, dining at a restaurant, and somebody walks into the establishment, pulls out a gun, and starts shooting, you’ll probably either freeze, run away blindly, or curl up on the floor in a fetal position because you don’t have a response plan for what would happen if somebody walked into the room with guns blazing because why would you? Jeff Cooper thought you shouldn’t live like this. His ideological descendants, including the NRA and most Republican politicians, want to make it so you can’t live like this. They think it’s weak and pathetic, un-heroic, untermensch-like, to be unprepared for violence.

Instead, Cooper believed people should live in “Condition Yellow”, a state of heightened vigilance where you are constantly watching, at a low level, for potential threats and aware that you might have to escalate to “Condition Orange” (aware of and attempting to identify a present threat) or “Condition Red” (full-on deadly combat) at any time. Someone in Condition Yellow at the hypothetical restaurant has already identified points of entry, escape, and cover inside the restaurant, as if it were a war zone. Many black men and pretty much all women (especially WOC) live in what is essentially a variant of Condition Yellow, where they don’t consider going ham themselves but merely account for the possibility that someone else might. This is extremely stressful and taxing in the long run, and nearly every black woman alive will, if she trusts you, eventually tell you about their fear, suspicion, and anxiety about being out in public, especially at night or among men and/or white people. I have heard several such stories personally. Having to live this way sucks. In psychiatry, Condition Yellow is called hypervigilance and is the most important symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder. Again, Jeff Cooper believed that this was a good thing and that you should be this way all the time.

Gun fetishism isn’t just about guns, and it isn’t even just about racism, although racism is a major factor and Jeff Cooper was, as I previously said, hella racist (TW: incredibly crude racist language and defenses of slavery therein). It’s a total and totalizing vision for how we should organize and live our lives. In the vision of gun culture, life is a canvas for heroes and villains to act out their conflicts and make their mark on the world, and the rest of us are the red, bloody paint with which they paint their adventures. Everyone is on guard all the time, carrying a weapon, suspicious of others, watching for threats from every direction. “Be polite, be efficient, have a plan to kill everyone you meet” is, in this world, no joke, but the first and principal rule for living. Violence is inescapable, pervasive, always lurking in the background and ready to burst forward at a moment’s notice.

The survivors of school shooting are despised by reactionaries for failing to accept and internalize gun culture’s vision. America’s youth are not going to surrender their right to Condition White, to open and joyous living, and the followers and exponents of gun culture are not going to tolerate their defiance. For the more true-believer types, who have drunk most deeply of the Cooper Kool-Aid, the refusal to accept the “necessity” of Condition Yellow seems irrational, even insane, or the product of manipulation by nefarious elements who want to take away their guns and leave them helpless against foreigners, “thugs”, and other boogeymen. I’m not sure how many of the Sandy Hook and Marjory Stoneman Douglas truthers actually believe the conspiracy theories or just see it as a way to silence and discredit opposition to what they consider the restoration of Real America to its rightful supremacy, and in the end it doesn’t matter because either way the same tactics are used, the same trauma is inflicted on kids, parents, faculty, and staff who have already endured so much, and the same end is sought--the total reorganization of American society on heroic principles, an action movie revolution.

This is “freedom”. This is “rugged individualism”. This is “a polite society”. An atmosphere of dread, paranoia, and suspicion that’s too distant for you to immediately identify, but absolutely everywhere, slowly grinding you down until you become addicted to drugs and shoot up a school to vent your frustration, further feeding everyone else’s “Condition Yellow” and making them ever more anxious and untrusting. Everyone is armed, everyone is a potential threat, everyone is a hero, a villain, or one of the extras who gets slaughtered to show how awesome/terrifying the hero/villain is, and anything could happen at any time. Life as a Warhammer 40,000 novel or a post-apocalyptic video game. This is what they want. We are expendable extras in their heroic, fascist fantasies. In this inverted morality, kids throwing themselves at a shooter and being riddled with bullets is good because it gives their otherwise pitiful and worthless lives meaning, and true safety is abhorrent because any safety not guaranteed by counter-violence is weak and un-heroic. They want our schools to be war zones, because to them, war is the primary source of value and meaning. It is where men (women are not agents in this value system, but property, except for a few who may become honorary men) become heroes or villains, and the weak are destroyed.

“Above all, Fascism, in so far as it considers and observes the future and the development of humanity quite apart from political considerations of the moment, believes neither in the possibility nor the utility of perpetual peace. It thus repudiates the doctrine of Pacifism — born of a renunciation of struggle and an act of cowardice in the face of sacrifice. War alone brings up to its highest tension all human energy and puts the stamp of nobility upon the people who have the courage to meet it. All other trials are substitutes, which never really put a man in front of himself in the alternative of life and death.”

--Benito Mussolini, Doctrines of Fascism, 1919

This is the plan they have for us. Resist.

(edited 3/16/18, 14:40 CDT for typos)

[missweber]

'A' is for...

On AO3

Summary:

The night of the last game of the Stanley Cup Finals, Kent learns that 'A' can stand for a lot of things. These include, but are not limited to:

Alternate. Ally. Asshole. Assumptions. Alone.

I've seen a lot of varied and interesting takes on Kent since the last update dropped, and the Kent you see here is just one of several possible headcanons I have for the guy. Basically, he's still pretty messed up, but has taken a few first steps towards getting better. YKentMV, of course.

NBC was about to cut to a pre-game interview with Bob, and Kent was still on the fence about whether or not it was a bad idea to watch when Swoops pulled him away from the TVs (sloshing beer all over the place as he went) and asked him what it would be like if Jack won the Cup tonight.

"And I want your real answer, Parser, not whatever line of BS you're already planning to feed the media when they ask, 'cause you know they're gonna ask. I'm your A, buddy. It's my job as alternate to look out for you, eh?"

"Huh. I thought that A on your sweater stood for 'asshole of the useless variety'," Kent retorted with a wink and a grin. In practice, the Aces' alternates didn't actually do much aside from planning off-season parties and cookouts. Not that Kent did much more than that as captain. He made a note to feel guilty about that later. Or not.

Swoops stared at him for a while, and he might have been having a little trouble focusing. He was definitely having to lean on a nearby slot machine for support.

"You still with me, Swoops? What is it?"

"What it is, is that it's way too early for me to be drunk enough I can't think of something 'C' stands for that won't make you want to knock my teeth down my throat," Swoops said. "Do me a solid and pretend I said something out-of-this-world clever that wouldn't have HR crawling up my ass again, okay?"

Kent laughed bitterly, knowing that most of the guys would have gleefully unleashed the homophobia or misogyny without a second or even a first thought. He gave Swoops a friendly shove. "Sure. You're a good egg, Swoops."

"Damn straight, I am. I'm a fucking brilliant - what'd that stupid inclusion video call it? Ally? Yeah, ally. Now are you going to answer my question, or what?"

"It'll be a good thing," Kent said after thinking it over for a bit.

Swoops gave him a dubious look over the rim of his glass, and even though he didn't press for an explanation, Kent gave him one. Well, part of one.

"If he wins, we'll be back on even ground, y'know? If the Falcs win, there's no way Ja... Zimms won't get the Smythe, the way he's been playing. Plus, it's pretty much a given he's gonna get the Calder, and Ovie only beat him out for the Richard by that one goal that shoulda been called off anyway."

Swoops groaned and banged his head (gently, of course) on the slot machine. "Jesus, Parser. Do not tell me you're going to try to hook up with that douchebag again. Just... no. The third time is not the charm here."

Kent didn't blame Swoops for reacting like that, even if the exaggerated shudder at the 'no' was kind of rude. He'd drunkenly outed himself to Swoops after the first Samwell visit, and Swoops was the only person who even had half a clue about how bad things got after that second visit. As far as Swoops was concerned, Zimms was Bad News.

"I miss my friend," Kent said. It was true. He did. Zimms got him in ways no one else ever had. He had felt safe around Zimms in ways he still didn't with anyone else, not even Swoops. "And believe it or not, I want my friend back."

"You've got friends here," Swoops grumped. "Are we not good enough for you or something?"

Kent laughed and clapped him on the shoulder before guiding him back towards the bar. "Sorry, pal, but you're a second liner all the way. Now come on or we're gonna miss the puck drop. Also, do yourself and everyone else here a favor and switch to water until second period at least. You're a tragedy waiting to happen."

That seemed to end the conversation as far as Swoops was concerned, but Kent's mind kept rolling with it even though he wished it wouldn't. He had finally accepted after that disastrous second Samwell visit (plus way too many 'healthy' scratches and finally caving to management's threats and seeing a therapist) that he couldn't make Zimms get back together with him, or be friends with him, or even be willing to talk to him again. Recently, he had even taken a few baby steps towards acknowledging the bitter truth that trying to get Zimms back may have instead fucked things up past the point of repair.

But was it a crime to want? To hope? To daydream?

There were so many ways things could go down, if Jack won the Cup.

He could call Jack to congratulate him and Jack would actually answer the phone. Or, Jack might finally feel like he'd proven himself and be the one to call Kent. Maybe they could meet up at the NHL Awards. Maybe they could apologize to each other and everything would be okay. Maybe they could be friends again. Maybe they could be more. Maybe things would start off slowly, or maybe - now that they could finally meet as equals again - it would all come back in a heated rush.

Or maybe Scraps (of all people - what the hell?) would sit next to him in a shitty sports bar and nervously pass him a phone so Kent could sit there in a very public place and watch Jack kiss some other guy in front of the whole fucking world.

Kent could have sworn he was watching from somewhere over his own shoulder as Jack pulled a blond kid into his arms. They kissed, and it was so much like what Kent imagined, what he had dreamed over the years, that the blond in Jack's arms became a reflection made solid and it was him Jack was kissing and all his wishes and dreams and fears had been captured and were being broadcast in full color even though he had tried and tried to keep it all hidden. Everyone was going to know about him, it was out, he couldn't stop it...

...and then a dozen Falconers swarmed the duo, with St. Martin hauling Jack into a hug and Robinson ruffling the blond kid's (not Kent's) hair and Mashkov damn near causing a wipeout because he apparently forgot he was on crutches and tried to throw the kid over his shoulder. And then all the WAGs were there, and the kid scooped up someone's toddler like he'd done it a million times before.

They knew. They knew, and they didn't care. They knew, and fuck, did that mean they knew about Kent? Did everyone know? Kent was getting lightheaded and he knew he should breathe but he couldn't, he couldn't move. He couldn't.

"Oooh, so he's gay or whatever? Jesus Christ."

Carl. Of course. Shit, shit, shit, of all the people to figure out Kent's secret, it had to be that sub-literate douchebro, but wait, no, he was talking about Jack? Yeah, he was talking about Jack and somehow that made it a million times worse. Swoops - Kent was pretty sure it was Swoops - said come on, Carl, but he was half-laughing as he said it, and it only made Carl double down and make some crack about the Cup parade.

It wasn't funny, but everyone laughed. Everyone. Everyone but Kent, and Scraps, who had gone kind of green and stuck out his hand for his phone. Swoops changed the subject by goading Carl to talk about his favorite subject (Carl), but he was still laughing like a hyena along with everyone else at that fucking stupid parade joke.

Kent shoved the phone back at Scraps and tried not to think about why the guy looked like he wanted to puke. He was probably going to wipe his phone down with hand sanitizer or something to get rid of the gay cooties from the video.

Kent stood up abruptly. "I gotta use the little boys' room," he said, half-hoping it would lure Carl into making another crack, one that would give Kent a halfway decent excuse to bash his empty skull in with a bar stool, but no one said anything as he stalked off.

He strode straight past the men's room and out the back exit. He wanted to cool off and take a deep breath, but the temps were still in the upper eighties and the exit emptied out right next to a very full and very ripe dumpster.

"Shit!" He kicked at a beer bottle that had fallen out of the recycling bin. It shattered where it landed several yards away but the noise from the Strip ate up his shout and the sound of broken glass. He picked up another bottle. This one, he threw. "SHIT!"

"Uh, Parser?" came a tentative and not very welcome voice.

"Go back inside, Jeff," Kent said as calmly as he could make himself. He waited for a count of ten breaths, but when he looked over his shoulder, Swoops was standing there, shuffling awkwardly in place and looking like he wished he was either a lot more sober or a lot more drunk.

"Y'know, the restrooms are inside, but if you were planning to piss on Carly's tires, I won't stop you. Hell, I think half the guys on the team wouldn't lift a finger to stop you."

Kent looked away and started walking. His car was only a block away. "Right. Just like they didn't lift a finger to stop Carl when he decided to be an ignorant asswipe. Thanks, by the way."

"Aw, c'mon, Parser!" Swoops sounded closer than before, which meant that he was following Kent, which, no thank you. "He was just being an idiot, like usual."

An idiot about something that Swoops knew damn well was a big sore spot for Kent. He'd seen how big of a sore spot it was. Twice.

"And everyone laughed at him - like usual. Including the guy who's my best friend on the team." He didn't stop walking. "I'll tell you what, that was a fan-fucking-tastic way to end this shit-show of an evening!"

And this was where Swoops should apologize or maybe just say whoops! and he'd try to do better next time. But no, that was not the kind of night Kent was having.

"What? So I laughed. Big deal! It just sort of happened, and it would have been a way bigger deal not to, you know?"

Kent stopped short and wheeled around, forcing Swoops to stumble back a step. "Pro tip - 'Not funny, dude' is a great phrase. Useful in hundreds of different situations. Learn it," he said with a jab at Swoops' sternum.

Swoops batted Kent's hand away, and looked him up and down with a curled lip. "Jeez. Lighten the fuck up, Parser. Like he said, Carly didn't actually say anything wrong before I tried to stop him the first time. And hey, at least I was eventually able to get him talking about something else, right?"

Of course Swoops wouldn't think it was wrong. It wasn't like Carly had said anything that was out and out false or blatantly homophobic, but even just thinking about trying to explain why it was wrong was profoundly exhausting.

Zimms would get it. But Zimms wasn't here.

"Yeah. Great. You made a passing attempt at being a decent human being. Gold star for Swoops!" he cheered, doing jazz hands for that little extra touch. "Happy?"

Swoops' face twisted into something ugly, but then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Look... I don't know what you want from me, Parser. I know the whole Zimmermann thing has got to suck big, hairy balls, but what - did you want me to tell Carly the whole sob story so he can walk on eggshells around you? I thought the whole point is that you want to keep this shit on the down-low!"

"What I want is to know that you've got my back! We're on the same god-damned team! You got the A this year, which means that you and me," he said, gesturing back and forth between the two of them and not doing a very good job of keeping his hand from shaking, "we're a team within a team! You're supposed to be on my side, genius! Not the side of some third-rate bench-warmer. Most of all, you're my friend, not Carl's, and what I want is for you to understand why I'm pissed off that you laughed at a joke he made at my expense!"

Swoops flung his arms wide. "He doesn't know you're into guys! He doesn't know you had a thing with Zimmermann! What I keep trying to tell you, dumbass, is that the whole point is that no one on the team knows!"

It was strange, how when anger spiked to a certain point, it turned into a calm, implacable clarity.

"Yeah, Swoops, you're right. But you know. And you don't fucking get it."

The calm was starting to sizzle away, and Kent had finally figured himself out well enough to know that if he didn't get the hell out of there right now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from saying things that would leave scars - and not just on whatever poor bastard he flayed with his words.

"Screw it. I'm done," he said before he or Swoops could say anything they'd regret. He turned and walked off. "See you later. If we're lucky, we'll both go home, get blackout drunk, and forget about this whole clusterfuck."

He was not at all surprised to hear protests and footsteps stumbling up behind him.

Kent lifted his hand to knock away the shoulder-clasp he knew was coming. "Do not fucking touch me, asshole!"

"Jesus! What the hell is wrong with you, Parser?"

Kent said nothing. He just kept walking.

What was wrong with him was that he missed Jack. It wasn't just that he missed the man he still loved (and who clearly no longer loved him). It wasn't even that he missed his friend.

What he missed was having someone around who actually got it. Someone who knew what it meant to have his back. Someone who understood that 'ally' was something you did and not just a label you slapped on like a letter on a jersey because you watched a stupid video.

He missed not feeling so fucking alone all the time.

"Screw you, Parse!"

Kent was pretty sure Swoops was flipping him off, but he didn't look back to confirm. He was pretty sure he knew how this would play out based on past experience. Neither of them would get all the way to blackout drunk, but they'd both wake up tomorrow with miserable hangovers. Swoops would come by around eleven with a jug of his secret-recipe Bloody Marys (the secret being extra vodka and half a bottle of Frank's Hot Sauce) and offer a hangdog 'we good, buddy?' by way of apology.

And Kent would say they were good, and he would pretend that they were, because for all that it was exhausting how much Swoops didn't get it, he was a good friend more often than he was a shitty one, and right now it looked like that was the best Kent could hope for.

He wanted better than that, though. Especially tonight, because he knew that this thing with Jack was like that slap shot that clipped his ankle a couple of years back. When it first hit, he knew it hurt like a motherfucker, but all it was: knowledge. The actual pain came after. Right now, the pain was like a boulder balanced on the edge of a cliff, and any second now it would come crashing down on him and he wouldn't be able to stop it.

Most all, though, he was tired. God, he was tired.

He jolted into panicked wakefulness, however, when he rounded the corner. Someone was lurking with intent right by his car. A someone who had a good five inches and forty pounds on him. It didn't take long for Kent to recognize who it was.

"Scraps? What the hell are you doing out here, man? You need a ride or something?" Kent thought he sounded reasonably calm, but who knew what kind of speculation shitbags like Carl had indulged in after Kent left? What were the odds that someone had remembered the rumors about him and Jack and put two and two together, and shit, maybe he shouldn't have left after all...

"I - " Scraps started, and then his mouth snapped shut with an audible clack. Kent stopped a few feet away, not wanting to get any closer until he had a good feel for what was going on and how quickly he might need to get away.

Scraps was an old-school enforcer, the kind of guy there was less of in the league the more there were guys like Kent. He was a tough guy's tough guy, and he wasn't known so much for his skill as he was for having taken a skate to the face during a pile-up and then trying to get back on the ice as soon as the stitches were in. This season, he had been suspended twice. Two games for boarding that speedy little dude on the Flames and four games for cross-checking the Aeros' captain hard enough to break two ribs. He was the guy people pointed at first when they talked about 'typical Aces hockey.'

So why, Kent wondered, as he started walking towards the car again, was Scraps the one who looked like he was about to piss himself? Scraps was five or so years older than Kent, but right now it would have been easier to believe it was the other way around.

"I wanted to talk to you," Scraps mumbled, looking like he was trying to make eye contact with the rats in the gutter. "Sorry if I, uh..."

"No, no... It's okay, man." Kent slowed his approach, speaking softly and telegraphing his moves the way he did when Kit was in one of her twitchier moods. "It's okay."

He didn't really think it was, but Scraps wasn't shaking quite as badly as he had been a second ago.

"It's just, um, you got real upset when I showed you that video."

"Right," Kent said slowly, not sure where all this was going. Scraps still wasn't looking him in the eye, and he kept scuffing his hand over his head and swallowing hard every few seconds.

"But you also got real upset when Carly started joking about your friend. I mean, he's your friend, right? Zimmermann?"

"Yeah. We haven't seen each other in a while, but yeah." No, it wasn't exactly true, but this wasn't the time or place to get into all the gory details.

Scraps was slouched over and hugging himself, looking more like a kid who had just come up from Juniors than someone who had played his first NHL game while Kent was still a bantam.

"And it doesn't... I mean, you're okay with him kissing another guy?"

No, Kent really, really wasn't okay with Jack kissing another guy, but not for the same reason Scraps thought he wouldn't be okay.

"Zimms can date whoever the hell he wants," he snapped, daring Scraps to challenge him. What was Scraps getting at with all this, anyway? Screw it. He was pissed, and he was going to say what he wished Swoops had said to Carl Fucking Chadwick back at the bar. "And even though Falcs management is probably going to hand his ass to him tomorrow, he's got the same damn right to kiss his boyfriend after winning the Cup that St. Martin and Robinson had to kiss their wives."

And if you think any different, then go take a long walk off a short pier, you pea-brained troglodyte.

He was expecting to get some kind of stammering, insincere protest that still managed to be eighteen different kinds of offensive.

What he got instead was one of the league's most notorious goons sitting down hard on the hood of Kent's brand new car, covering his eyes with one hand and flat out sobbing.

What the hell?

Oh.

Oh.

Heart rabbiting in his throat, Kent closed the remaining distance between him and Scraps in a flash. "Hey, hey... it's okay, man. It's gonna be okay. I promise. Now get off the car, because you're wearing jeans and the rivets will fuck up the paint. And can you please stop crying, because you're freaking me the fuck out."

What the fuck was he was supposed to do next? Should he ask Scraps to confirm what Kent thought? Or maybe he should chime in with a supportive 'me too!' (and yup, there was the automatic spike of nausea and panic at the thought). Or maybe he should just try to find some tissues somewhere because Scraps was wiping away snot with the back of his hand and that was just gross. And maybe he should stop trying to take refuge in wisecracks, even ones that didn't leave the privacy of his own head.

Or maybe he should just do what he wished Swoops had had the fucking courage and decency to do.

"I'm sorry, Scraps," he said, and the confused look he got from the other man was just heartbreaking. Whatever Scraps had been expecting from Kent, an apology certainly wasn't it. "They should give me the A instead of the C, because everyone knows A stands for 'asshole.'"

"No you're not," Scraps mumbled. "An asshole, I mean. I thought, well, I hoped you'd be okay with this. With me."

Kent took a deep breath, because bursting into hysterical, nervous breakdown-style laughter wouldn't help anyone right now.

"Someone should have... I mean I should have told Carl to shut his fucking mouth." And maybe he should have, but Kent had assumed it was just him in the cross-hairs, and why the hell would he want to draw attention to himself when it was clear that no one was going to have his back? "I'm your captain. I know some guys say all that means is that I'm the guy who gets to plan the parties, but I should've been looking out for you."

Scraps still wouldn't look him in the eye. "You didn't know."

"That doesn't matter."

If he hadn't had the first clue about Scraps, what else had he missed? Who else might have been in that bar, laughing to cover their own butts but also watching to see how their captain and alternates reacted? Shit.

"So it doesn't bother you, that I, uh..."

Kent raised an eyebrow. "Like guys?"

Oh, Scrappy, my friend, do I have news for you.

"Yeah. And, y'know," he said, voice cracking, "have a boyfriend?"

Kent swore he felt a circuit breaker trip in his brain. Everything he thought he knew about Scraps was rearranging itself so fast he couldn't keep up. Scraps had a reputation as a player because he kept coming to practice with hickeys in interesting places, and from the way he talked, he burned through girlfriends at a rate that assholes like Carl found aspirational.

Girlfriends no one had ever met.

Girlfriends he always managed to break up with right before family skate or the team Christmas party or the post-season cookout.

And, now that he thought about it, Kent couldn't think of anyone ever saying that they'd been to Scraps' place even though he'd been with the team since the expansion draft. He honestly couldn't say he had any clue where in the city Scraps lived.

"A boyfriend, huh? That's cool," Kent said, because Scraps was getting visibly nervous at his lack of response. Now what else were you supposed to say at times like this? "Uh, how long have you two been together?"

And Christ, the way Scraps' eyes went soft for just a second hit Kent square in the heart the way Kit had when he first saw her huddled in the back of her cage at the shelter.

"Since we were fifteen. But me and Donny, we knew each other forever before then, I mean, he grew up two houses down from me. I don't remember ever not being friends with him."

Kent did the math on that, and even if he got it a little wrong, he knew that Scraps and his boy had been together a long time. Longer than any other couple he knew except for Bob and Alicia. And given what Kent knew about the tiny Alberta town Scraps came from, it was probably nothing short of a fucking miracle that they'd gotten together in the first place and survived to tell the tale. Or not tell it, as it turned out.

"I'm jealous. No, seriously, man. That's awesome," he said when Scraps gave him a sidelong look as if not sure if Kent was teasing him or not. He really was jealous, but it didn't feel like it was going to turn poisonous.

Scraps nodded brusquely, like he was squaring himself up for something. "I want us to go all the way next year, Parser. I want us to win again, and then I wanna do what Zimmermann did."

"You should've been able to do that five years ago, and I'm so fucking sorry you couldn't." Kent wished it was otherwise, but he couldn't see the Aces reacting to Scraps the way the Falcs had reacted to Jack.

Scraps didn't say anything. He just rubbed at his scar, a nervous gesture that came out only rarely, and Kent remembered with a twist in his gut how insistent he was that he get back out on the ice or at least back on the bench even though his face was still a mess.

"First things first, though," Kent said when he could breathe again, "I'm gonna help you figure out how to get Donny onto your emergency contacts list, okay?"

Scraps startled the way you did when it felt like someone had just read your mind, but then he looked like he was going to start crying again. "Management doesn't know."

They don't know about me, either, Kent almost said. He still wasn't sure he wanted them or anyone else to know. He'd need to think about it, and talk to a bunch of other people first. His therapist, for sure. Bob, maybe. "Okay. So give me his number and I'll make sure that if he needs to know anything, he'll know it."

"Thanks, Parser." Scraps looked relieved, but drained down to the last drop. Kent knew how that felt. He wondered if he should tell Scraps about himself, but it wouldn't be now. Not on top of everything else that had happened tonight.

"Things are going to change, Scraps. I'm gonna make sure of that. I should've done that earlier, but..." He shrugged. But he couldn't have his own back. He couldn't be his own ally.

He sure as hell could be someone else's ally, though.

"But?"

"But I was an asshole. Plain and simple. I could've made things different, but I didn't, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell Carl to shut the hell up. And don't say it's okay, because it's not. But I'll make it okay. I promise. Things are gonna change and when the time comes, you'll get to plant one on your boy at center ice if that's what you want. Or maybe you can go one better and put a ring on it. Now let me drive you home - you look seven kinds of wrecked. Where do you live, anyway?"

Scraps gave him the address.

"Boulder City!? Are you shitting me? You mean I've got to drive all the way to..." He slumped and tried to rub away the stress headache. "Argh! You know what, never mind. I said I've got you, so I got you. Get in the car. Why are all my friends are such freaking losers? Boulder City? Seriously?"

Someone else might have thought it weird how Scraps' face lit up at being chirped like that, but Kent got it.

They drove in a weirdly comfortable silence for a while, Scraps only interrupting to point out a better way to get to 215.

It was good to have something to think about that wasn't Zimms and whoever-the-fuck it was that wasn't Kent even though it was only holding off the inevitable collapse for just a bit longer.

But if he had a reason to keep his shit at least somewhat together...

"Remind me to call my therapist tomorrow."

Scraps startled away from looking into the darkness that had taken over once they passed Henderson. "Huh?"

"It's a long story, which I think you should maybe hear parts of, but not right now, okay?" Scraps needed to talk to Donny, and Kent needed to get home and cuddle with Kit and let himself break down for a little bit.

"Uh, okay?" Scraps had reverted to his usual state when not on the ice, which was pleasantly befuddled. "Oh! Turn here."

Scraps guided him through a maze of suburban streets. The general feel was upscale and private but not flashy, which was not what Kent would have expected. Of course, tonight had brought a lot of things he had not expected.

Kent finally pulled up in front of a faux-adobe house that looked like the kind of place you'd get if you maybe wanted to have kids some day. It was the sort of place you'd get with someone you'd been with for fifteen years.

Fifteen years. Jesus. He and Zimms had had less than a year as more-than-friends, and look how much it had fucked him up.

Scraps unlocked his door, but Kent reached out to stop him from getting out of the car "Hey, there's some stuff I gotta take care of tomorrow, but this weekend, I want you and Donny to come to my place for lunch or whatever. First of all, I need to see what kind of guy has been willing to put up with your ignorant ass for over a decade. Second of all, we need to talk about how we can start making things right. You want to come out to the team, right?"

"Yeah. If Donny does, I mean. But yeah."

"You do know that if you do, and it goes okay, you two are so going to get stuck with hosting cookouts for the team because it looks like you've got a sweet backyard there."

Hell, in a perfect world, they'd end up billeting a rookie or two, assuming the rookie was okay with driving out to East Jesus every day.

Scraps laughed and Kent thought that maybe everything would be okay.

He waited in his car until he saw that Scraps got safely inside. He got a brief, shadowed glimpse of a large man pulling Scraps inside and into a hug before the door closed behind them.

Kent punched his own address into his GPS because suburbs always confused and annoyed him. Then, he hit the road.

He could feel the thing with Zimms pushing at his head like the first pulses of a migraine, but his mind was whirling with enough other stuff to keep it at bay for the next little while at least. He started making a list.

First, he'd text his therapist a few details the minute he got home. Once she saw what it was about, Elaine would clear the decks for a phone appointment, no questions asked. Hell, if she'd watched the game or even just the news about the game, she was probably planning to call him if he didn't get in touch by tomorrow.

Next, he'd text Swoops and tell him to show up no earlier than eleven with a double batch of his special Bloody Marys. If Swoops was too hungover to drive or decided he was still pissed off at Kent about tonight, then Kent knew where Swoops lived and where he kept his spare key. He also had an air horn and he was not afraid to use it.

One way or another, they were going to have a little talk about what it meant to be a captain and what Kent would be expecting of his alternate captains going forward. They would also talk about how being an ally wasn't just not saying shit that would get you a fine for unsportsmanlike conduct. And then, if all went well, the two of them could gang up on Link and either get him with the program or find ways to make his life a living hell.

(He made a mental note to talk to Elaine about what to do if things didn't go well and Swoops decided to be an asshole after all.)

No matter what happened, though, things were going to change. They were already changing because of Jack, and it was long past time they changed because of Kent.

Fifteen years. How many other guys were out there in the league right now who were just like him or Scraps? How many had there been over the past hundred years? He shuddered. If he thought too much about it, he was going to be sick.

He was able to keep his thoughts down to a dull roar for the rest of the drive home and then up from the parking garage to his condo. Even before he got the door open, Kit was yowling like she'd been abandoned for weeks.

It wasn't until he scooped her up and she was purring like a cement mixer and butting her head up under his chin like she was trying to crawl inside his head that something finally struck him. He'd been so busy bracing himself for the inevitable breakdown about Zimms that he'd missed something else completely. Something big.

It was so freaking huge that he wondered why he hadn't seen it before, but now that he did see it, he collapsed back against the door and slid down to the ground because the sudden flood of relief was as overwhelming as any pain.

"I'm not alone, baby girl," he said as the tears finally came and would not stop. "I'm not alone anymore."

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1985

Under the cut.

Foreigner -- "I Want To Know What Love Is" -- February 2, 1985

One of the quintessential 80s power ballads. It's actually kind of interesting if you think about it enough. He's not in love yet, but he's gotten sick of not being in love, so he's asking someone he's in the pre-love stage with to show him. Though he's had "heartache and pain" before, and doesn't know if he can face it again. It's not consistent. I feel like it's a missed opportunity, but oh well. It's good enough for what it is.

Wham! -- "Careless Whisper" -- February 16, 1985

Oh my god I love the saxophone in this. The music throughout the song is so incredibly sexy. And this is the kind of song George Michael's voice was made for. He's totally capable of sounding both hot and in agony at the same time. I actually adore a whole lot of cheating songs -- mostly, though not exclusively, the tormented kind. Drama! Love! Sex! Angst! Gorgeous.

REO Speedwagon -- "Can't Fight This Feeling" -- March 9, 1985

<3. He keeps singing "r"s like a pirate, but he doesn't go as hard on the other consonants, so I'm good with it. Lyrically, this song sounds like it might be two songs mashed together. "What started out as friendship has grown stronger" or "my life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you." Well which is it? Except I've had that happen. I love this song.

Phil Collins -- "One More Night" -- March 30, 1985

This is a depressing heartbreak song without the saving grace of any of Phil Collins' neat drum stuff. Blah.

We Are the World -- April 13, 1985

Whoo boy. I was 8 when this came out. Obviously I loved it. All the kids loved it. Now, though... I'm sorry, but it's bad. Really bad. Many others have gone deeply into why it's bad. I feel acutely embarrassed listening to it, so I'm just running away from it as fast as possible. (Remember all those celebrities singing "Imagine" in their mansions in 2020? I blame this song for that.)

Madonna -- "Crazy For You" -- May 11, 1985

This is one of Madonna's most straightforward love songs. Maybe the most, period. This or "Cherish," and this is a better song. It's lovely. Like Olivia Newton-John, Madonna can act a song. (Unlike in most movies she's been in.) But what I'm thinking about now is learning in this article that her label wouldn't let Madonna release "Into the Groove" as a single. That song was huge. It was played on the radio all the time. If it had been released as a single, or maybe if Billboard had tracked songs then like it does today, it would have been a massive smash, definitely #1. "Into the Groove" is also the best song of her very early career. "Crazy for You" is good, but not nearly as special.

Simple Minds -- "Don't You Forget About Me" -- May 18, 1985

As I am "Gen X", I am supposed to deeply connect with The Breakfast Club. I was 8 years old when it came out. My life as a teenager was nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, like that movie. I didn't recognize any of the "types." I liked the movie when I saw it in college, mostly, but the whole sexual harassment turns into a relationship deal was not seen as cool any longer. The "jocks vs. nerds" thing also felt very dated. The school in the movie was bigger and richer than mine, but it's a fantasy.

Anyway, though I don't feel much about the movie, its breakout song was really good. It does speak to a real fear both in graduating high school and during young adult relationships. I haven't forgotten the people I knew in high school, as far as I know, but obviously they don't have the same importance to me any longer. I'm Facebook friends with a lot of them. And very much not with a couple who were the most important then, because we grew apart -- or blasted apart. One of the nicest girls I knew in high school thinks there's a war on Christmas. Another keeps trying to get me to join her MLM. One of my best friends became my first boyfriend, and I don't regret that, but it was also a semi-disaster. And others... we just have nothing to say to each other any longer.

So, Breakfast Club: I don't connect with at all. "Don't You Forget About Me": Speaks to something very real and timeless.

Wham! -- "Everything She Wants" -- May 25, 1985

What a dick. Songs in which the narrator is a colossal jerk are perfectly fine, of course, but this one gets under my skin. He's whining about his wife getting pregnant when she's dissatisfied with their life and that they're broke. As if it's something she chose to do to him. She's stuck creating a whole other person with her blood and flesh, and he thinks it's all and entirely about him. I really hate it.

Tears for Fears -- "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" -- June 8, 1985

I can't hear this song without thinking of this Baldur's Gate fan trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdd06d2nids. Speaking of which, I am incredibly excited for Baldur's Gate 3. I've been reading the early access reviews on Steam, and anything anyone is saying that's negative is stuff I don't gaf about (except bugs), whereas the positive stuff, I care about deeply. I hope it's got some of the feeling of that trailer. Um, right, Tears for Fears.

Honestly, though, it works best as a Baldur's Gate theme song. I don't think everybody actually wants to rule the world. It sounds good though. And pretty different from other stuff around it. But I like Lorde's cover better, and not just because it fits so wonderfully with all sorts of fantasy stories.

I usually play a paladin or paladin-type the first time in fantasy RPGs, but I'm thinking bard this time.

Bryan Adams -- "Heaven" -- June 22, 1985

He's been with this woman since they were young, and while they've broken up and gone through rough patches, now they're together forever and they're "in heaven." Bryan Adams knew exactly how to write a song that would become a hit. I used to not mind it at all, but it also means nothing to me. The chorus is catchy as hell though. So catchy that I ended up waking up with it in my head and it would not leave for hours and hours, so now I resent this song.

Phil Collins -- "Sussudio" -- July 6, 1985

I refuse to believe anyone ever told Phil Collins he was too young. He was born middle-aged. Anyway, the narrator isn't supposed to be him, so it's fine, but it's still kinda funny. He's got a crush on someone who doesn't even know his name, but "she's all I need all of my life." Um. The music is repetitive, the drums aren't as interesting as Phil Collins at his best, and I don't like the lyrics. I don't hate it, but I don't like it either.

Duran Duran -- "View to a Kill" -- July 13, 1985

I'm not sure I've ever heard this song before. It's about as good a song as the Bond movie they wrote it for was as a movie. In other words, it's bad. I'm not even sure there's a melody. Just a mess. "Ordinary World" would have made a far better Bond theme, but of course that was the 90s, when Duran Duran decided to try to make sense both lyrically and musically.

Paul Young -- "Every Time You Go Away" -- July 27, 1985

I like the high keyboard notes in this. They're sort of haunting. The rest of the song is musically pretty good, too. Lyrically though, it's only passable. This woman keeps leaving him every time "the leading man" shows up, so I guess he's the backup. Why does he keep waiting for her anyway? There's no hint in the song. I'm kind of embarrassed for him.

Tears for Fears -- "Shout" -- August 3, 1985

I think "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" is a better song than this one when done by Lorde. But I think "Shout" is a better song than Tears for Fears' original iteration of "Everybody Wants to Rule the World." The chorus seems clear enough. But the verses are not. "They gave you life/ And in return you gave them hell" makes sense in isolation, but then there's a bunch of stuff that doesn't go with it. Like "I'd really love to break your heart" -- wtf? But the music is really good. 

Huey Lewis and the News -- "The Power of Love" -- August 24, 1985

This was the big song for Back to the Future, and it meshed beautifully with the movie, but it doesn't need that association to be a great song. "Don't need money, don't take fame/ Don't need no credit card to ride this train/ It's strong and it's sudden, it can be cruel sometimes/ But it might just save your life." Yep. It's sort of Motown, sort of rock, and I love it. (Also: "Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream." Heh.)

John Parr -- "St. Elmo's Fire" -- August 24, 1985

Of all the John Hughes movies I have not seen and do not plan to see, St. Elmo's Fire sure is one of them. The song is about a disabled man who inspired people by rolling himself cross-country in his wheelchair for charity, which has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. I'm disabled, and I just... okay look, what he did was admirable. But we shouldn't have to be inspirations to be counted as worthwhile, and I've been told I should die because I can't produce for capitalism, so you know. I've got some personal issues with this and I'm gonna move along.

Dire Straits -- "Money for Nothing" -- September 21, 1985

This is not Dire Straits' best song, but it's an awfully fun one. I watched the video tons when I was a kid. (That sound is Tipper Gore falling to the floor in a dead faint.) The music is great rock. And the lyrics are very true-to-life. You can either sanitize people or present them as they are honestly, and I know which I prefer.

Ready for the World -- "Oh Sheila" -- October 12, 1985

The band's from Michigan. The English accent at the beginning of the song is fake. That's a good preview for the song, which sounds like a 3rd-rate Prince knockoff at best. Blech.

a-ha -- "Take On Me" -- October 19, 1985

The video totally ripped off one of my aunts. Somehow or other, they saw into the little comic she drew for me about someone going into a land of drawings to rescue someone else in a romantic adventure, years before 1985. Anyway, this song is great musically, massively synthesizer heavy without sounding artificial. Though I can only understand maybe a third of the lyrics as he sings them. I've always understood "It's no better to be safe than sorry" though. Yep, at least when it comes to romance, which is what they're singing about here.

Whitney Houston -- "Saving All My Love for You" -- October 26, 1985

It's not better to be safe than sorry, but that doesn't mean it's good to be an absolute idiot in matters of romance either. Nor is it good to be a colossal jerk. That's what the narrator is here -- the "you" she's singing to is married. And he won't leave his wife and children, though he used to say he would. The lyrics seem to say that's she's accepted the situation, but the way Houston sings it, I think the narrator's trying to get him to leave his wife -- and children -- for her still. This makes sense, as it puts some kind of passion and sense of story into the song, which without Houston's singing would not be there. The narrator certainly never acknowledges that what she's doing is wrong in the slightest iota. This song could be done in a way that works. But it's a completely sincere ballad. So, no. I despise the narrator, I despise the man she's singing to more, and the whole thing leaves me feeling gross.

Stevie Wonder -- "Part Time Lover" -- November 2, 1985

No one's thinking anyone's gonna leave anyone in this one. It's about cheating, and the thrill of it, but then at the end, he's found out his wife's cheating on him too. "I guess that two can play the game/ Of part-time lovers." This kind of funk groove is one way you make a song like this. It makes the whole thing sexy and fun, and the lyrics also work even beyond that ending, because they acknowledge it's wrong.

Jon Hammer -- "Miami Vice Theme" -- November 9, 1985

My parents didn't watch Miami Vice. And then I never felt like watching it in re-runs when I got older. I don't recognize this song. It's an energetic instrumental, but there's so much going on, I keep trying to figure out if there's a main musical idea anywhere. Nope. Just lots and lots of synth. Headache-inducing.

Starship -- "We Built This City" -- November 16, 1985

Blech. This song sounds both unfinished and overproduced somehow. The chorus seems designed to be catchy with absolute ruthlessness by people who didn't really care, and no one involved even seems to want to bother to fake it.

Phil Collins & Marilyn Martin -- "Separate Lives" -- November 30, 1985

This is supposed to be heart-wrenchingly sad. Well, it does tank my dopamine, but that's not what a good sad song does. A good sad song makes you feel better. This one makes me need to turn on something high-energy after about 30 seconds, before I sink into bleakness. It's aggressively boring.

Mr. Mister -- "Broken Wings" -- December 7, 1985

This was one of the first songs I recorded from the radio. On my pink tape deck/radio that was a sort of a mini boom box. I've always had my own tape player since I can remember, but that was a definite upgrade from the Sesame Street one. I was 9 then, so getting more seriously into music and developing my own taste intentionally, rather than simply absorbing what was happening around me.

Anyway, the song. It's about a relationship in trouble, and he wants to stay with her. To me it sounds like she has been so seriously hurt (and not by him), that she can't trust anyone, and he's laying himself on the line for her. That has spoken to me deeply ever since I first heard the song as a child. Moving on to the music: While the lyrics are repetitive, the music is not, which is what makes the song so good. It's a beautiful song.

Lionel Richie -- "Say You, Say Me" -- December 21, 1985

I look forward to Lionel Richie no longer being on the charts. This song was on the soundtrack of some movie I've never heard of. I wish I'd never heard of the song. Totally artificial glop.

BEST OF 1985: "Don't You Forget About Me" by Simple Minds  WORST OF 1985: "We Built This City" by Starship

[mikialynn]

2020 Reflection

I haven’t been great about completing my reflections the past couple of years. Parts of them do exist, and I will create finished versions. However, 2020 is a year that I absolutely cannot miss reflecting on. Especially since it seems at any moment these days, something significant and perspective-altering can just happen. So I want to preserve where I am right at this moment.

At a historical level, on a global scale, 2020 has been the most important year I have ever lived through. The events of the past year have been on a scale that is so immense, I feel like I can’t even connect with them most of the time. But then there are flashes where it hits – where I have a digestible bit of life experience that taps me into the larger emotional current. And it overwhelms and terrifies me just long enough to push it away again.

We are approaching two million deaths in the world, with thousands dying every day. California has ordered dozens of refrigerated trucks just to hold the overflow of dead bodies. I have for the first in my life experienced truly believing that my parents might die within the year. I’ve had to sit through several instances where the chances of them being exposed were high and just hold my breath waiting for the events to unfold. It reminded me a bit of that stomach-dropping moment I realized I could have contracted rabies, and that it was a fatal situation if left untreated. Only this wasn’t for myself, this was for people I love, and for a virus that had no vaccine or guaranteed treatment, and so it came with added layers of helplessness, fear, and frustration.

We have an unbridled President stoking division in the country for a power-grabbing, personal-gain agenda that is unprecedented. It’s a reality you can’t help but shake your head to in disbelief thinking this just can’t exist in this day and age in this country. And yet there it is. Confederate flags in the Capitol. The inflammatory speeches. The unchecked, unabashed lies. The shockingly amoral willingness to appeal to people with such twisted, racist, fearful views of people and the world. The childish recklessness of undermining a democracy just to deflect and rationalize a loss.

We had the Black Lives Matter protests erupt across the nation. Unlike the Women’s Rights or Climate Change marches I’ve participated in before that are organized well in advance and have a designated time, these were often spontaneous protests sparked by a real personal and immediate anger and frustration. Protests that continued for months. Protests that, though mostly peaceful, sometimes did shut down cities and burn down buildings. And we saw an aggressive and often unjustifiable containment of those protests that is also unprecedented in my lifetime. For the first time, I’ve experienced city curfews and lock downs.

Just walking down the street, the evidence of how the world has changed is everywhere. People casually walking around in masks (at least in San Francisco, though clearly this varies by city, county, and state) that at this point have developed their own fashion of patterns and styles. People veer away to give each other a wide berth, even stepping off of the sidewalk into the road to avoid getting close. And none of that is considered rude. Busy streets are seen sectioned off for pedestrian use. Streets with restaurants are now lined with a collection of makeshift outdoor seating—the prototypical wooden walls and strung up garden lights. There are circles sprayed onto parks so people sit in their designated bubbles six feet apart. Shops are boarded up, either because the store went under or as a temporary fix to the break ins that happened during the protests. Markers are on the ground outside of grocery stores to indicate where to stand in line to be six feet apart. Plexiglass erected between yourself and the cashier. Hand sanitizers in every backpack and car, at the opening to every shop. Masks tucked into pockets and purses and car doors. The routine of disinfecting groceries. It all seems so normal now.

Despite so much erupting on the global stage, in that poetic contradictory fashion, I feel like in my personal bubble 2020 has been defined by how little has happened. With the exception of 2018, which I spent moving to San Francisco and living on the West Coast for the first time, 2020 is the first year since I was 17 years old that I haven’t traveled abroad. It is a year truly characterized by being stagnant and still.

The significance of traveling for me stems from a few places. The notion of how quickly time is used up and how limited our supply of it is has always been a fundamental motivator for me in how I approach life. It’s what drives me to learn and try and explore. How else should one spend a life if not trying to fit as many different experiences and gain as much perspective as one possibly can? To that end, I think being a good person is correlated to being exposed to as many types of people, places, and life experiences as possible. To me, traveling feels like connecting myself to the larger fabric of humanity and improving myself as a person. Travelling also helps me to keep perspective. One of my greatest fears is complacency. Getting into a routine that doesn’t really move or fulfill you but allows you to get by, and thinking that is enough while your life disappears. I feel like we have to be vigilant about reminding ourselves how valuable life is and how much we can do with our time as long as we keep pushing. Travelling to new places really gives me that reset and renewed energy. So, when I emphasize how 2020 was the first year I didn’t travel, what I’m really highlighting is how a major source of what fuels me and gives me a sense of value was missing. With everything horrible going on in the world, not having that safety net to pull me back and keep me mentally healthy enabled a sort of listlessness I hadn’t experienced before.    

I also couldn’t do any of my usual music or dance classes. I didn’t get to explore a new city and interact with its communities. Often times, I had to cancel planned camping and hiking trips because new lock down orders would come into place. I remember in 2018 as the year was coming to a close, I had it in my mind that my year-end reflection would be about the importance of being aimless. It was my year of having no plan, having no serious commitments, and just letting myself inhabit new versions of myself. I felt experimental, a little reckless, and free. The year 2020 is in such stark contrast.    

Here are some notable sad memories from 2020. My grandfather passed away. I was supposed to fly back for his funeral in March, but Covid-19 began hitting the U.S. in a noticeable way just before that trip. I remember just the week before, I had flown to visit my friend Barb in Vegas. I remember feeling the situation escalate as that trip unfolded – from Barb telling me she was feeling sick and me realizing she could be contagious with Covid, to wearing a mask for a prolonged time for the first time as I traveled through the airport, to ultimately booking an earlier flight home once I got to Las Vegas because I no longer felt it was safe. When I got back, I remember Stewart and I were driving back from work to his place, having just picked up our things to start working from home based on the new company policy (a week before a city order mandated it) and both of us reaching that turning point as we talked in the car. Up until that point, it was if we were slowly realizing the severity of the situation in bits and pieces. On that ride as we talked about how it would be irresponsible and unsafe to travel back to see my family, it escalated to the point of realization: things were not normal anymore. Things were going to change. And they were going to change for a while.

We had already booked and planned this extended trip back to Hawaii. My friend Winnie was going to travel to San Francisco the week after we got back. I had been working hard in preparation of taking the next month to be with friends and family. I’d been looking forward to the summer, when Stewart and I had planned to visit his family on the east coast and attend my college reunion. And then suddenly it was snatched away. I remember crying coming to grips with the immediate loss of those experiences, but also with the heaviness of what was happening around me. And then making the phone call to my parents. At the time, Hawaii was nowhere near the stage of fear and seriousness that we were at in California, and I remember having to convince them that it wasn’t a good idea to come home. I remember the tension of texting and emailing my aunts and uncles and cousins trying to get them to post-pone or scale down grandpa’s funeral to Big Island residents only. Tracking the Covid cases in Hawaii and watching as each day they increased exponentially. I remember my aunt’s comments about not wanting to put hand sanitizer out or have the immediate family seated away from the audience because she didn’t want to make people feel uncomfortable. It was a silly thought then, and has not aged well. Even looking back at the funeral photos where basically no one was wearing masks except my mom and grandma (because I sent them masks) is just unconceivable from this vantage point. But that’s the thing—everyone needed to have that moment of realization. And it came to people at different times for different reasons. And to some people sadly and frustratingly, it never came.

I remember the week following my grandpa’s funeral, my dad called to tell me had accidentally hit Nala with the truck, and that when they took her to the vet they discovered a tumor in her mouth. It was a rapid decline from there, and we put her to sleep soon after. I hadn’t experienced putting a dog to sleep since I was a kid. We also invested so much more individual attention to Nala because she lived during a time when she was the only dog. So losing her was just heartbreaking. And it was heartbreaking imagining my dad feeling any sort of guilt about it, and knowing my parents had to care for her as she declined. It still hurts me to imagine Hoku, our puppy, apparently jumping in the truck looking for Nala after she was put down, trying to track her down by her scent.

I cried a lot during that beginning period of the Covid experience. I was also staying at Stewart’s place in Berkeley, which up until that time I hadn’t spent much time at. So I felt disconnected from things that felt comfortable and normal in multiple ways. I also had an underlying stress about my brother’s wedding during that time, since at that point they were still planning to go through with it in October. Ultimately, they did decide to post-pone the wedding to the following year.

Eventually Stewart and I started taking action to combat the monotony that comes from having your work and social life confined to your home by planning some camping trips. But as fate would have it, once we started doing that, California had a record-breaking year in wildfires. And so we watched as the smoke rolled in, bringing us the worst air quality levels in the world at the time, and turning the sky orange. Never before have I had to constantly monitor air quality to decide if I could go outside or not, or jump in a car to use its filtration system while waiting out a period of particularly bad smoke.

Then, to close off the year, a worker on our farm had an overnight guest that tested positive for Covid, and I had to convince my parents to get tests. I went tense and numb for a week as we awaited the results, which were thankfully all negative. And on the very same day we found out about our worker’s exposure to Covid, I found out in a mix of frantic messages from my sister and friends that a fire had broken out on the farm. No one was hurt, but the container and building that stored many of my siblings belongings (and possibly some of mine that I’m not aware of) including my sister’s wedding dress, our Christmas decorations, and hundreds of thousands of dollars in farm equipment were completely destroyed.

But there were some good things that came from 2020! Motivated by wanting to take advantage of the time I have with my family when everyone is alive and well, I started scheduling weekly Zoom calls, which is the most remote communication my family has ever had. It also pushed me to have dad chip in for a smart phone for my mom’s birthday. We also got them an antenna for the internet, so it is now much easier to be in touch.

Another happenstance of 2020 is that it forced a lot of people to be more domestic. Clearly, given the shortage of flour at grocery stores at the start of the pandemic. It was fun reading my 2016 reflection where I talk about how I’m struggling to see myself as an adult since I still just cook with premade sauces, I have never held a job for more than a year, and my largest investment is my laptop. I can now safely say that I feel like an adult! I have a sourdough starter baby that I regularly make pizza dough and crackers from, and I have helped to put on Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. I’ve been at this job for over 2 and a half years, and my savings have gone from zero to half my income. I often feel like I am the mother of 667 Fell St. Oh, and I also turned 30 this year (which would probably have been a cornerstone of this reflection in a normal year, but is just an afterthought in this one).  

I think another shared experience a portion of society has had is the self-reflection on whether or not we are happy with what we are doing in our lives. With all the social opportunities taken away, everyone fortunate enough to maintain their jobs has had their work be the focal activity of the year. And for those of us dissatisfied with our jobs, the lack of distractions outside of work to sustain us has made it clear that this is not a path to continue down further. The stress of the constant billable time to the 15-minute increment, the energy drain of the monotonous work, the emptiness of feeling like your life and time and potential is being wasted on work that has no meaning. It’s not enough to sustain me. While this isn’t blatantly a positive thought, I think it’s a clarity that will lead to a positive outcome in the long run. I don’t have the time and energy to do the things I enjoy with my current job, and I don’t have an interest in building on the skills this job requires. I want to support communities and people more directly, and I want to have creativity and writing play a larger role in the work I do. Where to go from here, I’m not sure, but I don’t want to waste another year not pursuing those opportunities.

Similarly, I can say that I have shared what has been a difficult but important life experience with my partner this year. And, despite both of us sharing the same living space and working at the same job together—which amounts to spending almost 24/7 together—we are still doing well. We aren’t in the happiest place given all that’s going on in the world and dissatisfaction with our jobs. But I’ve seen that we can share in difficult times together and still find ways to maintain a sense of fun and love. I certainly did not plan on living with a partner less than one year into a relationship, but the times have pushed us to accelerate things and we stayed strong through it. It was fun getting to know Berkeley—the neighborhoods and the trails. Stewart and I also shared in coastal foraging and fishing excursions, squeezed in a beautiful backpacking trip to Kennedy Lake (where Stewart even carried my backpack for me when I had some sort of elevation sickness), went on a roadtrip through Nevada, Utah, and Arizona to visit Barb and David, and even bought a boat and went boat-in camping at Tomales Bay. While I didn’t add new countries to the list of places I’ve been, I did manage to add national parks and forests like Stanislaus, Arches, Zion, and Death Valley.

Other perks of the year have been not having to waste time commuting to work, and therefore spending most of the year not having to wake up to an alarm. It was also nice sharing this bonding experience with my roommates, who I’m very grateful to have found in 2019. I also joined in the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion group at WRA and was able to be a judge for a middle school science competition, which brought me a lot of joy and inspiration to find similar work to do full time. Lastly, Biden thankfully won the presidential election. It was as if I had been holding my breath for four years and finally, when it seemed like even a contested result wouldn’t undo the margin that Biden had won by, all that tension came pouring out. Stewart and I pulled over in the car on our way to do some fishing as the results flashed on our phones and celebrated. I can’t imagine how hopeless it would have felt stepping into 2021 knowing we had another four years of the Trump administration.

I also want to note some things I meant to do but didn’t (and to say that it’s okay that I didn’t do them, because 2020 was not an easy year, and we all had to learn to be patient with ourselves throughout it). I’d stopped taking vocal classes with the intention of doing dance classes, but then never did because of Covid (the disclaimer, I’m currently signed up for a month-long class this January). Stewart bought me a keyboard, but I barely played it. I planned on quitting my job but, albeit for reasonable concerns about the economy and job market, never left it. There was video footage that I never edited and interview ideas that I didn’t get around to doing. I didn’t start building a communications body of work. I was never able to maintain good exercise habits. I didn’t finish and post my 2018 and 2019 reflections.

But you see, what I’ve realized is that when you’re not happy, it’s hard to do all the things you want to. I’m grateful that I even had a job, I’m grateful I genuinely like the people I was quarantined with, and I’m grateful for the money I was able to save during this past year. But it was a hard year and an unsatisfying year professionally. My hope for the coming year is that the clarity gained in what type of job I don’t want, and the financial buffer I now have, will allow me to transition to something more sustainable in the coming year. Something more fulfilling and more enjoyable. It’s the big ask, I know, to find a job that you also love. But I’m narrowed in on environmental communications or education, and I think one of the two will pan out.  

So I’m going to continue to be patient and forgiving with myself in these trying times, but hopefully this past year will be a year I can always draw from. When I’m making an excuse to call my mom later, that I remember how scared I was when she got on the plane to the Big Island and thought she truly might be taken away from me, and then decide to call. When I’m choosing jobs, that I remember how the way you feel about the work you do seeps into all other aspects of your life, and that I choose passion over stability. I hope 2020 will always serve to remind me to be grateful.