#but twitter is the worst place for hate right now against normal human rights

[aimseytv]

sometimes it’s hard knowing how much of my core community is on twitter because you don’t know how badly i want to stop using the platform as every day i open it there’s more shit that just breaks my heart

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac Has Visitors

You’re a fool.

A blind, tunnel-visioned, desperate fool.

There’s no one you can blame for this mess but yourself.

You were moronic enough to think that a promise would’ve been enough to stop Grim from going after more overblot stones.

And now where are you?

Lying in a bed in the infirmary, bandages and gauze wrapped around you from your collarbone to your chin, because the one creature in this fucked up magic world that you were stupid enough to trust unconditionally tried to rip out your throat over a rock.

Your neck aches. You’re so tired it feels like you can barely even move. Your head is a weird weight of white noise, making it hard to think about anything other than your current predicament and how you should’ve seen it coming a mile away. How you should’ve stopped it.

Maybe—maybe it was because you’d made him hold out too long. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you were wrong to make him swear not to eat any more, and him lashing out at you over Vil-senpai’s stone was just-just temptation that had been pushed too far. Why weren’t you looking after him more closely anyway? You’re his supervisor, you’re supposed to make sure Grim doesn’t get into trouble, you should’ve noticed he was gone sooner. Then maybe this whole mess wouldn’t have happened. And it’s not like Grim wasn’t working hard to uphold your deal, you were the one who wasn’t meeting his efforts halfway. After all, he hadn’t eaten anything after Jamil-senpai’s overblot, had he?

...

Had he?

No stone ever turned up after Jamil-senpai’s overblot.

And you were so out of it that night, riding out the aftereffects of the overblot’s venom and the anti-venom warring in your system.

Grim could’ve easily left during the night and eaten it, and so long as you never asked, never pressed him about it, you’d have been none the wiser.

And you didn’t ask. You just trusted him.

You’re a fool. A pathetic, misguided, twisted, worthless fool.

Your family was right about you.

You would grind the heels of your hands into your eyes, but even lifting your arms towards your face feels like more effort than you can spare right now. Luckily it takes no effort to stare up at the ceiling and just hate yourself for your stupidity.

You’d have thought you would have learned that trusting people is an awful idea already. Hopefully this will finally get the message through your thick skull—

“Yuu?”

You tilt your head and blink up at Deuce. He grins, blindingly bright. “Guys, he’s awake!”

You weakly smile back, ruthlessly squashing the urge to correct him.

Epel pushes the divider back as he rounds it, pretty face worried. “Prefect, how are you feeling? Nurse Kamac said you lost a lot of blood.”

“M okay.” You mumble back, your tongue feeling thick and sluggish in your mouth.

“What the hell happened to you, Prefect?” Deuce moves to pull up a chair and sit down next to you, shooting you doubtful looks. “Was it an attack by another overblot or something? Some kind of monster? Did you get jumped by some punks from RSA?”

You wonder what you should tell them. You know that all you have to do is tell him the truth, say the word, and they’ll all be off after Grim like a group of hunting dogs, just like when you used to ask Ace and Deuce to help you catch him back at the start of the school year.

But Grim might get hurt. Or he might hurt them.

Can you put them through that?

Ace collides with the foot of the bed, interrupting your internal debate, eyes wide and panting. “Guys, bad news. Crewel’s outside asking for us, he looks pissed.”

Deuce and Epel stiffen in tandem, darting nervous glances towards the door like the potions and alchemy teacher will burst in at any moment. “What’d you do?!” Deuce hisses.

“How’d you know it wasn’t you, ass?!” Ace protests. “Seriously, we can’t keep him waiting! I think he’s even madder than the time Grim turned his coat pink and green.”

All four of you shudder collectively.

Epel grabs Deuce’s arm, squaring his shoulders. “We just gotta—need to see what Professor Crewel wants right? It may not even be us he’s piss—irritated at. Just gotta man up and face him.”

Deuce nods, even though he looks like he really, really doesn’t want to. He and Ace follow Epel away from your bed and towards the infirmary exit. You loll your head back onto your pillows and resume your staring at the ceiling.

“But Ace, no one’s...?”

“What the—?!”

There’s a bang as the infirmary doors slam shut.

You look over in time to see Ace slide a mop through the door handles, and drag a chair over to prop under them. He then points his magic pen at it all and a padlocked chain loops itself around the whole affair and clicks shut. You can hear Deuce and Epel hammering on the other side, demanding he open up.

“Ace?” You struggle to sit up, your throat aching. “What—”

“Shh, sh, easy, we gotta be quick.” He darts over you, helping you to sit up and pulling up the pillows behind you to lean back against. “Do you need me to get your shirt for you?”

“W-what?” Your brain is still struggling to catch up.

Ace gestures impatiently to your chest.

You look down.

Oh.

Oh.

You look back up at Ace, cold sweat drenching you.

Please no. Not him too.

Ace reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out—!

He holds up your binder. “Figured Kamac might not have let you keep it. It hurts your ribs, right?”

Wait. What?

“H-how...?” You stutter, fumbling with the buttons at your collar.

He shoots you a look. “I basically carried you back here from Dwarf Mines. It was easy to tell something was up when Kamac wouldn’t let me or Deuce stay in the room while you were getting patched up. Plus this was kinda dangling out your back pocket when you came out”

Well. That’s. That’s...

“Look are we doing this or not?!” Ace hisses, shooting a nervous glance back at the door where Deuce and Epel’s voices are being joined by others and growing louder. You think you hear Kalim-senpai’s twittering, Vil-senpai barking orders, and Jamil-senpai’s drawl.

You begin working on your buttons with newfound determination.

Ace helps you get your head through the top hole of the binder without pulling on the bandages around your neck too much.

You struggle your arms through the arm holes, and then shrug the hospital pajama shirt back on. He’s already done over half the buttons by the time you’ve recovered from your discombobulation.

“Feel okay? Not hurting your breathing or anything?” You nod, still disoriented. “Okay, let’s just get you back under the covers, and then I’ll let in the circus.”

There’s another metallic clang from the door and a cry of pain that sounds worryingly like Ashengrotto-senpai.

“W-why?” You rasp, an odd swooping feeling catapulting in your stomach, like you’ve just jumped off the bleachers again. “Why would you...?”

Ace heaves a sigh and gives you a look normally reserved for Deuce and Grim. “Because you’re my friend, you little dumbass. Getting something like this for you isn’t a big deal or anything.”

You gape at him so hard it feels like your eyes are burning.

Something inside you feels impossibly, uncontrollably warm.

Turns out getting a lump in your throat really hurts when you’re recovering from having it slashed open.

“Aw, jeez, what’s with the waterworks?!” Ace leans over you, ungloved hand swiping at the tears on your cheeks. “C’mon Yuu, if they get back in here and see you crying, you know Deuce’ll kill me.”

“Good. ‘S a-all your fault. I won’t f-forgive you until you give me a hug, you big jerk.” You sniffle, opening your arms and holding them out.

He huffs a laugh, before following your orders. “You’re a tyrant, ya know that? You’re as bad as Vil-senpai and Dorm Head Riddle.”

“I’m worse than they could ever be.” You mumble, hiding your burning eyes in his shoulder. “Don’t you forget it.”

“Oi, you better not be wiping your nose on my jacket!” He tries to shrug you off gently. He still hasn’t stopped hugging you though. “Get your snot and tears offa me!”

You cling onto him tighter, unable to stop giggling even as a few hysterical tears slip down your cheeks. “Suffer.”

“Tyrant.” He fakes an exasperated groan, but you can feel him chuckling along with you.

There’s not many things you can think of that would ruin this moment.

“King’s Roar.”

...Being bathed in sand as the doors to the infirmary disintegrate certainly wasn’t one you had in mind, though it does the trick well enough.

Lucky you had Ace hugging you to act as a human shield for the worst of it.

He sputters once the deluge has subsided, shaking his head and rudely dumping the excess sand into your lap. “Ugh, senpai, what the hell?! Would it have killed you to wait one minute?!”

“You take too long.” Leona-senpai shrugs, pocketing his magic pen again and sauntering in to stretch out on the empty bunk next to you. “These guys wouldn’t stop whining until I did something.”

Deuce rushes over to your bedside with Epel and Kalim close behind him, kneeling down next to you. “Prefect, are you okay?! What’d he do to you?!”

“His eyes are all red an’ swollen!” Epel points out before you can say anything. “Ace, you bas—”

“Epel.” Vil-senpai stalks in, looking much better since you last saw him at VDC. Healthier, somehow. “But yes, Potato #1, what exactly were you playing at, locking everyone out like that?”

Ace stammers under Vil-senpai’s cold glare, so you take pity on him, clearing your throat weakly. “Ace just didn’t want any witnesses to him fussing over me. He’s allergic to showing kindness, after all.”

For some reason, being able to say that and have Ace elbow you playfully makes you feel...buoyant, somehow.

Everyone stares at you. The weight of their disbelief is heavy.

Kalim places his hands over yours. “Yuu, you don’t have to be afraid to tell us the truth! You’re among friends here!”

“Oi!” Ace protests.

“Who’re you calling ‘friend’?” Leona-senpai interjects, because he’s still a huge bag of dicks.

Ashengrotto-senpai has his magic pen in its cane form and is leaning on it heavily, limping. “I wouldn’t worry Kalim-san. I’m sure whatever the Prefect experienced can’t be worse than having a cauldron drop on you.”

Deuce inches closer to hide behind you and Epel sheepishly.

“Technically Azul, it was rebounded onto you off the doors of the infirmary.” Jade-senpai interjects cheerfully, switching a bouquet from one hand to the other. “Though I’m sure Spade-san would be glad to reimburse us for damages through labor if necessary~”

Deuce lets out a squeak.

“Eeeeh~~ Crab-chan, were you doing something naaauughty with Shrimy all alone in here~?” Floyd-senpai drapes himself over Ace’s shoulders, arms looping around him. “No faaaaaiiir, I wanna play too~~”

Ace stiffens, face growing to match his hair as Floyd-senpai’s arms begin to tighten. “J-Jamil-senpai—!”

Jamil-senpai cruelly ignores him. “Kalim, make sure you’ve still got your magic pen when we leave. The Prefect might try to add to his collection.”

You shoot him a look. “When are you going to let that go?”

He sits on the end of your bed and smiles sweetly at you. “When you stop making a nuisance of yourself by sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Prefect.”

You try to dissect that statement, then give up and settle for attempting to kick him off the bed. You only end up depositing more sand into your lap under the covers.

He laughs at you, because for all his talk about reputation, Jamil-senpai is also a huge bag of dicks.

The dust and sand irritates your nose and throat, making you cough hard. It’s not as bad as it was after Vil-senpai’s overblot, but you feel the warning tugs on your weakened lungs and torn throat. You gratefully accept the glass of water Epel hands you, gulping it down.

The sand around you gently shifts and seeps out from under and on top of your covers as you swallow, pooling into a large pile at your bedside.

Leona-senpai’s tail flickers as he tucks his magic pen back away and pretends to be sleeping again.

Deuce begins to fret over you, taking the empty cup from your hands and ineffectually trying to fluff your pillows. You let him hover as Ace rolls his eyes and playfully ribs at him for his mother-henning.

Jade-senpai places the bouquet in a small vase on the table next to you with Vil-senpai and Epel fussing over the arrangement every time Floyd-senpai delights in deliberately poking the flowers out of alignment.

Kalim-senpai promises to bring you a carpet next time, maybe even an elephant if you want, much to Jamil-senpai’s dismay. Ashengrotto-senpai begins trying to negotiate for even more presents.

Leona-senpai half-heartedly growls at everyone to shut up and let him sleep.

You’re a fool if you think trusting these people will turn out any better than trusting Grim did.

But somehow, you feel like you’d rather be a fool and enjoy the warmth blooming in your chest right now rather than anything else.

[sondepoch]

Hogwarts, Basically (Solomon x Reader)

When you finally leave RAD, the last thing you expect is to be whisked off by Solomon to a human school of magic. What you expect even less is for the white-haired mage to become your dormmate, and to be forced into a life of spells, potions, and wizardry. But what you expect the least is to find yourself pining after the sorcerer, reduced to something akin to a lost puppy, staring at him in longing at every chance you get. Or, correction: What you expect the least is for Solomon to feel the same way.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

At the very beginning, Lucifer warned you: stay away from Solomon. Never trust the shady sorcerer. Keep your distance at all costs, and do not interact.

But you never listened.

No, you were convinced that you knew better. That the white-haired mage had good inside him, that he wasn't a demon in human skin with an agenda more suspicious than Diavolo's own. For an entire year, you believed in him, and the two of you stayed by each other's side the whole time you were in the Devildom.

You have so many good memories with him.

The two of you pulled pranks on Asmo. Downloaded TikTok onto Lucifer's phone. Ran a scam where you auctioned your souls off on D-Bay and kept the Grimm. You egged the student council hall on April Fool's day, and you even shared your food with the guy.

So many good memories.

So many tainted memories.

If you had known where it would land you, you never would have allowed yourself to get close to him.

"I fucking hate you," You grumble, darting forward and flopping onto your bed the second Solomon opens the door, groaning as you burrow your head in your pillow. It reeks of magic, much like everything else in this godforsaken place, and you're entirely sick of it, but you're too exhausted to even care right now. "I can't believe you fucking did this to me."

"Oh please, you're acting like this is the end of the world." The mage closes the door, and you hear the sound of shuffling as he puts his books away for the day, taking off his school jacket. His actions are innocent enough, but you're certain he finds amusement in your state, and the very thought fills your lungs with even more resentment toward your current situation.

"It is the end of the world," You grumble in protest. "I'm supposed to be relaxing right now. Playing video games with friends. Hanging out at a club. Wasting time on twitter, sending celebrities stupid pickup lines. Not doing more schoolwork at another fucking school of magic."

Solomon laughs lightly, a warm sound that you wish you didn't like.

"Technically, RAD wasn't a school of magic," He tells you.

"Oh, who fucking cares? This school is! You've kidnapped me and dumped me in Hogwarts, basically, and I hate Harry Potter!"

"How unfortunate for you, then." Solomon grins boyishly as he rolls your body over, eyes twinkling with mirth as he gazes at your utterly unamused expression. "Relax. You'll begin to enjoy your time here, once you get used to the course load. I dare say you might even find it fun to learn about our magical heritage."

"When pigs fly, Solomon," You quip back, opting to ignore the fact that your potions teacher told you that your end-of-year project would actually be to create a solution potent enough to give farm animals wings.

You sigh grumpily and roll over, closing your eyes and relaxing quietly as the sorcerer pats your shoulder, quietly telling you not to nap for too long, so you have time to finish your homework later.

You ignore him, for the most part.

I'll never enjoy it here, you convince yourself. As much as you love spending time with Solomon, you don't have it in you to completely change your life and begin studying magic, irregardless of how much the teachers at this school want you to. Ignoring the sound of scribbles as Solomon begins his own homework, you tell yourself that the mage is wrong, that all you need to do is flunk out during this first semester and then you'll be returned to your normal life in your home country.

What you don't expect is for Solomon's words to be proven true.

One week into your time at the academy, you've just begun to grow used to the course load. The students at school stop raising eyebrows at your face, and as you begin to grow accustomed to the school, it becomes accustomed to you.

Two weeks in, you've already fallen into a loose rhythm.

By three weeks, you've developed what a less apprehensive person would call "friends," and by four weeks, you're genuinely giving your studies your all, learning spellwork and enchantments with an almost-passionate fervor.

By the time the month has ended, you've actually forgotten your plans to flunk out.

And though you're surprised by your change of heart, the never-fading smile on Solomon's face makes you suspect that he predicted this from the start.

You glance up at him from your textbook, momentarily halting your note-taking to study the way the enthralled light never fades from his eyes, even as he glances from book to book while continuing to draw a summoning circle for his demonology class, somehow looking pleased even as he cross-checks his image.

You groan.

You've found yourself glancing up at Solomon more and more often in these past few days, distracted from your own studying by the way his hair falls over his forehead, or the way his chest sometimes peeks through when he undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt, or the way he sometimes bites his lip cutely when going over a particularly difficult passage. Hell, you once spent five minutes staring at the sorcerer's hands, because they looked oh-so-soft as he took notes on the book he was deciphering.

The first few times, you convinced yourself that it was merely because of how eye-catching he was. And that was a fair enough excuse. After all, the colors of this academy are black and gold—Solomon's pale skin stands out against the dark fabrics of the uniform and the even-darker furnishings of your dorm room.

But after catching yourself gazing wistfully at his lips a few too many times, you were forced to confront the truth.

You have a crush on the aggravating, annoying, sassy, difficult, handsome, cute mage.

But that's not even the worst part.

You think he knows.

A warmth creeps onto your cheeks the moment you begin to think about all the instances where Solomon has caught you staring at him over these past few weeks. There are almost too many examples. Early in the morning, when his hair is all messed up. Right after breakfast, when his lips have changed color to whatever potion he drank. On your way back from school, when you walk back to the dorm together. During homework sessions like these. Right after he steps out of the shower—oh, he's caught you gawking at him far too many times after returning from the shower. (You tried to play it off by saying that you were merely studying his pact marks, but you know he knows the truth. His abs are loosely defined, but they're there, and you want to lick them so bad it hurts.)

"MC?" Solomon calls, and you blink.

Fuck, you think, suddenly realizing that you were staring at him while you daydreamed about him.

Add one more to the count, you think with an internal groan, silently wondering how many more times the sorcerer will catch you staring at him.

"You good?" He questions, and you can see the smirk he's trying so hard to fight off his face.

"Uh—I'm going to the library," You blurt, opting to avoid the sorcerer's gaze as you grab your jacket, looping your arms through it with deftness despite how utterly befuddled your thoughts are as you escape the room. You don't have your books with you, or your library card for that matter, but anything is better than responding to that all-too-playful question.

You flee before Solomon has a chance to say anything else, all but running to the stairs and sauntering on down until you're outside the dorm building, the air crisp in your lungs as you inhale sharply.

I'm such a mess, you think to yourself, the lingering warmth on your cheeks beginning to cool as you fold your arms and walk in the direction of what you hope is the library. A few people crossing you nod their heads in greeting, quick smiles thrown your way as you return them, but no one stops to converse with you, and you're left alone to debate your affections for the sorcerer.

You sigh, trying to sort out your thoughts.

Solomon must harbor some affection for you, you know that.

After all, he's spent far too many nights explaining foreign concepts to you, calmly navigating you through the waters of magic where he could have simply directed you to a tutoring board.

Moreover, you've seen how he behaves with other students here at the academy. No matter who has come to your dorm, be two kids it for a group project or a single friend in preparation to summon a demon they're interested in, there's a barrier of cool distance Solomon maintains with everyone else, one that simply seems to disappear around you.

Distance, you think, recalling the awkward way Solomon avoids physical contact with others, using sorcery to do things as simple as handing a glass of water to a guest. With you, though, you've both only grown closer, once-awkward pats now having turned into comfortably leaning on each other whenever one of you is tired. Last week, Solomon even ran a hand through your hair, and though he blinked afterward in surprise, as if he hadn't meant to do that, there was an undeniable feeling of closeness to his actions, something which others would hardly expect to see from him.

Another sound of frustration spills from your lips, aggravated at your situation with the sorcerer. The two of you are closer than others, but still not close. More than casual friends, but hardly intimate. Beyond nothing, but not yet something.

You kick a rock lying on the ground, watching it sail into the grass as you brood over the fact that Solomon is more confusing than the history of magic.

And you might brood some more, maybe even consider confessing your affections to the sorcerer in question, if not for the fact that you randomly look up and the building that greets you is not the school library.

You blink, abruptly turning around to check the way you came, but it is also a road that you've never seen, never heard of, and certainly have never navigated.

"Fuck," You mutter to yourself, realizing your predicament.

You're lost.

***

In your dorm room, Solomon is growing increasingly frustrated over the summoning circle he's been instructed to sketch. His fingers are supposed to be tracing the emblem of Mephistopheles, but it's so similar to Barbatos (and he's so used to drawing the summoning circle of Barbatos) that he keeps messing up at the end and has to restart all over again.

Or at least, that's what he tells himself is the cause for his repeated failures.

Solomon is hardly dumb—he's well aware that the reason for his utter inability to focus right now is caused solely and explicitly by you, and that this would not be happening if he weren't worried for your whereabouts.

But at the same time, there's nothing he can do about the fact that you're already gone, or the fact that he just messed up again on this seal.

A frustrated groan leaves Solomon's lips, inwardly cursing himself for driving you from the room. 

After all, he really needs to get this assignment done.

Then again, it's not like he would be doing much of a better job if you were still here.

The sorcerer can never find himself fully able to focus around you, eyes always drawn upward to study you. It feels like if he casts his gaze away for too long, he'll miss something—the way your eyes light up every time you understand a concept, the way your eyebrows furrow every time you don't. It's the little things he tries to pay attention to: how you silently nod your head at the end of every sentence you read to the way you aimlessly fumble with your blanket whenever an assignment bores you.

Solomon is positive that he's successfully picked up on every one of your little quirks, by now. At a single glance, he can tell what subject you're studying by the way you're sprawled out over your bed, and if he looks a little longer, he might even be able to tell how good a mood you're in based on the way you tap your pen against your notebook. Give him enough time, and he's even picked apart how the way you kick your feet in the air relates to how nervous you are for an upcoming quiz.

Yeah, Solomon really hasn't been doing too well in his school, with how much he's been focusing on you.

Of course, you don't notice it at all. No, Solomon cast a spell long ago which makes it look like he's studying diligently even as he gazes absentmindedly at the way you run a hand through your hair when you're tired, making it incredibly easy for him to catch all the little glances you've been giving him these past few weeks.

Does he feel guilty for watching you watch him?

Absolutely.

Does he think about removing the spell?

All the time.

Does that mean he will change anything?

Most definitely not.

The look of shock on your face every time he casually "catches" you staring at him is too attractive for him to stop, especially since the immediate state of fluster it induces is so amusing to watch.

But that doesn't stop him from regretting calling you out just now, because while he's pretty sure you know your way around the campus, he's also well-aware that whenever your head is in a jumble, you lose all sense of awareness.

I'll wait, he decides, rapping his pencil against the outline of the sketch he's working on, reaching for a ruler. I need to finish this assignment, anyway.

But then ten minutes turns into twenty, and by the time Solomon is done with his assignment, the hour is over, signaled by the four loud rings from the grandfather clock on the ground floor.

The mage glances at your empty bed, set just six feet across from his, and he frowns.

I'll wait a little longer.

But one hour stretches into two, and two stretches into three, and nearly four hours have passed by the time the sun sets, and Solomon is pacing back and forth in the dorm, glancing at the door every time he turns, in hopes that you'll walk through it.

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself, grabbing his academy jacket as he flips his book closed and shoves it onto his desk.

He isn't going to torture himself any longer like this.

Hell, he'll confess if that's what it takes to bring you back, because right now, he's going crazy cooped up in this room and there's only one thing that's going to calm him down.

Shoving his keys into his pocket, he yanks the door open, all final hopes of you standing on the other sides crushed when he sees the almost-empty hall, and the questioning eyes of students wondering why he's heading out when it's so close to curfew.

He huffs in exasperation, slamming the door shut as he walks out, long legs carrying him in the direction of where he suspects you got lost.

He's really fallen for such a troublesome person.

Then again, Solomon adores even that part of you.

***

You've never been so relieved to see a clump of white hair.

Or, well, maybe you have—you know, given that Mammon has saved you more than a few times from Lucifer's wrath—but you've never been so relieved in the human world to see a familiar, fluffy clump of white hair.

"Solomon!" You exclaim the moment you set your eyes on the mage, sprinting forward to capture him in a tight hug. He stiffens at the contact, and you inwardly note that this is probably the closest you've ever physically been to him, but you don't care. Maybe it's the instincts that were drilled into you after being surrounded by demons for a whole year, but you had seriously begun to think that you would die out here.

"How on earth did you get here?" Solomon asks incredulously, gazing at your surroundings.

"I, um." You suddenly feel embarrassed. "I got lost, and then I sort of just picked a direction and walked."

"You..." Solomon pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, unable to even bring himself to repeat your words back to you. "You do realize that that's the worst possible thing you could have done, right?" The mage shoots a frown your way. "Do you even know how far off-campus we are right now?"

You ignore his words off with a smile, following him gleefully as he shakes his head in disapproval. "Then isn't it wonderful that I had you to come find me?"

You laugh, the sound filling the otherwise empty night, missing the way Solomon fights off an instinctive smile at the sound.

"If you turn tail and run away every single time I catch you staring at me, we're going to have an issue," The sorcerer mutters, more under his breath than to you. You ignore his words, neither wanting to nor knowing how to respond. "Your crush on me is only going to bring more trouble to us, if things continue on like this."

And that gets to you.

(And though you don't know it, the sorcerer is equally mortified by his statement. He certainly hadn't wanted to confront you like that.)

"You know?!" You exclaim, eyes round in horror. You always knew that he must have had his own suspicions, but for him to just come out and say it? You stare at the man with a mouth agape, raw embarrassment warming your cheeks for the second time today.

"Ah, yes," Solomon comments lamely, wincing when he hears how his words must sound. "I mean, ahem, I would actually, erm, consider myself, goodness look at that goose, to harbor similar sentiments.

"You...what?" You ask suspiciously, partially confident that Solomon just confessed but at the same time confused whether his words mean what you think they do. "You like me?" You ask hesitantly, watching the mage's expressions carefully.

"'Like' is such a strange word," Solomon begins. "One might consider it to be an expression of indifference, whereas another would—"

You cut the mage off with a sharp elbow to the stomach and a pointed glare, warning him to stop being around the bush.

"Fine," He mutters, shooting you a sulky glare. "Yes. I like you, okay? Are you happy now?"

A warm smile blooms on your face as you hear the sorcerer say those words, savoring the beautiful pink that swells on his usually-pale cheeks as he averts his eyes and crosses his arms.

"Yes, that does make me happy," You muse, grinning. "For how long?" You probably didn't have to ask that question—but Solomon's evident embarrassment makes it impossible not to milk this situation for all it's worth.

"Since...the Devildom," He mutters, the pink on his cheeks surging with even more prominence.

You blink at that.

The Devildom?

That's even longer than you've liked him!

"Wow," You confess, eyes slightly round in wonder. "I...I had no idea, this whole time."

"Yeah, I...kind of made sure of that."

"What do you mean?" You pause in your walk to glance at the man standing next to you. "How'd you stop me from figuring it out?"

"I, uh," Solomon scratches the back of his neck, glancing away sheepishly. "I may have used magic."

Wow.

Well, that—

Yeah, that was entirely expected.

A huff leaves your throat, and you cross your arms dramatically as you saunter ahead of Solomon, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that Asmo once warned you that, if Solomon ever started liking you, this was exactly the sort of thing he would do.

You pause, glancing right and then left as you approach a crossing, completely unsure of which way to go but unwilling to reduce yourself to asking the sorcerer from help. Not when you can feel the waves of apology radiating off him.

"Are you mad?" He asks when you stop, and the hesitant inflection of his voice only makes you fall for him more because of how annoyingly adorable you find it.

"Maybe," You respond, deciding to keep him in suspense. "But you can make it up to me."

Before Solomon can ask how, you walk in front of him and turn around such that you're facing him, one arm on your hip as you send a confident smirk.

"Given that we both like each other, see..." You trail off, standing in front of him with a devilish grin on your face as you wait for him to piece together what you're hinting at.

You see his eyes widen, the moment of realization dawning in his eyes as he understands what you're asking him to do.

Solomon doesn't hesitate much after that. He barely spends a single moment preparing himself, and then one hand is reaching for your cheek while his lips pull closer, and you savor the sight of his eyes closing as he presses his lips to yours, and then your own eyes are closed, basking in the feeling of warmth as you grin and lean into the kiss, lifting your own arms to his neck, looping them around to play with his hair the way you've thought about so many times.

Something about the situation is undeniably blissful, undeniably comfortable, and undeniably right as you both kiss, and the very notion that you could have ever been so hesitant about doing this makes you both laugh, the two of you smiling and giggling into the kiss like fools.

You lean back slightly, pulling away to beam at the sorcerer with a proud smile, but Solomon chases your lips, dipping his head forward and halting you from going further back by snaking a hand around your waist. Not at all minding this development, you grin as he turns the kiss passionate, slipping his tongue through your lips with a determined force you can't help but be turned on by, and then the lightheartedness of the previous moment is replaced by a sudden passion for more of this, more of the feeling of Solomon's mouth against yours, more of him.

You bring your hands to his chest, pushing him backward and onto a bench that could not be more conveniently placed as you press his body down onto it, and he doesn't bother commenting on how you're wrinkling his shirt when you grab fistfuls of it and straddle his lap. Or maybe he does try, but you'll never find out, because seconds later your lips are back to being pressed against his and everything else in the world disappears.

"Fuck," Solomon whispers, gasping when you part for air, his fingers just about to slip under your shirt as he caresses your waist.

"Yeah," You respond, knowing exactly what he's talking about. When your eyes dart from his flushed neck to his eyes, the look he gives you is nothing short of sinful.

Seconds later, the two of you are kissing again—because really, Solomon can't look at you like that and not expect you to immediately throw yourself at him—and his fingers really do squirm their way underneath your shirt, the feeling of his touch almost electric as his fingers grip your waist firmly.

And then it really doesn't matter that you're both still in public, that you're straddling Solomon on a public bench and that it's almost well curfew, because holy fuck you've both wanted to do this for way longer than anyone should have to wait, and now that you've started, nothing will pull you apart.

Bonus:

From his lovely little cloud in the heavens, Simeon cheers, a warm smile on his face as he watches his two favorite humans give in to the attraction that has always been painfully obvious to him.

He hums peacefully, internally wondering how he'll go about collecting his money from Lucifer, now that he's won their bet about how long it would take for the two of you to grow intimate—but his bliss is short-lived as he watches you tug Solomon's tie off, a light gasp leaving both his and Solomon's lips, though for two very different reasons.

"No!" Simeon cries, gasping dramatically with a hand over his chest as he realizes what is happening. "You're in public! In public!"

He moans in distress, falling to his knees as he sends a prayer up to Father for you both, his horror widening as he catches sight of buttons popping off your shirt as Solomon slips his hands underneath it, both of you starved and desperate for more contact than your clothes can provide.

"Little lambs!" He wails in horror, and all the other angels stop what they're doing for a moment to wonder what has their Simeon in such a twist, nearly every angel in the heavens listening to the sound of his utterly defeated whimpers that follow as he crawls back into bed, trying his best to forget the unholy sight that now plagues his mind.

"Forgive me, Father," He murmurs, fingers darting from his forehead to his chest, then right and left. But then, he thinks of a better prayer: "Forgive them."

Bonus bonus:

Centuries later, Simeon will reluctantly (and drunkenly) recount this tale to Asmodeus, who will immediately cheer in support. The fifth-born will claim to have always sensed the unspoken sexual tension between the two of you, and has always been an ardent supporter of "giving in to temptation," regardless of how public one's surroundings may be. After hearing Simeon's story, he'll order another round of drinks for the bar, paying for it himself in honor of everyone's two favorite humans, the demon cheering both your names loudly and downing a shot before promptly passing out on Simeon's lap.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Fun fact: originally, the academy that mc and solomon are at was supposed to be RAS - the royal academy of Solomon - just like RAD, but solomon was the headmaster (and there was a corresponding RAM run by Michael in the Celestial Realm) :) Not fun fact: I’m also working on a diavolo fic right now and it feels like every word is a breath of air being ripped from my already asphyxiated lungs :)

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 18

<= Chapter 17

Summary : Snatcher has a lot of things to say. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/58252951

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CHAPTER 18 IS HERE !!! I hope you’ll like it ! ALSO : I commissionned Puyo-Proto to voice a bit of Snatcher in this scene !!! The result is amazing, I’m so happy with it, thank you again !! You’re so talented ! YOU CAN LISTEN TO IT HERE !! OF COURSE, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER, so I advise you to read said chapter first! Check out his amazing voice acting ! Here’s his twitter !

HAPPY READING !

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Chapter 18

Snatcher had thought that he had experienced pain in the most unenjoyable ways… But, oh, he had been so wrong. The ghost’s consciousness started to emerge again, slowly waking up to awful pains in all parts of his body. But what hurt the most was his head: the shade could feel every heartbeat resonating inside of his skull, as if someone was hammering the walls around his brain. He just wanted the sensation to go away. He was so tired, so nauseous, everything was so painful!

The spirit barely realized he had let out a whimper as his mind was way too foggy to care. All he wanted was to ignore the growing pain in his body and go back to sleep, where everything was so much more peaceful…

-“Snatcher?” said a soft and sad little voice on his right. The shade felt his consciousness be stimulated by the cry for help next to him. What was happening? The question appeared in the ghost’s mind as he couldn’t help but have a very bad feeling. Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he think clearly? Why did he feel himself be stuck against something, while his lower body dangled in the air? Why couldn’t he move his hands?

And why did this all feel so extremely familiar?

The sudden realization hit him hard, pure horror engulfing him. He knew exactly what was happening, he remembered everything his body was currently experiencing. He had gone through that kind of suffering in the past when-

He opened his eyes, panicked. He felt his heart sinking in his chest as he immediately recognized the room he was in: damp walls made of stones, a cobblestone floor, several casks scattered around the place, huge kegs, humid and cold air… Snatcher was in the cellar again. His hands just like his torso were shackled to the wall, exactly like hundreds of years ago.

His breathing got caught in his throat from the shock. No, he couldn’t be there again, he couldn’t go through this torture again! Once was already more than enough! Why was he here again?!

-“Snatcher! Snap out of it!”

His attention got back to the small child next to him. She was shackled to the wall just like he was. It is only then that he noticed he had been hyperventilating. His ears were ringing from the panic and his mouth was dry. The little girl had tears marks on her cheeks and her eyes were red from all the crying she must have done while he was still unconscious. She didn’t have her hat on and the accessory was nowhere in sight. She didn’t seem to be injured, which was a relief to the spirit. He tried his best to calm himself down, still very much scared and confused by his current situation.

-“What… Why are we…” he tried to ask, yet couldn’t say the words, for some unknown reason. Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was all the trauma coming back to him after all those years… Or maybe his throat was too dry to make any sound. In any case, he wasn’t able to finish this sentence and hoped the brat would understand what he had meant: “what happened? Why are we here?”

Given the context, his ex-contractor had no problem to decipher what he had tried to say. She attempted to move, but the chains on her wrists prevented her to move too much. She winced in the process, certainly from the pain it caused. And oh, Snatcher knew very well how painful it could be.

-“We… We got caught,” explained the child with a weak voice: “I was going to blow up the padlock with my hat, but… The butler knocked you out…”

The memories were now coming back to the ghost like vivid visions in his mind. He could remember the sudden pain on the back of his head, the cries coming from the little girl… She had begged him to help her, to stand up and fight… But he had lost consciousness.

And now they were in the cellar. The last place he wanted to see or be in again.

Snatcher pulled on the chains, yet it was all in vain: as a mere human, he wouldn’t be able to get free. He knew that. However, he kept trying, feeling a mix of fear and anger powering his attempts. He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t, not again, not a second time… And even less with the kid next to him, in the same situation as him. He would definitely not allow it. The very idea of having her going through that hell just made him livid: never, he would never allow it! If she had to suffer, it was going to be through him and no one else!

And so, the ghost screamed. No matter how much the little girl jumped beside him, no matter how much his throat ached, and no matter how much time it would take… He was going to get out and kill Vanessa and her accomplice, once and for all. He hadn’t finished the job the first time and it had been one of his biggest mistakes… A mistake he wouldn’t repeat. Even if he had to die in the process.

Rage had engulfed him whole as he tried to pull on the chains, again and again and again… The sound of the chains resonated in the room just like his pants from his effort. But he was far, far from being over! If he had to break his own wrists to get out of these chains, he would! This wouldn't be the first time anyway!

-“Snatcher! Snatcher stop!” begged the hatless brat. Though, the spirit wasn’t listening. He didn’t want to listen.

He was going to get out, he was going to get out, he was going to get out! His screams were deafening and became feral-like the more he screamed. He could hear the child trying to calm him down next to him, but the shade didn’t care. He didn’t have to care in his situation! How could anyone expect him to stay calm when he had to relive his worst nightmare?

And then, all of a sudden, the air around them became awfully chilly. The spirit stopped abruptly, confusion replacing his anger for just a moment.

“Why…?” Though, his bewilderment didn’t last long as he quickly put the missing piece of the puzzle. It was her, it could only be her. The sound of muffled steps behind the door of the cellar only confirmed his suspicions. Vanessa was there. Whether she had come because of his screams or just because she wanted to bathe in his hatred for her and his rage… It didn’t change the fact that she was behind the door. Even as a simple human, the spirit could still sense her presence behind the wooden surface. As for the little girl, she seemed to have come to the same conclusion as him. She was standing deadly still, probably terrified, if the look on her face was any indication. The shade had been scared too, the first time. However, now, pure fury radiated from him. He hated her, loathed her!

How could she come after shackling them up on a wall again? How could she?

The ghost’s rage intensified even more as he clenched his teeth. Why? Why would she do that again? When she had explicitly said to him that she wanted to make things right this time? Then again, she had also said that everything had been his fault from the start…

He started yelling again, even more furious than before:

-“How dare you!” the words left his mouth as he pulled on his restraints once again: “All this talk about how mature you said you were compared to me! How better you wanted everything to be!”

The ghost could feel his throat hurt from how dry it was. How long had he stayed unconscious? How long had it been since the last time he drank water? The anger quickly made him forget those thoughts as he continued screaming:

-“Well newsflash, Vanessa! You screwed everything up! You’ll never be the mature person! You’re just a heartless monster!” he paused, and then scoffed almost for himself, though he knew very well she could hear him: “And I was the liar? Me? You were the liar all along!”

His body radiated heat the more he yelled, but the ghost purposely ignored it. It wasn’t important. Even though he could feel his body changing from the inside, he was just blinded by the fury and the resentment he had towards the Queen. Nothing else was important. Not even the cries on his right as he opened his mouth again:

-“And you know what’s fun?” he asked with a mix of bitterness and sarcasm: “You never took a good look at yourself! You destroyed an entire village, killed all its inhabitants, murdered your dear fiance, and somehow it was my fault? You’re so full of yourself it’s hilarious!”

The spirit laughed, but it sounded terribly maniacal and insincere. His skin had changed colour, now purple like his ghostly form, yet his body remained tangible just like his human form. His face radiated a yellowish light and his mouth had changed, showing fangs instead of normal teeth.

Snatcher was livid and his body was reacting in consequence.

-“And you actually thought I would love you again? Forget everything that you did just because you created a perfect little alternate reality?” The spirit laughed again, yet his laughter ended with a sad tone. A minute passed in silence, but he knew she was still there.

-“You never cared about me,” affirmed Snatcher bitterly: “All you cared about was the idea of living the perfect princess life, falling in love, just like in a fairytale. But you were the villain all along, you were the unstable witch becoming crazy when something didn’t go your way!”

Snatcher stopped again, shutting his eyes hard and clenching his fists as he questioned in a desperate, loud voice:

-“Why are you still here?!” He demanded as his words resonated in the cellar, echoing all around him and the kid: “Go away! If you want us to die here so much, then get lost!”

He took a deep breath and screamed as much as he could, all his rage and fury fuelling his last words:

-“I hate you, Vanessa! I loathe you! Get lost!”

Snatcher thought it would be enough. Snatcher really thought she would leave them alone to die, just like she intended… But instead, he still felt her presence behind the door, as the air cooled down again. She wasn’t leaving. And then, after a few seconds, the door opened and a silhouette entered the room, holding something tight against her chest.

It was Vanessa, wearing her light green nightshirt. Her face was full of sadness and guilt, and she couldn’t bear looking at the ghost in the eyes.

And, in her hands, was the brat’s magical hat.

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Gosh I LOVE writing cliffhangers :) ALSO DON’T FORGET TO LISTEN TO PUYO-PROTO’S VOICE ACTING, IT’S AMAZING AAAAH

See you on the next chapter ! :D

Chapter 19 =>

[apriceonemotion]

Larries Are a Problem: An Essay by a Former Larrie

I spent about seven years of my life believing in theories with vague proofs, not only referring to Larry Stylinson, but plenty of other ships of real life people. Even though I was only a child and young teenager for the majority of that time, that doesn’t excuse that me and plenty of other people, some older than me, were blindly believing and creating different theories about two men that didn’t know we existed. It’s fair to believe in whatever you believe in with the information that we are given in the public and I honestly do not have any hate for anyone in those years that fully believed in those theories that were created, however, there was a line being crossed that even I was blind to notice.

Before you start furiously typing at your keyboard to call me an “anti” or a “het” or even a “solo harrie” and that I’m the problem, read this in its completion. This is coming from someone that was once like you, but grew out of it and realized that things had gone a bit too far.

I think a line needs to be set into place when it comes to shipping real life people. There is a huge difference in believing that two people would look cute together and fetishizing them, analyzing every move they make, and turning every song lyric into a theory. You have to realize that these people have real lives and are real human beings, not characters from a television show that doesn’t exist in our world. The two of them have lives outside of the ones that they show publicly and it’s pretty obvious that they keep a lot of the information about their private lives, well, private. But when you skew that into hiding information from the public because they are being forced, that’s when things get out of hand. I have watched in the years that I had been a fan of this group: larries publicly harassing online (and even offline) the family members and friends of all those involved. Even now, as the Watermelon Sugar video had been released, larries bombarded livestreams of the models in the video asking if Louis had been on set, if Larry was real, and things of that nature. Not only questions, but telling family members and friends of the two horrible things, threatening some, and even making a few of them make their account private or just deleted all together (ahem, Xander). They even make them say “Larry” in livestreams in order to get a sliver of proof, which is a desperate attempt to be honest.

But worst of all is the girlfriends of both of them. I have watched Eleanor Calder grow from the moment she started dating Louis in the way beginning of One Direction being formed, but I have also sadly seen her every move, every facial feature, every body part being picked apart by larries on every platform she’s ever been on. To this day, she will innocently post a selfie of herself and I will see tweets and comments floating around saying that she doesn’t look like herself, she’s ugly, or she just simply doesn’t look good. Or that she’s trying too hard and everything she does is to cover something up, even if there is no proof of something going on. There was even a whole theory about her having a twin because she apparently looked too different in her pictures. The girl that Louis had a baby with, Brianna, is still shamed and made fun of daily, even if she is just simply posting pictures of the child they had together. They have no shame in telling women that they are ugly, that they are doing things for attention, all because they are linked to a man they think is in a secret gay relationship. 

The trend of larries bombarding the comments and replies of these girls must have a very bad effect on them. Eleanor Calder especially since she’s been with Louis for about ten years now (on and off but the harassment has definitely been consistent). (Some examples: here, here, here) They have picked apart the way that she smiles (or if she doesn’t), the way that she acts, what she wears, how she talks, and who she hangs out with. Not to mention she got literally jumped once. It’s almost borderline misogynistic the way that larries think that it’s okay to shame and make fun of women just to support their theories. Of course, not all larries, but a majority is too many. 

I have been called homophobic by larries online for the past few months whenever I speak up about me disagreeing with what they believe in, but why have they never turned the camera around and looked at themselves? A majority of larries are straight - I didn’t conduct an experiment to figure this out, it’s just that a lot that I see end up being straight - and use them being allies and their gay mutuals that also believe in Larry as their defense of them enjoying a gay ship. They’re just supporting gay people, right? Wrong. Louis has countlessly said that he is straight, no sense of homosexuality in his bones. It’s been argued that he has stereotypical characteristics of a gay man but that is legitimately just stereotyping to think that way. 

The only proof that I’ve ever been given is that he sits “like a gay man” or moves his body “like a gay man”, and that in itself is basically homophobic to think that a man doing anything feminine has to be gay. We live in a time that it’s becoming more acceptable to blur the lines of what is feminine and masculine and who can wear what - it doesn’t matter what a person defines themselves as, they can dress and do whatever they want without it being deemed feminine or masculine. So, when the only reasoning for placing a straight man as gay is the way that he walks, talks, and acts is forcing a sexuality just because of the stereotype that gay men are more feminine in those ways. 

There is no way that me not believing in two people being together is homophobic. Just because I say “Larry isn’t real”, that doesn’t mean I hate gay men? I don’t understand the logic. 

Let’s discuss the Watermelon Sugar video. This is the main thing that got me into making this post (and entire blog). The video is very sex positive - the themes of the 60s and 70s being implemented are very symbolic as that was a time of embracing sexuality. Harry’s video was very colorful, showed women in a non-fetishizing way, and was a huge thing for a lot of sapphics that watched the video. But, it was also a very attractive video, and people are allowed to believe that Harry is an attractive person and want to be with him (even if we know that it won’t happen). And because of that, a large amount of larries got angry that people even dared to thirst over Harry on Twitter. Not enjoying ‘thirst tweets’ is fine in retrospect, but many, and I mean many, larries were wishing death on anyone that did them, even calling them ‘sick in the head’, which can be incredibly offensive to people with any mental problems. They filled people’s replies with angry tweets, throwing TPWK at the end of them (as if that helps), and trying to make them feel disgusting for tweeting what they did.

 A tweet came out after the announcement video released joking about how even his walk is hot, and larries came in heavy accusing the OP of sexualizing everything he does.

These incidents don’t stop at just the video being released, it’s been going on for years. Think pieces saying “Harry has always been deemed as a womanizer his entire time of being in the spotlight, so don’t sexualize him every chance you get” come out whenever someone makes a joke about how sexy he is. They bring out the quote from Harry saying he doesn’t like being called a ‘sex symbol’ and use that against anyone that makes these ‘thirst tweets’ about him, claiming that he wouldn’t want to come back to social media because of people that do that. 

There is an entire series on Buzzfeed where celebrity men read ‘thirst tweets’ and laugh about the ones that are descriptive and strange. Every celebrity gets tweets about them being attractive and/or sexy, it’s a very normal thing for this to happen since no one expects the celebrity to ever see it. It’s basically word vomit that they post in no hopes for the person to see. 

Let’s turn the camera back to you guys now. The smutty fics, fan-art, and tweets about what you wish Larry would do together. Those are okay? It’s a double standard. Save the energy that is put on attacking harries for ‘thirst tweeting’ if you aren’t going to feel the same way when larries do the same thing. It’s even stranger when you go back to how I’ve said a lot of larries are straight. Finding it hot when gay men kiss and have sex when you’re a straight woman is fetishizing the idea of gay men and what they do in their personal and private sex lives. If you believe that men shouldn’t fetishize lesbians’ sex lives, then why do that to two men? 

When larries stop harassing other fans, family members and friends of both of them, and sending death threats to anyone that gives them a differing opinion, I’ll stop believing that they are one of the worst people on social media platforms. Harry and Louis could do anything, and there will be theories, comments, and arguments. Have you ever wondered why none of them even play with any of your ideas anymore? It has been ten years. Something should’ve happened by now, don’t you think? 

Their family members and friends shouldn’t be so sick of all of this that they get upset about it on lives, that they turn off their comments, that they don’t always feel comfortable being online. 

Again, I used to be one of them (I sincerely apologize), but I do not see how any of this behavior is okay. It’s been plaguing Twitter and Instagram for years now and I just want this to be a smack in the face that it isn’t okay to be this way. 

[btsybrkr]

What A Time To Be At Home!: The Best And Worst Coronacontent The Internet Has To Offer

Remember that joke that’s been around for ages, but was being told literally everywhere back in 2019? The one that went something like, “I hate it when people ask me where I’ll be in a year’s time - I don’t have 2020 vision!”?

Well, I bloody wish someone did.

In fact, in early January, I wrote out my own predictions for the decade ahead right here on my blog. They were obviously entirely hypothetical and - I thought - ridiculous. They were just a series of daft ideas that I thought I could take the piss out of, in the hope that people might read it and take a second out of their day to do an amused little nose exhale for me. But now, even the post-apocalyptic TV show ideas I pitched in that piece seem less ‘far-off dystopian chaos’, and more like they could be pleasant additions to the BBC Summer schedule.

The world is in the throes of a global pandemic, the likes of which haven’t been seen since… I don’t know, The Black Plague, maybe? As a result of that, the instructions have been clear: stay home, save lives. 

At first, the thought of being given a period of Government-sanctioned laziness seemed like a dream to many. We could write our autobiographies! Learn Klingon! Build ourselves a whole new house! But six weeks in, it appears to have started messing with the collective consciousness of the human race. Brains are fried, your Weekly Screen Time is up 103%, stomachs are full to the brim with banana bread and dalgona coffee, and certain celebrities’ egos are in a fight to the death with their common sense. In a time when we’re all supposedly doing nothing, there’s still so much going on. 

With that in mind, I thought we could recognise some of the things we’ve seen online that have kept us talking in lockdown, not just because of Coronavirus, but in spite of it. 

Welcome to the first (but hopefully not annual) What A Time To Be At Home! awards. The WATTBAH!’s, if you like.

The ‘Why On Earth Did You Think This Was A Good Idea?’ Award

Over the last few weeks, we’ve seen a sizable handful of blunders by the rich and famous that have, at worst, knocked them down a fair few places in our estimations and, at best, have left us scratching our heads, wondering what response they were expecting in the first place. 

With that in mind, it’s only right that this title goes to the original celebrity lockdown mistake: Gal Gadot’s ill-advised acapella cover of Imagine, featuring a variety of different Hollywood stars - not one of whom had the foresight to ask “are you sure this doesn’t make us look like complete arseholes?”, which, unfortunately, it absolutely does. 

Between the bizarre and insincere ‘I have a dream’-style speech at the beginning, the boldness of some of those featured to be quite clearly just taking the piss, and the fact everyone appears to be singing ever-so-slightly below the note without ever actually hitting it for the entirety of the song, this was tone-deaf in more ways than one. It’s even worse when you realise that this was posted less than one week into the lockdown, but then what would I know? Maybe madness sets in faster in multi-million dollar mansions. Probably because it echoes louder and bounces off the walls of your massive living room.

The ‘I Had To Suffer Through This, So You Do, Too’ Award

This award recognises content we’ve been witness to over the last few weeks that was so awful, so completely uncomfortable to watch, that after you’d gotten over the initial disbelief at what you’d just seen, you immediately had to send it to somebody you know, so that you can suffer through it together.

Despite how many celebrity lockdown moments have left me with my head in my hands over the last few weeks, this award could only go to a very recent contender - one which isn’t simply an embarrassing piece of celebrity lockdown content, but will likely haunt the inner corners of my brain long after this virus is simply a topic taught about in GCSE History lessons of the future. 

I am, of course, talking about Olly Murs. I’m talking about Pringlegate. I’m talking about Olly Murs removing the bottom of a can of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles to trick his own girlfriend into touching his penis. On video, on TikTok.

Twitter: @buckyw1ng

There’s something inherently quite chilling about Pringlegate. It might be something to do with the 10,000 watt grin on Olly’s face as we watch him carefully maneuver a tin opener around the bottom of the can, or perhaps it’s just the question of how long he’d been sat there holding it around his naked penis as he and his girlfriend watched a film, patiently waiting for the moment to strike. Perhaps it’s the way the video freezes as she reaches over for a Pringle, allowing time for Olly Murs’ to add in an audio clip of himself, shouting “SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND”. 

Maybe it’s the uncontrollable show of amusement he launches into as she snatches her hand back in shock, laughing away, heartily, as if to say “Ha! You thought it was a normal can of Pringles, but it was actually my PENIS covered in Pringles crumbs! You just got PUNKED!”, like it was all simply a clever ruse. 

Above all else, I think the most uncomfortable thing about it is that I can’t help but feel like all bets are off in 2020, and that this is a fairly tame warm-up for things to come.

So, Olly Murs, you are inarguably the rightful winner of the ‘I Had To Suffer Through This, So You Do, Too’ award. Congratulations! Don’t do it again, yeah?

The ‘Are You Actually Aware Of These Words Coming Out Of Your Mouth?’ Award

I’ve said some stupid things since this lockdown started. Personally, I put it down to the lack of social interaction, which I think might be frying my brain a little bit, or at least that’s what the ornament of a turkey that sits on my kitchen windowsill told me the other day. However, I don’t think I or anybody I know has said anything even one fraction-of-an-iota as void of intelligent thought as Vanessa Hudgens’ terrible opinions on social distancing, shared in a now-infamous Instagram live last month. 

“It’s a virus,” she clarified, helpfully, before going on to explain, “I get it. I respect it.” 

I’m sure your respect means the world to it, Vanessa, but do you ‘get’ it?

“But even if everybody gets it, like… yeah… people are gonna die,” she explains, in a tone so chirpy that the word ‘die’ might as well be replaced by the phrase ‘have such a bloody lovely old time’, “which is terrible, but, like… inevitable?” 

In all fairness, death is inevitable, but I don’t know if suggesting speeding up that process for thousands of people because you were disappointed that Coachella was cancelled is an equally logical take.

After a brief - and probably quite profound - moment of self-reflection, she laughs “I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t be doing this right now”. Oh, you think? Which bit? Just holding these insane ideas, or actually broadcasting them to your 39.1 million Instagram followers? 

She did post a video the day after, clarifying that - despite what she said - she is staying at home, and is urging others to do the same. I guess she does respect the virus after all. Now, if everyone could hurry up, catch it and die from it, so that she can go to Coachella 2021, Vanessa Hudgens might respect you, too. 

I guess We’re All In This Together, after all.

The Show Of Support Award

I’ve already talked a lot about the rich and famous here, so maybe it’s time to take a break from that madness - although, I get it, I respect it - and have a look at how the rest of our lives look at the moment.

One weekly occurrence that seems to be set to stick around is the weekly round of applause for the NHS. Whilst it’s nothing short of blood-boilingly annoying seeing Boris Johnson absent-mindedly clapping in celebration of a service that he recently admitted he hadn’t even noticed the strain on until he, himself, nearly died of the virus, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the rest of us getting involved. If anything, it’s heart-warming to see the videos of NHS staff being applauded by neighbours as they leave for work, and to hear the cheers echoing through the streets at 8pm every Thursday. There’s a lot of people being quite cynical about it. We obviously know it’s not going to stop Coronavirus in its tracks, but sometimes it’s just nice to be nice, alright?

One thing I’ve noticed recently is how many people have adopted different noise-making strategies, possibly in an effort to effectively boost their support by a factor of 300%. Banging pots and pans together appears to be the most popular, but the winner of this award saw your pots and pans and said “how sweet”, before showing us how it’s really done.

I present to you, a genius. The ultimate hype-man.

Twitter: “a deeply disturbed national psyche” - @willuminare

There’s something so chaotic and angry about the energy in this video, just one man, a cricket bat, and a wheelie bin, banging away to show his gratitude. Just living in the moment. I wish the neighbour who’d captured it on camera had caught more of it, or at least just enough to edit the footage with Electric Youth’s soaring synth anthem  ‘A Real Hero’ from the soundtrack of the movie Drive against it.

I’ve been trying to learn to play the keytar in lockdown, to near enough no avail. Maybe at 8pm next Thursday, I’ll just take it outside and smash it against the pavement. You know, for the NHS.

Honourable Mentions: The Very Best In Coronacontent

It’s not all been so questionable - there’s been a lot of uplifting, funny, positive and thoughtful things shared online over the past few weeks. John Krasinski’s YouTube series Some Good News has provided a much-appreciated contrast from the bleakness of traditional current affairs programmes. There’s five weeks worth of episodes on his YouTube channel at the moment, so I would definitely recommend checking it out, especially if you feel like you need a lift! 

Over on Twitter, there’s been a lot to laugh about, as ‘front camera comedians’ are well and truly in their element (my personal favourite recently has been Alistair Green), as well as plenty of other users who are utilising their free time to create some brilliant stuff - this six-part opera based on a 2007 Facebook argument by Archie Henderson is genuinely one of the funniest things I’ve seen in weeks.

Twitter: “I made a six-act opera out of a conversation between some 14 year olds on my Facebook from 2007″ - @jazzemu_

All in all, these are obviously bizarre times that we’re living in. We don’t know how many more weeks of lockdown we’re going to have, when we’ll get back to normal, or even if ‘normal’ will mean something completely different from now on. 

What we do know is that the internet, and everyone on it - whoever they are or whatever they’re saying - will continue to surprise us, inform us, entertain us, provide a place for our quizzes and conversations, and keep us together in some sense, when we have no choice but to be apart. 

Thanks to anyone who’s read this far. I hope that you and your friends and families are keeping well, and that you took even a slight shred of lockdown enjoyment from even one thing I’ve said over the past couple thousand words! 

Finally, before I go, I thought we might share a little song. It goes like this:

Imagine there’s no heaven....

if you like, can follow me on twitter here or instagram here :-)

[brookelynnhates]

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Hello Brooke! How do you feel, the day after?

BROOKE LYNN HYTES: I feel wonderful! I’m a little tired. I feel really good, minus the exhaustion!

If anyone has earned the right to feel exhausted, it’s you! You have so much to be proud of. Last night on Twitter, you said second is actually first in Canadian, and I love that you have a sense of humor about this. You’re all stars in the end. What are you most looking forward to doing with this new platform you have?

People forget we’ve all done so well, and all of our lives have changed for the better because of this. I won in so many other ways. I have a couple of irons in the fire that I can’t talk about right now because of contractual obligations. I’m going to be doing a lot of touring — I think I’m fully booked until December right now, so I’m going to go non-stop all summer and fall. I’m not really sure what else I’d like to do right now, I’m just waiting to see which doors open up to me. I want to explore more on the theater side…. I’m looking to get into some modeling work as well and some runway as well.

I would love to see you on a runway! Your moves were all so impressive this season, and I’ve always had this fantasy of you doing a new kind of drag tour that’s like a classic ballet mixed with contemporary drag. Are you planning a one-woman show?

Absolutely! I’m working on coming up with a one-woman show, I just don’t have time to sit down and write it right now. But soon!

You said during the finale that dance was so hard on your body that you couldn’t really do it anymore, and drag was the next logical option. Can you elaborate more on that story?

I was with a touring ballet company. I was burned out. We were dancing on stages that you shouldn’t be doing ballet on, like concrete floors. It wrecked my body a little bit. Drag has always been my first love, so, I love dance, but I love drag more, and it made sense to transition.

I love that you brought all those talents together this season. Especially in the final lip sync! I loved the jacket you wore that said “reveal” all over it. Why did you want to satirize the art of reveals?

I was trying to come up with cool ideas for what kind of reveal I could do, because everything has been done. I first decided to do the shoe reveal, which had never been done before. That was my one little original reveal. Because everyone expects you to do a reveal, I thought it’d be funny if I made fun of it and came out in a big jacket that was obviously a reveal, but also said “reveal” all over it.

When someone like Aquaria comes out looking like a loofah, we knew what was going to happen…

You already know, I already know, so, let’s have a good laugh about it together! If it’s going to be obvious, you should acknowledge it. It’s going to be funnier!

I think you and Yvie approached the final lip sync in two very different ways: Yvie told more of a narrative and connected with the emotion of the song, and you were doing an all-out spectacle with dazzling dance moves. Did you prepare ahead of time or were you improvising?

It was all improvisation. I never really choreograph, I just go with the flow in the moment. That’s just me doing my thing! I know [what I’m going to do at] certain points of the song, but I would say 95 percent of it is just improv.

In hindsight, do you wish you’d choreographed something knowing that what you did got you the runner-up slot?

No, I don’t think that would’ve changed the outcome for me at all. I think it was going to be what it was going to be, regardless. I’m very proud of how I did it. I had an amazing time on the finale, I was so happy that night!

What did it feel like to you the second you heard Ru announce Yvie as the winner at the crowning party? I imagine it’s painful but also a relief.

Yeah, it was a relief. I thought it was going to be her, so I wasn’t surprised. It was nice that it was finished and that chapter was closed. I’m very happy for Yvie. She’s an amazing queen and a true original, and stuck to her guns and has always been 100 percent herself the whole season. I’m happy for her. She’s worked hard and there’s no ill will or bitter feelings. I’m happy it’s done we can move on with our lives and see what happens next.

Statistically, you had the most challenge wins. What made you think you wouldn’t win with that record?

I’m a worst-case-scenario kind of girl. That way I’m never disappointed. I just had a feeling!

Were you surprised that, after an entire season of saying she wanted to send Yvie home, Silky picked you to lip sync against?

I was a little surprised, but I knew that’s who everyone expected her to pick and I knew she wasn’t going to do that just to spite everyone. She really mulled it over for a second.

Did you have a conversation about why she picked you?

Yeah, she said she wasn’t going to give the people what they wanted! She said that to me on stage! She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

You came across as so sweet on the finale, and you also cultivated a very sweet image on the show, but I’m sure you saw the comments online after the reunion, because people got a different impression of you after that episode. What did you think about that?

I was honest and direct on the reunion. I’m assuming you’re talking about the whole thing with Scarlet [Envy]. I was honest and kept it 100. I said, “I didn’t care for you on the show, I didn’t like you on the show.” The show was filmed a year ago. I’ve since changed my tune. I think Scarlet is amazing. She’s so talented and funny. The show is a polarizing experience and brings out the best and worst in everybody. Sometimes you gel with people and sometimes you don’t. I don’t understand why people think I was being rude or bitchy. I ended by saying that I really like her and she’s awesome, and I apologized for hurting her feelings and saying that everyone hated her, which I shouldn’t have said. I don’t really care if people’s opinions changed. I’m not a saint or a perfect person. I make mistakes and I own up to them. I like Scarlet and I don’t have a problem with her!

I interview a lot of Drag Race girls, and it’s a common frustration among them that certain fans, once they see something like an argument or disagreement on the show, they assume it’s like that forever and they don’t apply the same standards of normal human relationship to the Drag Race girls. Why is that?

I think they just see us as characters and not actual human beings. They don’t get the timeline of the show. The show was filmed a year ago, and so much can change in a year. I don’t think they’re very kind or understanding with the way things work and the way people can change or the stress everyone is under while filming the show. A lot of the things that are said in the heat of the moment, people don’t actually mean.

Speaking of relationships, one of my friends saw you in public a few months ago and said a photo of Vanjie was your background, but on the reunion you said you guys were no longer together. Is there more to the story?

Vanjie hasn’t been my phone background since October. My phone background is me! There’s no more to the story. We dated for three or four months after the show wrapped and it just didn’t work out for different reasons. We’re still good friends, we’re on tour together, we talk every day, and we’re in a good place. We’re waiting to see what happens in the future!

[ravenish-huffnpuff]

I love fantastic beasts and all of the characters. However I’ve just noticed that perhaps Queenie doesn’t seem grow as attached to Newt’s creatures as Jacob and Tina do. For example when the thunderbird is released: Tina looks up in awe and wonder (adorable by the way), Jacob is a little tentative but still walks forward. Queenie however kinda lingers back with- I don’t even know how to describe the look on her face. But I just get the feeling she doesn’t like them as much (not that I don’t love her), and perhaps this will cause some conflict in CoG. She also doesn’t step out into Newt’s case- just stays in his shed.

This of course is just my opinion and might be just me reading into it too much- but this is what this short story is about and me explaining why she might not like them as much. Also Newtina. Because I love them. And Tina’s smile when she looks at the occamy kills me every time. 

Ps. this is my first post ever and first fic ever. Enjoy!

Tina clambers down the ladder, two stairs at a time. Once again she has no time to proper inspect the mess that is Newt’s case on the way- Queenie’s heels are coming dangerously close to snitching her fingers. Her feet touch the floor, but still she waits, silently hoping, as her sister hesitantly takes her first steps into Newt’s abode.

Queenie walks straight to Jacobs side, the side which the silvery mass of Demiguise does not accommodate, and roots herself there. Her normally pleasant face is slightly morphed; she’s biting the inside of her lip in the manner usually reserved for the comeuppance of early morning shifts. Tina can’t help but notice her perfect hair has become slightly skewed from their recent adventures.

You okay? Tina thinks, concerned at the lost expression on her sisters face.

“Fine,” she replies out loud and squeakily, crossing her arms. Tina attempts to take her hand, but Queenie flits away, closer to Jacob.

Really? Tina asks again, attempting to think in the most sarcastic yet worried tone she can. Jacob who has said something to make Newt to laugh- a charming burst through his nose- hasn’t noticed Queenie’s discomfort and averts his arm. Tina cocks an questioning eyebrow at her little sister.

“It’s just…,” Queenie jingles her whole body anxiously, “I can’t hear them. I can hear them of course. Just like a crowd of people, but I can’t hear them,” she nods her head minutely towards the door.

Tina leans back on her ankles at a ragged wooden door, which has managed to open itself slightly amidst the chaos in the tiny area. A beam of light shines in. As does a cacophony of twittering, scratching and snorting. A small smile falls onto Tina’s face.

It’s so obvious she doesn’t know how she didn’t realise before. Of course Newt’s case isn’t just a small work area, with several small creatures running around his feet. Not just, an adorable tiny leaf who sits on his shoulder and the extraordinary, life-saving, bat like ‘swooping evil’ in his pocket. He’s a man who likes breaking the rules, after all. This must be only the beginning. How many creatures does he have in here?

In a trance she wanders across the wooden boards, hearing the beastly noises getting louder and louder. It’s like music in a jazz club, intriguing and buzzing. It makes her foot tap and blood race. She reaches out a hand, and goes to slightly push when-

“Tina?” Newt says quietly. She whips round, her hand quickly jumping off the door. The others are all staring at her- Queenie restlessly, Jacob distractedly, and Newt…well Newt. He’s removed his great coat, and she watches his chest breath underneath his musty waistcoat, refusing to meet his eyes. What must he think of her? She’s was about to open what must be the most important room in his life (if there is such a thing for everyone) and without his permission. It would be like a person she just met snatching her old auror badge out of her hands. She can feel the anxiety dancing against her chest by just imaging it.

And worst of all- realisation suddenly hits her like a slap. She already has. She took his case, without his permission and handed it in. To people, she thinks bitterly, who wouldn’t have treated it or the beings inside with the respect they deserved. And not just to one or two creatures like she previously believed. To apparently many, innocent creatures who had done nothing wrong.

But, the reasonable side of her brain argues, you thought you were doing the right thing. You thought he was helping the person causing all the damage to no-maj’s and wizard’s alike. Handing him in to your government was the logical thing to do (at the time). He’d just escaped from your house in the middle of the night with no explanation for Circe’s sake, what were you supposed to think?

Yes, her conscience says quietly back, but you were wrong. And don’t forget what you said yesterday- ‘an extermination guide’. That’s the impression you gave him of what you would do to his fantastic beasts.

Her eyes burn a bit and she swears at them in English and Yiddish until she feels the tears retract themselves. He must hate her. She would. She does.

“Tina?” he repeats concerned. She looks at him properly. His eyes are blue. And gold. With flecks of green. They’re all at once soft, compassionate and sad. They move between her own and the occamy baby, who has slivered out of the tea pot and has made it’s home around his neck. Newt’s expression never changes between her and his creature, and it squeezes her heart a bit.

“I’m so sorry,” she stutters, “I didn’t mean to, well I did, at the time, but now,” she squeezes her fingernails into her palms to the point of pain, begging him to understand the context beneath her words. He does. Newt’s posture straightens. His mouth is set in a solemn line. She gives a shaky intake of breath, wondering if getting on her knees would be enough. Or and most likely, it would make her look even more pathetic.  

“I didn’t understand, but I do now,” she says to her shoes, “I was wrong. I only thought…but I promise, again, I never meant…it’s just” she rocks backwards and forwards on her heels awkwardly. How can she tell him, that after all that she’s done and said, that this place calls to her? In a way she only thought she’d feel again after solving a case or finally getting Credence out of that awful woman’s hands.

A sharp cry breaks her out of her thoughts. The occamy opens its golden beak giving another loud screech. It seems to have gotten sick of it’s post around Newt’s neck and is wanting attention. It’s eyes are just as mesmerising as in Macy’s, deep and dark and completely trusting. It bumps Newt on the head, hard. But he still seems to be frozen, not even flinching although it must’ve hurt. Stuck in time by the job of comprehending her staggered speech, he completely ignores it. The occamy shakes it’s dainty head agitatedly, and leans back again, seemingly going for an even harder hit.

“No darling,” Tina says quickly, pushing her palm between Newt’s head and the assault. The occamy, unable to stop itself, crashes into her hand. Tina doesn’t know which is worse. The pain of a sharp beak or the slight tingle enlightened her skin which came from brushing a few hairs of Newt’s fringe. The occamy stares at her, and Tina feels like she’s inherited Queenie’s talent for a second. ‘Another human!’ it seems to say, ‘will you pay attention to me?’ It slithers its strong body around her wrist, a feathered bracelet. Deciding it likes it’s new home, it wraps even tighter causing her bones to crack.

“Ahh,” Tina breaths out a painful laugh, “like this I think,” she cups her hands, gesturing motherly to the makeshift bowel she’s made and the occamy slips into it. It settles down, testing out it’s new environment- pulling at the buttons on the edge of her sleeve, noticing it’s own reflection in the shiny surface of her necklace. “Yes, there you go,” she whispers, smiling in wonder at it’s acceptance of her.

“It’s okay,” Newt says softly. Tina whips her eyes up. He’s staring at her, in a way she hasn’t seen before. Hasn’t seen from anyone before, “I forgive you,” he offers her a small grin, and gives a slight stroke to the occamy who has nested happily onto her fingertips.

“Do you- want to go in?” he asks, bobbing his head towards the door. Contented again, back in his element.

“Yes, of course. If you’d like me too,” Tina says, a bit too quickly.

“I’d like you to,” They stand there stupidly, nodding at each other, eyes bright. Tina offers up her armful of occamy.

“No, no,” now Newt seems to be the nervous one, “I want you take her. I’ll…supervise,” he gives a huff of laughter. He finally trusts her, Tina thinks breathing out a thankful breath. And I trust him.  

“Okay then,” Tina grins down stupidly at the occamy who has started fidgeting again.

“Well, are we doing this?” Jacob’s voice rings out, re-adjusting his arms around Dougal, whose eyes are currently flashing a bright blue.  

“Yes, yes,” Newt claps his hands together. He moves around Tina, refusing to meet her eyes again and pushes open the door. He walks briskly into the magical environment, and Tina’s eyes burn in the burst of light. She takes one step, then another, looking around in wonder, clasping the occamy closer to her chest. She hears the brusque sounds of Jacobs steps following her. Then…nothing. Twisting her head around slightly, she notices Queenie hanging by the edge of the shed. She hasn’t taken a foot outside.

[eyeofthewolfe]

Ninjago & TLNM: To Be Green

Chapter Six: High School Pt. 1

The alarm went off a lot earlier than Lloyd wanted.

Sure, he was used to early mornings to train... but he knew he wasn’t getting up to practice his sword parries or stealth skills or accuracy testing. He was getting up to go to high school, and that was not that exciting as a motivator as ninja training.

Most of the clothes he found in the room were a little too small for him so he finally settled on a pair of stretchy black gym shorts that reached his knees and a green T-shirt that might be a little too tight than he wanted. It didn’t suffocate him, but his chest felt very big in the tight cotton.

Koko- his ‘mom’- left a note and a paper bag on the counter that Lloyd found when he finally emerged from his tiny room. Wrapped sushi, chopsticks, a dumpling, and a juice box was what he found in the paper bag. With a smile, Lloyd scanned the note. “Good morning sweetie! I got called into work early this morning, so I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to wish you well at school! Don’t worry and don’t over think it. I left you some of your favorites for lunch so you don’t have to buy it there. Have a great day! Love, Mom.”

His eyes lingered on the note and bag for a few seconds, debating how some people could change so much these parallel realms if his ninja were more similar than different than his own mother.

He held his breath again as he dashed down the stairwell to the street. Before he had left he had searched for a book bag (something told him he should probably have one) but he didn’t find anything of the sort. Instead he carefully held the small brown bag with food as he burst out the door to his apartment building and out to the sidewalk.

He was expecting it to be bright, but the sun hadn’t even come up over the buildings yet. Stifling a yawn, Lloyd recalled Nya’s directions and turned the corner to the bus stop. There were already three high school kids standing there with earbuds or headphones on. All three of their heads turned to look at the blonde newcomer when he stopped to join them.

Their gaze wasn’t harsh or joyful; it was more a mix of fear and sorrow. It was enough to make Lloyd a tad uncomfortable. Trying a smile, he waved awkwardly with his free hand. “Uh, morning guys.”

They said nothing.

Lloyd’s grin melted into more of relaxed scowl. “Alright-“ Lloyd mumbled, but then some voiced behind him caught his attention.

“Yesterday’s defeat is still trending on all platforms-“

“You are right about that! Hashtag ‘Long Live The Green Ninja’ blew up on Twitter yesterday after the fired shark army blew the teenage ninja from the sky...”

Lloyd turned around. The electronics store had about a dozen old TVs in the store window, and they all had a broadcast of some show called “Good Morning Ninjago”. Just as he looked over, the news flipped over to a clip (that looked like it was taken on a phone) of a large green dragon flying around above a huge battle of scorched sea creatures.

Chills shot down Lloyd’s spine. He recognized that dragon. He had seen it in pieces (literally) at the warehouse just the day earlier. Didn’t the newscastor just say-

Suddenly a flare shot off the dragon. Lloyd narrowed his eyes to focus on a small figure launch themselves off the dragon and onto a smaller airborne aircraft. The dragon roared and dove.

The camera (shaking more than before) tracked the green blur before it was blown from the sky.

Lloyd flinched. He sucked in a sharp breath as the dragon spiraled out of view. The clip vanished and the two newscasters reappeared, both with huge awkward grins forced on their faces.

His heart pounding, he heard the screech of he bus pull up behind him. He tore himself from the horrors of the news and followed the other students onto the bus.

If he thought three students staring at him was uncomfortable- try about forty. As soon as he entered the aisle, every conversation died out and every eye was on him.

They know, Lloyd thought as he swallowed hard. They know I’m the Green Ninja.

He slid into an empty seat and carefully placed his lunch on his lap. He kept his gaze out the window, but he still felt every eye on him.

The worst part is that Lloyd now knew why: yesterday apparently the other Lloyd was defeated. And the whole world knew.

_____________________________________________

Nya peeked back in the ninja’s bedroom. Five beds were empty and made up nicely, while the one on the far left still had one figure snoring loudly. Nya checked the clock on the wall before shaking her head.

She quietly shut the door.

_____________________________________________

Lloyd has never ridden in a school bus before, but he hoped they were never as long as that one.

Maybe it felt longer because the whole bus was silently feeling bad for the defeated teenage ninja, but he still felt like it took about twenty minutes until they pulled up in front of a large white building surrounded by kids a tad younger than him.

“Oh boy,” he muttered, and joined in the line to leave the bus.

The stares only got more intense as Lloyd approached the main doors. Just before he felt like he was going to lose it, a slightly familiar face materialized next to him.

“Good morning Lloyd!” Zane exclaimed, his glowing blue eyes grinning just as wide as his mouth. “Are you feeling more like yourself?”

“Uh...yeah?”

“Excellent!” Zane clapped his hands together and beamed. “The others will be thrilled that you are back to normal.”

Lloyd raised his eyebrows. “Back to normal...?” He was about to explain that he wasn’t the “normal Lloyd” when Zane burst through the school doors.

“LLOYD IS BACK TO NORMAL!”

Forget what I said earlier, Lloyd thought to himself as his face turned as red as Kai’s gi. Forty people are nothing when you’ve got a hundred kids staring at you.

“Thanks, Zane.” Lloyd murmured as he pushed past the robot and down to where he recognized the tall spikes of Kai. He did his best to ignore the stares-but it was harder than fighting an enemy weaponless that was twice his size.

“Welcome back, green bean.” Kai winked as Lloyd approached. “You gave us quite a scare yesterday.”

“But-“

“You should’ve heard yourself!” Jay interrupted Lloyd with a huge grin. “You didn’t know where you lived, you didn’t even recognize us!! And you forgot everyone hated you!!”

The others bust out into laughter, startling the still-quiet hall. Lloyd didn’t even twitch a smile.

“It was freaky, man.” Cole joined in, flipping his hair (Now that it was down, Lloyd could easily tell it was the same guy back home). “Were you pranking us? You had to be pranking us.”

“I wasn’t pranking you.” Lloyd groaned. He didn’t remember his friends being this annoying. “And I’m not...better, or fixed, or ‘back to normal’. In fact I’m not even-“

Lloyd was interrupted by an alarm in the school. He yelled and threw his arms up in defense. “What’s wrong?” He shouted, his eyes trained and narrowed for any enemies to attack.

The other five ninja stared, color fading from their faces (at least the ones who were human).

“Lloyd,” Nya spoke coldly. “That was the school bell.”

Lloyd blinked. That was a dumb design: a loud bell in a school of teenagers. “Uh-“ Lloyd droned. “What does the alarm mean?”

Jay and Cole shared a quick look. Zane, who looked incredibly pleased that he knew the answer, said “It means we have five minutes until first period.”

“Five MINUTES!” Lloyd gasped. “What’s first period?”

“Math.” Kai smirked. “With Zane and I. Trig.”

Trig. Lloyd rolled that word in his mind. It didn’t sound menacing, but the way Kai said it sent chills down his spine. “Okay, where do we go?”

“You need your textbook.” Cole snapped.

Lloyd blinked again. “My textbook?”

“It’s in your locker.” The sleeveless teenager stuck his thumb out to a locker door just to the right of him.

Eyeing the lock, he approached the small door. “I don’t know the combination.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on man.”

“I don’t! Do you?”

“You never told me.”

“Lloyd never told you.”

“Same difference.”

“Ladies!” Nya stuck her head in between the two teens. “Cole, just- get him in his locker.”

Cole rolled his eyes (again-man, he does that a lot) and pressed his hand against the locking mechanism.

Flashes of Cole’s super powered fist jolted in Lloyd’s mind. “Wait, Cole don’t-!”

There was a loud humming sound and then a pop. Cole pulled the fully-intact door open and crossed his arms. “Don’t do what?”

Lloyd stared in shock. “How....what are your powers?”

Cole’s large eyebrows furrowed. “I’m the Master of Earth.”

The Green Ninja looked back at the locker. “But-“

Kai groaned and grabbed a red textbook from inside the locker and planted it on Lloyd’s chest. “Lloyd! Class! C’mon!”

Cole shut the locker with a clang. Lloyd shot him one more shocked glance before following Kai and Zane to Trig.

Whatever that meant.

_______________________________________________

The door slowly slid open. The bedroom was now turning slightly pink with the setting sun. The five beds were still vacant, but the one in the far left still was holding a sleeping person.

The green sheets were almost a completely different color in the atmospheric tone. His light blonde hair was light pink in the light as it sprawled across the light pink pillow. The room was dead silent....until the loud snore.

Jay covered his mouth to prevent him from snorting. Cole bit back a laugh, and Kai emitted an incredibly soft and incredibly high pitch squeal.

Zane slowly shut the door. Nya turned to the others with a huge grin.

“It’s been hours!” Cole hissed. “How is he...?”

Nya shrugged. “It’s like he hasn’t slept in days!”

“Weeks, more,” Jay nudged her. “It’s been almost twelve hours.”

They all glanced at the door one last time before chuckling and walking down the hallway, leaving the sleeping teenager be.

[quantumdotdot]

Marvel Masks: Earth-218, Session 1

We played the tabletop role-playing game Masks: A New Generation in an alternate version of Marvel’s Earth. This starts with stuff that we did as part of character creation, world-building, and “Session 0″ as it’s called, then going into the actual start of the narrative! I’ll be posting updates as the campaign continues.

You won’t need mechanical knowledge of the Masks system to understand it, though I definitely encourage anyone who’s interested in playing a superhero RPG, especially one involving teens, to give it a look.  I realized I’d never put this up anywhere but Twitter, and this campaign is honestly too good to keep to ourselves.

Also, shout-out to @Zhurenaissance for doing the lion's share of the initial world-building/prep; he's an incredible writer and I honestly couldn't have done it without him.

So, here ya go... Earth-218.

Cast of Characters

Shatterstar (he/him) - The Bull

Very tall (6’ 4”/6’ 5”), long red hair, about 18-19

Was actually born maybe(?) but thinks he was created in the genevats of Arize

Fought in gladiatorial combat on Mojoworld. Has 2 braids in his hair, a tradition for revolutionaries to show how many Spineless Ones he has killed

Tells people he and Rictor met by being at the same school

Billy Kaplan (he/him) - The Nova

16-17, skinny and short, wears t-shirts when not in combat

Has always been able to do small things with his powers

Recently had a back-against-the-wall moment with bullies and fought back, causing “property damage” when his powers manifested in full force

Hurt bystanders as well during the incident, which upset Billy. He found a mentor in Dr. Strange, who was training Billy to be the next Sorcerer Supreme, before Strange had his power stripped from him and stolen by some unknown assailant

Jen/Jennifer Walters (she/her) - The Transformed

Late 20s-early 30s, tall, looks ordinary

Jen is Jennifer Walters, not She-Hulk. Very important

Has been working as a lawyer/attorney in NYC, specializing in the rights of marginalized people, especially mutants

Her She-Hulk form changed dramatically post-Civil War and she is still dealing with the death of Rhodey, her boyfriend. Bruce also got killed shortly thereafter.

Tries not to transform into She-Hulk and has been hiding her emotions and grief. She is very unsure of her place in life, and looks to the kids of the team for help and support

Alex (they/them) - The Reformed

Looks 18. Looks thin, but is deceptively strong

Is a child created by Cyttorak the demon god to take over Teens totally normal human Teen, what are you talking about

“When our team first came together…”

Bull/Shatterstar: We defeated a dangerous enemy. Who or what was it?

Alex Summers. After Scott died, Alex was having a bad time, so Madelyne Pryor, Goblin Queen, convinced him to embrace his dark destiny as the Goblin Prince

Maddy has a classy black jumpsuit that shows minimal skin, whereas Alex gets a Sexy Badass Costume Change

The team fought off a bunch of goblins who had showed up at the school to claim it for the Goblin Queen

Nova/Billy: We destroyed our surroundings in the fight. Where was it? What did we destroy?

The fight was as the indoor/outdoor gym complex. Goblins took a basket hoop/pole, which was animated so that the hoop was a tongue and the backboard was a face. It blew a raspberry at the team as the goblins carted it away. The goblins also tried to take the biggest trophy from them but it ran around from them. It’s now a pet animated trophy.

Billy and Havok had a one-vs-one, Billy struggled with his shield powers, trying to shield the team and the school from Alex’s blasts, but lost control and the blasts ricocheted everywhere, collapsing several walls. Billy had to do detention to clean it up since the Xavier Institute is all about learning to take responsibility for your powers.

Maddie wasn’t happy with her Goblin Prince after looking at all the trash the goblins brought back.

Transformed/Jen: We drew attention and ire from plenty during the fight. One important person in particular now hates and fears us. Who is it?

J. Jonah Jameson now has an axe to grind against both the school and the team in particular after the mess from the goblin fight spilled out into Central Park a little bit. Not everyone listens to him, but a lot of the police and the Olds do. So that’s tough. He doesn’t have time for pictures of Spiderman now. Spider-Man has also never been confirmed to exist, he is a cryptid. JJ has hundreds of extremely blurry pictures of Spider-Man.

Reformed/Alex: We fought a terrible enemy from my old life. Who was it and what did they take from me?

Erik the Red worked with Maddy to send the goblins to the school as a smokescreen for testing Alex.

Nightmare also showed up at the school, who is this universe’s version of Toad; he’s a demon who is also part goblin. He carries a spinal hobby horse that summons a spectral horse that keeps the spine/bone ghost head.

Lower status among demons because he’s part goblin

He stole Alex’s staff from the locker room, that let them channel their powers through the staff while fighting.

Relationships

Shatterstar

Billy is your “love”.* You’ve opened up to them about the worst parts of your past.

Star saw the destruction Billy caused after standing up to the Goblin Prince and got stars in his eyes. He thinks Billy has the heart of a warrior and told him about his past in the dueling arenas, which freaks Billy out a little bit.  

Alex is your “rival”. They tried to control you at a crucial moment.

Alex knows a little bit about fighting, but they and Star come from very different schools of thought. They tried to tell Star how he should fight during the Goblin fight and Star holds a grudge against them for that.

* (Note: Shatterstar is still dating Julio, the "love" is a mechanical thing for Shatterstar's class. Billy is the only one he's opened up to on the team.)

Billy

You hang out all the time with Jen to blow off steam.

They bonded over baking cookies. Billy tries to bribe the other kids to be friends with him by sharing cookies. He once walked in on Jen hurling a stand mixer through the wall after getting frustrated, and now Jen calms down by watching Billy bake in the giant Xavier Institute kitchen. He learned how to bake at a young age by peering over the counter top on a step-stool when his bubbe was baking.

You once hurt Alex when you lost control of your powers.

Billy thinks that he hurt Alex during the goblin fight by making some that had poison spit lose their poison and accidentally hit Alex. Obviously, Alex is fine, but Billy still feels extremely guilty about all of it.

Jen

Shatterstar comforted me when I was at my lowest.

Star reassured Jen when she was about to Get Angry and hulk out after the Goblin fight. She was trying to stay calm and not lose her head after avoiding her ugly emotions and it hadn't been going well. Shatterstar helped by reassuring her that she had helped them and that she had a place with them on the team.

Laura / X-23 / Wolverine knew me before I changed.

Laura knew Jen from before, and fought her in a 1v1. Jen defeated her then, but ever since Civil War ended, Jen hasn’t been the same. Laura has faith in her that she can become the Jen she once knew again, so they can have a rematch and Laura can win fair and square this time, and so tries to encourage her. Laura maintains she could have defeated Jen if she had to though. Jen lets her think so.

Alex

I’ve earned the trust of Billy, and I follow their example of what a hero should be.

Alex wandered by when Billy was serving detention for the destruction he caused to the athletics facility. Billy had Alex help him clean up while they talked, and Alex looks up to Billy as an inspiration of what good guys are.

I did something terrible to Jen once. I hope they can forgive me one day

Jen was having trouble sleeping once, and Alex was a little low on energy, so they selfishly drained Jen, forcing her to go to sleep but leaving her feeling worse than it was. They feel terrible about it.

The Story, So Far...

It is the third and final day of the Super-Human Law seminar hosted by Jen at the Charles Xavier Institute for Mutant Academics and Outreach, located smack dab in the middle of Central Park, NYC. Once Jen has concluded her final topic and wrap-up on “Know Your Rights: How to Talk to the Police As a Mutant,” headmaster Kitty Pryde walks up on the stage and thanks Jen, calling for a round of applause. Jen looks visibly awkward. Kitty also brought up Claudette and Nicole St. Croix, the “Monet Twins” and the self-dubbed school cheerleading squad. They’ve composed a song with call and response that the whole school takes part in to see her off:

“Teacher and Students Yes-sir-eee We have a lot of fun Cuz’ Teacher and Students are We! Though our time is ending We learned a lot you see! We’ll never turn a frown Cuz Teacher and Students are We!”

The normally zoned out and distant Claudette transforms into a carefree girl for the duration of their choreographed song and dance. As soon as it ends, Nicole explains that she and Claudette wanted to show their thanks on behalf of both them and the entire school. The entire time, Jen was a bit tuned out, checking her phone and generally not loving being the center of this particular brand of awkward attention. Once the thanks are said and the dance number is over, Claudette folds back in on herself, only to be shuffled off the stage by her twin-caretaker.

After that, Kitty gestures to Jen to take a seat, and uses the opportunity of the assembly of 6th-12th graders to introduce the new transfer student Ginny Wayword. As she tries to introduce Ginny to the school, a loud thumping starts off-panel. Kitty keeps going with the introductions and a wide smile, but sweat starts to stream down the side of her face. The thumping gets louder, and eventually turns into vampires arriving by bursting through a wall in a cloud of bats. When the bat cloud disappears, it reveals a vampire lord with a group of hungry, feral vampires who reveal they are here for “Jubilation Lee” and demand that the school hands her over. Kitty tells Junior Squad to get in formation while she sizes up the situation and the rest of the students flee the assembly hall.

Meanwhile, Shatterstar has been running behind rapidly-emptying chairs, because he knows a threat when he sees one. Without waiting for the rest of the team, he leaps into action, stabbing the vampire lord with both blades. Rictor had asked him not to bring his swords to the assembly, so we get a flashback of him sitting at the assembly while his swords poke into the person next to him, and the person behind him tries to look around their hilts in vain. Shatterstar is smug in his knowledge that he was indeed right about bringing them along.

Star sinks his swords deep into the chest of the vampire lord, but it doesn’t work--vampires can’t be hurt by normal swords. The vampire laughs at Star mockingly: “Foolish mortal, swords cannot hurt me!” Star marks the condition Insecure because he’s just been laughed at by this vampire he tried to take down, and is locked in combat as he tries to free his swords.

While Star is in the fray with the vampire, Billy sees all the students trying to flee the assembly through the single door (the vampires broke through the wall with the other ones) and decides to shield them to make sure they can get out safely. Caveat being the team won’t be able to escape easily.

Alex finally arrives late with a piece of toast in their mouth, confused at why everyone’s leaving and assuming that means Jen’s speech is over. They try to clamber up to the stage with toast in their mouth after making their way through the swarm of students, asking Jen and Kitty what’s going on. They keep nervously talking through what they should do to combat the vampires while Kitty phases through her School Principal blazer, knee-length skirt, and hose, revealing her Shadowcat uniform under this weird ice skating costume version of Business Formal. Kitty tells Alex to get in formation as they continue to talk, but while they’ve been talking, the feral vampires have crept up on Alex. Alex tries to defend Jen and Kitty, and fails, and the vampires almost let Alex’s secret slip before they use their powers to drain some energy from the surrounding vampires.

With Alex, Shatterstar, and Billy occupied, Jen takes a second to assess the situation, realizing that the best way to end this conflict quickly is to give the vampire lord what he wants, or talk to him, which is gonna be a little tricky given that Shatterstar is currently grappling/being grappled by him.

Star takes a moment to roll backwards, regretfully leaving his swords stuck through the vampire lord’s Armani blouse for the time being, and asks what he wants with Jubilation Lee, and using that as an opportunity to assess the situation. He remembers from watching Buffy that wood can kill vampires, so he takes a particularly-splintery piece of wood and tries to stab it through the vampire’s heart. The vampire reads his move, and dodges with preternatural speed in a cloud of bats, reappearing behind Shatterstar as he was about to strike. The vampire lord hoists Shatterstar up by the collar, and, testing his weight, feels how light he is. The vamp gets curious and hurls Shatterstar as far and as hard as he can, smashing Star up against the part of the wall that’s still standing.

Star lands face-first, and his white eye lands against the wall, flaring up and glowing white as Star slides down the wall like a splatted bug. His powers go haywire from the blow, tearing open the fabric of reality as he falls like a knife cutting through a screen. The edges of reality splay open, revealing that Star has inadvertently opened an extradimensional portal into Limbo, where there are demons in jerseys playing basketball, a la the Mon-stars from Space Jam. Star is dazed, laying down on the ground beneath this tableau.

Billy, seeing Star in trouble, leaves the barrier where it is and sneaks over to try to help Star up. He tells Star what happened and asks if he can help, to which Star replies, confused: “Space…. Jam?” Once he comes to a bit, he tells Billy that he’s fine, and that Billy needs to go help the others while Star recovers.

The Vampire Lord, having finished with Star, turns to Jen and Kitty, finally introduces himself as “Alexandre Francois Bourgeois, Lord of the Vampires, head of the Bourgeois Clan,” and once again demands that they give her Jubilation Lee as he advances on them with his vampire legion. Alex sees this and tries to provoke one group of the vampires into a chase using themselves as the bait of a “tasty snack,” while Billy distracts the others by levitating and rattling chairs threateningly.

Alex’s plan fails though, and the vampires follow them, but not the way they wanted. Alex nervously tries to use their “Aw, gosh” demeanor to fend the vampires off, but it’s no use. We end as the vampires advance on Alex, saying they smell more like predator than prey, and taunting their attempts to appear as a normal mortal teen. Alex nervously replies "I'm not ugly, Arnold."

Final Thoughts

We didn't get to play too much because we did a lot of world-building, but overall I'd say Marvel Masks is a rousing success and I look forward to playing it again with the crew of awesome players I was lucky enough to have!

[politicaltheatre]

Kill The Messengers, pt.1

Lie to us. Tell us what we want to hear.

Tell us how great we are, how great we were, how great we can be again.

Give us someone to blame. Give us someone to hate. Give us someone to root against, if only so we don’t have to find someone worthy of rooting for.

Whatever you do, though, just don’t tell us how we failed, or how we failed others, or how others might have succeeded if only they had they never met us. Whatever you do, don’t ever tell us that. That’s bad news, and we don’t like bad news.

This is normal. None of us is immune. We all want it, even just a little. It’s natural. It’s nurtured. It’s very human.

This is what no one ever tells us about politics. Why would they? We don’t want to hear it. We have so many options not to hear what we don’t want to hear, seemingly more every day, so why should we ever have to? If they dared, most of us would just tune them out. Part of you is doing that right now even as you read this, and that’s okay.

It’s what we don’t want to talk about, what we don’t want to hear, that makes politics everything it is. It is what makes it necessary to have government, and what corrupts governments once we have them.

Which brings us to so many current events, doesn’t it? Won’t it always?

Where to start? Impeachment? Too easy? The 2020 campaign? Too on the nose? OK, how about Iran? Too far away? Too scary? Too boring? Too bad.

On this day on which we celebrate a peace maker and champion of social and political justice (or should), events in a place seemingly so far away, scary, and boring as Iran matter and deserve our attention.

Forty-one years ago, the people of Iran lived under a corrupt, despotic regime. They’d had enough. Not all of them had bought into the religious zealotry of the Ayatollah Khomeini, but few could argue against his assessment of the corruption and cruelty of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi and those around him. Wildly imperfect messenger that he was, Khomeini was right: the shah had to go.

The United States government supported that regime and was blamed, quite rightly, for complicity in its worst atrocities. This, as we know (or should) led to the storming of the United States embassy in Tehran and the taking of hostages.

There can be no justification for any atrocities committed by Iranians or their proxies in the four decades since, but what we witnessed then was a violent reaction to decades of abuse, made possible by a physically and politically weakened Pahlavi, and expertly exploited by Khomeini for his own personal and political gain.

What Khomeini stood for, and what his successors still stand for, is an ideologically conservative form of Islam. Theirs is not so extreme as the Saudi Wahhabi form, the one that begat Al Qaeda and ISIS, but it is every bit as orthodox as sects in Christianity, Judaism, Hindu, and others that are known to tie their faith to a kind of nationalism. The religion is the state, and the clergy are not accountable to the people. That’s dangerous anywhere.

Few Americans at the time wanted to admit that we shared accountability for what our ally had done to his own people, so we vilified all Iranians everywhere, including American-born Persian-Americans, just as we would do a generation later with muslims after 9/11.

As we saw after 9/11, if you dared call that persecution unjust, you may have found yourself persecuted, as well. Sikhs, Hindus, and others paid the price for our silence. Many still do.

That the storming of another embassy, this time in Iraq, has led to protests against those same ayatollahs is not without irony. A raid on an American embassy should be a pretty safe play for Iran, a symbolic echo of their revolutionary success in 1979. Had it not been for an entirely predictable and preventable tragedy, it might have been.

As we all now know, or should, Donald Trump responded to the Baghdad embassy pageant by pulling the trigger on a plan to assassinate Qassem Soleimani, Iran’s top general in Iraq and a man credited by all sides with the deaths of hundreds of American soldiers there.

This was, of course, immensely stupid.

Whatever Soleimani had done, he was no Osama bin Laden. He was high ranking member of another country’s military. Killing him didn’t just escalate cold war tensions to just about open warfare, it was a violation of international diplomatic standards as well as international and, yes, domestic law (enacted by Ronald Reagan!). At best, it only served to alienate Iraqis and other international allies; at worst, it primed the entire region for still more bloodshed.

There was no good justification for it, so Trump just did what he always did and spun some BS to please his expectant base (and muddy the waters on any legal case against it). Politics by other means, indeed.

His justification that attacks on other American targets were “imminent” was laughable for any number of reasons, from his inability to provide proof - which he as president must do to justify killing people - to the fact that Soleimani’s death wouldn’t have prevented any attack anywhere. Seriously, it’s a bit like the Nazis killing General Dwight D. Eisenhower in the hope of preventing an allied invasion of Europe. Stupid.

So, yes, Donald Trump and his trigger-happy stooges got lucky. They likely won’t face any legal action, domestic or international, for killing a man few outside Iran’s sphere of influence liked, and they picked a fight with a country that has the sense to de-escalate when it knows it can’t win.

No one with first hand experience with warfare seeks it out. That’s something President Eisenhower would have known. Iran’s Islamic revolution led to a decade-long war with Iraq that devastated both countries’ populations. However much they want nuclear weapons, they don’t have them and certainly don’t want to be targeted by them.

So, they did what outgunned countries around the world have done time after time in order to save face: they fired a few rockets at enemy bases, all targeted to avoid casualties, and then let their allies and proxies pass non-binding resolutions condemning their enemy’s recklessness and violence, and demanding that the enemy military go home.

It’s a strategy as old as colonialism, and in this case the Iraqi parliament’s non-binding resolution might actually have the effect of succeeding where Soleimani’s violence had failed.

Soleimani was himself a horrible messenger. If his death ultimately proves anything it will be that the aggressor is always seen as the villain. His violence was meant to stir up support among his government’s base and to distract from how it fails its people, but it was never intended to convert. If anything, it created fear and with it enemies all too happy to see him go.

No, it was his death at the hands of a country and government capable of even greater violence and greater cruelty than he could ever claim that will likely do what his violence all but ensured would never happen. Those on the receiving end of violence who de-escalate and draw our attention to the brutality needed to justify injustice are the ones who ultimately win.

Mohandas Gandhi understood this. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. understood this. Hopefully, somewhere in the Middle East, maybe even somewhere in Iran, somebody has come to understand this, too.

The world will still expect some sort of attack, somewhere the United States has an economic interest sometime down the road. That, as with violent embassy protests, is what Iran has become known for, “asymmetrical warfare”. But that, normally, would be that. The saber rattling would be done and the status quo would be restored. The Iranian regime even stood to come out ahead with the American military preparing to pull out more of its troops.

And then.

There are people who would call the 176 killed on Ukrainian International Airlines 752 “collateral damage”. There are some who read the news with glee, hoping that news that Iran’s own military shot it down and then lied about it might lead to another revolution. But, no.

Sure enough, there was outrage in Iran. There have been protests. Public figures have broken with the regime. But this is no Hong Kong.

The Islamic Republic of Iran has never promised western freedoms. Why would it? It was and remains a political system built on the power of the clergy. Whatever lip service the country has paid to democracy, there is no such thing as a balance of power within the government, let alone a balance of power between the government and its people.

Not only does the government count on this, but a sizable portion of the Iranian people do, too. Days after the protests against the government, a rally led by Ayatollah Khamenei stoked the growing legend of the martyr Qassem Soleimani and of the evil, American monsters who killed him.

Anger at stupid mistakes subsides. Anger at the government lying to you subsides. Anger at a foreign enemy seeking to force its will upon you, that lasts. If you cultivate it and have a willing idiot eager to play the role of bogeyman, it can last for generations.

We are that bogeyman. Not just Trump. Not just Trump and the idiots who surround him. Us.

The weapon our government used to kill Qassem Soleimani and those with him was a drone, the same kind of drone that has slaughtered thousands of innocents without mercy, that has ended and forever changed even more lives than we could ever hope to tie to Soleimani’s own evil.

Just this past Thursday the Iranian foreign minister, Mohammad Javad Zarif, compared the United States to a “high school bully”. He did so on Twitter. It wasn’t the first time, nor will it be the last. He said so a week earlier while meeting with his Chinese counterpart, who agreed with him. Before that meeting he met with his counterpart in Russia; after it, he met with his counterpart in India.

In the space of two weeks, Zarif met with three of the most powerful economic and military powers in the world, all rivals to each other, and they all openly agreed: The United States acts as a bully on economic policy; The United States acts as a bully on military policy; The United States assassinates people.

Is Zarif lying? Are they all wrong? Should it matter what the Iranian government does to its own people when considering that? Should it matter what the Chinese or Russian or Indian governments do to their own people or people elsewhere when they call us out for what we do and for what we allow to be done?

It shouldn’t, but clearly it does. It makes it easier for us to push them far away, easier for us to cast them as scary, easier for us to call them boring and ignore them. Worse, it makes it easier for us to call them liars. It does, just as it makes it easier for them and their people to push us away, to call us scary, to ignore us, and to call us liars.

The truth really does hurt. The lengths we will go to avoid it and keep it far away define us and lead us to define others. It takes that much more effort to hear it. That’s why it takes so much more effort to tell it.

- Daniel Ward

[kalesandfails]

down on Friday

Happy Friday, ladies. We can’t protect our kids. A white nationalist murdered forty-nine New Zealanders; a country that has lots of guns but that usually controls them pretty well. He wrote a ton of things about loving guns and hating brown people and then, I think, he posted clips of the shooting on youtube and facebook and twitter, which probably doesn’t even need to be said, but which I keep returning to like a scab or a seam of stitches I’ve been told not to touch. I need one of those little dog cones around my neck to keep me away from it, the idea of this twitter feed. Who uploaded the clips? And when?

I want really badly for this to be because of Trump, the way I obsessively cling to news that children killed in car accidents weren’t wearing seatbelts, that children dead from SIDS were premature or had mothers who smoked. The way, maybe, that a Trump voter might cling to the idea that if Central America parents attempting to save their children from drug cartels only did so legally, via the functional immigration systems we enjoy, we’d all have no quarrel with them. I sat in a room of coworkers yesterday, trying and failing not to interject as they evaluated the legitimacy of the various homeless people they have encountered. “Some of those people are actually millionaires”, confided one, like we were schoolgirls gossiping about a classmate. (At this point it became too much and I sanctimoniously snapped out, salt shaker in hand, “That’s not true”, because I just as diplomatic and understanding in the breakroom as I am on the Internet.)  

We all want things to be safer and less horrible than they are, so much so, sometimes, that we’ll bustle back and forth past possible interventions for the actual problem to address other problems whose solutions we like better.

(If you were wondering, the non-problem I am speaking to here is that of homeless people who have too many luxuries, homeless people who don’t look disheveled enough, who like to own cell phones and smoke cigarettes. Rest easy: the problem of homeless people pulling a fast one on the well-meaning non-homeless need not concern you. Should you be asked for money by another human being, you can give, or not, without any vetting on your part to determine that that person’s circumstances are dire enough or their hair greasy enough to  “deserve” your pocket change.)

But look. For me, it’s easy to point out that the weirdly judgey pearl-clutching of comfortable women over our lunch breaks with respect to homeless people and their life choices is a bizarre and distressing distraction from the actual problem called people can’t afford to live in houses in our country.

The parallel temptation for me is to say white nationalists are killing everyone because our President a soulless vat of racism and his only consistent ideology seems to consist of a belief in the violent fucking over of others in an attempt to reassure himself he has power, and also a celebration of the debasement of people of color because he wants so badly for it to mean something that he is white.

I mean, I believe those things are true about the president of the United States, but he’s not the one who murdered forty-nine people in these mosques.

This murder didn’t happen because of Trump, and the increasingly ubiquitous acts of violence committed by white Americans didn’t happen because of Trump. Having a horrible violent president probably does normalize violence, but our country was racist and violent from its inception, and we all know this, and to wring our hands that things are “getting worse” because we have a Commander-in-Chief who seems to be thinking specifically of that racism and violence when he promises to make America great again, is willfully obtuse. It’s prioritizing our feelings about one terrifying reality — that we live in a country and world in which horrible and violent things happen all the time —over the less existentially oppressive immediate problem that specific institutions, legal structures and cultural practices are increasing the likelihood of violence affecting certain groups of people, of whom I, at least, am not one.

I don’t think society is getting more violent or awful with Trump in office. I think we felt really good about having a leader who vocally opposed violence against children, against women, and against people of color for eight years, and now we don’t and it sucks and makes us all feel like we’re going crazy, like the whole country is a girl we thought liked us and who now is making fun of us to her friends. We were so dumb and lame, thinking it could be that easy, and now we’re embarrassed and isn’t that girl just the worst?

But as long as we keep connecting the structural problems of racism, violence and white supremacy to the individual problem of this one shitty president, we’re going to keep not fixing the things we say we hate. And as long as we keep believing that a better president would take away this fear that we could lose our children, our partners, the people and things we value most, we’re going to keep making political decisions out of our personal need for security, a need that no external fix is going to resolve, because you could elect Bernie tomorrow and the world would still be a scary place. There are thousands of things we could do right now to make the world safer and better, and absolutely none of those changes can promise we won’t ever lose our children.

But all of them are still worth doing.

[drshadowhunter]

Youtube, twitter, tumblr or any website… it feels more frequent to see racism and it makes me dislike comment sections in general. I think I’m retiring having discussions on the I ternet.

I feel way calmer without trying to engage with people, but if I have to defend my humanity or basic human rights, it can destroy anyone’s mental health and I’m done with it.

Sure, there may be productive conversations once in a while, but most of the time it’s just a fight to be right at all times.

People are expected to be a pro for every subject and think they need to have an opinion about everything. Even if they are wrong, as long as they feel like they have a ‘gotcha!’, it doesn’t matter. If there is a voting system for every comment, then it’s even worse because more people who don’t know about the subject can make wrong opinions be right, which creates an echo chamber in the long run. Because if you visit the site often and you enjoy getting positive votes, then at some point you may use arguments that are well-loved by the masses of that site. You’ll start to believe in those arguments and new people believe it too.

After 20 years of experience, here are some ground rules to contribute to a world where humanity is at its worst:

• Does it technically make sense for people who don’t understand the subject? It doesn’t matter if it’s a lie or not, people want to feel smart by reading your post, not to be educated.

• Is it entertaining, like a witty snapback? You don’t even have to be on topic for this one.

• Does your opponent (because it’s always a battle) show any form of emotion at all? Because any emotion on the Internet means it’s impossible to be rational enough to hold a discussion about logic. (as if their petty ‘witty snapbacks’ isn’t the emotion of a raging toddler)

• Did your opponent make any mistakes? Like small errors in an otherwise factual replies, spelling or grammar mistakes? Also ignore that it’s ableist and that people exist whose English is their 2nd, 3rd language or something.

• Be pedantic about a very specific part of a conversation so you can derail the entire conversation and making people exhausted from talking to you.

• Speaking of exhausting, be sure to hold them accountable for not spending hours with you having a conversation. You ‘win’ because you had the last word. If you feel like you’re ‘losing’, reply as slow as possible so that they’ll move on and you still get the last word.

• Never admit to anything, even when you’re called out. Just stay stubborn and twist, backpaddle, anything to deny everything. Maybe they’ll cave in because they don’t want to talk to you anymore.

• Remove your posts when you realise that you’re wrong.

• Sources? Ignore them and just continue replying. You are here to win, not to do homework. Bonuspoints if you think that the website itself is unreliable.

• Or use sources yourself by only reading the title and if people question the source, you can ignore that because you think that showing a source means you’ve shown ‘facts’ and are done with the conversation.

• Join conversations that you know nothing about, derail the conversation by asking basic questions you could have googled. People who try to explain to you can’t have their original conversation aanymore. You will use that limited knowledge to create an argument even though you are wrong, you’ll still force yourself because you feel entitled to be in a conversation at all times.

• Were your feelings hurt in any way because of the criticism? Even if they’re critical based on what you are sharing. You feel that they’re insulting your entire being and everything you stand for. Be sure to project that pain because you think that it hurts them as much as you do. Even though you’re basically telling them that you can’t handle criticism and that you are not ready or mature enough to have that conversation in the first place.

• Don’t even use arguments, just use random comments in a conversation as if every person needs to give you a standing ovation just for participating.

• Go for the extra mile and search their history to see if they’re not perfect. Even if it’s out of context, not relevant to the conversation or how they are as a person. Bonuspoints if you find their picture and post it to them to make them feel bad for…. Existing? Be that bully, they hate you anyways.

• Send them a horrible private message and then block them so that they can’t reply back

• If you have a big platform, be sure to make a campaign against your opponents by getting everything out of context and make your followers doxx someone.

I miss having normal conversations. It can be heated sometimes, but at least you can have fun with it. Now I’m kinda over comment sections in general.

[dailykhaleej]

COVID-19: Misinformation fuels hatred against India’s Muslims

Cops use a drone to observe the motion of individuals in a residential space after the realm was declared a scorching spot by authorities officers throughout a nationwide lockdown to gradual the spreading of the coronavirus illness (COVID-19) in Kochi, India, April 24, 2020 Picture Credit score: DailyKhaleej

New Delhi: Gayur Hassan’s Hindu neighbours got here at evening, throwing stones at his household’s residence in a northern Indian village and setting his workshop on fireplace. All as a result of his son “liked” a social media publish.

The Fb publish that Hassan’s 19-year-old son endorsed had denounced the concentrating on of India’s Muslim minority for the reason that nation of 1.three billion went right into a coronavirus lockdown in late March.

In accordance with the police who arrested two males, his household was threatened with additional retribution until they shaved off their beards and stopped carrying cranium caps.

“My forefathers lived here and I was born here,” Hassan, 55, instructed AFP by telephone from Keorak, their village the place a dozen Muslim households stay amongst about 150 Hindu households.

“We lived like a family and religion was never an issue here,” the welder stated. However now there may be “an atmosphere of fear and hate everywhere”.

The assault on the Hassan household was simply the most recent ugly incident within the wake of a torrent of coronavirus misinformation that’s stoking hostility in the direction of India’s Muslims.

Hindu nationalists are utilizing the coronavirus to foment hatred against Muslims, utilizing on-line platforms and a few mainstream media to accuse them of spreading the illness.

Critics partly blame Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who they accuse of in search of to remake India as a Hindu nation, undermining the secular and pluralist roots of the world’s largest democracy.

#CoronaJihad 

Over the previous two months AFP’s reality verify staff has debunked a whole bunch of social media posts that falsely focused Muslims regarding the coronavirus pandemic in India.

Faux and doubtful movies have proliferated displaying Muslims licking fruit on the market and violating lockdown guidelines.

In a single publish debunked by AFP, a photograph was shared on Fb and Twitter with a false declare that it confirmed Indian Muslims flouting social distancing guidelines by praying on a rooftop.

In reality, the picture confirmed individuals praying abroad.

A whole lot of hundreds of on-line posts have additionally used the hashtag #CoronaJihad, a few of which have been shared by members of Modi’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Occasion (BJP).

The trolls got further ammunition when it emerged {that a} Muslim group, Tabligi Jamaat, ignored coronavirus pointers with a non secular gathering in March in New Delhi.

At one level the group was linked to nearly one third of India’s coronavirus instances, with round 40,000 individuals linked to the occasion or its attendees in quarantine.

Newspapers and tv channels – in addition to the federal government – have additionally been accused of stirring tensions, with alarmist anchors calling Tabligi Jamaat members “human bombs”.

Actual-world repercussions 

Because the misinformation has exploded, so too has real-world violence and anger against Muslims.

Across the nation, Muslim truck drivers and nomads have been assaulted, and Muslim distributors pushed, shoved and threatened.

In a single case confirmed by police, a Fb video confirmed a younger Muslim man bleeding and pleading as he was crushed with sticks.

One attacker is heard demanding: “Who sent you to spread the coronavirus?”

The animosity has additionally taken subtler varieties, with “No Muslims” posters showing in some villages.

One hospital stated Muslims wouldn’t be admitted with no certificates displaying they had been COVID-negative.

India’s 200 million Muslims have lengthy complained of rising hostility below Modi, who got here to energy nearly six years in the past.

Modi was in command of the western state of Gujarat when spiritual riots killed round 1,000 principally Muslims in 2002.

His first time period as prime minister noticed an increase in “cow vigilantism” – Hindu extremists lynching Muslims accused of consuming beef or killing cows, that are sacred to many Hindus, based on activists.

His second time period final yr started with revoking the autonomy of India’s solely Muslim-majority state, and new citizenship laws criticised as discriminatory.

In February, Delhi’s worst spiritual riots in many years left greater than 50 useless, two-thirds of them Muslims. An area BJP lawmaker was accused of being a fundamental instigator.

‘Unity, brotherhood’ 

Activists say that in latest weeks, with media consideration targeted on the pandemic, police have stepped up arrests over the unrest, most of them Muslims and a few below anti-terror legal guidelines.

“They are making sure there is no one to raise a voice for the community after the pandemic is over,” Okay. Rahman Khan, a former minority affairs minister, instructed AFP.

Modi has publicly sought to appease tensions, calling for “unity and brotherhood”.

He tweeted that “COVID-19 does not see race, religion, colour, caste, creed, language or borders before striking.”.

However Shahid Siddiqui, from the Indian Muslims for Progress and Reforms, a civil society group shaped to battle Islamophobia, stated the state was concerned in stoking the hatred.

Muslims had been already “maligned and painted as dangerous under systematic propaganda,” Siddiqui instructed AFP.

Coronavirus had added a brand new dimension, turning Muslims into the brand new “untouchables”, Siddiqui stated, a phrase normally used to seek advice from India’s lowest castes.

“It (has been) a deliberate attempt by media and the government to divert the attention of the country from the crises and allow hate politics to rule.”

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[hanzi83]

Maybe the Last Blog Wasn’t My Last Blog Maybe it is this One

I know the last blog I wrote I was worried this might be the end of me. I feel like they have tried to prompt me into going insane, especially over the last month since they know I have not written, even in my personal journal, to get the plethora of thoughts off my chest, but I have used periscope to connect and try to meet different characters who have been interesting. There is an assortment of entertainment there, whether it is sex workers trying to get people to go to their premium snap chat or discussions about politics, religion, or just jokers roasting each other. It has been cool, and kind of frustrating. I find it fascinating since my name on there is the spoof name of the late Dusty Rhodes, Dusty Loads, so there are actually people on there that don’t know me as Hanzi or Imran Khan, they know me as Dusty. I have procrastinated from writing down my thoughts and frustrations and even testing this out to see if different people in my life are monitoring this and I say a bunch of vile shit to see how much people are actually monitoring me and also some thoughts are genuine jokes and genuine feelings at the time naturally, but it just felt weird that I have not written anything, and it feels like I am programmed not to even care anymore about it.

It has been tough over the last several weeks because recently there was a tape of  Howard Stern that was leaked out of him implanting his 2013 revolution plan, where it is him having a poorly spelled power point presentation, where he asks his underpaid staff to book A List guests since they are becoming more irrelevant, and people have pinpointed that I am kind of vindicated because he does encourage his staff to create fake twitter accounts to bombard celebrities to get them on the show, and even though he has vehemently denied ever knowing how to use troll accounts or would even direct people to do that kind of thing,  it proves the opposite of what he claimed, even though it did not prove that he has trolls to harass the whack pack so it keeps them in line, so no I have not been vindicated. I am not doing the summary justice, there are plethora of podcasts and forums that have dissected this a lot better than I have. My main point of bringing this to light on this blog, is that since more shadiness has been leaked out, the trolls have been acting a lot more aggressive, and are claiming there is footage of me being gay or me beating up a gay couple, or even spreading more vicious lies about me, and continuously making more accounts and get completely triggered because I bring on black guests onto my periscope.

It becomes so frustrating because I try to meet new people, and since I focus on the guests more, it angers these trolls because I am not paying attention to the comments as much so they amplified their trolling to a next level. I am sure these people have a way of fucking with technology to frame me for something, because the people harassing me are high level types of people who have teams to fuck with people, and it has been proven in the past with how these gang stalkers have tried to find ways to destroy a person’s psyche.

First of all this leak to me, feels like something purposely leaked because Stern knows he is the villain now, and the psyche out moment of this is, it was meant to make it seem like he is going to become a PC guy like it was the sell out moment, when his entire career has been a sellout moment, but it was just over 20 years ago he probably had the same kind of meeting to organize how to make it seem like they are edgy and normalize the negative shit he did in the culture, so either it represents that he still is a right wing guy who had a meeting on how he is going more PC, which would make his right wing fan base hate him more, because when the meeting had a point where he said he wants more gay guests, and has on the screen “Homophobic audience” and how to convert them, I mean it was his show who for decades normalized treating gay people like they were giant perverts and call people the F word all the time. I wonder where your audience would become homophobic from, and it is gross generalization and then asking your gay employee to get a trans guest, or blaming your staff for the hallway design like they are responsible for that. It felt like he was positioning this as if they don’t succeed they will be fired or demoted, and considering how many people were let go since that meeting, I can safely assume that they did not complete their tasks.

I personally believe this was meant to come out and that he knew his career is at its end so now he has to embrace being the villain, even know the starting phase of it is that he has gone more corporate and correlate it with him being a liberal, even though he is not a liberal. I mean he could actually be a real liberal, but the presentation he is putting on right now is supposed to be a neoliberal and he will be exposed as being right wing because he and his ilk have to be the bad guys and phonies now, and it seems like the way of the storyline is, that having people who were leaning right before suddenly becoming “liberal” and then people thinking  that this is where they sold out, so you isolate your right leaning fan base, and then the liberal ones will turn on you when they find out what your past is and when it is convenient to get mad at that then they will. I still suspend he will be exposed as a Trump advocate, but anything I have said on here I cannot confirm in any way because it is just merely speculation from a guy who has brain worms.

It feels like the more that comes out though, the more the trolls will try to fuck with me, and try to get me to declare happiness like the Hanzi83 sub reddit got shut down and people asking me if I got it shut down, other than posting on reddit’s facebook page that this page is dedicated to harass me, I don’t think it was my doing and I personally think they shut it down on its own and wanted me to gloat about it, and then they wanted me to gloat about Howard’s leaks, and as humorous as this shit sounded to me, I know this is not a victory for me. Trust me, there is no victory for me in this. I have lost everything.

I have lost my friendships and relationships. I have been excluded and used by everyone because I can’t get over how much systemic power people in my life have been given and have had to report back to the powers that be what my mind frame is like etc and this chase for fame has done so much harm, because I want to use it for good and try to be more responsible but since that is seen as nerd SJW bullshit, people gravitate towards the counter culture and see that as edgy, and the more I speak out on the white supremacist system, and how much ignorance I bought into, it has triggered these trolls and they insist I hate on white people, because I might have ignorant people on my scope who might be black, and if people do say something ignorant, I try to have a discussion because I want to gage it if it is harmful or is it just someone talking shit and how can we get them to see how they can evolve, and yes I will admit I try to give people of color the benefit of the doubt and maybe I might be harsher on white people, but these same white people I am harsher on are the ones always dropping the N word or the F word all the fucking time, and spew right wing shit and then act like they are victims. Maybe because as a person of color I used to think ignorantly and people in my life did not give up on me but would try to get me to evolve and I would even push back because I bought into counter culture, I think sometimes depending on the propaganda people take in, and how much minorities go through, I feel like there is hope to change their mind and see something more in a evolved way. That also goes for white people, but some of these people who show up on my social media are always trying to showcase what kind of assholes they are and instill paranoia and try to prompt me to threaten them so I can get banned.

It is clear these social media sites answer to people who are more powerful so they allow the constant harassment and name calling against me but if I dare fight back and say something fucked up, then I can get suspended because people are upset with me and mad they could not use me further, so now their crews will now try to report me for anything slight thing. I should get off social media, but it feels like the only place I can make some human connection has been on watching other people’s periscope because people in my life have moved on to better things and I will never get over all the shit I missed and how much secrecy and infighting there has been, and it feels I will never be close with them ever again. I am sure I will not be friends with these people on periscope for long but it does feel good momentarily to actually have good conversation with people, even if they don’t agree with me. I have met some very beautiful woman on there as well and it has been cool to chat with some of them, and of course some of the worst kinds of Trump people are on there, and I even try to gage how far they have gone down the right wing rabbit hole and maybe there is saving them to some extent but I don’t think there is, some of these people from 4chan think it is in their right to be racist and call people the n word, and when there is someone who woman who you think is cool, aligning with someone like that, it is kind of disturbing to me. They will make it seem like “You can’t handle other people’s opinion” when it is not even that, you don’t think those people’s opinion hasn’t been the norm for so many fucking decades? I love how these people think their view is some new profound way of thinking like they are standing up to it all, while people who have

 genuine concern about social issues are the ones who are snowflakes.

So it feels like these people are angered and threatened about that. I found the harassment go up even more because I was not against ANTIFA and presented that there could be agent provocateurs in the mix to make the group look bad, and the fact that these right wing types have in them to use the same talking points and then move the goalposts and then continue to pathologically lie and have no shame about it, and make it seem like you are the one who supports radicalization while being pro cop and pro military and justify why people are locked up or bombed, and that is not seen as radical whatsoever, but for someone like me, who is irrelevant and can’t let go of his 15 minutes of fame, these people are still pissed I dare try to get on my periscope to talk about stuff and hate that they were not able to get me to kill myself.

It feels like since I have even suggested that if Howard is really a Trump supporter, maybe he might be tied into the Epstein shit, but it feels like this Epstein shit is designed more to get at Trump’s enemies, even though people know they have been associated in the past etc, so this new notion to deny Trump has any involvement with Epstein is really scary too, because the more evident it seems to become Trump is evil, it feels like his supporters and the trolls won’t care. The paid trolls will never stop with me and every day I feel closer to wanting to end it because of how much they hack my shit and make it known they are watching me and even hint they are driving to my house to do something to me, I have no idea when these people will strike down, but I feel I need to write this blog and since I am out of practice of writing down any thoughts, I know this blog was not the best one, but I had to have a last one if this is truly the end for me.

You know with SummerSlam festivities happening and how much I am not included in any plans I know around that time, I will irrationally lose my mind and act like a fucking pussy having a fucking powwow about it and then declaring I am not going to watch, and maybe I shouldn’t. The company is corrupt but the people who work there I am fans of and even the alternatives to the WWE are not 100 percent pure and have their own shadiness and at what point do I keep giving into this shit, but then everything else I use or watch has been dipped in evil, so what the fuck am I supposed to do? This is fucking frustrating and I wish I was never born in this poisonous world. I just know how my manic meltdown patterns and I know it will just get worse since I have not expressed myself properly in the last month or so.

[anthonybialy]

Warp Speed and Brains

We still must debate what's known to be lunacy.  A My Pillow won't help you feel less tired.  Even stacking the second you get for a great price will be fruitless.  Perhaps they're good for smothering; the mustache guy doesn't mention it in the ad.

The warped prospective looks normal to those sucked into wormholes. Those who should be shunned have the same access to Twitter and message boards as the sane and decent.  Lunacy is accepted as legitimate far too often.  At least we can feel thankful for having a republic.

There is no more rational behavior than knocking down statues, presuming ghosts are both real and haunting police forces with racist urges. As for more recent history, Rebel memorials were there in July, which makes concluding they contained latent evil juju seem rather odd. Those suddenly indignant aren't willing to hear that the Confederacy may have involved more issues than losing wars on slavery's behalf, including misguided personal valor.  But it's easy to win once you've deemed your enemies diabolical.  No, we're not talking about emancipation: the subject is honoring war dead.

Hating the CSA is a favorite pastime of those who also loathe the USA. Insulting the flag is how the modern bright person shows they respect this place.  Kneeling poseurs can't figure out whether America will be swell once it never has problems or is as continually monstrous as Trump voters.

But details are unimportant when you're righteous enough.  Barack Obama showed his adoration for our country by trying to alter everything he disliked, which is to say everything.  His intellectual disciples claim America will be swell once an ever-efficient government provides compassionate insurance to all.  Pray for the spouses of such critical people, although they presumably had to have suspected what was in store.

The NFL will explain what a catch is before those who flip off the anthem at work explain why insolence is the new patriotism.  There hasn't been one intelligent football player explaining why this self-aggrandizing moment is selfless.  It's perhaps because their extrapolations sounds like those of head trauma victims.  More concussion research is necessary.

I wish petulant NFLers would fight stereotypes by not being lunkheaded athletes.  I'd actually prefer the typical dumb jock who has no pretensions of learning anything more than the playbook.  Realizing limits is far wiser than thinking a sanctimonious affront aids justice.

Football is a team game, just like blindly following what washed-up players claim about racist devil cops.  Note how many lemmings concluded that Colin Kaepernick is both bright and decent, and you see how ESPN thinks going for social justice would equal ratings.  Who would want to watch plain sports?

It's cool to resist.  Don't you want to be self-important?  Hashtag rangers are fighting oppression, which you should oppose.  Sure, deciding the country is trash based on a handful of incidents involving unpleasant cops doesn't make much sense, especially compared to truly crummy stuff in every inferior non-America nation. But grown juveniles aren't interested in your square statistics. Please let us know when this is no longer a garbage country.  Don't leave in the meantime, as there are endless rights to exploit by bitching about them.

Why are you against helping others?  Socialism is cool, according to those who can slack thanks to the free market.  We've gained every technological advancement while losing understanding of what human nature is.  It might take looking up from our screens, so forget it.

But we wouldn't even get the chance to devolve into slugs without a robust marketplace.  No worker's paradise is going to invent an iThing.  But you can coast in a free society while bitching that it's unfair.  It's right in a way they don't grasp.

The needle is buried so far in the red that getting back to merely dangerous will be a trek.  Warped perspective makes peril seem fun. In a fair world, Bernie Sanders should be handing out mimeographed pamphlets about corporate greed on a Burlington street corner. Instead, he's lauded as a neat grandpa by dolts who in a more enlightened time would reside in asylums despite the consistently odious results of his lunatic idiocy over human history.  But socialism helps people and is free, so why won't you give up your corporate greed and work so the selfless don't have to.

Sure, we could blame social media, which is rotting brains worse than rock music and Sugar Smacks combined.  But it's merely easier to do dumb things.  This whole on the line computering fad facilitates finding plenty of supportive people, which is the worst thing imaginable. Have you met them?  In this case, their anonymous message board accounts show how atrocious notions can thrive with the encouragement of unhindered lunatics.  Those indulging horrid notions show the value of having editors.  Professionals aren't found in echo chambers packed with resentful dolts.

Technomen are supposed to find relevant information instantly, which leaves more time for pondering.  Instead, modern man jumps quickly to the next topic that requires crude overreaction.  Our species is now conditioned to react as quickly as our devices.  Evolved humans indulge feelings instead of contemplating, which is almost as uncool as Blockbuster Video.  It's time to upgrade to DVD.

We must avoid talking to outsiders.  Their differing ideas are toxic. Everyone who disagrees is closed-minded, which is why it's okay to close them out. It's almost a clever trick.  Maintain eye contact in a circle jerk attended by people who don't recognize gender.  This tolerantly happy world is more futuristic than those in 1967 could've imagined.  Use unimaginably advanced devices to claim we're dealing with 19th-century problems.  Everyone who follows you agrees, so the facts check out.