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dystopiandilfs · 3 years ago

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Dream's discord podcast. Basically him answering questions for 2.5 hours. This will sort of be in order but I fucked up my notes so it might not be in order completely. (From 13th May 2021)

For reference the photos at the end are: A prototype of fidget spinner merch as loads of people asked, a reference photo of his favourite merch and a photo he sent of his hair to prove he wasn't a brunette.

•He said his teeth are mostly straight but he's thought about getting Invisalign. He's never had braces. He has a tiny gap in the left side of his mouth and his canines are longer and sharper (vampire arc). He's never had teeth surgery so has his wisdom teeth still.

•He thinks pineapple on pizza is good.

•He likes seafood like lobster and crab. He had crab made in an air fryer last night. He like peas. He thinks quesadillas are good and likes most food.

•He hates Coffee and most drinks

•The Dream Shorts team is Ken who is his personal reminder (Ken's main job is to spam him with texts so he doesn't forget things as he's got a habit of reading texts and not replying) and also comes up with a list of sets for Dream shorts. The builder is a friend and munchymc builder "his talent gets wasted on Dream's shorts but we pay him so"

•His editors are currently Dizzy, Firesale and Mjcr. Willz doesn't edit for him anymore

•The mask animation isn't done but Mask should be released May 21st. He wants to release them together as "the whole song is a double meaning and the whole nuance will be lost without the animation" but no matter if the animation is done the song is getting released on the 21st.

•He and Sapnap eat together often.

•He and Sapnap prefer medium rare Steak

•He wants a home gym it's something he's willing to splurge on. They currently have a weight rack but they haven't even set it up.

•"Eat the rich? Shut up shut up" - Dream

•Talked about money basically saying "Most people don't understand how money works I don't have millions in my bank account it's in assets like merch, land and warehousing for that stuff" (He's not in his landlord arc)

•He's been debating Pride Merch because of Rainbow Capitalism. He doesn't want it too be seen as a money maker and if he does most proceeds would go to charity. He's currently super busy merch wise with Sapnap joining and George in the middle of joining. He did say "Only if the LGBTQ+ community in this community wants it" He thinks he's going to at least change the merch website to a pride one. Sapnap wants to make pride merch including a rainbow flame on his.

•He wants to create a charity that's centered around helping LGBTQ+ one day because he thinks that there's a lack of them. He mentioned that creating a charity was expensive and took a lot and was a complicated process including a board of directors but he wants to do it someday.

•He wanted to buy a bunch of houses in Florida which was a service to house mostly LGBTQ+ youth and people stuck in abusive households for free to get them out of bad home environments. But he didn't because he didn't want people thinking he was profiting of of abuse victims and LGBTQ+ community.

•He said he's terrible with time management and replying to people which is why Ken helps him (and also helps George and Sapnap). He mentioned how Sam messaged multiple times and Dream just forgot to answer but felt bad "I feel like people think I hate them..... Cause I'd be mad if people did that to me"

•He tries to reply to a few texts a day (community number). He also can't do birthday messages everyday because you can only reply at certain times so it's not abusing the system so if you get one it's special. He said he does try but it's got a weird time gap.

•Him and the manhunt winner are trying to come up with a good time to film

•He wants to stream this MCC on twitch and says his team is good.

•He talks about why he's not partnered with Twitch. Basically Twitch has a lock rate (in which you make money) and you legally can't stream on YouTube. So legally if Tommy wanted to stream on YouTube he couldn't. Someone then mentioned how Bad is a twitch partner but still streams on YouTube "Bad streams on YouTube but he has for a while and I don't think that he cares" - Dream

•He likes to reply to every donation he gets on stream and feels bad when he doesn't so he'll turn them off when he streams and wants a platform deal where he can be payed to stream (not twitch). If he gets a streaming partnership he will stream a couple of times a week. He looked in to Facebook but they don't have an alias system meaning you can see everyone's actual Facebook account and personal info, he doesn't like seeing real names on Facebook so it would require a lot of altering if he was to stream there so he's thinking it's probably going to be YouTube.

•He was asked about if his demographic was what he expected and he said he went in with no expectations, he didn't even know what stans were, wasn't really on social media so he wasn't aware of the fan culture. "You guys are a handful sometimes but it's worth it"

•He also mentioned how he and the DreamSMP changed the twitch audience demographic. It used to be male dominated in both streamers and audience and now it's almost split which is unheard on.

•He has 5 fidget spinners in his house. Two in his bedroom. Two in his office. One in the living room.

•He likes his Minecraft skin as he thinks the arm is cook and you never see the rest of his skin really. He says it's unique and different and "me". Dream: You can't even tell half the skins apart on MC.

•He's not lost the motivation to stream. Most of the times if he wants to stream he gets George or Sapnap to do it and he just turns up. It's more beneficial to them as they have donos and subs on. (Don't we fucking know it "can you say hi to")

•He has listened to Lovejoy. Says the ep was great and they're very talented and awesome. Doesn't know what his favourite song is but probably would pick One Day because the chorus slaps.

•RIP to acoustic Roadtrip. He said instead of acoustic Roadtrip we get Mask so no losses today for Dream stans.

•"With Roadtrip I went to Parker and I said Hey I have a story I want to tell through music. I have no experience with that can you help me" He said sure. He crafted the music and melodies and how things are formed where it's catchy. I have less comfort singing that. I love the song and it's my song, it's very representative of me and I'm sure I could sing it but it's a song I'd be kinds of scared to sing live, with Mask I basically did everything. I sat there the entire time and maybe an hour out if the 100 I wasn't in the call. Dream came up with the lyrics and main melody for Mask (First one he's ever come up with) "That was just notes in my fucking voice memos"

•The clip we heard of Mask was a prechorus not the actual chorus. He thinks he'd be more comfortable to do a mask acoustic and it's more melodic than Roadtrip. The chorus also has a lot of instruments similar to Roadtrip. Mask starts of slow and guitar with minimal reverb and is more raw.

• He doesn't want music to be his main thing. It's something fun to do and he's passionate about it as it's a way to express emotions. He wants to release mask then go from there. He wants to release at least one more song but has nothing on his mind currently. His two ideas were Roadtrip and Mask.

•He wouldn't quit his job to become a pizza delivery man.

•His favourite features on himself are eyes or freckles and he also confirmed that he does have eyebrows.

•He was told that Parkour warrior would be bought back some time in the near future and he got excited for it. "Even if I don't win, which I will, it'll be fun"

•Went on about his MCC team but I'm not going to put that in as we should be getting them today. He did say he wasn't on Pink but he did sound confused. (For reference he's always in Pink as it's the last team announced and keeps the hype up by announcing the biggest streamer last)

•Said he and his mum had the Mr Beast burger. He recommends because he likes the avacado. He mentioned how Mr Beast uses "Ghost Kitchens" which is basically where he gives restaurants permission to cook his food so it's restaurant quality food.

•His favourite piece of merch is the circle smile. (The pool photo on Instagram). He said the quality was bad (he worked with a different company and didn't have his own company) and it was elasticy feeling and he's planning on re-releasing it again but with good quality.

•He's started to send merch out in custom packaging. So his bags have the smile and will mostly be green. Sapnap's has the flame and is either black or white. He's also trying to make it so every order has the sticker packs for both him and Sapnap.

•He loves the coins as it's cheaper than a hoodie but still celebrates the milestones and will last a long time. He mentioned how the old coins are getting removed off the site and how if you have any of the coins your special because only a few thousand get made. He's kept around 100 of each coin that he wants to give away in person.

•He wanted to have a cool store where you could access computers that give you access to the DreamSMP in spectator mode. But it's too costly and would require too much time and isn't safe fight now. He doesn't think it'd be worth it financially.

•Most of the hoodie are black instead of multiple colours because of limited supply and covid. Getting the colours are harder because if the pandemic which hopefully won't be an issue soon.

•He wants to do a short meetup tour with Sapnap and George with a few locations in the US (and if others nearby want to join like Quackity or Karl they can). He also wants to visit Australia, UK, Canada, Mexico and Philippines and do something like that there but definitely at least visit with George and Sapnap.

•He's never been to the Philippines but his mum has. He wants to set up a place in the Philippines where he can ship merch in bulk and it would help to reduce shipping. However it would probably be big milestone merch.

•He's not got the vaccine yet but will get it when he needs to. He doesn't leave the house so he doesn't see the point.

•He's the ideas man. George's footcam video was Dream's idea. The T-shirt video was Dream's idea. Most if not all of the Dream Team's videos are Dream's ideas.

•Said he's got a similar/the same hair colour as Froy (Dream buddy at this point the only difference between you and Froy is that one of you is dating Richard Madden /lh)

#dreamsmp #dream smp #dreamwastaken #mcyt #georgenotfound #sapnap

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lesbrarians · 7 years ago

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Junkrat/Roadhog:: Recipe for Disaster

My Secret Santa gift for @smokedoutcoldstar from the Roadrat Riders Discord! A very merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate the holiday!!!

Title: Recipe for Disaster

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: T

Summary: Roadhog teaches Junkrat how to cook. He then attempts to make a meal for Roadhog as a Christmas gift. It goes just about as well as you’d expect. Archive of Our Own

—

“Home again, home again,” Junkrat sang. He zipped the fly of his shorts, kicked some dry sand over the wet patch at his feet, and put his hands on his hips to survey the vast desert before him with utter contentment.

They had arrived back in Australia after a jaunt abroad and had stopped to answer nature’s call and take in the scenery before returning to their house on the outskirts of Junkertown. Junkrat had never realised just how fond he was of the barren wasteland he had grown up in. With its sparse vegetation and deadly fauna, the Outback was the farthest thing from traditionally beautiful – but then again, so was he.

“Jiggity jog,” he added as an afterthought. The faintest of memories tickled the back of his mind as he vaguely recalled being three years old, in his mother’s lap, as she sang a childhood jingle to him. He remembered giggling fit to burst as she counted on his ten toes – back when he still had all ten of them –this little piggy went to market… “How’s the first part of that go again?” he asked. “No, don’t tell me!” Anticipating an answer from Roadhog, he flung an arm out dramatically to smack him in the chest. It came to him in a flash of inspiration, and he whirled on the spot to grip Roadhog’s forearms and grin up at him maniacally. “To market, to market, to buy a fat hog!” He burst out into giggles and threw his arms around Roadhog. “I’d buy you, y'know,” he said, voice muffled as he planted his face into Roadhog’s chest. “If y’were fer sale. I’d actually pay, imagine that!”

“I wouldn’t buy you,” Roadhog replied. He rubbed the sore spot where Junkrat had hit him, his other hand resting comfortably on the small of Junkrat’s back.

Junkrat ducked out under his arm and gasped in mock offense. He’d known Roadhog long enough to know when he wasn’t actually being insulted.

“I’d steal you. What kind of money do you think I have?” Roadhog deadpanned.

Junkrat snickered. He was loving the implication that he was worth more than the considerable amount of wealth the two of them had plundered together.

Roadhog’s house loomed over the rest of the ramshackle shanties that littered the area just outside the gates of Junkertown. It was imposing in its stature, much like the man itself.

“Gotta say, it’s good to be back,” Junkrat said conversationally. “Don’t just mean Down Under either, I’m talkin’ about bein’ back in ol’ Junkertown. S'been too long. Think anyone here still remembers me?”

He pushed the door open.

Several Junkers’ heads whipped up in unison to look at them, eyes practically glowing in the gloom of the interior as they huddled together conspiratorially, like feral beasts gathered around a kill.

“You!” With a vicious roar, a man came hurtling straight at them.

Junkrat blinked, stupefied.

“Gonna say yes, they do,” Roadhog muttered. He grabbed the strap of Junkrat’s harness and tugged him out of harm’s way.

Thrown off balance by the force of his own momentum, the Junker stumbled.

“Who the hell are you?” Junkrat rubbed his chest, where the leather strap had bit into his skin.

The man spluttered. “What the– how do you not remember me?”

Junkrat squinted and leaned in close, scrutinising the man’s face for something, anything, that would trigger a memory. “…Nope! I got nothin’,” he said cheerfully.

Roadhog picked up the Junker, his hand circling easily around his neck. “You’re in my house,” he growled. “Get out!” He threw him on the floor, where he skidded to join the rest of his gang.

Junkrat sprinted to fetch his grenade launcher while Roadhog pulled his hook out of its holster on his hip.

“So, the usual plan of attack then, big guy?”

Roadhog chuckled. “I’ll hook ‘em!”

“And I’ll cook ‘em!” Junkrat gleefully finished. “Say, there’s an idea.”

Roadhog flung his weapon at one of the trespassers, who yelped as the hook lodged in her chest with a sickening squelch. “What?” He yanked on the chain with a grunt, and his prey sailed toward them.

Junkrat picked her off mid-air with a grenade to the head. “Cooking!” he said airily, raising his voice to be heard over their victim’s boyfriend’s anguished howl. “Proper cooking, like with a stove and shit!”

He grinned at Roadhog expectantly. Roadhog roughly pushed him aside and fired his scrap gun at a particularly murderous Junker.

Junkrat nodded. “Roight, roight,” he said knowingly. “First we take back what’s ours. Then we can cook!”

They made short work of the intruders. Junkrat appraised the missing limbs and bloodshed that was his handiwork with a satisfied nod. “They didn’t stand a chance,” he snickered. “That’s what y'get when ya cross Junkrat and Roadhog!”

They disposed of the bodies by dumping them in the river behind their base of operations. Junkrat could hazard a guess why they’d broken in; he was a little too free with his tongue, and it was no secret that they’d acquired a nice little cache of loot. Granted, what they considered “riches” wasn’t necessarily in line with the standard definition of the term – he was fairly certain that most people wouldn’t find Roadhog’s pachimari machine to be worth all that much in the grand scheme of things – but they did have more than their fair share of gold and jewels.

Not that it was enough for him. The Queen still had way more cash than he did, and that just wasn’t fair.

They had nothing to be concerned about, though. No one would ever find their treasure room – Junkers didn’t work together the way that Junkrat and Roadhog did, as two halves of a whole. They weren’t savvy enough to think to stand on two separate pressure pads as a team, if they even realised the function of the metal plates.

Junkrat was not confused about why they had found Junkers searching their house. What did mystify him was the fact that they had recognised him, when he was positive he’d never seen them before in his life.

Practically positive.

30%, give or take.

“Okay, but seriously, d'you remember what we did to piss these blokes off?” he asked Roadhog as they chucked the last of the evidence off the cliff’s edge. He watched the severed head plummet until it hit the water.

Roadhog shook his head.

“It was prob'ly somethin’ you did.” Junkrat took Roadhog’s silent stare as confirmation that yes, he was, in fact, utterly blameless, and Roadhog was the responsible party. “Anyways!” he said with a bright smile. He pulled the door open and ushered Roadhog in with a dramatic bow. “Victory dinner? Teach me how to cook, ‘Hog!”

Roadhog snorted. “Worst idea you’ve had since we met. And you’ve had a lot.”

“Oi! My ideas are brill, I dunno what yer on about.”

“You threw a 10,000 sparkler bomb in a campfire.”

Junkrat vividly recalled the resulting violent explosion. He’d scorched everything in a five metre radius and singed his eyebrows off. “Okay, in retrospect, not my finest moment. But what’s so bad about teachin’ me to cook?”

Roadhog stared at him, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“…Because I threw a 10,000 sparkler bomb in a campfire? Oh come on!” He flopped onto their bed in exaggerated exasperation. “I’m not gonna burn the house down!” He gestured at their hotplate. “We’re not even cookin’ with gas! No open flame or nothin’.”

“You’d find a way.”

“Ta!” he said, beaming at Roadhog. He chose to take it as a compliment, a measure of his abilities as a demolitionist, instead of the insult it was probably intended to be.

Roadhog gave a huff of amusement and sat down on the bed next to him. Junkrat popped his head up to look at him. “Listen,” he persisted. “Lemme prove ya wrong.”

“If I say yes, will you shut up?”

Junkrat’s grin widened. “Gladly!” Never.

“Fine,” Roadhog said with the long-suffering sigh of someone who knew he was going to regret this decision.

Junkrat cackled and clapped his hands. “Perfect! So, what we gonna make? Meat pies? Sausage rolls? A good ol’ fashioned barbecue?”

“Do any of those sound like something I’d eat?”

Junkrat’s eyes flicked over to the patch on Roadhog’s harness that bore a hunk of meat with a red slash through it. “…No,” he admitted, his enthusiasm deflating a little. He couldn’t help it, he was experiencing a craving.

The springs of the bed groaned as Roadhog stood up. “I’ll get some ingredients,” he said.

Junkrat bounded to his feet, but before he could ask what the plan was, Roadhog stopped him.

“You’re staying here.”

“What!” Junkrat yelped, glaring at Roadhog as if he had personally wronged him.

“You’re not allowed in Junkertown,” Roadhog pointed out.

“You’re not allowed in Junkertown, you mad cunt!” Junkrat fired back.

This gave Roadhog pause. “Yeah,” he grudgingly conceded. “But I’ll have an easier time getting in without you mucking around.”

“Ridiculous,” Junkrat scoffed. “Everyone loves me!”

“No one loves you.”

Junkrat brushed the slight aside. Roadhog wasn’t being cruel; he was stating a fact. The other Junkers hated his guts, and the welcome reception that he personally had received had only reaffirmed this.

On some level, Junkrat knew he was lying to himself when he pretended that others enjoyed his company. Most people couldn’t put up with his eccentricities, his penchant for explosives, his lack of filter and moral compass, his inability to behave appropriately in any social situation, the Molotov cocktail of emotions that was his constant state of being. He knew he was off-putting, but his overly inflated ego would never let him say so out loud. He was genuinely perfectly content to live in denial and continue being overly friendly to new people. A lifetime of rejection didn’t deter him. He just didn’t care – he bounced back easily, always shrugging it off as “their loss.” He lived such a hedonistic, carefree life, indulging in whatever pleasures his grubby little heart desired, and he was happy. He wasn’t going to be brought down by a couple of wankers who didn’t appreciate him.

Besides, he had proof that his occasionally inappropriate friendliness worked out. He had Roadhog.

“You love me,” he said, poking Roadhog’s belly.

Roadhog snorted. “Debatable.”

“Yer killin’ me, ‘Hog.”

Roadhog leaned down to press the snout of his mask to the top of Junkrat’s head. “Yeah. I do.”

A warm glow spread through Junkrat’s stomach, and a grin slid across his face as he wriggled on the bed. Before Roadhog could pull away, Junkrat grabbed his harness and kissed the stitched line of his gas mask’s mouth. The urge to climb all over Roadhog, to slip off the mask and properly kiss him, to forget all about the idea he’d hatched and spend the rest of the day in bed, was all-consuming. But for once – for once in his life – he exercised a modicum of self-control and pulled away. “Okay, okay, okay, go get those ingredients! Surprise me.”

“I always do.”

Junkrat giggled. “Sure ya do! Always keepin’ me on me toes. All five of 'em.”

Roadhog paused at the front door. “Don’t burn down the house while I’m gone.”

“Hey! You say that like I don’t know how to control my own explosions.”

Roadhog’s silence spoke volumes.

“…Oh, shut up.”

—

In Roadhog’s absence, Junkrat occupied himself with art. He could have worked on detailed technical drawings of prototypes for new inventions, but he needed to be in the zone for that, and his head was too far in the clouds to properly concentrate. Instead, he drew shitty little stick figure doodles of himself and Roadhog on their latest adventure.

“Now that’s what I call a masterpiece,” he said to himself, brushing a tear from his eye as he looked at his crayon drawings.

When he got bored with scribbling, he switched to juggling grenades, which never failed to entertain him.

Roadhog walked in just as he let a handful of grenades fall to the floor, cupping a hand to his ear to listen to the booms.

“Really?” he said, judgment dripping from his voice.

Junkrat smirked at him. “Y'know, this is really all your fault,” he remarked. “You left me alone to my own devices! Explosions were gonna happen. Least I didn’t set nothin’ on fire.”

“Yeah. Lucky the place is still standing.” He approached their makeshift kitchen counter and set down a handful of ingredients.

Junkrat snickered and slid over to Roadhog’s side to peek at the spoils.

“Eggs?” he said, wrinkling his nose up at Roadhog. This was not the glamorous and exciting meal he was anticipating.

“They’re easy to make. Good first meal for beginners.”

Junkrat snorted. “Oh, please. I’m brilliant, lemme take a crack at the real complicated shit. Bet I could suss it out, no prob!”

“Prove to me that you won’t fuck up eggs first.”

Junkrat shrugged. “Suit yerself,” he said, picking at the carton of eggs. “Who’d ya steal those from, anyway? The bloke what runs the takeaway shop?”

Roadhog nodded once. He pushed Junkrat aside and opened the carton before his destructive little partner could break its fragile contents. With a light touch, he removed two eggs and placed them on the counter. He might have been built like a brick shithouse, but Roadhog possessed a remarkable delicateness. Junkrat couldn’t help but marvel as he watched Roadhog prepare the ingredients – two eggs, a half-empty litre of milk, mismatched salt and pepper shakers, a can of non-stick cooking spray, a spatula – and he was, apparently, glaringly obvious in his adoration.

“What are you looking at?” Roadhog grunted.

“Nothing!” Junkrat hastily replied, his knee-jerk reaction to deny any and everything. “Just admirin’ the view, that’s all,” he amended, flashing him what he hoped was a winning grin. “Hang on, lemme get the blackboard and we can get started!”

He wheeled the blackboard over to the corner of their house that served as their kitchen. It still detailed the plans of their last grandiose scheme. Junkrat spat on the slate and used his forearm to wipe it clean. He painstakingly printed the word “EGGS!!” at the top of the board and underlined it three times before drawing several ovals.

He took a generous step back. Cocked his head. Tapped the chalk against his lips. Discovered that he enjoyed the taste of chalk and sucked on it thoughtfully as he studied his work. He hadn’t managed to depict his subject in a suitably convincing manner, so he corrected the issue by drawing several arrows between the word “EGGS” and the ovals.

Behind him, Roadhog laughed, a deep, low chuckle that Junkrat could feel in his bones. At the familiar sound of his partner’s amusement, he whirled around to face Roadhog, caught between delight and suspicion.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” Roadhog said, and Junkrat could hear the smile in his voice. “Your art.”

Junkrat puffed out his chest. “I,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster, “am an artist!”

“I know.”

“All the good artists label their work!”

“I’m sure they do.”

Junkrat grabbed a mechanic’s handbook from his workbench and shoved it flat against one of the eyes of Roadhog’s gas mask. “See?” he accused, gesturing at the labelled diagram of a motorcycle engine.

“I see,” Roadhog said, even though in all likelihood, he probably couldn’t make out anything with the image pressed against his field of vision.

“Good!” Junkrat said, satisfied with this response. He tossed the manual aside. “Glad we got that sorted. Anyways.” He turned back to his blackboard. “What we cookin’?”

“Scrambled eggs.” Roadhog scooped up a mostly-clean bowl and frying pan and set them up on the counter.

“Scrambled…” Junkrat muttered, inserting the word in his title. This called for further revision. With the stub of chalk clenched awkwardly in his fist, he scrawled furiously over the eggs he had drawn and labelled.

“Now they’re scrambled, see?” he explained, gesturing at the scribbles.

“Beautiful,” an amused Roadhog said.

“Thank you!” Junkrat beamed at him. “'Bout time ya started appreciatin’ my artistic genius. Okay, lay it on me. How do we make 'em?” He assumed a battle-ready stance, crouching with his chalk poised above the slate.

“Easy,” Roadhog said. He picked up an egg and cracked it against the rim of the bowl. “Crack two eggs, then–”

“Hey, hey, slow yer roll there, big guy!” Junkrat shushed him, waving a hand in Roadhog’s general direction as he wrote down the first step. He was a quick thinker, a quick talker (an unfortunate characteristic that got him into trouble more often than not), but when it came to reading and writing, he lagged behind. He never cared much for books. The words slid around in his head, and unless it was about mechanical engineering, he wasn’t willing to expend the energy. Writing presented less of a challenge, but he was still slow. He still had the grasp of a five-year-old, and it hampered his ability to write quickly. Orphaned at a young age, he had had no one to teach him otherwise, and he’d never advanced to a more sophisticated pencil grip.

But Roadhog was patient. He waited for Junkrat to finish printing the first step and walked him through the rest of them, pausing as necessary so he could transcribe – a generous splash of milk, a little bit of salt and pepper, whisk it all together.

“Y’ve done this before,” Junkrat said, observing the way that Roadhog tipped the bowl at a slight angle and beat the eggs with one of their few clean forks.

Roadhog nodded. “Used to make these for breakfast. I had a few chooks.”

Junkrat whipped his head up to grin at Roadhog, mouth agape in glee. Roadhog was usually reticent about his past. He could recall only a handful of times that he had shared stories about his life before the omnium explosion. Junkrat squirrelled this nugget of information away in his brain’s mental vault. He wasn’t always the best at remembering things, admittedly, but he was determined not to forget this little fact. Even after all their time together, Roadhog was a man of mystery, and Junkrat knew next to nothing about the person he was before the apocalypse changed him. He never knew Mako Rutledge, only Roadhog, so every miniscule detail he learned about him was a gift.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Roadhog told him.

“Ain’t lookin’ at you any different than normal,” Junkrat said innocently, but he closed his mouth regardless.

Roadhog snorted. “Yeah. That’s about the sum of it.” He turned on the hotplate, placed the frying pan on the burner, and sprayed it with the cooking spray. “Couldn’t find any butter, so this’ll have to do. We’re cooking them on low heat.” He looked directly at Junkrat. “Low heat,” he repeated.

“Low… heat…” Junkrat muttered, spelling out the words on his blackboard. “Got it.”

He watched as Roadhog cooked the eggs, periodically pushing the mixture towards the center of the pan with the spatula he had stolen from the takeaway. It took a maddening amount of time. He was not patient enough for this.

“They’re done,” Roadhog announced, pulling the frying pan off the hotplate. “Soft and moist but not underdone.” Junkrat had no idea how to tell the difference, but he nodded along like he knew what Roadhog was talking about.

“So, wait, they’re finished? That’s it?” He cackled and threw his piece of chalk over his shoulder. It hit the wall and clattered to the floor. “Easy as! Why doesn’t everyone cook?”

“Low. Heat,” Roadhog reiterated, stressing the words.

“Okay, okay, okay, I get it, move yer fat arse, it’s my turn!” He bumped Roadhog with his hip, as if that would knock him aside.

Roadhog stepped aside and deposited his batch of eggs into a bowl.

“Clean the frying pan first,” he said, handing the skillet to Junkrat, who made a face at him.

“Don’t see why we gotta, we’re just gonna dirty it up again,” he said, but he obliged.

With the frying pan clean and his workstation readied, Junkrat plucked an egg from the carton. He tried to mimic Roadhog’s delicate grip, but it just felt awkward. He hovered the egg above their prep space, testing his swing a few times, before bringing his hand up and smashing it against the lip of the bowl.

They both stared at the mess of crushed eggshell and runny yolk.

“What the fuck, Junkrat.”

“That was a slight miscalculation on my part.”

“A slight one.”

He went through three more eggs before Roadhog took the carton away from him and cracked the egg himself.

He was proud to say that he needed zero input from Roadhog, the nosy bastard, when it came to pouring in the dollop of milk. Roadhog had plenty to say when it came to adding the seasoning, however – apparently he was “heavy-handed” and “drowning the eggs in pepper” – and he was forced to dial back the enthusiasm for the salt.

“This doesn’t feel like enough salt,” he said, staring at the bowl with a critical eye.

“I promise it’s enough salt,” Roadhog said, his voice weary. “Whisk it and pour it in the pan – not as hard as you’re thinking,” he added, and Junkrat, who had been prepared to viciously beat the eggs with his fork, deflated slightly. He went to tip the bowl, just as Roadhog had done, but a huge hand stopped him.

“Don’t,” was all Roadhog said, and he held the bowl flat against the countertop as Junkrat whisked the eggs.

He poured the mixture into the pan, placed it on the hotplate, and cranked the heat up.

Roadhog twiddled the dial back down to “low.” He looked at Junkrat, then pointed at the blackboard.

“Low heat,” Junkrat read. “Oh.” He chuckled. “Roight.”

“Idiot,” Roadhog grumbled, shaking his head.

He tried to imitate Roadhog’s cooking methods, scraping the egg mixture away from him as it solidified, and the end result didn’t look all that different from the bowl of eggs that Roadhog had made.

Junkrat shovelled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. A tad too peppery, but otherwise– “Perfect!” Junkrat proclaimed, delighted. “And I did it all on me own!”

“No.”

Junkrat shot him a look. “Wha– yes I did!”

“I cracked the eggs. Warned you about the salt. Turned down the heat.”

“Don’t know what yer on about, mate. I was the mastermind behind these beautiful eggs.”

Roadhog sighed but, as with so many of his interactions with Junkrat, let it go.

—

Junkrat woke up at the crack of dawn the next morning. Roadhog slumbered beside him, hooked up to his oxygen tank, and as he watched the steady rise and fall of his belly, Junkrat was overcome with a swell of affection for his partner.

He crept out of bed, careful not to wake Roadhog up. He was determined to make his partner breakfast. It was Christmas Eve, and he couldn’t think of a better way to show his love for Roadhog than through food.

Junkrat consulted his blackboard and selected two eggs. He cracked them into the bowl and quickly glanced back towards the bed to make sure that the sound hadn’t roused Roadhog from his sleep.

He looked back inside the bowl, where several pieces of shell floated. He stuck a grubby finger in the egg whites and attempted to fish out the biggest pieces. He mostly succeeded. Good enough, he thought to himself. He poured in a hefty splash of milk, then checked the board again.

“A little bit of salt and pepper,” he mouthed. He could not remember what constituted a little bit. Several shakes of each shaker didn’t seem to produce a substantial amount, so he kept going until he was satisfied.

He poured the eggs into the frying pan and placed it onto the hotplate. He went to turn it on, when a wonderful idea struck him. If it took ten minutes to cook on low heat, it would probably only take one minute to cook on high heat.

Junkrat cranked the burner up as high as it possibly could go.

“Now, where the hell is that spatula…” he muttered to himself, realising that he had no idea where it had ended up after they’d finished making their first batch of eggs. Several long minutes later, he found it underneath the fridge, and he very nearly woke Roadhog up with a triumphant “ha!”

He returned to the very familiar smell of smoke. He swore and started scraping the burnt eggs, but he had made matters worse for himself by not spraying the pan first, so the eggs had stuck to the bottom of the skillet. He removed the frying pan from the hotplate and scraped harder, and the singed mess began to chip off.

“What’re you doing?”

Junkrat whirled around, his fight-or-flight reflexes going haywire, and he instinctively brandished the frying pan like a weapon.

The eggs hit the floor with a wet slap.

Roadhog stood before him in nothing but a pair of pig-patterned boxers. He stared at his twitchy partner for a few excruciatingly long seconds before his gaze travelled down to the burnt mess on the ground.

Junkrat followed his line of sight. He dove for the food and scraped it back into the pan. “Five second rule, they’re fine!” he said with a flippant wave of his hand as he straightened out. “Anyways. I’m makin’ you brekkie!” He nabbed a fork and held out the utensil and skillet. “Merry Christmas!”

“It’s not Christmas.”

“Oh.” Junkrat frowned, lowering his gift. “It’s not?”

“You’re a week early.”

“Son of a bitch.” Well, he would have to come up with something else for a holiday present then. Maybe he’d steal Roadhog’s gun, paint it Christmas colors, and regift it. He was confident that Roadhog would appreciate the personal touch. He made a mental note to do this in a week. He didn’t harbour any false bravado about his ability to remember this, however – he might lie to himself, but he wasn’t completely delusional – and he made the snap decision to write down this plan. “Hang on just a sec,” he blurted out, shoving the frying pan and fork into Roadhog’s hands and sprinting for the nearest scrap of paper and pencil stub. In his blocky chickenscratch, he wrote down “CHRISTMAS GUN –1 WEEK!” and shoved the paper in the pocket of his shorts.

“Okay, where were we?” he said, returning to Roadhog’s side. “Oh, roight – don’t think of this as a Christmas prezzy then. Think of it as a thanks for all the times y’ve saved me skin!”

“I do that a lot.”

“Sure do, mate. Sure do.” He waited expectantly as Roadhog simply stood there. Bloody ungrateful cunt, he thought to himself. Look at him, not appreciating all my hard work! “Well?” he demanded. “What’re ya waitin’ for? Eat 'em while they’re still warm!”

Roadhog looked down at the frying pan. The eggs were burnt beyond recognition, there were at least three visible pieces of shell, and they were gritty with dirt and dust from the filthy concrete floor.

He looked up at Junkrat, who grinned at him encouragingly.

Roadhog exhaled audibly, the sound wheezing through the filters of his gas mask. He loosened the seal of his mask and pushed it up.

Junkrat watched with bated breath as he carefully scraped up a forkful of eggs and took a bite. He chewed slowly, deliberately, several times before finally swallowing. “So?” Junkrat asked. “How’d I do?”

If Roadhog paused before answering, it was so slight that Junkrat didn’t even notice. “Good,” he said. “Good job. They’re delicious.”

Junkrat’s laughter was a combination of delight and relief. He threw his arms around Roadhog’s middle and hugged him. “I knew it!” he said exuberantly. “Told ya I’m brilliant, didn’t even need this beginner recipe!”

“Want some?” Roadhog asked, offering up the plate.

Junkrat eyed the breakfast he had prepared. “Nah, I made it special for you. S'all yers, enjoy!”

“You’re not hungry?”

“Naw, not yet. I can make my own later! You can eat yers now.”

Roadhog gave a hum of what Junkrat assumed was agreement and sank down heavily on the tire seat at their kitchen table. He took another forkful of eggs.

Junkrat sat down on the chair opposite him and propped his chin on his hands to gaze dreamily at him.

“Merry Christmas, 'Hog,” he said.

“Still not Christmas.”

“Humour me, will ya?”

“Merry Christmas, Junkrat.”

When Roadhog finished the eggs, he kissed Junkrat – a proper, unmasked kiss – before pulling his gas mask back down.

“They were delicious. But next time–” Next time? “–stick with the low heat.”

#junkrat #roadhog #roadrat #roadrat secret santa #overwatch #my fanfiction

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pedra-ring-blog · 6 years ago

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Terrorist attack on New Zealand Muslims on PUBG game style

Shooting at Al Noor Mosque - New Zealand 49 folks had been killed in shootings at two mosques in central Christchurch, New Zealand, on Friday, in a terrorist assault that Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern described as “a rare and unprecedented act of violence.” • Officers mentioned that one man in his late 20s had been charged with homicide, and that two explosive units had been discovered connected to a automobile that that they had stopped. • A Muslim chief in New Zealand mentioned the assault was particularly stunning because it came about round Friday Prayer. The police urged folks to keep away from the mosques • A gunman streamed a stay video of the assault on Fb, and appeared to have posted a manifesto on-line.

two mosques are attacked

The attacker focused the Al Noor Mosque within the heart of town and Linwood Mosque, about three miles away. The nation’s police commissioner, Mike Bush, mentioned in a night information convention that 41 folks had been killed at Al Noor Mosque and 7 at Linwood Mosque, and that one other sufferer had died at Christchurch Hospital. David Meates, the chief government of the Canterbury District Well being Board, mentioned that 48 folks, together with younger kids, had been handled for accidents on the hospital. He mentioned the accidents included gunshot wounds and ranged from essential to minor. The police mentioned that three males and one lady had been taken into custody. Prime Minister Scott Morrison of Australia mentioned that one was Australian.Law enforcement officials outdoors one of many mosques that was attacked in central Christchurch, New Zealand, on Friday.CreditMark Baker/Related Press

Mr. Bush mentioned {that a} man in his late 20s had been charged with homicide and would seem in Christchurch courtroom on Saturday morning. A variety of firearms had been recovered from the scenes of the shootings, he mentioned. Of the three others who had been detained, the police commissioner mentioned that one might need had nothing to do with the assault and that the police had been working to find out how the opposite two might need been concerned. Ms. Ardern mentioned none of these detained had been on safety watch lists. Two explosive units had been discovered on one automobile, Mr. Bush mentioned, including that the police had defused one and had been within the means of defusing the opposite. Mr. Bush had earlier urged folks to not go to mosques wherever in New Zealand on Friday. He additionally urged mosques nationally to “shut your doorways till you hear from us once more.”

Video reveals a part of the capturing

A 17-minute video posted to Fb reveals a part of the assault. The clip, which can have been taken from a helmet digital camera worn by a gunman, begins behind the wheel of a automobile. A person, whose face can sometimes be seen within the rearview mirror, drives by means of the streets of Christchurch earlier than pulling up in entrance of Al Noor Mosque, beside the sprawling Hagley Park.

Taking pictures at Al Noor Mosque

A stay video posted to social media appeared to indicate the assault at Al Noor Mosque, the place 41 folks had been killed. The clip appeared to have been taken from a digital camera worn by a gunman.

He approaches the mosque on foot, his weapon seen, and begins capturing at folks on the entrance. What follows is a harrowing practically two minutes of his firing on worshipers. At one level the gunman exits the mosque and fires in each instructions down the sidewalk earlier than returning to his automobile for one more gun — which, just like the others, was inscribed with numbers, symbols or messages. When he re-enters the mosque, he shoots a number of our bodies at shut vary. After one other jiffy, he returns to his automobile and drives away. “There wasn’t even time to goal, there was so many targets,” he says at one level, because the sirens of an emergency response automobile blare within the background.

A white nationalist manifesto

Earlier than the capturing, somebody showing to be the gunman posted hyperlinks to a white nationalist manifesto on Twitter and 8chan, a web based discussion board identified for extremist right-wing discussions. The 8chan submit included a hyperlink to what gave the impression to be the gunman’s Fb web page, the place he mentioned he would additionally broadcast stay video of the assault. The Twitter posts confirmed weapons coated within the names of previous army generals and males who've lately carried out mass shootings. In his manifesto, he recognized himself as a 28-year-old man born in Australia and listed his white nationalist heroes.

Writing that he had purposely used weapons to stir discord in the USA over the Second Modification’s provision on the suitable to bear arms, he additionally declared himself a fascist. “For as soon as, the individual that can be known as a fascist, is an precise fascist,” he wrote.Felix Kjellberg, referred to as PewDiePie.CreditMatt Sayles/Invision, by way of Related Press Mr. Kjellberg has courted controversy by performing anti-Semitic gestures, which he calls satirical, in his movies. He has a following of 89 million subscribers.Folks gathering close to one of many mosques that was attacked on Friday.

Scrutiny of social media postings

During the last 18 months, tech corporations have promised stronger safeguards to make sure that violent content material will not be distributed by means of their websites. However these new safeguards weren't sufficient to cease the posting of a video and manifesto believed associated to Friday’s capturing. A 17-minute video that included graphic footage apparently of the capturing could possibly be discovered on Fb, YouTube, Twitter and Instagram greater than an hour after being posted. Whereas Fb and Twitter took down pages regarded as linked to the gunman, the posted content material was unfold quickly by means of different accounts. With a purpose to evade detection, folks gave the impression to be cropping the video or posting the textual content of the manifesto as a picture — strategies used to evade automated programs that discover and delete content material. Social media corporations have closely invested in these programs, with Fb reporting final 12 months that greater than 99 p.c of terrorism content material by the Islamic State and Al Qaeda was discovered and eliminated by means of synthetic intelligence. A Fb spokeswoman supplied condolences to the victims and mentioned the corporate was “eradicating any reward or assist for the crime and the shooter or shooters as quickly as we’re conscious.”

YouTube mentioned it had taken down 1000's of movies associated to the capturing, and requested customers to assist flag movies. A spokeswoman for Reddit mentioned it was additionally making an attempt to take away “any content material containing hyperlinks to the video stream or the manifesto.” Nonetheless, the tech corporations had been sharply criticized by Senator Cory Booker, a Democratic candidate for president, who mentioned in New Hampshire on Friday that it was “unacceptable” for the businesses to present “a platform to hate.”Video00:000:370:37‘I’m Actually Scared for Our Future’A resident of Christchurch, New Zealand, spoke to native information reporters on Friday after a lethal assault on two mosques within the metropolis.CreditCreditMark Baker/Related Press

Ready to listen to from family members

Nasreen Hanif, a spokeswoman for the Islamic Ladies’s Council of New Zealand, mentioned that little information was coming by means of about whether or not buddies and family members in Christchurch had been secure, and that the nation’s Muslims had been anxious for updates. “No one’s answering their telephones,” she mentioned. “We don’t know in the event that they’re on the hospital or out of attain. Some have posted that they're secure, however others haven't.” Ms. Hanif mentioned the 2 mosques in Christchurch had requested for assist from the remainder of New Zealand’s Muslims to rearrange 49 funerals. President Recep Tayyip Erdogan of Turkey mentioned that three Turkish residents had been wounded within the assault; the Palestine Liberation Group’s ambassador to New Zealand mentioned a minimum of one Palestinian was killed; and the group Syrian Solidarity New Zealand mentioned on its Fb web page that “Syrian refugees, together with kids, have been shot at this time.” A website managed by the Worldwide Committee of the Purple Cross listed dozens of people that had been recorded as lacking, together with folks from Egypt, Syria, India, Kuwait, Jordan, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Somalia.Senator Fraser Anning, a member of a small conservative social gathering in Australia’s Parliament, in 2018.CreditMick Tsikas/EPA, by way of Shutterstock

Australian lawmaker attracts condemnation

Senator Fraser Anning, a member of the conservative Katter’s Australian Occasion, has drawn condemnation at dwelling and overseas for linking the assault to Muslim immigration. “Does anybody nonetheless dispute the hyperlink between Muslim immigration and violence?” he tweeted. Rebukes rapidly adopted from the very best ranges of presidency in Australia and overseas. “The remarks by Senator Fraser Anning blaming the murderous assaults by a violent, right-wing, extremist terrorist in New Zealand on immigration are disgusting,” Prime Minister Scott Morrison mentioned on Twitter. “These views don't have any place in Australia, not to mention the Australian Parliament.” Sajid Javid, the British dwelling secretary, mentioned that Mr. Anning had fanned “the flames of violence & extremism. Australians can be completely ashamed of this racist man.” Mr. Anning drew related opprobrium final 12 months for invoking a Nazi euphemism throughout a speech in Parliament, calling for a “remaining resolution to the immigration downside.”Video00:000:400:40‘Considered one of New Zealand’s Darkest Days,’ Ardern SaysPrime Minister Jacinda Ardern of New Zealand described the shootings at two mosques in Christchurch on Friday as an “extraordinary and unprecedented act of violence.”CreditCreditHagen Hopkins/Getty Photographs

An ‘unprecedented act of violence’

Ms. Ardern known as Friday “one in every of New Zealand’s darkest days.” What has occurred in Christchurch is a rare act of unprecedented violence. It has no place in New Zealand. Lots of these affected can be members of our migrant communities – New Zealand is their dwelling – they're us.102K4:33 AM - Mar 15, 2019Twitter Advertisements data and privateness37.4K individuals are speaking about this “Lots of these affected could also be migrants to New Zealand — they might even be refugees right here,” Ms. Ardern mentioned of the victims. “They're one in every of us. The one that has perpetrated these acts will not be.” Ibrar Sheikh, the secretary of the Al Mustafa Jamia Masjid in south Auckland, described the 2 focused mosques as “a United Nations” of ethnicities. Queen Elizabeth II of Britain despatched her condolences to New Zealand, which is a member of the Commonwealth. “At this tragic time, my ideas and prayers are with all New Zealanders,” she mentioned in an announcement launched on Friday.

My warmest sympathy and finest needs goes out to the folks of New Zealand after the horrible bloodbath within the Mosques. 49 harmless folks have so senselessly died, with so many extra critically injured. The U.S. stands by New Zealand for something we are able to do. God bless all!123Ok12:41 PM - Mar 15, 2019Twitter Advertisements data and privateness58.2K individuals are speaking about this

Ilhan Omar urges solidarity

Consultant Ilhan Omar, one of many first two Muslim girls elected to Congress, urged all Muslims to attend Friday Prayers and exhorted folks of all faiths to affix them to repudiate the white supremacist message of the New Zealand assault. “I do know there was a name for folks to not go,” she instructed reporters after addressing a local weather rally in Washington. “However I mentioned to folks that's what the terrorists need us to do. That may be a win for them, and so we should face the hate and terror with love and with compassion.” Ms. Omar additionally mentioned “everybody ought to be a part of us in solidarity.” The New Zealand police drive had known as for mosques within the nation to shut. The congresswoman, a freshman Democrat from Minnesota, has been on the heart of a political tempest within the Democratic Occasion over remarks on Israel that critics have known as anti-Semitic. She has apologized for these remarks.

Cricket workforce ‘saved’ by timing

Members of the Bangladesh nationwide cricket workforce, in Christchurch for a match in opposition to New Zealand, had been en path to Al Noor Mosque for Friday Prayer when the capturing started. They narrowly missed it. Mohammad Isam, a journalist overlaying the workforce, reported for ESPN that at 1:52 p.m. he bought a name from Tamim Iqbal Khan, one of many gamers. “There’s capturing right here, please save us,” Mr. Khan mentioned, in line with Mr. Isam. At first, he thought it was a prank. “However he hangs up and calls once more — this time, his voice begins to crack,” Mr. Isam wrote. “He says that I ought to name the police as there’s a capturing occurring contained in the mosque the place they're about to enter.” Mr. Isam ran towards the mosque and noticed bloodied and dazed folks fleeing. Within the chaos, he managed to search out a number of gamers, they usually ultimately reconvened on the resort. The workforce supervisor, Khaled Mashud, instructed reporters that gamers had been about 50 yards from the mosque. “Had we reached even three or 4 minutes earlier, we in all probability would have been contained in the mosque,” he mentioned. “Whole workforce bought saved from energetic shooters,” Mr. Khan wrote on Twitter. One other participant, Mushfiqur Rahim, tweeted that he by no means needed “to see this issues occur once more.”

‘My actually good pal goes there’

Aman Singh, who works at a comfort retailer near the Deans Avenue mosque, mentioned he had heard the gunshots on Friday afternoon, and that shortly afterward folks streamed previous the store, bloody and crying. Mr. Singh, 26, mentioned he knew a number of individuals who worshiped on the mosque. “My actually good pal goes there,” he mentioned, including that he had not been in a position to verify the pal’s whereabouts on Friday afternoon.Bloodied bandages on the street after the capturing at Al Noor Mosque.CreditMartin Hunter/SNPA, by way of Reuters

Murders are uncommon in New Zealand, however weapons aren’t

Murders are uncommon in New Zealand, and gun homicides even rarer. There have been 35 murders countrywide in 2017. And since 2007, gun homicides have been within the single digits annually besides 2009, when there have been 11. There have been 1.2 million registered firearms within the nation of 4.6 million folks in 2017, in line with the Small Arms Survey, a Swiss nonprofit. New Zealand regulation permits any individual aged 16 or older with an entry-level firearm license to maintain any variety of frequent rifles and shotguns, in line with GunPolicy.org, a undertaking hosted by the College of Sydney. Most weapons could be bought with out being tracked by regulation enforcement officers. A mass capturing in Aramoana, New Zealand, in 1990 — when a person killed 13 folks, together with two 6-year-olds, after a dispute along with his neighbor — led on to tightened gun legal guidelines, together with restrictions on “military-style semiautomatic weapons.”The nationwide flag was flown at half-staff on Friday outdoors the Parliament constructing in Wellington.CreditMarty Melville/Agence France-Presse — Getty Photographs

Reporting was contributed by Charlotte Graham-McLay from Wellington, New Zealand; Megan Specia, Jason Bailey and Rick Gladstone from New York; Daniel Victor and Tiffany Might from Hong Kong; Alan Yuhas from London; Damien Cave from Sydney, Australia; Sheera Frenkel from San Francisco; and Jonathan Weisman from Washington. https://buzviral.com/10-most-shocking-body-modifications-on-people-video/ Read the full article

#NewZealand_attack

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ladystylestores · 4 years ago

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Racists cannot silence us | Black Lives Matter protests

Yesterday, my heart broke.

Thus began my Facebook post the day after the National Readathon in Ghana on June 13.

Dubbed a Festival of Nine authors, the readathon was my introduction into the Ghanaian literary scene. Although I had participated in literary festivals on the continent, appeared on radio and television in several countries, I had never participated in anything of this magnitude in Ghana. Recently returned to my native country after more than two decades in the US, I was thrilled. Ghana was home.

Like other writers around the world, when the pandemic swept over us, we felt our walls collapse on us. Literary festivals, our social outlets, were cancelled. Determined to fight isolation and inspire our communities, Afrolit Sans Frontieres was born, the first-ever virtual festival. As we entertained audiences with light passages from our books, virtual festivals would pop up worldwide, including the National Readathon of Ghana.

Almost three weeks before the event, we had watched in horror a policeman’s knee pressed down on George Floyd’s neck, watched George reduced to a child calling for his mother as the life seeped out of him. Across the Atlantic, my Afrolit Sans Frontieres family had felt his death so keenly we had published a letter condemning it, and in support of Black Lives Matter. Even so, I felt relieved to be in Ghana, away from white people who reduced my humanity in micro ways, who clutched their purses and fled from sharing a supermarket aisle with me. I lived in a country where I was madamed, judged only by my personality and not by my skin.

Safe.

I was on the other side of the ocean, basking in the adoration of family and colleagues. What was more, I was going to read to Ghana in the National Readathon for the very first time. I was so excited I showered an hour beforehand. Funny how one prepares for an online event. I mean, who was going to smell me? Still, I dabbed on perfume before selecting a Ghanaian print blouse made by my seamstress, a squatter who lives in a shack across from my house. She was thrilled I had given her a job during these hard times. I promised to give her more fabrics to sew if I looked good on screen. I checked the time. I was five minutes late. My skin prickled.

In the time it took me to log onto Zoom, the moderator had already introduced Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng, a popular Ghanaian author and fellow returnee from the US. The site thrummed. Apart from Ghanaians, audiences had logged in from the US, Canada, Australia, Asia and Europe. I recognised Afrolit members including founder Zukiswa Wanner, Goethe Gold Medal Recipient, and Leye Adenle, author of Easy Motion Tourist. Messages flashed across my phone. James Murua, Africa’s premier literary blogger, texted to confirm where more people could watch.

After Rodney read, the moderator was asking a question when a sound bomb exploded. At first, it seemed someone’s radio had erupted accidentally but we were quickly proven wrong. Country music blared, discordant. Insults flittered across the screen. American voices, mostly male, chattered like disturbed monkeys, some shouting “n*****”, others unintelligible. Osama bin Laden’s picture exploded onto the scene, a “death to blacks” symbol. And then a middle-aged white male popped into a frame, standing full-frontal naked, jacking off into the camera, his eyes aglow behind his glasses, his voice a conquering thrill. As fast as the host tried muting, more frames shifted before us. Stunned, I looked away. A text to my phone urged me to log off. We all did.

The organisers, DAkpabli Publishers, supplied new passwords and we started over. Author Rodney was attempting to answer a question when a loud crackle crashed through. An American male voice shouted, “Shut the f*** up, Rodney! No one wants to hear from you!” Then it was a mass of voices chattering again while R&B played this time, voices chanting “n*****, n*****, n*****,” a message flashing: “Kill all N******”. One chat message, captured on video by Leye Adenle, said: “Everyone kill all blacks”.

Once again, we logged off. This time we moved to StreamYard and were able to have a successful event, grateful to those who followed the live stream on Facebook.

I got through the readings, stumbling over my words but recovering towards the end. When it was all over, I folded into myself, mistrustful of the world. Even far away in Africa, white hate had found me. Feeling assaulted, I took to my bed and stayed there for most of the following day, the hateful words chanting in my ears, the jacking man flashing pink before me. In my nightmare that night, an American policeman chased me, his gun drawn. Even when I managed to lock myself up in my room, I saw him go after a male author friend. I snapped awake before anything bad happened. Now I know that I cannot escape racism. It comes to me vicariously through cable TV, taunts me with hatred or jacks at me with glee.

What should have been a joyful celebration of the arts turned ugly. It is a psychological assault. The question I keep asking myself is this: Who are the perpetrators, and who is letting this terrorism persist? As of May 30, Zoom supposedly upgraded their software to prevent such a bombing from happening, and the readathon organisers have a paid, corporate account, so we are at a loss to explain why this happened. How could white supremacists hack us even after we used passwords? The organisers reached out to Zoom and received an automatically generated “we-will-look-into-it” response. Nothing more.

Since the assault, people have reached out to me, including Mary Karr, author of the bestselling memoir, The Liars’ Club. It turns out she, too, has been subjected to men sending her naked pictures. Although hers was not racially motivated, the effect was the same. The intention is to reduce you to filth. As I tossed about on my bed talking to a cousin who had lived with racism throughout his life in the UK, I thought about the power of the written word. It occurred to me the only way to fight scum is to expose it to light and scour it.

I cannot process hate. But we will not, must not be destroyed by it. We have to continue creating and empowering ourselves. Two days after the assault, I wrote a new Facebook post: They did not. Will not erase us.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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