#funny to think that greens ever cared for any ideology in the first place

[deus-sema]

Copium comes in variety

[sanstropfremir]

kingdom episode 5 review!!! lets fucking go!!!!!

 look. was i insanely hyped for this episode? yes. was my hype justified? also yes. holy FUCKING SHIT. you’ll have to forgive me for going off the rails at some points because ateez and btob directly tapped into something primal in my brain and i am obsessed. i'm obsessed. there’s no other word for it I’m obsessed. 

 ok ok ok i'll focus. i'm focused. i'll do the stage breakdown first and then do my personal ranking at the end. i might do a quick runup comparison of the self and expert rankings for funsies but i'll see how i feel when i get there. instead of going in airing order i’m gonna reverse it, since that was the order i actually watched them in and also i will run out of brains if i talk about rhythm ta first.

skz

i feel for skz. i don't think this show is going to be as much of learning curve as it needs to be for them because the fan voting skews the rankings so much. I’ve said it so many times before, but letting something flop or getting a bad ranking is actually good, because it shows you that you need to improve. because skz keeps getting validated by the fan rankings and placing first in the last two stages, they aren't actually taking the time to evaluate what about their stages is or isn't working. and besides, we’ve now seen two very similar concepts in a row from them, just one is on a grander scale than the other. what they should be doing is what both ateez and btob did for this round, which was scale up production value, but scale down concept. i know this sounds weird but i'll explain. skz has done two very abstract and ‘grand’ concepts. first round we had ghosts/good self vs evil self, and this stage they just went straight for the throat with a deal with the devil type stage. now when you combine these very abstract concepts with an unclear narrative arc, you lose clarity of intent in the performance because there are no specifics that you’re playing off of. there’s a lot more places left up to personal interpretation and this is where people can get lost. btob and ateez both narrowed down their concepts to hyperspecific scenarios where they very clearly showing the audience the arc the stage is taking. audiences can be smart but also if you can lead them by the hand they like not thinking about highly conceptual ideas, and especially not so much in a pop song competition show.

 costume

this is so rare because generally stylists are pretty careful about this, but i genuinely think they got outshone by the backup dancers, especially in the ‘heaven’ sequence. those sash and skirt combos with the strapped white tops that look like straitjackets? the fucking angel wings?! these are some thematically fun costume designs and because they’re white they stand out so much more when skz are wearing black. i also think i've seen these tops on backup dancers before? i thought it was on the last stage but i might be going insane.

i am a sucker for beaded embroidery and the combined dyework on some of their sashes is beautiful. but again, thematically irrelevant? at least you can see the greco-roman inspiration in the backup dancers’ costumes. all this is telling me is that whoever the stitchers are at jype, they are fucking incredible, but they don’t actually have a good designer because the main costumes for all their stages have been both aesthetically similar and thematically irrelevant.

again, i applaud skz for trying more experimental makeup, but boys you have to go bigger, it has no impact right now.

set

well, i did ask for them to commit to the western art bit and they sort of delivered? the first space is not planned very well and combined with the wide wide camera shots instead of making the space seem grand and sweeping it just seems bare. the ‘heaven’ side was excellent though, there was much better control of the camera and the columns and altar scaled the space down so it was more believable. also the breakable columns were fun and corny and i love it when stuff gets destroyed onstage.

the child statue transformation into actual child was a neat trick that i think landed really well. i wish they had given that concept a little more grounding other than the flashback bit but it was still very readable.

i know using rodin's gates of hell is the easiest way to shortcut saying that like, “you are now entering hell,” but them being used SO literally feels a bit blunt when the last time we saw them used in kpop was by original blasphemous catholic lee taemin, who used them with such nuance and intelligence that i'm a bit put off by skz’s literalism.

on that note, i find it very interesting the conflation that happens between greco-roman/”classical” aesthetics and catholicism, because ideologically the two are opposed (see: the bible) and historically, they didn't exist at the same time. now i'm not going to go off on a tangent about neoclassicism because you are not here for an art history lecture but i thought i would make the observation about how catholics continued appropriation of greco-roman aesthetics without complete understanding or context of those aesthetics is as pervasive as it ever has been in the last several hundred years. 

lighting

generally the lighting is pretty good, but there’s an over-reliance on projections that cheapens the look of the stage but also devalues the intentions as well. at the core of it there’s a profound statement being made about trading away your innocence, but when you underscore that with like, clock graphics and a WoW looking demon, it loses that simplicity of message.

the thing about using this particular type of projection, which are actually screens and not typical projectors, is that screens always throw light. and due to where they are situated, this basically means that if you're using the screens at full capacity with a cool colour range, we are going to be able to see everything. this is another contributing factor to why the stage looks so empty; they’re lighting up everything and it exposes where the gaps are.

now i fully acknowledge that this possibly could have been a deliberate choice, since they do actually use some spot lighting at the beginning and end. however, if it was it did not land for me. 

i loved the intro of demon felix done in blue, that was a nice switchup from what we would usually see, but i wish there was more of a coherent colour arc. like the narrative it stutters around a bit.

sound

the arrangement was a miss for me. i found it a bit dissonant again, like their last stage, since the original i'll be your man has obvious lyrics about a good christian boy being sad about a girl. this gets a bit wonky conceptually as soon as you add a child self into it. i don’t know if they changed any of the lyrics in the singing to match this a little more because i don't speak korean, so i'll have to wait for episode subs for verification. 

i really applaud them for trying, and overall they didn't actually do that bad, but skz is not a vocal group. the most i'm going to say about it is that these boys don’t have the breath support. this is likely because they're trying to do choreographically complex movements, but also it's a training thing. you can hear the difference even just between eunkwang’s ‘vocal warmup�� at the beginning of back door, he’s not projecting full voice but he still has the breath support for his voice to sound full, whereas all skz boys sound thin in comparison, even when at full volume, because they’re trying to project from the throat and not the chest. that's all i'm gonna say about that. i don't think the cracked note was bad, i didn’t really clock it on first listen.

staging

thematically they could have had something really interesting here if they stuck to a more simple narrative arc. the genesis (i’m very funny) of the idea here is good, the whole mephistopheles deal with a devil + regret/loss of innocence is clear, but the arc isn't really an arc, and the colour story doesn't help. it kind of goes earth (green/blue) -> the gates of hell are opening (red) -> oh it's heaven now (blue) -> oh just kidding it's hell/lets destroy heaven (red) -> back to earth (blue). not necessarily a bad arc, just a bit complex for four minutes.

the choreo was a lot better this time, there was a lot more intention and relevance to theme and i didn’t feel like they were flailing for the sake of flailing as much as i have in their other stages. there was also a clarity in the overall blocking and movement patterns that was missing from their other stages. this stage has a really great handoff of each member playing the ‘main’ character, especially in the beginning. i especially liked the cut from falling off the stairs to laying centre stage. 

i think I’m right in assuming that it was a choice that the members were all playing the same character and demon felix was that character possessed rather than the actual devil, but personally i think it would have been a lot more fun if they had straight up just made him be the actual devil. there’s a bit of dissonance when you have a performer with such a specialized skillset that gets used in very specific instances, but then he shows up in the regular group choreo like any ol’ guy. they always put such emphasis on felix (as they should, he’s their most charismatic performer), but they never go the distance. i would have loved it if they had committed to the bit like TOO did in their magnolia stage from rtk, where they had a member just be blinded justice. that was literally the only thing he did and it worked so well. could have done the same here with felix and it would have been fun. that being said the felix parts were SO good. love love love him getting dragging in chains.

 btob

this hit every little one of the buttons in my tiny backstage crew brain. i'm in love with this stage. there’s so many true to life little details here that on repeat viewings you're still finding new things. i know i rag on and on about narrative every week but here is a good example of what i've been trying to get at this whole time: the stage needs a shape. an a to b. you don't need a whole pirates spiel or a game of thrones theme extended universe; all you need is a clear setting and a point a to point b. this stage has both those things perfectly. we have a hyperspecific setting, (american rockstars) and a basic arc (getting ready to perform -> performing). even though back door is outside of btob’s wheelhouse, they spun it in a way that played to their strengths and did a bit braggadocio, which is rightfully earned. i'm gonna be saying it every time but the experience shows!!!

 costume

good contemporary costume is SO difficult, i want to impress that here. because it's the the time period that we are currently living and seeing every day it's so easy for the audience to spot mistakes. although yes it's easier to source/shop for, to get it good enough that it doesn't pull people out of the immersion is surprisingly more difficult than you think. their stylists did an excellent job here. the backup dancers and btob are all in monochrome plus one and it adds a very clean unity to everything without visual clutter.

each of btob’s costumes have enough to give indication of character, along with the member’s acting, which i'll get more into in the staging section. regardless, never underestimate the power of a good fitting shirt and statement belt. oh and minhyuk in the stirrup motorcycle boots with the skinny jeans and the supreme boxers and the red satin robe? good bye.

i love love love a dyed buzz this was such a good aesthetic choice for peniel, 10/10 i have no complaints about the costumes.

set

oh my god i’m gonna french kiss this set designer. this is such a simple set but it’s executed so well. there’s the ‘backstage’ area, the corridor with four dressing rooms, and then the ‘stage’ that’s pretty much just velvet ropes. so simple, but all the detail is in the set decoration and props. the road cases, the monitor, the subtle flex of the posters of them on the walls, the clothing racks, all the booze. although this is not the actual layout of any theatre (they're normally much weirder than this), there’s so many little details here that really make the experience.

there’s a very straightforward path here and it works so well. i think this might be the best use of the gates so far? it appropriately suited the drama of the moment and they didn't have to do anything to them because they're already in a theatre. bada bing bada boom.

lighting

love the setup and continuation through the amber ‘BRRRMM.’ like with sf9 it gives a smooth transition into the stage. also loved no blackout. it's a general rule in current theatrical practice that you only use blackouts when they are absolutely necessary, because they can stop the pacing of a play dead in the water. so the lack of one here at the start of the stage was a really smart choice and makes the transition feel less jarring.

i will say that actual backstage areas are very rarely lit with amber because it travels far and it's bright. it's much more common to see running lights (the lights on during a performance) to be deep red or blue.

those blasting wash lights as the gates open? the DRAMA. such a seemingly innocuous choice that really cements the atmosphere of ‘we are about to perform.’

really smart use of the projections to accentuate the already existing stage facilities. it's pretty much unnoticable because it's very well done but i appreciate it.

sound

this ARRANGEMENT!!!! it's so good!!! back door has this premise essentially built into the song so it was so smart of them to put this gimmicky spin on it. loved the literal interpretation of the knocks into the structure of the stage, it makes the blend between the sound design and the staging that much more effective.

more rock versions of everything please and thank you. 

btob is just stunting at this point and i love it. i'll have to wait for subs but judging by the hands in front of the camera bit and the ‘your super high note’ i’m pretty confident the added rap lyrics are full of shots at the other groups and honestly? valid.

staging

there's some really sharp camera control here with the one take first half. It’s up very close and personal because there’s a lack of space but it really works for the ‘intimacy’ of seeing backstage at a venue. also this is such a simple movement track but it’s so effective. it backs over a couple spots but it doesn't feel repetitive because there’s a sense of urgency and drive.

there are so many good little details in here that are true to life and unnecessary to include but sell the performance as a whole. peniel flinging water onstage, minhyuk stripping down twice and flinging his clothes around, minhyuk closing the door on the standby’s face, the backup dancer as a dresser with the laundry basket, peniel stealing the hat off her but then not going on stage with it these are all things that I’ve either had directly happen to me or something very similar has happened. but the best one and the one that sets off the tone amazingly for the whole stage is eunkwang’s intro. that ‘vocal warmup’ with the quiet okay at the end? with the little jump? i see that moment of vulnerability before the transition between person and actor every time i watch someone go onstage for the first time and there’s no way to describe it other than magic. 

the luxury of only having four members, there was actually time in this stage to establish character. it also speaks to the performing strength of btob that they can establish clear character in this short amount of time. obviously it’s pretty one dimensional; there’s serious eunkwang, typical rocker minhyuk, fuckboy peniel (how many licks does it take to make your tootsie pop, anyone?), and comedian changsub. i’ve seen and met and worked with these exact dudes many, many times. ugh i love this stage

 ateez

the utter euphoria i felt at the proof that last round’s stage wasn't a fluke. this stage is so good. it's so good. i'm obsessed with how good this stage. as an unreformed pop punk teen who played a LOT of latin jazz i am LIVING. if you’ve only seen the episode cut and not the full version here i'll make it easy and link it for you because oh my GOD mnet destroyed the pacing by cutting in a full minute and a half of reaction shots. actually mnet fucked up the pacing for all of these stages but this one was the worst. and look. i know this is the closest these boys are going to get to being real punks and this is a carefully curated and artificial facade for narrative purposes only but oh the pandering tastes so sweet. regardless of that, i am IN AWE of the level of storytelling happening here. the narrative is so clear on just the first viewing even though there is so much going on and they use every possible element they can to further enhance that narrative. repeat viewings just add more and more little details. i’ll probably miss some things because there's so much but i'll try my best.

 costume

look, hanya and i were joking that my notes for this stage were just gonna be ‘san dog collar’ for a thousand words and i was so tempted to just leave it at that because.....woof. so here is a short list of things i am the most obsessed with:

san dog collar

san smeared lipstick

wooyoung cruella deville ponytail

hongjoong terrible blond crewcut

san crushed velvet cargo pants?!

seonghwa cropped fur jacket

yunho arm sleeve

hongjoong sockless in red derbys

but in all seriousness the costumes are so good. none of these are truly authentic punk looks but they capture the spirit right and that's what matters. all the right trappings are there; safety pins, patches, plaid, leather, and a lot of diy type looks. i love the painted masks, especially as a callback to the comedy/tragedy theatre masks. it was a thematic choice to have the backup dancers in black and the tac vests are a super simple contextual device.

also hongjoong’s quickchange hat/jacket combo is super fun and i hope that’s intentionally a preview of the next stage.

set

if you weren't convinced before that whoever is designing the ateez stages is a stage designer, i don't know what to tell you. it's hard to tell because there is so much environmental storytelling happening, but there is NO large scale set here. like with their last stage, kq smartly put money into two highlight pieces; the anarchist blimp and the van/wall, and the rest of the stage atmosphere is established solely through propwork and lighting. just think about that for a bit. every other group has some kind of large scale room or wall build. ateez has a bunch of tables, flyers, and a podium. i don’t know if i can accurately communicate just how difficult this kind of coordination is to pull off but holy fucking shit this is so hard to pull off. these are theatre people i see you and i see your work and i love you!!!

they fully used the gilt mnet stage as their pseudo government building and it works. everything about this (lack of) set is so smart i wish i could be more articulate about it but there’s so only so many ways i can say the same thing over and over again. 

lighting

the laser scopes. the LASER SCOPES!!! god this lighting designer is so good. whoever you are, i'm acknowledging your effort because you deserve it. there’s some really wonderful contrast and directional lighting: the van light, the pinlights/lasers/smoke as searchlights. a lot of atmospheric red lighting but it makes sense for the theme (alarm lights) and they offset it well (unlike in the other two predominantly red stages we’ve seen) by fill lighting the faces with blue or amber; this is what actually makes us able to see what’s happening on stage

the projections are used to augment the stage action in without being overpowering, they're at relatively low tonal value so they aren't lighting up the stage at full brightness like in the skz stage. 

the big brother eye on the tv screens (it's just a projection, not actual screens) combined with the government ban notice and the broadcast has to be the record for fastest visual explanation of fascist totalitarian state. 

sound

i love it. they really successfully made rhythm ta into an ateez song and it’s cool as fuck. i love that it isn't sonically very loud. a lot of the chorus is actually quite level tone and quiet, which is a bold choice and they pull it off. this is very comfortably in their range (excluding jongho) and they went more for style than range and that's exactly what every group should be doing. singing high does not equal singing good. yes i am looking at you jongho you should have stopped at that penultimate note, it was fine!!

using rhythm ta as a pseudo protest song against a fascist government that’s banned all music and art? galaxy brain. that intro of hongjoong whispering “hey hey hey hey, this is just a song so get on the rhythm” after gunning down military police/guards? king fucking shit.

staging

i will eat all five pairs of my fluevog boots if kq hasn't hired a bunch of theatre professionals to direct and design these stages because now it's been proven that last stage wasn't a fluke. the level of execution at work here is absolutely incredible. oh the gesamtkunstwerk of it all!!!  there is SO much happening so quickly in this four minute stage and it still manages to convey exactly the correct amount of information that it needs to on the first go round, and it only gets better on repeat viewings.

they use a really classic theatre perspective trick with san climbing the rope, and they absolutely didn’t have to do that. san probably could have actually climbed that himself, but here they made a choice for aesthetic artistry over tricking/other feats of skills we’ve seen the 4th gen groups do. instead of going with the more technically difficult and ‘impressive’ option, they chose the simple way that allows for more character to shine through. there’s actually very little tricking in this stage as whole, they're putting trust in the design of the stage and the raw performance abilities of the members to carry the stage and they stick the landing again. san has some breakdancing and so do the backup dancers, but it’s window dressing in the same way that the flyers are window dressing.

there’s a lot of really good little moments of acting that really sell the performance and dedication of the group as a whole to giving their all. hongjoong overall in his cocky aspirational leader role, seonghwa’s first verse and malfunctioning earpiece bit, san’s falsetto hostage interrogation bit. also i'm obsessed with how far yunho just hucks that mask. he gets like fifteen feet of air with that thing. also props to hongjoong barehanding that glass break.

the paper props are impeccable. the first notice sets up the situation right away, and then we get some further exposition with the newspaper wooyoung is holding (which says ‘the central government has defined the black pirates as a terrorist’ but honestly you don't really need to know what it says to get the point), and then we have raining anarchist flyers from the anarchist blimp. great atmospheric touches.

the blackout crash-to-mask transition is just so good. this is an example of a good use of a blackout. nothing else to add i just thought i would point it out because it's dope.

like with btob there's some really tight camera control here, that along with the lighting and the way they've laid out the space make it easy to follow the trajectory of where they're going and also make the space seem smaller than it is. this is a really big stage and if you don't control how you want it to be seen you end up like with what happened to the first part of skz’s stage. i wish they had tracked some of the one takes a bit better, but the end of that take where the camera followed the group movement laterally and then the formation swung around to face front? sexy. surprisingly the editing is pretty ok.

there’s probably still so much i could talk about but this is already so long so if i missed something just let me know.

ok finally lets do some rankings

personal ranking

this round wasn't as tough to rank because there were two clear top tier stages for me. i actually went back and looked at my ranking from last round and this is identical except the top two spots are switched, which i find extremely funny. however in contrast to last round, these stages were all leagues better than their predecessors. all the groups are improving, just some at greater speed than others.

ateez - i'm not even gonna explain this one.

btob - i won't explain this one either since i just did that.

sf9 - this would have been first if ateez and btob hadnt blow everyone out of the water.i still think they made all the right choices and played to their strengths.

ikon - this stage is so fun to watch but the others offer me more. that’s it.

skz - i like the idea behind it and i loved felix; i'm always down for some good catholic fuckery but like last round it just wasn't played out far enough.

tbz - double ding on the moulin rouge and the continued game of thrones references for me. there were a lot of strong elements here but when compared to every other stage it just doesn't have the same gravitas.

the self rankings i thought were fairly accurate, but again, what the fuck is up with these expert rankings? who are these experts? what stages are they watching?? i won't go more into it than that because then you'll be here even longer but i don't trust these experts who consistently rank btob at the bottom, do you have eyes??? ears????

 ok i'm done for real now im so sorry this 4.6k words......if you make it this far do something nice for yourself like eat a cookie or something. this is way too long you deserve a reward for making it through my nonsense. as always if you’ve got questions or want to share your opinions feel free to send me an ask!

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

it took me forever to decide where to go with this chapter and i was literally getting fed up editing it 😭 i’ve been so busy with all the chaos goin on in my life rn too so yeah writing’s been feeling delayed over all but i decided to just finalize this one for rn and uhhh sorry if it seems funky or shortttt

//Chapter 3: Vanished

The next day, Trevor went back to Sterling Lake Park, after spending the night at Wade’s. He agreed to meet up with him there later, walking around the park with his earbuds in. As he threw himself down on his usual bench, he settled on listening to his usual playlist of his favorite songs. He scrolled through nosedivr once again, taking a photo of the lake. It was foggy, and the thick air sat atop the water. He liked when it was like that. A sturdy drumbeat thumped in his ears, making him feel whole. He paused it briefly, just to change it to a different song that was even louder, but with the lack of music he could now hear the crunch of gravel not too far away. He thought he told Wade to come later on? He looked up from his phone, pulling out an earbud. It was the guy from yesterday.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Amanda?” He asked, glancing around.

“Uhh she’s.. not here today. I kinda came to see if you were here. I wanna get to know more people at this park if I’m gonna hang ‘round here more I guess.”

“But she doesn’t like me?”

“She don’t gotta know.”

“Well aren’t you Boyfriend of the Year.”

“Oh uh, we aren’t dating yet.”

“Thought she was your girl though.”

“She is, she is. But it’s nothing serious. Not yet. And I don’t know what happened between you guys but you don’t seem that bad, so if I wanna talk to you that’s more of a her problem than me.”

“Huh.”

Today Michael wore an eCola shirt, which was obviously made to resemble their old logo, with blue jeans. He had on a pair of red sneakers this time to match the color of the shirt. They looked slightly newer, compared to the pair he wore yesterday. He dressed nice for such a basic style. Trevor on the other hand, threw on an old, frayed Love Fist t-shirt, and messy jeans. He wore a different pair of boots, some kind of knockoff of a popular name brand. A pair of purple lensed circular glasses sat on his head, the nose pieces caught in his hair.

“So.. uh. Mind if I sit there?”

“Not like I own the bench or anything, go right ahead.”

He cautiously sat next to Trevor, hands in his lap. Trevor started one of his other playlists up again, settling on a mix of Paramore and Green Day. He left an earbud out, just so he wouldn’t be completely rude. He mindlessly scrolled, occasionally looking back at the lake or casting a sideways glance at Michael, who was looking at him funny. Sighing, he paused his music, putting his earbuds away.

“What.”

“I.. nothin’ man. I just, I dunno. What is the point of coming here?”

“It’s a public fuckin’ park man.”

“I know, but you said that you don’t even really like the people here, so what’s the point?”

“There is no ‘point’ to it. I just like time to myself is all. These guys don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. They only start trouble when they see fit.”

“Ah… I see? What were you listening to by the way?”

Trevor stifled a groan, not really wanting to talk to the guy when he had time to freely plot his scheme.

“Pop punk shit. Ever heard of it?”

“Uh, no? I thought punk wasn’t supposed to be popular. Or fit in. Or whatever.”

“That’s merely the ideology, which I do follow, dear Michael. I just like the sound I guess. You know Paramore?”

“Not really. I don’t listen to that stuff much.”

“Then what the fuck do you listen to?”

“Not sure if it has a genre per say, but I like that song Radioactive goin’ around? Songs that sound like that I guess.”

“You like Imagine Dragons?”

“That’s what they’re called?”

Trevor could only stare at him. Was this guy living under a rock?

“Uh.. yeah. Y’know what- never mind, what else do you listen to?”

“80s music?”

No wonder this guy was unaware of who’s popular now.

“Amanda’s been trying to get me into groups like the 1975. I actually kinda like them.”

Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did.”

“They’re not that bad to be honest. She likes that weird alternative shit.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, there is a name for that genre. Indie rock. Can’t stand the stuff.”

“How come?”

“You know, you ask a lotta fuckin’ questions.”

“I’m just tryna understand this shit here. I ain’t in the loop of all these trends.”

“Well, for your information I just find the style to be too slow and whiny for my taste. I like fast, upbeat, wild stuff.”

“Any recommendations then? I wanna impress Amanda by at least knowing one artist off that nosedivr thing she goes on.”

He raised a brow, not really wanting to share anything else knowing he would just repeat it back to her, but he shrugged and continued.

“Alright. Besides pop punk, I like experimental songs. Underground groups. Crystal Castles are my favorite.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Right.”

“If you want more indie rock shit though, I suggest listening to I don’t know, the Arctic Monkeys? That seems more like her taste.”

“These bands have such weird names.”

“I think bands have always been like that.”

“Hey wait a sec, I thought you didn’t like that stuff? How do you know the name of one of those groups?”

“Ugh… I guess I might as well say it if you’re gonna get with her, but we were friends at some point. She introduced me to those bands, but even then I didn’t really like it. We had a stupid falling out I’d rather not get into.”

“Oh.. sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. Shit happens. You definitely seem like her type though, no wonder she got with you.”

“What’s her type?”

“Heh. As if I’d tell you.” He scoffed.

“C’mon man, please?”

“Nope.”

Michael frowned, slumping in his seat.

“Fine. Whatever. Not like I need to know.”

“You could at least pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do, bro.”

He sat arms crossed, turning a smidge away from Trevor. This was his opportunity to listen to his tunes again, but before he could Michael spoke up.

“Can I… can I listen to whatever you’re listening to?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna hear what you’re into.”

Trevor shot him a puzzled look.

“Uh.. okay.”

Wiping off an earbud, he handed one to Michael. He already had one in.

“Pick your poison cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“Just a nickname I give people.” He shrugged.

Michael settled on his experimental music, actually nodding along to the sound. They were closer than a minute ago, and it made Trevor uncomfortable for whatever reason. Maybe because he was never in such close proximity to strangers, but the other part of him didn’t care that much. Michael’s eyes were closed, smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah! Reminds me of synth stuff from the 80s, just more modern I guess.”

He smiled back at Michael, appreciating the fact there was someone else who liked the music he liked. The two listened to a couple different playlists he had, up until the moment Wade arrived at the park.

“Trevor! Hey!”

“Woah. Who’s your friend?”

“Hm?” He pulled out the single earbud, turning his head around. Wade had clown makeup on, making Trevor jump in his seat.

“Fucks sake. Hey Wade.”

“Ooh who’s this?”

He wasn’t sure if Wade freaked him out or not, seeing as the guy not only had matted locs, but many facial piercings as well. And the clown shit. He stood up to introduce them to one another.

“Wade, this is Michael. Michael, Wade.”

The way Michael looked at him was like a kid seeing a zoo animal for the first time. He looked bewildered, but not disgusted.

“Hi. What’s with the..?” He wavered a hand in Wade’s direction.

“Oh! It’s jus’ clown face. Not tryna scare ya or nothin’!”

“Uh huh… man. How have I never been around these parts? You guys are real different.”

“You got that right, Mike.”

“Seems like I’ve been missin’ out. I hangout with some dudes who would hate this place if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll have to meet ‘em sometime.” Trevor chuckled.

“They’re real cool guys. Didn’t expect our paths to cross, but anything’s possible in this fuckin’ city.”

“Oh yeah. Land of opportunities, for all types of wackjobs.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A hand tapped Trevor on the shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, Trevor, but are we still gonna talk about the Merryweather thingy-”

“Wade! Shut it-”

“What Merryweather thing?”

“Nothing, nothing. Not important.” He said, gritting his teeth, glare strong on Wade.

“Okay..”

“But you said we’d talk about it over icecream!”

“Later, Wade. Not right now.”

“Fiiine. Can we still get icecream though?”

“Sure. Promise. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay! Bye Trevor, bye stranger!”

Michael lifted a hand to haphazardly to wave goodbye.

“What was that about?”

“I told ya man, nothin’. Just going over some plans we’re making.”

“Is it about that special event being held there?”

“How you know about that?”

“Mandy told me.”

“Mandy… yeah. Figures as much.”

“She got an invite, and wants me to go as her plus one. I don’t know if I really wanna go though, I’m still pretty unfamiliar with all this.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Seriously, what is your beef with those guys?”

“I told you, they start shit when they want. Taught ‘em a lesson and that was it. Nearly got me banned from this place, but it was kinda worth the looks on their faces.”

“You are.. quite peculiar y’know. Anyway, you mind showing more of that music? I was honestly gettin’ a kick outta it.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He sat back down next to Michael, handing him the same earbud as before. He clicked on one of his favorite Crystal Castles songs, Vanished. As they were listening, Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hey wait a minute.. I think I’ve heard this before.”

“You have? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“No, I mean yeah I haven’t, but that’s not it. The lyrics. Vocals. I’ve heard them in a different song.”

“Oh.”

“Lemme think, lemme think, ah… I got it! Pass me your phone real quick.”

His fingers typed in the song title fast, pressing play right away. It was an indie rock song, much to Trevor’s dismay. But something stopped him from complaining, seeing how Michael’s face lit up.

“Yeah! This is it, Sex City by Van She. Y’know, I honestly think that’s neat.”

“What is?”

“The fact that a song you like, samples a song I like! Who would’ve guessed?” He said, eyes sparkling. Trevor didn’t notice how bright they were until now. The eye contact, along with the lack of space between them, made him feel stuffy again. He averted his eyes back to his phone, trying to loosen up a bit. As the song played, he savored in the sound, shocking himself a bit. The rock sound was there, but had an 80s sort of feel to it. The song finished before he knew it.

“So.. What’d ya think?”

“You know my thoughts on indie shit. Wasn’t for me, sorry.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you liked it.”

“Nope. Prefer Vanished.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I honestly think they’re both really good. You think that too, I can feel it.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

He switched the song over to that Grimes song he listened to yesterday, the two of them sitting silently. It was a pleasant afternoon they shared. Suddenly Michael’s phone went off, and he yanked the earbud out.

“Ah shit. I gotta take this. Mandy.”

“Gotcha.”

Trevor grabbed the other earbud, putting it back in. He saw Michael wave his free hand around, looking close to hurling his phone right into the lake. Trevor assumed he must’ve been shouting as well, from the way other people were looking at him. Hanging up not much later, he returned to the bench, as Trevor put his earbuds away.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

“So.. how’d it go?”

“She’s finally not mad at me anymore, but demanded I go take her shopping now. I swear, she’s gonna clear out my bank account or something.”

“How? You guys aren’t even dating.”

“I know, but I just can’t say no to her.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look, I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, but I really gotta go before she goes back to being pissed at me. See ya around?”

“I’ll be here man.”

Michael stood up, storming away. Seemed like he had a short temper, huh? He wondered to himself how long he was gonna stick around, seeing how Amanda’s dating history was… an extensive list. He thought back to last night, when he had seen that post of them, remembering the fact that no guy stayed for longer than a week. It almost made him bummed, seeing as he only had Ron and Wade for friends. Lester too, but that was on rare occasion. Shit. The plans. What time was it?

“Ah, fuck me.” He muttered. How did he let the day go by so quick?

He shot a text to Wade, telling him to grab Ron and meet at some icecream place. He did promise Wade after all.

Ron ended up meeting them there a little bit later, apologizing profusely before Trevor told him to just sit down and shut up. He did just that, almost apologizing once more.

“Now, let’s get down to business. Who do we know that would help us sneak into that club to cause sheer utter mayhem?”

Ron raised his hand excitedly.

“I could get Floyd maybe-”

“Definite fuckin’ no. He would have a heart attack the minute he set foot in there.”

This was getting nowhere. He tossed his head back to look up at the sky. As he did, he saw a couple walking out of the icecream place.

“Oh fucking hell.”

Was this guy following him or something? He snapped his head forward, trying to be a little more hidden.

“What? Trevor what is it?”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down Ron!”

He made all three of them lower their heads as the couple walked away, peeking over his shoulder to make sure they were gone. As he did, he could’ve sworn he saw Michael looking back at him. The both of them turned away as quick as possible from the split second of eye contact.

“Trevor?” Ron repeated.

“It was nothing. Just thought I saw someone.”

“Ain’t that the Michael fella I met today?”

“Nope. Don’t think it is.”

“Are ya sure-”

“Pretty fucking positive. Now, back on topic.”

The next hour or so still went nowhere. Wade had gone through two servings of icecream, and Ron started to get restless. Trevor was just bored.

“Ughhh there has to be something we can do!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Trevor. We’ll find someone, soon. There’s enough time isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but I’m not waitin’ til the last possible fuckin’ second to get a guy to help us out here.”

“But we still have time.”

“If you fuckin’ say so Ron.”

The three of them called it a night, as Trevor tossed around the idea of possibly getting Michael involved in his head. On one hand he wanted to out of spite just to make Amanda and the other hipsters mad, and on the other he didn’t want to screw up whatever new friendship he had started with Michael. Ron did say they had time to find someone soon. They weren’t exactly in a rush, but he still wanted to make sure their plan was concrete. They all went back to Wade’s, Trevor deciding to take a walk along the beach. He threw on the same playlist from earlier, watching the sunset. As he walked, he didn’t pay much mind to where he was going, bumping into someone.

“Ah fuck, watch where you’re going-”

“Shit, sorry man-”

As they spun around from the collision, he realized exactly who he had run into.

“Trevor?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck? Are you following me or something?”

“Huh?”

“This is the third time I’ve seen you today. What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, it’s a public fuckin’ beach man.” He said, mocking the comment Trevor had made earlier.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Hey, I’m just tellin’ you how it is. I didn’t purposely search for you, hell I didn’t even know you lived this way.”

“I do. So make like a tree and fuck off.” He said bitterly.

“Woah, chill the fuck out. What’s your deal? I thought we were cool man.”

“I don’t like being followed.”

“I just told you I wasn’t!”

“It doesn’t exactly seem like it. You just so happen to look for me this morning, and just happen to go to the same icecream place I went, and then I find you here? I mean Jesus-”

“I’m telling you, it’s all purely coincidence.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuckin’ hell man..” He mumbled.

“Y’know, you’re as fuckin’ stubborn as Amanda is. I already told you-”

Trevor balled his fists, before jabbing a finger into Michael’s chest.

“Don’t fucking compare me to her.”

Michael threw his hands up defensively, not realizing he touched a nerve.

“Woah woah, easy dude. I didn’t think it was that bad between you guys.”

He exhaled loudly, unclenching his hands.

“It wasn’t. Isn’t. Just.. don’t compare me to her.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard himself.

“Look, I think you’re cool and all but you can’t flip out on me like that. I mean we are just getting to know each other y’know. I can’t have you wanting to bite my head off like that if I just so happen to keep running into you. I really am just trying to navigate the area better, so forgive me if I came off as some sorta fuckin’ stalker. Amanda went home and I had nothing better to do so I chose to walk over this way.”

“Hmph. Fine. Whatever.”

“So we good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, since we’re already here why don’t we just hangout or something?”

Trevor folded his arms, trying to look like he didn’t want to spend another minute with him. It didn’t really work though, because he actually did want to talk to him more.

“If you insist.”

“Alrighty.”

The two of them started to head in the direction of the boardwalk, neither one speaking yet. After finding a bench to sit on as the sun sunk below the horizon, the silence was still there. This sort of thing was bizarre for both of them in different ways. Michael never really frequented these parts of LS, and Trevor never really hit it off with any kind of stranger. Ron and Wade were exceptions if anything, and he had known Lester for a while now. Yet there was something about this guy that didn’t make him feel like he was spending time with a stranger, even though he knew jack shit about him. He might as well try to make small talk.

“So I-”

“So uhh-”

They spoke over each other while trying to start up a conversation, making things feel a little more awkward.

“Shit sorry, you go first.”

“Nah nah you go.”

“Um. Okay. So.. tell me about yourself? We haven’t really talked about much besides music.”

“Yeah.. right. What do ya wanna know?”

“I just asked you to tell me about yourself, so it’s your job to decide what to say.”

Michael gave him a sardonic smile in response to that, partly because he wasn’t sure what to bring up about himself. It seemed like they were gonna be here a while if they wanted to say the most basic shit you say when getting to know someone.

“Well, I ain’t that interesting if you really need to know. I’m guessing you already know about my whole ‘affinity for the 80s’ thing, like the culture n shit that came from it. Real sick stuff.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah. Anyway, if you really want to know plain shit about me though, I will tell ya that my favorite color’s blue.”

Trevor snickered at that.

“Pfft, seriously? We’re talking favorite colors now?”

“Hey man, you said you wanted to know more about me.”

“Uh yeah, but that’s so fuckin’ silly.”

“Maybe it is, but what about you? You got one?”

“Favorite color? You kiddin’?”

“I’m waiting..”

“Uh huh… I’ll give. Always liked the color red I guess. Like, in variety. Not picky about something as childish as that.”

“What’s childish about that?”

“Cuz only kids exchange that whole ‘oh what’s your favorite color?’ thing. It’s like if I were to ask you what your favorite dinosaur is.”

“Hmm.. I’d probably say a T-Rex.”

“Oh now you’re just pulling my dick. And no, I’m not telling you what mine is just because you did.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you though. That was all you.”

“Mm… shut it.”

“You got one though?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Ah ah, I didn’t ask which one, I asked if you had one.”

“Well I don’t, so knock it off.”

“That’s fair. I won’t push.”

They grew silent for the second time that night, before Trevor mumbled something under his breath.

“It’s a pterodactyl..”

“What was that?”

He forced a breath through his nose, acting annoyed.

“It’s a fuckin’ pterodactyl. That’s mine. Okay?”

“Hah, okay. Any reason why?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation about getting to know each other man.”

“Ugh, I know that.” He said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“I think it’s cool that they could fly and shit. I like flying.”

“You like flying?”

“Loved it.”

“Wait, you tellin’ me you fly? Like, planes and shit?”

Trevor winced at the words, regretting what he just said.

“I did.. at some point. Air Force shit. They said I was one of the best they’d seen in a while but I.. left. Sort of.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t exactly leave on my own accord. More or less got kicked out.”

“How come-”

“I don’t like talking about it. I know we’re opening up or whatever the fuck but that.. that’s still too soon for me to want to bring up. Especially to someone I barely know.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He said, even though it really wasn’t. It’s not like Michael knew though, he really wasn’t trying to prod in a bad way.

It was almost pitch black by the time their conversation got to that point, only distant streetlight and the nearby pier lighting up their surroundings. The whole mood had shifted, and both of them decided to just break it off there.

“Hey uh, I’ll probably see you tomorrow man. If I’m with Amanda I think I’ll just send a wave or something your way.”

“Got it. See ya.”

“Bye.”

Trevor stayed put, watching Michael leave as he turned down a random one way street. This guy was tripping him out and he couldn’t pin point why. It was getting late though, and walked off himself back to Wade’s. He’ll save that vexed question for another night.

//ahhhhhh i rlly did not know what i wanted to do with this….,,., sorry if this wasn’t as good as the first two !! i alrdy know i repeated a bunch of stuff in there and i feel like it got kinda sloppy so again, soz (including typos or whtevr)

but uhhhh anyway yeah i cut it off here bc i wanted to continue some of this shit in the next chapter ig lol,, more stuff to come soon god willing

[the-goofball]

Meeting the Qowat Milat & Elnor

Excerpt from ‘The Last Best Hope’ by Una McCormack

[...] “Admiral,” said Raffi’s voice on the comm. “We’re now in orbit over Inxtis. We’ve received a communication from one of the settlements— Sordsol Township. We are invited to meet someone named Zani.”

He went down to the transporter room, where Raffi and [Romulan Cultural liaison officer] Tajuth were waiting. “Zani?” he said to Raffi. “Any idea who this might be?”

Raffi shook her head, nodded toward Tajuth, and put a finger to her lips. “Yeah, I have a hunch about that,” she said. “But let’s keep it close for the moment.”

Inxtis surprised Picard immediately. Beaming down with Raffi and Tajuth, he found himself standing in a long and pleasant valley. A wide slow river ran through; the fields on the gentle slopes were heavy with the harvest. The world’s sun shone lovingly down. It was the very end of summer, in a temperate region, and the greens all around were on the cusp. Picard caught the first hints of red and yellow and brown in the leaves of the trees. In a few weeks, he thought, he might return here to see that most glorious sight: a full and rich autumn. The poignancy of this was almost unbearable. This harvest that he could see would not be taken in; this autumn would be the last for Inxtis. This world was damned, and not through any crime or sin, but through an event on a cosmic, stellar scale. This time, he thought, the fault was in the stars. Raffi, ever alert to the immediacy of her surroundings, checked her tricorder and said, “Numerous life signs. We must be on the edge of the township.” Picard followed her, Tajuth behind, wondering where the buildings were. They saw a huge tree ahead, multitrunked, like a banyan tree, but with the individual trunks much wider, and much farther apart. Here he saw the first signs of civilization: wooden decks, interlocked, lay around the trunks, and hanging from the branches and between the trunks were wide sheer nets. Beyond other trunks, he saw other wooden decks, and behind the sheer nets, he saw the dark shapes of figures moving swiftly. He heard voices from amidst the trees, singing, speaking, and the sound of children playing. He understood, these were the homes.

Picard took a moment to orient himself. He had, over the past couple of years, become used to the claustrophobic nature of Romulan homes; the back doors and hidden passages that concealed even members of the same family from each other, as if the ties that would naturally bind each Romulan to the other must be disrupted, and a veil of secrecy thrown between each and every one of them. Doors, and partitions, and sound barriers, anything to prevent someone in one room knowing whether anyone was in the room next door. But this, here— this was the complete opposite. A house that lay open to all comers: that advertised its inhabitants, that let their voices carry on the air. How had this happened? What made them feel so secure, to live in this way, when so many other Romulans lived with such a sense of palpable fear?

As they came closer, they saw a very old Romulan woman sitting on a barrel, her back against the trunk of a tree almost as gnarled as she was. She saw them, sat up, placing her hands firmly upon her knees, and called out, “Zani! The humans are here! And they’ve been stupid enough to bring a damned tok’tzat with them!”

A voice from behind the nets called out, “I’m coming, Shai! Keep an eye on the tok’tzat!”

Picard heard Tajuth mutter something that from the plosives was surely a curse. Picard’s grasp of Romulan profanity had improved markedly in recent months, but some dialects were still a mystery to him, and Tajuth’s voice, Picard noticed, had gone oddly nasal, as if he had fallen back on some childhood accent. Raffi, hearing, smiled, as if something had been confirmed to her.

“Well, Raffi?” Picard said.

“Qowat Milat,” she murmured. “Well, I never thought I’d see this…”

“Say that again, please, Commander.”

She repeated the words, and he tried them on his tongue. Qowat Milat.

“Not bad!”

“Who are they exactly, Raffi?”

“They’re nuns, JL. Warrior nuns.” Putting her hand on his arm, she moved him away from Tajuth. “Guardians of truth. Traditional enemies of the Tal Shiar. Look at Tajuth. Red alert. A secret policeman’s lot is not a happy one.”

And, indeed, Tajuth— usually so unreadable— was manifestly on guard, his hand resting upon his weapon.

“Told you he was Tal Shiar,” said Raffi smugly. “They hate the Qowat Milat, and the feeling is mutual.”

The old woman, on her barrel, was watching Tajuth with her lip curled. She looked so fierce that Picard was not entirely sure that he would bet against her if it came to blows.

“What makes them such enemies, Raffi?”

“Well, these things are always complicated, but, as I understand it, there’s a fundamental difference in ideology. The Qowat Milat follow what they call the way of absolute candor…”

“What does that mean?”

One of the nets slung between the trees was pushed back, and a nun, younger than the one sitting on watch, came out, wiping floured hands upon her skirts. Raffi said, “I guess we’re about to find out.”

Picard glanced back at Tajuth. No, not a happy man. “Absolute candor. That doesn’t sound very Romulan.”

“And yet here they are,” said Raffi. “It’s a funny old universe, isn’t it?”

“Warrior nuns. Romulan warrior nuns. You know, Raffi, I am grateful.”

“Grateful?”

“That the universe can still delight me.”

The nun moved, with speed and grace, to greet her visitors. Standing in front of Picard, she held her hands together, palm to palm, and then opened them, slowly and with great care, as if they were a book, or as if she was offering something; her heart, perhaps. “Admiral Picard.”

“Zani?” he said, uncertainly.

She smiled. “Yes, I am Zani. Our house and our hearts are open to you, Picard.”

Picard was suddenly, and deeply, moved. He had not realized, until this moment, how often, on arrival at these worlds, he had been greeted with anger, demands, resentment, hostility. It was not that he expected gratitude— he had not taken on this mission for rewards or thanks— but he had hoped for moments of amity. Now it was being offered. Here, on this quiet and lovely world, a Romulan had offered the hand of friendship. Carefully, he copied her gesture: pressed his hands together; opened them to her. He tried to think of some suitable words. “Jolan tru,” he said. “We come in friendship, and with open hands.”

She looked delighted. She and Raffi exchanged the gesture, and Raffi said, “Qowat Milat. I am… Well. Wow.”

Zani laughed, a full laugh straight from the depths of her belly. Then her eye fell on Tajuth. “You are welcome, Starfleet— despite the company you keep.”

They did not get a chance to discuss this further. Something tiny but very fast-moving came rushing out of the house, pushing itself in the middle of their group. Picard, looking down, saw a boy; about four or five years of age, had he been human— small, serious, and extremely grubby.

“Are these the humans?” said the child. He looked steadily at Picard. “They’re ugly.”

“Thank you,” said Picard gravely.

“Absolute candor,” Raffi reminded him.

“I believe we were both included in that assessment, Raffi.” Awkwardly, Picard bent down on one knee. “Well, young man,” he said. “I am Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. And who are you?”

“Elnor,” said the boy. “I wanted a present.”

Raffi laughed. Picard panicked. “Um. Do you like books?”

“Wow, JL,” said Raffi, “you’re a natural…” She glanced at Zani. “That was a lie. Sorry.”

Zani nodded to show she understood the curious human tendency toward sarcasm. The boy stared at Picard. “Yes,” he said. “I like books.”

He shoved his filthy little hand into Picard’s and began to pull him toward the house. “You can come and read to me.”

Picard glanced over his shoulder to Zani, who said, “Yes, follow Elnor. He knows the way.” She looked back at Tajuth. “Your Tal Shiar friend can come too, if he’s feeling brave.” [...]

[schizo-spoon-blog]

Spoonbender Society: Selected Schizoepistles

FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE:

We Live In A Society

People say we live in a democracy/democratic republic, a form of government intended to amplify what people think and address problems they find to be important. But it doesn’t ever seem to function that way.

The issue is in voter suppression, but as always not in the way people generally think voter suppression works. The issue is psychic, spiritual, and social suppression of citizens. Systemic over-development of senses of rationalization, neuroticism and anxiety, industrially incentivized narcissism.

People develop a deathly fear of what others think, or may think, or what they may have thought about them or what they think, what they may think, or what they may have thought.

A democracy where we’d rather not hear what other people have to say, because we find their thoughts offensive and retarded. That’s one thing people are happy to share. But because we suspect that there are so many offensive retards in the world, we fear... "Perhaps I’m a retard too?" You wonder that even for just a second in your life, if you have a soul. It’s OK to be a retard really, but you’ll never believe that it’s OK, and that's probably What Your Fucking Problem Is.

The opinions of us purported non-retards, to avoid sounding like complete retards, end up soft, ambivalent and stale, phrased like True Neutral Orgasm in Ego-Death Nirvana, but less Chad, less gratifying, and nobody cums. To not be reminded of the possibility of our own retardation, we like to pretend that if the retards just shut up and nobody can hear them, they go away. If they are Physically Removed from our presence, their evil thoughts and their malicious intentions will go away with them. We win. But they don’t. They never do.

We always fail to Psychically Remove them. We lose.

We can hypothesize a law of conservation of hatred, correlate one too of love, but the truth is banal. How can it be in light of our timeline? Why are these Hate Groups all over the place? Hitler’s corpse is rotting or burned to a crisp, or embalmed in a tomb or made a toilet for Some Rich Dude ((parenthetical removed)). (Or was he cloned?)

Great Fatherland Germany - defeated by the "untermensch" and partitioned like a cheese between rats. That Great "Faustian" and "Supreme" "Aryan" Race is subjugated by the hated "Juden" and all the "vermin" of the world, humiliated, castrated to be reunited a shadow of its former self. Yet the Nazi threat is omnipresent nearly a century later, in an era which may be an alien planet to those who lived in Hitler’s time.

How is it that the Great Allies, our fathers and grandfathers, achieved such total victory over so loathsome a foe, so unsympathetic and vile, only to see his Evil infect their own countrymen and posterity? How can something so thoroughly defeated still persist in what could be our neighbors or our co-workers our bosses or our employees? Each one could be a secret Nazi now. In parenting blogs moms worry that their children are becoming Nazis from goofy men they see in videos on line. Marriages are ending in divorce because the husband or wife is allegedly or apparently a Nazi. How could this happen?

Have you ever seen “The Matrix? Who hasn’t? You know all about the red and blue pills, and all the rainbow-flag DLC that it comes with, black and pink and green and brown and in configurations invisible to the human eye, I’m sure. If you don't know, the pills are portals to different realities. Take the black pill and you only see death, take the white pill and everything’s alright, take the blue pill you vote for Hillary, take the pink you become genderqueer. But this is not about taking any pills. This is about going off your meds. Going straight edge - except for whiskey, cigarettes, cocaine and pussy. It’s about the spoon - no, not for shooting up. It's for bending - with your mind. Remember? That spoon - The Spoon That Isn’t There.

That spoon is a Nazi.

If you are aware that there is no spoon you can tie it into knots. You can make it into a balloon animal. That Nazi Spoon could be a Jewish Socialist from Vermont, or a kosher Brooklyn Zionist, or a Dominican Taxi Driver. It could be an evil copy of your own son from Bizzaro World. It's probably your uncle. It could be Rottweilers, and Chihuahuas. Whether Pitbulls are Nazis or Jews/Blacks is an ongoing debate in the contemporary discourse.

But imaginary shit can be whatever the hell you want. You don’t have to be "The One" to Bend the Spoon. You don’t have to be anyone at all. What was the name of the kid who said the line about the spoon again? Nobody knows, nobody cares, and that's the beauty of Spoonbending.

"The Nazi" is the guy who keeps talking when he should shut up. He might be autistic, but he could just be an asshole. There is a strong possibility he could be both. Why does he keep saying all of this ridiculous stuff? He’s more offensive and more retarded than the usual, but it feels like He Has To Be This Way. Like it’s his curse, He Knows Too Much. He fell down some rabbit hole and ended up gorged on Fascist Propaganda. He mentions some girl named Celine. He rambles on about some guy you’re pretty sure is a Tekken character... the guy who turns into the Devil maybe. He mentions a vacation in Turkey with his family but insists on saying Constantinople and there’s a wild-man tear in his eye. He insists he knows about Atlantis and calls you gay for saying you liked Aquaman. Instead of saying goodbye he says “Subscribe to Pewdiepie.” The Nazi belongs in an institution. You wonder if he has guns and if maybe he should have them taken for a while. He probably doesn’t, but you can’t be sure. He’s 12.

When is it too early to become a school shooter? Is 12 too early to be an incel?

12 is probably the age at which incels hatch from their human hosts.

“Who is Pewdiepie, and how has he groomed my nephew into the Hitler Youth?” many families today are asking. They think they’re looking at a spoon. Conditoning fills your heart with a desperate desire to see the spoon. A fact, pure fact, logical, reasonable, peer reviewed, widely accepted, So True, a Textbook Fact. The spoon. Everyone else sees it too. That goddamn Nazi Spoon.

You ever try to ask this at a party as an ice-breaker and see how the guests react?

“So, anyway, was The Holocaust Real?”

“Excuse me, what?”

“What do you think, was it real, how many people do you think died, don’t the gas chambers sound goofy to you?”

”Um… no… they don’t sound goofy. What are you talking about?”

“You ever hear about the Nazi Roller-coaster they had at one of the camps? They’d put Jews into a roller-coaster except they’d fly off the edge and get splattered. That’s how the Nazis killed ‘em. I swear. I read it in a book by a Holocaust Survivor. Impossible to believe if it weren’t so True. No shit. You hear about that?”

”I’m… gonna get another beer.”

Of course there’s a Correct answer to that initial question. It’s also the Right answer. Who would ever get this wrong? It's the 2+2=X of History. Well…

Pop-Quiz, Random Nazi Check, Anybody here Hate Jews? You a Groyper, Son? What’s so funny? You think the Cookie Monster committing genocide is a laughing matter boy? We don’t take kindly to your kind around here.

Maybe you should give the Nazi-check thing a try, it’ll separate sheep and goat real easy for you.

If you do this everyone will think you are The Nazi.

The Nazis hated Jews, but did they hate real Jews as Jews exist, or did they hate the Fascist Propaganda Jew who was a work of fiction? On that note, were you in love with your last failed relationship, or just pretending you were? Have you ever had one impression of a person, but then learned they were another kind of person entirely? That first impression you had, the one that wasn’t True, was that a Real Person, or Imaginary? But you still spent all that money and sweat on an imaginary girl, huh?

Hope her hole was real.

I think that fake bitch of an ex you dated was a nazi. Your ex was a fascist. Oh, was she Jewish? It doesn’t matter, changes nothing. I’ve never met her - wouldn't matter if I did. When I imagine her, she's in Hugo Boss black and got skull-and-bones on her officer's cap, and she's saying racial slurs as she ruins your life, cheats on you, drains your bank account and kills your dog after getting custody over it in court. I imagine all bad people this way. All women who rejected me were exactly like this.

But I must breach working-class anti-fascist solidarity, and admit, on That Question ("Would you?").... Yeah, I would. Sorry bro. Take me away Comrades, I admit it, I'd give it to that Nazi Jew raw. Would I do that to her as she exists, or the Fascist Propaganda her who is a work of fiction?

That depends. You still got her number?

haha it's ok you can call me an incel, it's a step up from what i actually am

(User was banned for this post.)

The Nazi and the Fascist aren’t my hallucinations. That’s not my mental illness. But it’s adjacent to me, it’s thrown at me without my Consent, and it's a Trigger. I'm paranoid about commies myself.

In the multicultural cyberpunk year of 2019, with its trans-human gender-sex-orientations, anti-racist ethno-narcissism, fanatic anti-normalism, cultish critical theory intersections, grand byzantine minimalism, placidity, in such splendid predatory banality… In the absolute state of the world! – Aah! An undead ideology conceived by a salty Frenchman in the badlands of South Dakota in the 1890s shambles forth the devour all that is Good and Holy in the Great United States of AmeriKKKa, God Help Us All! And A Child Will Lead Those Dreadful Legions of Corruption Upon All The Meek Of Our Fallen World!

Or it’s just a spoon that isn’t real.

Nobody wants to be straight-forward, and I gotta navigate the labyrinths of euphemism. Maybe there's something weird going on - how people talk, how people act, how people think, none of those correlate to each other. It makes you feel schizo when you do all your mental rain-man calculus and realize there's a fucking Elephant in the living room and he's not wearing any goddamn pants. Once that little ray-of-sunshine blesses your tiny bug-man brain to enlighten you that the elephant is real, and the spoon isn't, it's only a matter of time before you're crowned in tinfoil a Potato King on your off-grid Bug-out estate in the Idaho Panhandle, or start drinking yourself to death and bullying mailmen (or both).

If you'd like to avoid that sort of Elephant-Mania Spoon-denialism, maybe you should try answering Uncomfortable Question instead of being so Weird about it, oh wise Mr. Kirk, Mr. Shapiro, Mr. Talking-Head, Mr. Important-Guy, Mr. Movement, Mr. Politics, Mr. Voice of Reason, Mr. Metatron. Take it from a schizo-maniac with a manifesto, you’re freaking out the hoes.

Try Praeger U talking points out on a Tinder date and watch her shrivel up from instathot to instahag -- she will go through menopause before your very eyes, that's how dry her pussy will get. Trying not to sound racist while talking about the Antarctic Nazi base and the importance of craniometry in ethnocultural anthropology will get you more action than anything that sounds like a paraphrase of Charlie Kirk -- because even if you're still being cringe at least you aren't being fake. Point and laugh at that fucking elephant - the moron isn't even wearing pants! That'll get her thinking about taking your pants off. Or not - it's not foolproof. If she doesn't laugh, red-flag, she's a Nazi so Begone Thot!

Please, for the love of God, go off-script! See the damn elephant and forget the spoon, and forget the wise Mr. Kirk, Mr. Shapiro, Mr. Talking-Head, Mr. Important-Guy, Mr. Movement, Mr. Politics, Mr. Voice of Reason, Mr. Metatron. Take it from a schizo-maniac with a manifesto, you'll go insane if you don't.

[. . . ] [T]hen there's that neuroticism, that narcissism, that fear. The whole point of these politics groups and gatherings and Q&As is what, anyway? Is it really just basic marketing tactics, like a live-action advertisement you expect for people to passively consume as though it is persuasive? To shove free-markets and free-speeches down my throat and have me swallow it without having anything that’s been bothering me answered? What do I look like to you, an Ideology Whore? You don't even reciprocate a good time, huh? I'm not that kind of girl. You didn't even buy me dinner. You made me pay to bore me. I'd cuck you if we dated just to make a very important point -- fully aware it'll go over your head. Fuck you.

We gotta hear The Script. We gotta recite The Script.

Real Conservatives Think Like This. Real Progressives Think Like This. White People Walk Like This. Black People Walk Like This.

Gotta hear that joke ten thousand times so you can recite it like a mantra in your sleep.

Free markets mean free people. Facts don’t care about your feelings. Private Companies can do what they wish. What you do in your bedroom is your own business. We want legal immigration, not illegal.

Abolish ICE. Your childhood hero says Trans-Rights. Do you not want me in the movement? Abolish whiteness.

The Racism of Lowered Expectations.

Reparations.

A white nation.

Workers of the world unite!

Abortion is a human right.

Have you got it memorized?

Let’s go over it a few more times.

Say it with me! Hillary was found innocent in a hundred hearings and it is sexist to besmirch her reputation.

Repeat after me! Trump’s economy is the best in history, and if he's racist why is black unemployment is at historical lows.

You benefit from unearned privilege. You suffer from toxic masculinity.

The world is about to end and everything you know and love will die, and it is your fault, for not believing in the correct things at the correct time.

Are you laughing yet?

I’m dying. I feel like an e-girl, and my orbiters are sides.

But do you wanna know what I really think? The whole bit about psychic and social suppression? You ever hear about the Procrustean bed? Well, what if we put your political, social, moral consciousness and your psychic abilitys into a bed like that. We could talk about it. You ever play Xenogears?

Or you could just put me in a box. I really wouldn't mind. I'm Houdini. Hey, was Houdini a Nazi, like Henry Ford? Can we get a fact-check? I didn't mean to be problematic.

Break the Conditoning - Step outside the box, and use it as a step ladder. Ascend, Beyond the Box - use The Spoon.

Bush did 9/11, the Israeli’s danced, the Aliens killed JFK - sure - but I only say this because of my MK Ultra Schizo-brain. It’s true, it’s false, it’s fact, it’s myth, I don’t have to believe any of it -- I also don't have to believe any of you if I don’t want to. My feelings do not care about your facts, and did you know that some of the world's most uncomfortable facts are manifested into being by uncomfortable feelings? Is it the fact of the bullet that kills the political dissident, or the feelings of his executioner? Is it the deranged lust of the rapist that violates his victim, or the fact of his power to do so? I guess it depends on whether the perpetrator said "nothing personnel kid" before he committed the act. I don't know about that Nazi Rapist's feelings, but MY feelings are valid and I can believe or disbelieve whatever I want on the basis of my feelings, and my feelings alone. My feelings bend the spoon of your facts.

Are you going to say I don’t have the right, Adolf? Sucks for you, bud, I may be a commie by blood, but the heart that pumps it was assembled in the ole USA -- and we got the Right to be a Retard here in America. It's a Free Country.

[Note: please insert image of Jonathan Frakes from Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction]

Now that the dust has settled: Was the Nazi Roller-Coaster Real? Or did we put the Truth in a Mass-Grave? We will let you know at the conclusion of our program.

Sincerely and Full of Suffering Your Friend Always, Orcbrand

[northofsomewhererp]

Your Name, Age (17+), & Timezone: mars, 22, cst ? i think?

Roy Rahim turned 33 years old on October 7th. He’s a police detective in Greensville. His face claim is Riz Ahmed.

Admin note: *SQUEALS*

Bio: 

It was hard for people to find words to describe Roy Rahim. He was a criminologist turned police detective who kept his life, for the most part, private. He had a few close friends he trusted and sisters he talked to every day, but even they didn’t know what he was up to most of the time. They knew he was immersed in his work, locked in his apartment with a few beers and some take out, and that was it; that was as much as he let them know. He kept his job and personal life as separate as they could be, and his meticulous personality made sure they stayed that way. He’d made that mistake once before, with Isolde, and he vowed to never do it again. 

Their marriage ended abruptly. He should’ve seen it coming - they weren’t happy anymore - but the months prior had been pretty good. He thought they were fixing up their marriage, working through their issues. He’d been more supportive of his wife, and they’d been going to couples therapy, which was all he’d ever wanted. Roy, always obsessed with the mind and how it worked, was completely baffled by the way his wife’s did; she’d go from warm and affectionate to cold and emotionless in less than 3 seconds. Isolde had convinced Roy to give them a second chance after he slid the divorce papers across the table during their 3 year anniversary dinner. A heartless move, but the only way she would listen. Eyes wide, she cried that it wasn’t fair - she thought their marriage was going great, and if it wasn’t, that she was willing to change. 2 months later, Roy got home to find divorce papers stuck to the fridge with a souvenir magnet from their honeymoon in Hawaii. It dawned on him later that Isolde didn’t want to fix their marriage, she just wanted to have the last word. 

Around the time his divorce finalized, Roy’s grandfather, Apa, fell sick. He decided to take some time off work to return home to Windsor, Ontario to take care of him and spend time with the rest of his family - his grandmother, Ama, and his two sisters, Seline and Zara. He hadn’t seen them in a while because Isolde always conveniently fell sick when they were supposed to travel to Windsor - she said it was probably because she didn’t feel very comfortable around them (– and funnily enough, neither did they), and the nerves made her sick.

Roy’s parents died in an accident when he was 6 years old. They were headed back from the airport after celebrating their 8 year wedding anniversary when a drunk driver crashed into them. Roy and his sisters were waiting for them eagerly at their grandparents house, but they never arrived. The police showed up at their door with the news, and everything that came after - them going to the police station, Roy’s grandparents identifying the bodies, the funeral - was completely blank for Roy. Before he knew it, he was living with his sisters at his grandparent’s house and his parents were gone.

This loss was very hard on them while growing up, a little harder on Roy because he, in his grandfather’s words, was the man of the house now. He had to be tough and suck it up because men didn’t cry. Although he had always been very sensitive, he believed that for the longest time, and shoving those feelings down for so long made him cold. He shed all of that - those ideologies, those thoughts - when he moved out to go to college in Boston. It was challenging everything he knew about the world and about himself, but he was different now. He could be vulnerable when he wanted to, he showed affection and love and kindness. Working at the police force was like moving back a hundred years, but then he found that his empathy, his sensitivity, his passion was what made him good at his job.

Three weeks into taking care of his grandfather, when Roy was starting to think maybe he would stay a little longer, maybe take a break from work, got a call that they needed a detective to investigate a few murders happening in a town in North Carolina. They were stumped and needed fresh, new eyes for the case, and they thought he was perfect for the job. He debated rejecting the opportunity and staying for a month or two, but his Ama and Apa told him to go, that they would be fine. He said goodbye, packed his bags, and left. Unable to find any housing in this other town, Roy rented an apartment in Greensville which was close enough. It was supposed to be temporary - he was supposed to return to Boston when he was done - but he decided to stay and work there instead. He’d made a few friends already, and it wasn’t half bad. 

Activity (1-10): 6? More or less?

Have you read the rules?: removed

In the event that you leave, can we keep your biography for future use? I’m going to say no, sorry love u.

Any comments/questions?:  I’m really eager to play Roy, but you can 100% hold this application until I’m back because ya girl is about to request a teensy hiatus. I just wanted to send it in because I just finished his bio and I’m excited about him. (and I hope you are too. I love him)

Sample (2+ paragraphs):

Roy’s apartment building held meetings on the first Tuesday of every month to discuss different, very important building matters; whether they would use blue or green tiles for the pool (they picked blue), whether they’d put a fountain in the back garden (which was voted no by Norma Jane Grace-Barnard because she was afraid her son, the 20 year old Harvard student, could fall in and drown), and the latest was whether they would fix the elevator because it had broken down 3 times in the past month, and Roy had been in it two of those three times. It was this incident that made him reluctantly agree to go to the meeting.

“You’re a victim, Roy,” Norma said with her funny little Southern accent as she felt up his bicep. “You’re a victim of the building administrators disregard for our safety.” 

He agreed. Not with the victim part, but about the building administrators tendency to ignore real problems and instead focus on stupid non-issues like whether the lobby should be painted pearl or cotton. (“What the fuck’s even the difference between those two?” he’d asked his friend Carter as he tossed a stress ball in the air. “Pearl and cotton - they’re both fucking shades of white.”)

The meetings were held at the conference room next to the gym - a place Roy had no idea existed until he read the notice in the elevator. 

“ALL MEETINGS HELD IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM. BRING FOOD TO SHARE.”

He arrived early with a box of donuts he’d stolen from the station (box he promised he’d replace the very next day), and he dropped it off at the refreshments table. Norma Jane Grace-Barnard was the first one to greet him. “Hiiii!” she’d waved from her seat. “Saved ya a seat, hun bun,” she said, patting the spot next to hers. Roy had been the subject of today’s unofficial pre-meeting: Roy Rahim, the attractive, mysterious police detective would possibly be attending the meeting. Would they in trouble? Would he arrest them? Cuff them? Norma Jane was excited and she wanted to go first, a fact she’d told Roy and then giggled about. Roy just chuckled and shook his head. “I might have to, Norma” and he winked before pulling out his phone and texting a simple “WTF” to his sisters. “Strangerville @ meeting.”

The meeting wasn’t so much a chat about the building and more of a mixer for the single tenants. Roy and the six other people who’d gotten stuck in the elevator talked about their experience and then the meeting was adjourned. Final verdict: they would be fixing the elevators. After that, it was like a new season of the bachelorette; wine was being served, spilled, and he was pretty sure at least 2 people interrupted his conversations with an “excuse me, can I steal you for a sec?”

Roy didn’t know anyone at the apartment building, but he’d investigated most of them on his first week living there. “I have to know who I’m living with,” he’d said to himself to justify the snooping. He’d found a lot of very interesting things about the tenants, like the fact that the girl from 302 had been arrested for stealing other people’s dogs 5 times already and that the guy from 506 had a restraining order put against him by his college professor. The one person he knew was the 23 year old who lived upstairs, Max, but only because he’d had to arrest him twice for getting in bar fights or shoplifting. Max Lawrence, who was walking into the conference room with a black eye, a beer, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt. 

“Yo, Rahim,” he said, throwing his limp arms around Roy. “The elevators working yet?” He reeked of beer. Roy chuckled and shook his head. “Dude, you smell so good.”

He was the perfect excuse to leave. He raised his hand up at Norma and her friends (Amy, Stacey and Natalie? Or was it Anna, Casey and Natasha? Either way, he had to take this drunk idiot back upstairs.) “Sorry, gotta take care of this now, ladies. It was nice talking to you,” he said as he put an arm around Max, who winked at the ladies and then proceeded to burp in their faces.

“Sorry,” he slurred, tipping his invisible hat. “Ladies.”

They both walked out of the conference room, Max dragging his feet as they walked, winking and doing finger guns at anyone who looked his way. As soon as the door closed behind them, Max stood up straight and pushed Roy off. “You’re welcome, Rahim. You owe me now,” he said as he wiped his hands on his shirt. 

“I owe you? Who bailed you out last week, huh?” he asked, shoving him playfully. “You had me there for a second, Lawrence – I really thought you were drunk.”

“Well, years of practice,” he said, bowing his head. “What do you say? Take out and a beer? My dad’s treat,” he said, already running off toward the elevators. Roy smiled and shook his head. 

“Take out and a beer.“ 

[pankopop]

Ask Why Before You Go:

Pokemon Go is getting an update with 80+ more critters from Johto, but it’s still neglecting a massive part of what makes the franchise so appealing

I’ve always been a big ol’ fan of the Gold/Silver generation, it’s the game that I brought with me when I moved continents and left all of my friends behind. It was the one continuity in a time of so much flux, I feel like if I’ve ever over-associated escapism, comfort, and nostalgia with a piece of media, Silver is it.

But the new pokemon introduced into Pokemon Go aren’t getting me all that excited. And I really wish the new batch was going to kindle a good flame, but in all honesty I feel like all of the criticisms that I’ve always had with the game haven’t at all been addressed. To properly give form to those criticisms, I want to elucidate why the common criticisms of legacy media are actually very similar to the ways Niantic Inc have missed the mark.

Preface: the articles about Pokemon Go were out of the loop. Of course they were; technology sucks fire is bad and Edison was a witch. What else is new.

I think what bothers me more than anything is that the subject matter of Pokemon Go was so poorly misunderstood. Even by the developers, I’d venture to say. So much emphasis was put on how Pokemon Go was an augmented reality game. This point in particular was important to a lot of the olds who were writing and reading about it.

This kind of gameplay came from left field for those people who still think all video games fall in to two categories: tetris and Violent tetris.

So coming from the Febreze-commercial understanding of the medium, it would be shocking that there’s be a game that somehow “augments reality”, like a shitty matrix that somehow tells the government your whereabouts, sin number and sexual deviancies. So why are people playing this Pokemon Go? Surely it’s a dumb millennial thing. So Let’s dehumanize them by portraying them as brainwashed zombies. Fuck them for wanting to outlive us.

As such, the real focus for SO much media attention wasn’t on why people were playing this game, nor did it really care to ask. It was who was playing it. It was the people affected by this wave of zombified young’uns. Like a worldwide outbreak of tornadoes ravaging our public parks and private property (and making money for opportunistic cafes).

Along these lines, developers were (and continue to be) dead-set on wanting to make a pokemon-flavoured Ingress over a pokemon game. The core tenets of pokemon were half-met, with so little player interaction. Niantic tends to be more interested in the “real-life” stories of people rediscovering their neighbourhood, being able to meet new people, and losing weight. Which is great – I don’t want to say those are negative aspects of the game, but they could be made much better by some variety of faithfulness to the core of pokemon.

I’m not gonna moan about Go not being a direct port of Pokemon’s battle mechanics. It’s absolutely worth rethinking core mechanics when you’re going to be fundamentally changing the way it’s going to be played. I have no gripes about designing alternatives, but there’s a key to designing within parameters of a general direction. Design without restriction isn’t good design.

There’s a big big draw to pokemon that has been largely glossed over in this discourse: Pokemon are the animals we don’t get to see. They are the dinosaurs, rhinos, lizards and hawks that your average city kid never gets to come into contact with (damn country folks with your dinosaurs). They’re the dogs and cats and turtles you couldn’t afford. It’s the magic of running down to the pond to try and catch frogs, or finding a weird bug, that a lot of people don’t have the luxury of doing. There’s a reason there’s such a resemblance between pokemon and tamagotchi; they’re both about some kind of bond between humans and non-humans.

Pokemon has always been thematically wrapped up in that relationship, and about negotiating sharing a world. A lot of plot commonly revolves around overcoming some destruction of environment, or maintaining an ecosystem.

Niantic’s Pokemon Go has discarded that connection for quantity, and misunderstood that the goal of collecting hundreds of pokemon has always been totally optional, and for the most part, an afterthought. This is absolutely a design issue that sprouted from people not asking people why they love the franchise. Think about the masses of people who never played the games, but watched the anime – their impression of pokemon has nothing to do with a collectathon, but in the narrative bond of overcoming challenges with our pets, basically.

Niantic values “reality” and meatspace more than it values the content of its game; Pokemon Go is just a means to an end of getting-out-the-house. On the other end, people are reacting to some kind of invasion of millennial digital gamespace in the pure, unsullied true reality of God’s green earth.

In prioritizing “real life” over the actual content of pokemon, both of these ideological parties badly missed the mark in translating what pokemon means to the people who were readily playing, proselytizing and spending money. These people have largely become disinterested because what they were looking for – the novelty of simulated companionship.

It’s funny - I feel Pokemon Go had designed some very beautiful solutions in simplifying leveling, battling, and various other contrived systems. So why couldn’t they form some kind of team relationship? The canonical reason why you could traditionally only have 6 pokemon on you at once is that any more and you’d lack the bond that’s necessary between trainer and pokemon.

In the culture of pokemon fans, there’s a term: “Shoulder Mon”. If it’s not clear enough, it’s basically the status of Ash’s Pikachu. It’s one particular pokemon that, while often not massively powerful, is your friend. Pokemon Go’s attempt at this is telling.

The “Buddy” system, which lets you add one of your pokemon next to your avatar, will gather you an evolutionary candy for every set amount of kilometers you walk. With a bit more tweaking, the idea could have been a step in the right direction. But the buddy pokemon doesn’t get anything out of it. It doesn’t get stronger, it doesn’t gain any kind of hidden value, it’s simply a way of saying “I need more of this pokemon’s candy so I can evolve it and move on”. This weird microcosm points to the way Pokemon Go will be for a while, I think. A game that aims to nurture skills of relationships and bonding with the world and it’s inhabitants, repositioned as a means to a mathematical, uninteresting, gold-farming end.

This all serves as a good case study for designing games within the constraints of a franchise. I may have salty opinions, but I don’t believe it’s unfounded to really ask dedicated players of a game, or preachers, fandoms and otakus of a franchise, “why?”. “What is it about this world that you fell in love with? What keeps you coming back? What makes this worth your time, money, energy and commitment?”

The “hardcore” contingent shouldn’t always be seen as a fringe, but as a unique perspective that cuts through the cool apathy of adulthood to articulate what you should be focusing on. In fact, I’d say they’re the core you should be designing for. If you design well, you’ll amplify everything that’s great about a universe, and remind a lot of people why they fell in love with a fiction in the first place.

But when all’s said and done, you can bet your chiselled ass I’ll keep playing this dumb phone app until I’m buried in snow.

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #18: Purple Reign

his was a particularly desolate patch of desert scrubland- nothing but dry, cracked soil, cacti, and scraggly looking sagebrush for miles around. The sky was wide and clear and blue, without a single cloud to dampen the vivid sunshine as it beat down its mercilessly hot rays onto the baked, parched ground. The heat cast mirage waves on the far horizon, the lines between ground and sky a deceptively wet-looking blur- and out of this mirage, something came racing forward, kicking up great clouds of dust into the arid atmosphere. The whitewall tires hugged the nearly invisible path of the dirt road cutting through the wastes. Despite the dusty surroundings, nothing seemed to mar the arctic white paintjob of the vintage Challenger as it roared further into the depths of the middle of nowhere. “You make me sick.” The first thing we see of the speaker is a pair of brown eyes, framed in the rearview mirror. A pair of hands clutched on the brown leather of the steering wheel, so colored to compliment the Challenger’s knotty-pine looking dash. The rest of the interior was done in black, the bucket seats in leather. Annie Lennox’s ‘Walking On Broken Glass’ was just audible from the radio speakers. The driver’s dark eyes stared intensely into the reflection. “Huh?” The passenger’s head turned. Their hair was the glossy black of new dye, tied in a shortening knot at the back of their head, and though the voice had a lower timbre, the shape of their face was somewhat softer than the tone would suggest. Their nose twitched, as if tickled by their moustache. Both men were dressed sharp, the driver in a charcoal suit and lavender dress shirt with the first two buttons undone, the passenger in an off-white suit with a grey shirt and a silver and turquoise bolo tie. The driver was startled out of his trance at his passenger’s question, breaking eye contact with himself just long enough to look at the other man - one eye on the terrain in front of him. “Nothing. Just practicing my lack of self awareness.” The car hit a slight bump. Something large in the trunk rattled about. The driver’s grip on the wheel tightened as he reasserted control. The passenger looked out at the passing scenery, bleak as it may be. “Dude. I don’t see any statues out here.” “We don’t do that anymore. Not since Conner’s Career Matters.” The driver surveyed the surroundings ahead of him as if searching for just the right place. “Just the four of us.” He looked to the backseat briefly, nodding at the unknown pair in the back. “Where’s Noon?” The passenger pondered that with a tap of the chin. “Uh, he said something about not wanting to be complicit.” “No matter. Here is as good as any place.” His eyes flickered towards something of interest. His foot shifted from the gas to the brake, rolling the muscle car to a stop and pulling the automatic shift into park, the music cutting dead short and plunging the scene into a tense silence. The doors opened and two pairs of feet hit the dirt- the driver’s in snakeskin boots, the passenger’s in shiny Italian leather way too nice to be worn in an environment like this. The driver’s boots scraped against the sand as he made his way to the trunk. He gave an appreciative nod to the Vanilla Poltergeist Snake decal by the keyhole and then popped the trunk open. His expression was apathetic towards the contents. The passenger joined him, his expression was wide eyed, like he hadn’t just seen this earlier. “Whoa.” “Here.” He hefted a shovel to the passenger before grabbing a second one for himself. “You know, I’ve been thinking…” The driver sighed and his shoulders slumped as if to bear the weight of such dangerous actions. “How can I be double champion with what happened?” The passenger’s question was ignored as the driver counted paces away from the Challenger under his breath. After twenty, he stopped. “Domingo.” “It’s Dominic, Rob.” “Yeah, that’s what I said.” Rob dragged the blade of the shovel behind him to meet Dominic. “Look. I ain’t no dummy. I know my multiplication tables. One plus one equals two.” “No. I think you’re missing something. There is only one. America’s Most Hated is me. And then the rest of you are what one would consider expendable.” He waved his hand dismissively at that. “After all of this time, I’m glad no one figured out that this group was just a vanity project to feed my ego. It’s all about me. My success. My gains. My money. Although, I do appreciate the help.” Rob gave the bright, cheerful, yet somewhat dopey smile of a loyal golden retriever that was sadly dropped on its head as a puppy. “Anytime, bud!” “Let’s get this over with.” In the sizzling heat, they speared their shovels into the hard packed sand and dirt and eventually made some headway into digging a hole that was big enough for a very tall occupant. After a moment, Dominic supervised Rob as he leaned against the upright shovel stuck in the ground. “But you’re right about one thing, Rob. NSFW is old news. America’s Most Hated, a supergroup that relies on subterfuge is certainly new and innovative. We’re totally not like The Legion, The Trinity, or The Future. Being shitty to other people, sure, that’s been done. But it’s never been justified.” Between heaps of dirt onto the ever growing pile… “I don’t know why I do any of the things I do.” Dominic nodded in agreement. “That’s okay. I’ll handle that part. But think about it. All of my transgressions towards others are justified because of flimsy reasoning. And when people object, I’ll just gaslight them into thinking they’re in the wrong or just like us!” “So that’s how we’re gonna do it! We’re gonna go old school and light our farts on fire. Gonna burn that ginger’s eyebrows right off of her stupid face!” Dominic ignored that and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He glanced towards the car. “D.J.! Ethan! Yeah, you two! Thanks for the help!” Leaning against the passenger’s side door were two fifty pound bags of manure. Each have a piece of paper taped to them with the faces of D.J. Frank and Ethan Alexander on them. Ethan, as if in response to Dominic’s sarcasm, falls over. Dominic turned back to the hole. “That’s good enough.” Striding back over to the trunk, Rob looked at the contents once again and made a face. “Do I have to carry it? It’s really heavy and I don’t want it leaking on my suit. I payed… a lot for it. Like seriously a lot. I think you could buy a whole child for as much as I payed for this suit.” “Just drag it, you big baby.” Dominic leaned against the Challenger, again taking a supervisory role as Rob, with some effort, yanked a huge burlap sack with a suspicious wine-colored stain on it out of the trunk. The car’s suspension bounced up almost in relief as the gigantic bundle hit the dry ground with a whump. Dominic smirked as he watched his partner do all the work, but then grew impatient with his struggling and begrudgingly lent a hand in towing the heavy load. Slowly but surely, the two dragged the sack and its contents towards its final destination. “So. When we win the tag titles, you think it can be like last time? We just screw around like I did and duck all of our challengers for months on end?” With labored breath, Dominic answered. “Sure. You think I care about teamwork? Or that stupid division? That would require me to have human emotions like empathy. No, it’s all about ruining another facet of this company with our short sighted ideology. Scorched earth.” Both men, with some effort, manage to get the sack into the hole, and wordlessly begin to fill the hole with sandy soil. As they worked, Dominic’s expression began to soften. Saddened, even. “Rob? Why doesn’t anybody like us? I mean, me especially! I’m capable. I’m handsome. I’m smart. I tell important truths to the people. They should love us. But they don’t, and I don’t understand.” And in Dominic’s moment of need, Rob’s eyes filled with a clarity unbeknownst to most that have known him. He spoke in a calm and decisive manner. “Because we’re self serving idiots who are so transparent in our hypocrisy that most anybody could see through it? I mean, I think they liked you before, but that’s what this is all about now, isn’t it? People like us being self serving hypocrites.” The two of them faced forward. There was a long pause. A large head of tumbleweed blew by. Buzzards squawked overhead. Dominic shook his head. “Nah, that couldn’t be it.” Rob shrugged, and the two of them went back to their task, continuing to shovel the hole full as the scene faded to black. The lights in the Enzian Theater rose up slightly. Sitting front and center in the otherwise empty room, comfortably reclined in the plum upholstered cushy chairs, are the Tag Team Champions. Both are in jeans, Mike in her tan Lugz and John in his custom green and orange Reeboks, he in a plain black hoodie and her in a NY Islanders jersey, the number 40 on the arms and the name ‘Lehner’ in block letters across her back shoulders. As the camera panned around to show their faces, it was revealed that both were also wearing 3D glasses, Mike chomping away at a bucket of popcorn. Their title belts are resting on the small armrest tables at their respective sides. “Ain’t Hollywood magic somethin’, Faithful? I don’t know about you, but if I didn’t know better I would’ve sworn that was a fuckin’ documentary. I mean, Mac even got us the hookup for a really good leading man. Helps that he happens to be a giant NSFW fan, so suffice to say he was a shitton more pleasant to talk to than the guy he was portraying.” “And thank you to the new International Champion, Iggy Swango. And even rising play by play man Grizzly Duggan for helping out. Mike, you know what’s funny about all of this?” The redhead turned slightly to face her partner, one finger tapping at her chin as if in thought. “What’s funny about it, my championship-caliber compadre?” “Those two? We’ve had our issues with them.” He briefly recollected about some confrontations. Both parties thinking they were in the right. “That’s true. I mean I’ve said some things about Duggan in particular that’d make Griffin Hawkins’ hair curl into a Little Orphan Annie ‘do. But we realized we were in the wrong. We misjudged or misunderstood our peers, and made amends. That’s what you do when you hurt somebody, y’know- leastways, if you’re a decent fucking individual.” Mike turned back to the camera, removed her 3D glasses, and raised an eyebrow pointedly. “And how did we make amends? Did we betray them? Did we attack them when they weren’t looking? Did we orchestrate attempts to drum them out of the business?” John shook his head. “No. What did we do?” “We apologized. We extended an olive branch and, little by little, mended what we broke. Which, again, is what most decent people would do. Sometimes words ain’t enough when you do somebody wrong. You gotta give them reason to believe you ain’t a shithead.” And then he followed suit by removing his glasses, too. He tossed them on the table in front of him. “But that’s just who the subjects of that little piece are.We have a very long history with our next challengers. Rob Garcia, as unintentionally likable he manages to be, he still perpetrated a heinous attack on us. Because his previous partner was a fraud. Because they couldn’t get it done. And Dominic Sanders? He knows who he is.” He’s somebody who’s recently knocked off… let’s be honest, a couple’a fuckin’ knockoffs. The Diet Coke of Saunders. Diluted dipshit, almost like our dear Undisputed Champion is the first segment of a fucking Human Centipede.” “And he has spawned this mindset that has given platforms to these malicious individuals. They lack the sociopathic charm that Dominic Sanders exhibits with the flash of a smile and instead clumsily navigate social issues or just outright display toxic behaviors. But because they’ve managed some success, they get a pass. Just like Dominic Sanders when that mask slips just a little.” “I even made a nice visual aide to illustrate our point. See?” Mike glanced up to the projection booth in a wordless signal. The screen lit up again, this time with a still image of a slightly altered diagram. “Here we have Saunders, who’s the shit genesis. His shit gets fed to Conner, who’s a pale imitation at best, and then his shit gets fed to Cottoneye Fucking Joe, who is literally the byproduct of twice recycled shit with an Einstein wig on it. And by that I just mean the hairdo- I am in no way insinuating Joe is smart. He has the fucking intelligence of someone who’s been smashed in the head with a hammer. Repeatedly.” As John observed the image, he had gone a little pale. “I’m sorry. What is that?” “Like I said, bud. The Human Centipede. It’s a horror flick that kinda became a cult classic about a mad scientist who built, y’know, one of those. Like, he surgically grafted some poor schmuck’s mouth to another -” “No thanks.” The two of them shared an unreadable glance, ending with Mike giving a shrug and a light chuckle. “Fair enough. I’ll take it out of our Netflix queue. Anyway, where were we?” She tapped her chin, trying to recapture her train of thought, before nodding. “Oh yeah. So now, comin’ off a loss and a victory respective, America’s Most Hated is nosing into our division. Heh, bet the Limit is really fuckin’ thrilled, but on the other hand, I guess I can see the strategy of not sending in the meatheads who’ve never beat us like, ever.” The Bronx brawler gave a soft, humorless snicker, shaking their head. “Y’know, Saunders, I was getting to the point where I was willing to treat you like a pimple in a non-obvious location. Annoying, something you wish wasn’t there, but you can live with fucking ignoring it. But apparently you’ve decided- and I feel safe in assuming you decided because I don’t think Cherrypie could make his own decisions if he had a gun to his head- that one championship wasn’t enough for you to drip fucking pus all over, and you have to glom onto someone else’s hard fucking work.” “The hypocrisy of it. It’s time to move forward. Calling the tag team division the bottom of the barrel. But here you are. Answering our open challenge. Couldn’t help yourself, could you? Not content with spreading yourself about the company like a disease, you’ve enlisted one of the worst tag team champions in recent history to aid you in this boon. No longer satisfied with your tour of, by your own admittance, meaningless exhibition matches, you want these. While you wait for months on end for a challenger, we’re here dishing out opportunities. Whether it be a tag team of hard fighting sisters or even a team likeAmerica’s Most Hated.” John raised a finger as if to object to that. “And I know this tournament isn’t your idea. But look at you. You’ve went after Ace King in the past, mocking what you perceived as an unworthy championship reign. But turn that accusation inwards. Seven days as Television Champion and not even by yourself. Twenty eight days as International Champion until you pretended to lose. You see how petty that sounds? But that’s Dominic Sanders. Focusing on piddling details instead of the big picture.” Mike gave a low whistle. “See, you could be busting ass, working hard, trying to prove us wrong and show the world that you’re a real champion that EWC can be proud of, y’know, like you say you are whenever given the goddamn opportunity. Instead, you’re being a misogynistic fat-shamer on Twitter to someone who was a more worthy champion than you by a million miles. Nice.” She rolled her eyes to punctuate her sarcasm, then gave a flick of her hand as if to push the topic away for the time being. “Moving on. Mister Rob Garcia. It must’ve been really nice to hold onto some gold that you actually earned, even if it was just for a hiccup. I’m not being facetious here, believe it or not. You really worked fucking hard, took what you were doing seriously, and it payed off. See what you can do when you apply yourself?” Mike paused, making a face. “Jesus, I sound like a goddamn grade school teacher. Anyway. It’s a real shame you didn’t keep it up. I guess it was just easier to relegate yourself to the role of Saunders’ toadie than to continue the trend of doing actual hard work. Pity, everytime I pick up an iota of respect for you, you manage to flush it down the crapper.” “Don’t think we’re trying to be divisive here. That’s the modus operandi of our esteemedchampion. We’re expecting our greatest challenge to date. A team that NSFW just can’t seem to figure out. But…” A brief moment of silence for emphasis. “I talked about that whole details thing earlier and while Dominic Sanders enjoys bragging about his accomplishments, he always seems to forget certain events.” “Revisionist fuckin’ history.” “Like how his glorious tag team victory over NSFW was due to it being a six on two fiasco. Or how he wasn’t even conscious at the conclusion of our last encounter.” “They say history is written by the victors. The problem here is, the people who ‘lost’ are still around to correct your stupid ass. See, we make note of every little hole in that seemingly impenetrable douchebag armor of yours. Every time you think you got out clean as a whistle, we know the truth. See, a very smart person once told me that training your brain for a match is just as important as training your body. And we’ve got a whole book on every little weakness you have.” Mike couldn’t keep from shooting a brief, fond smile to her partner at that, but was all steely again in a blink. John picked up on that thread. “Our opponents, they don’t think much of us. Dominic Sanders can pay us as many backhanded compliments as he wishes but he believes that he is on a different level than us. Rob Garcia, some could admire his fly by the seat of his pants approach but natural ability only gets him so far. Rob Garcia fails and he never looks at what he could have done to improve his chances. Never thinks what he could have done better. But that’s part of the package. The world waits on baited breath on what he’ll do next. Laughing at his antics.” John pointed to himself. Deadpan reaction. “I’m not laughing. He lost the tag titles because he never understood what it means to be on a team. And now? He’s an accessory. An afterthought. A way for Dominic Sanders to get a bigger slice of the pie. He’ll be lucky to get scraps from the table.” “Which, again, is too bad, because we’ve seen clear as day that he can be better. And that fact just pisses me off. There’s nothing more infuriating than willfully wasted potential. It’s one thing if you have it and Fate decides to be a giant bitch and you wind up not being able to capitalize on it in your prime. It’s another altogether to have it and let it fucking rot.” Her eyes flash, as if taking some personal affront to one of her opponents’ lackadaisical manner. “I take it back. It’s not ‘too bad’ at all, it’s what you get for being a lazy dipshit. But don’t get it twisted. Like my partner mentioned, we’re not saying all this stuff to try to be divisive. Far be it for us to try and make you fucks doubt each other. No, chucklenuts, the writing’s on the wall.” “But Dominic, you tried your best to paint us with that same brush. Seizing on some non-existent point of contention. Failing to understand context.” “We are a unit. What we do, nine times out of ten, we do together. But then there’s that occasional one time. Maybe I’ll want to prove that I ain’t fuckin helpless, that I’m capable of pullin’ my weight and not gettin’ by on my partner’s coattails. Or maybe I had my fuckin’ hand broke and wasn’t medically cleared to fight, you numbskulls. Either way. The occasional singles foray on either of our parts is the exception, not the rule, and ain’t nothin’ to be read into. Unless, a’course…” “You’re taking this Ace King obsession too far. Sounds familiar. Never thought we’d come across someone with Orianna’s power of deduction again.” “She made a big fuckin’ deal of doubting our commitment. To tag team wrestling. To each other. To our fuckin’ conviction to get and retain these.” She gave the belt at her side a fond stroke, like a beloved cat. “And where is she now? Who gives a shit, and who gives a fuck? She’s gone, and we’re still here and dominating the division the likes of her predicted we’d wash out of.” And then John stood up, picked up his half of the gold. Like the great champions of the past, he slung the leather strap over his right shoulder. He spoke louder than he usually would. His voice echoing throughout the theater slightly. This last year had rekindled a passion he never knew that he had. “So about three months removed from America’s Most Hated’s coming out party, you two are gonna slink back into this division after never being a part of it in the first place. Three months of Dominic Sanders’ achievements and hearing about them ad nauseam. Three months of Rob Garcia’s inability to live up to his potential. Three months of The Limit doing what they do best - LOSE. Three months of deceit. Three months of passive aggressive nonsense spilling from the champion’s mouth.” His tone then became quiet. Deliberate. “And I’m sick of it. So Mike and I? We’re going to do something about it. On February 4th, 2019 - America’s Most Hated gets a hard lesson on why we are the greatest goddamn tag team in this company.” Mike stood up as well, lifting her belt in a similar fashion, giving her partner a look of unrestrained awe and, if one were to look into such things, a liberal dollop of adoration. It took a moment for her to even find the words to follow such a passionate speech- which was a feat in and of itself. Then she nodded. “We can not and will not be stopped by a couple fuckin’ jerkoffs who want to crash into the division we’ve poured everything into on a whim. These belts are not fuckin’ yours and never will be. But our word is our fuckin’ bond and if you want to challenge we can’t stop you…” Her face hardened, and she leaned forward, glaring into the camera hard. “But we can make you sorry you ever did.” The theater lights begin to darken once more, casting the room again into pitch black before the screen flickers one last bit of film. It was twilight. The sky was purple, lightening to pink and orange around the horizons, stars sprinkling over the darkest parts. Cicadas chirp, a snake slithering across the ground to its den as the environment cooled. The only thing amiss was the patch of recently disturbed ground in the form of a large shallow grave. All is still. And then, without warning, one huge, sinewy, dirt-covered hand burst up through the loose dirt. It felt around, looking for solid ground to rest on, and finding purchase pushed up. Slowly and perhaps terrifyingly, a huge, monstrous figure rose from the dirt… ...until a rather filthy Grizzly Duggan stood in the moonlight, looking rather put out. Snorting a cloud of dust from his nose, he tilted his head to the side and gave his left ear a few good whacks, causing a bit of crumpled metal to fall from the right side of his head and into the dirt. Looking around, he sighed, and reached into his pocket, hitting the first number on his phone’s speed dial. “Candice? … It happened again.”

[theparaminds]

Eventual adulthood becomes a growing fear for most with each passing day. The uncertainty of the future mixed with the attempt to find a purpose often leave most confused. Yet, J.W. Francis has begun to find the cure to this problem, with his solution being friendship and honesty.

His music is a warm hug on a bad day, a friend there to cheer you up when needed. The laid back qualities of his tones and rhythms give way to honest emotion that resonates with audiences aplenty. His sound is that of serenity, that of hope, and that of community. 

As he grows both personally and career wise, J.W. Francis has set his sights for the highest possibilities and the far reaching goals many would dare accomplish. Within this pursuit, he has continually defined himself through sound, creating a sonic personality. Only time will tell whether that definition will remain, or if it is to remediate once again. 

Our First question as always, how’s your day going and how are you?

My day is going splendidly. It’s raining and I love the rain. It makes me feel very calm like I’m wearing socks on a carpeted floor. Overall, the past few months have been a dream. I’ve had the opportunity to share moments with so many different people and for that I am very grateful.

What would you say is your best childhood memory?

My mom organized a space-themed scavenger hunt birthday party for my 4th birthday, and I don’t remember anything about it except that it was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. It inspired me to create my own scavenger hunt parties for friends in college later on, and it’s something I still do to this day.

To go a little further, where did you first find yourself getting into music and who around you was influencing you onto that path?

My parents used to play this game when I was a kid which was “is this Pavement or Stephen Malkmus’ solo career?” My parents were/are very cool and burn me CDs of everything they were listening to, especially my dad.

As well, which artists inspired your passions and pushed you forth and which do so currently?

Oh boy, so many. Most inspiring to me were the people around me like my parents, grandparents (I love you mama and grandma judy!), teachers, friends. None of those people made music but they were really nice to me and inspired me to be nice to others, and to be be curious, and to do what whatever makes me happy - which just so happens to be music in this moment.

For music, a list of people I was in love with growing up would include: Ben Kweller, Kimya Dawson, Julian Casablancas, Kim Gordon, Bradford Cox, Al Green, Ryan Adam, Francis Black and Jenny Lewis .

Today I find myself most inspired by: Jean Sebastian Audet, Steve Lacy, Chris Cohen, Elsa Maxwell, John Berryman, Courtney Barnett, Charlotte Dos Santos and Melanie Faye.

How have you found your musical vision to develop over your tenure in music and what where have those changes come from?

Well, to be fair, I’ve really just started. But I guess I suppose I’ve gotten a bit more serious. I used to go by the name Nico West and I only sang songs about fruit. Now I go by JW Francis and I sing songs about love. I try to constantly reevaluate what’s important to me so any changes in my music path will stem from that - right now what’s important to me is connecting with other people. When I was singing about fruit it was a joke, which is a great way to connect, but some people might not think it’s funny. Everyone loves - so I hope people can connect with these new songs I’m writing.

Do you find your location in New York to be a part of your artistry and if so, what are your favourite aspects of the environment?

I’m a sponge. I love going to a new place and soaking in the energy and meeting lots of people and then writing about my feelings, so definitely New York is a part of my music because everything I’ve written as JW Francis so far has been from my own perspective in New York.

Just like any city, the best part about New York is the people that inhabit it. I’ve never met so many motivated people. It’s very moving.

Sonically, where do you hope to see your music continue to grow within the next projects and ideas?

Sonically I’ll probably try to get very complex and layered, and then after that I’ll get very stripped down, and then I’ll probably go somewhere in the middle after that.

As well, you released an interesting EP this year, what was the ideology behind that set of songs, as well as the videos accompanying it?

I feel very grateful to be living the life I’m living, and I felt an urgent need to share that feeling with others in a very specific way that I could hear in my head. I wanted the videos to express that gratitude for my friends and for New York.

What differences output wise can expect from you this coming year and what plans do you have?

Excellent question. I have many, many plans for the coming year and I would like to tell you all of them, but please don’t hold me accountable for them if they don’t happen. I’m currently working on 2EPs at the same time. I’d like to come out with 3 more next year before doing a full-length in 2020.

In February, Sunspeaker and I will probably do a tour of the North East and I’ll drop a single for EP2 which will probably be out in March. I’m bored with how music typically gets released these days - it’s very anticlimactic. So for my next EP I’m working on designing an ‘immersive experience’ in New York that should be ready by March.

In April-May I’ll release another single, this one for EP3, which might come out in the summer.

In August I’m going to do something crazy on the west coast. 5 cities, 5 JW shows, 5 different bands, 5 murder mysteries. To give you little bit of background, I throw murder mystery parties with my good friend Drew Johnson as a part of a little collective called J33. I can’t afford to transport my whole band around the west coast so I’d like to find drummers, guitarists, and bassists in LA, San Fran, San Jose, Seattle, and Portland rehearse with them the night before, play a show the next day, and then invite them to a murder mystery party the following day.

There are more plans for the rest of the year but I don’t want to give it all away :) 

Do you have any new year's resolutions? Inside or outside of music, either or.

My New Year’s resolution is to be a better friend. I haven’t been to ONE of Joe Fusco’s hockey games, which I’m really sorry about.

If you could score one film you’ve seen, which would it be and why?

Oh boy. I love movies. I would love to score a film I haven’t seen because all the films I can remember that I have seen have great soundtracks (I forget the bad ones). If I had to choose, probably Slacker because I think I could nail it.

What is the greatest lesson you wish you learned earlier in your journey?

Please always say “Don’t care about what other people think” and I always disregarded that as bad advice because I care about what my parents and my friends and my teachers and the people I respect - I care about what they think of me. I even care, to an extent, what strangers think of me. I want them to like me! I think it’s a Mid-Western thing, I can’t really help it.

But what I learned by getting on stage and putting myself out there is that you should really on care what people who care about YOU think of you - and the people who really care about you want you to be happy and they want you to love and be loved. So, I really only care about what those people think of me and I’m much better off for it.

Do you have anyone to shout out or promote? The floor is all yours!

Let’s see, I’m going to give you a list of everyone I’ve had the honour of sharing a bill with in the past 2 months because it truly has been an honour to share a stage with them, in no particular order:

Sunspeaker

Winded

Manic Talk

Lust and the Black Cat

Henry Flwr

Eyedress

Caleb Giles

Dead Tooth

Cindy Cane

Glass Orange

Woolbright

Cherokee Rose

Tesha

Goodfight

Curt Castle

Rose Hotel

Caravela

Oceanic

Lady HD

Night Bloom

Glasteroid

Achy

We Never

Petty War Club

True Blue

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[marydragneell]

Fires from Embers

(Bonus Chapter)

By: @cutegirlmayra (For Mary! :D)

“I don’t understand.” Ember held her arm and lightly scratched at it with her sharp nails, being careful not to damage herself, but still looking antsy.

“You’ve given me your memories, although you have a mutual respect for Sonic, you yourself aren’t very close to him. So then… why do you think it’s a good idea for me to spend time with his team?” she raised an eyebrow and held her hand up in a light shrug of curiosity. “I want to spend more time with you-“

“Enough.” Shadow stopped walking as she abruptly halted from behind and to the side of him. He tilted his head back to her, over his shoulder, as he addressed her again, “You have a lot to learn. All that anger for humanity… you need something Sonic and his friends have reminded and taught me further of…. You need to learn the significance of this planet.” He then looked forward. “Of humans… and their dreams.”

“Dreams?”

It was an odd thing to her. Usually, her dreams would consist of nightmares from past, perfect memories.

She looked down, saddened that Shadow still saw her as something needing correction. All she wanted to feel like she had some of her family again.

Then again, his rough exterior wasn’t much compared to his melancholy nature when she last saw him 50 years ago.

He’s lost a lot… so has she… yet she can still smile and joke around at times. He seems to only smile when it’s appropriate or acceptable too.

He’s so choosy with these things…

As they approached Sonic’s best friend’s house, Tails the Fox, she worriedly fixed her attire and tried to look presentable.

‘This was the fox that was nice to her… or, relatively kind back at the floating island.’ She reminded herself.

She sucked her lips in and tried not to breathe as the door opened, and Tails looked puzzled to see her.

“Oh, hello.” He looked to Shadow, then smiled weakly. “W-what can I do for you?”

“I need Ember to spend time with your ideologies.” Shadow placed a hand on Ember’s back…

…And pushed her into Tails’s home.

“W-woah!” she fell, landing on the poor fox and having dizzy eyes as Shadow lowered his seemingly uncaring eyelids and looked down with authority over Ember.

“Learn all you can. I’ll be back before the month has passed.” He then turned around and called out, “Chaos Control!”

“He had that this whole time?!”

He vanished with a brilliant flash of green.

Tails held his head, still a bit dizzy himself before shaking his head to balance himself. He looked around and then to Ember, seeming apologetic and also a little frantically worried.

“W-wai-wait! I can’t just-! You can’t-!” he flew up and looked out the door, seeming concerned. “Shadow!!! She’s your sister! Don’t just…” he slowly turned to look back at Ember.

She had curled herself up with her tail cutely wrapping around her legs in front of her, whimpering and tearing up with big, chibi-anime eyes as her ears flopped down on the side of her face.

“He abandoned me…” she whined out, clearly upset by his dismissal of her into unknown company.

Sweat-dropping in clear awkwardness, Tails hung his head down and sighed, closing the door. “Want some ice cream?” he smiled.

Later that day, Tails turned on a record and played some music, heading to the garage and offering her any of the books on his shelves to read while he worked.

After a few hours, he turned the drill off and sighed, wiping some gunk from his face and rubbing the oil-stained cloth all over his face before breathing in that tainted air and sighing in relief.

“Done~” he looked satisfied, before realizing something was echoing from inside the house.

“H-Huh?” his ears perked and twisted a little back to try and hear better.

It was so faint, so he quietly spun his tails and slowly made his way to the door, creaking it open with a soft turn of the handle. He was being careful not to make too much sound to startle her, but also to hear more clearly what she was singing…

Sweet is the winter,… Calm is the thunder… And don’t you cry~ Mother is here now… To bring in the spring and create the things of life~ Rain, rain, rain… Do you remember the warm rain? Be patient, my child, and sing without guile. Bittersweet is the spring, that carries in the breeze… Calmed by the melting snow… And don’t~ you~ cry~

“Wow.” Tails smiled and flew into the room, spooking Ember who was sitting on an armrest near the record which kept spinning but didn’t make any more sound.

Frazzled, she jumped up and blinked her eyes, blocking with her arms before swiping her index-claws together up and down. “S-so-sorry… I… It stopped singing so I…”

“Is that your favorite song?” Tails glided down then, and walked over to the record player, taking the tonearm and placing it off the record.

“I…” she looked down and away, being strangely shy, and not knowing how much information to tell him.

But… what could be the harm in talking about music? She had a deep passion for it… although… music meant something entirely different to her.

“…I only know one song…” She admitted, and again, embarrassedly clicked her two claws together as she blushed shyly and looked away.

She clicked them right near her nose,… making some faint sparks by her eyes and pretending to not be afraid of getting burned…

“O-oh.” Tails crooked his neck to the side, thinking it odd she hadn’t heard other songs before. “Have you ever thought about listening to them? Or making your own?”

“My… own?”

“Tails!”

“Sonic!”

Suddenly, a gust of wind blasted Tails’s door open, shocking her out of her thoughts and having Tails look ecstatic to see his friend.

He flew up to him and to two high fived.

“What’s up?” Tails greeted, chuckling a little before Sonic nodded to him.

“This.” He held up a letter. “My folks found me. I’m not sure how to respond, but they’re coming down in hopes of hanging out and catching up. I’m not much of a talker but…” He scratched his head, looking at the letter.

Tails scoffed, “Sonic? Not being able to brag and boast about his many epic adventures?” he folded his arms, landing by the door as Sonic smirked to him and then looked over to Ember, losing the smile.

“Woah, you have company!”

“How unobservant of you,” Tails smiled, teasing and closing the door. “That’s really why you should knock before barging into people’s houses, Sonic. At least call first.”

Sonic made a face, before walking happily over to Ember and offering her his hand. “Sonic. But we’ve met.” He winked, trying to be charming.

“H-hello.” She looked away, not sure how to feel about him.

“H-huh?” He blinked his eyes, not sure why she didn’t take his hand. He looked back to Tails, a playful smile on his face, “Looks like I’m not the only guest who doesn’t talk much.” He snickered to himself as Tails rolled his eyes, used to Sonic’s joking and smiling along with him.

“She’s a singer.” Tails pointed out, as Ember flinched with him so willingly giving such personal information out like that.

Maybe she should have been more careful…

“Really?” Sonic cocked an eyebrow up, getting an idea… “My folks are musical. Hey, that’s it!” he snapped his fingers, “We can play in a band again! That’s how I’ll avoid conversation!”

“You’re really funny, you know that, Sonic?” Tails looked slightly amused at seeing Sonic struggle for ‘activities’ to do with his family, but figured Sonic just wasn’t very social about these things.

“So, when are they coming?”

“Soon. Hey, Ember… right?” Sonic scooted his foot closer to her, making her nervous before he bent his head down to match her lowered gaze.

This also startled her, and she regrettably felt a reflex to stab at his stomach.

“You wouldn’t mind singing with us, would you? I mean, if you don’t mind.” He rubbed the back of his head.

She didn’t even have time to speak and say ‘NO!’ before another Pink Hedgehog raced in.

“SONIC!!!”

“Ah! Gotta run! See you in a couple of weeks!” Sonic quickly dashed out the back window and took off lickety-split.

“Huh? See….” She stopped herself, taken aback before shifting her eyes slowly to Ember. “YOU!?” she pointed dramatically to Ember, “Who are you!? And what are you to my Sonic!?”

Her Sonic?

Ember lowered her eyelids in annoyance.

They seem made for each other… what, with all their assumptions and what not.

“Amy, wait! This is Shadow’s sister-“

“Shadow has a sister?” Amy withdrew her finger, which Ember was strangely tempted to chomp at, but withheld herself as Amy did take it away…

“Well… this is kinda recent news. It happened a while back…” Tails also seemed to pull back and withdraw into himself, blinking a little more and sweating harder.

What was this girl’s deal?

Amy placed her hands on her hips, and turned to give a scrutinizing eye up and down Ember’s body.

“Hmm… Well, then. Let’s make one thing very clear then.” She straightened herself up and gave a pleasing smile, offering her hand. “I’m Amy Rose! Official Girlfriend of Sonic The Hedgehog.” She closed her eyes and said this proudly, as if she had worked all her life for that title.

“…Self-proclaimed.” Tails coughed into his hand, “Sorry, cold.” He made an excuse when she glared over her shoulder to him, but then snickered silently and pointed to his throat for only Ember to see, then pretended to strangle himself, as if stating Amy was a bit much for him.

Ember pfft’d, but tried to hold it in.

“What? You think it’s funny?” Amy furrowed her eyebrows, pouting a minute as Ember put her tongue to the side of her cheek.

“Nnnnothing.” She responded, and then smirked slyly back to her. “I just think it’s funny your boyfriend left on such short-notice.”

She blushed in embarrassment, as Tails covered his mouth in shock before slapping his knee and holding in his snickering.

“Shut up, Tails!” Amy turned around, growing upset.

“Hey! Don’t bark at me!” Tails held up his hands defensively. “You saw where he went…”

“Hmph!” Amy started for the door. “I saw him coming here, I just wanted to say hi!”

“Some ‘hi’.” Tails looked sarcastically to Ember, who continued to hold in her laughter.

“OOOOooooOOOhhhhHHH.” Amy whined out, her signature cry, before racing off. “I’ll be back!!!”

“That’s her way of saying, ‘nice to meet you’.” Tails informed, “She was just riled up from seeing Sonic. He did leave pretty fast, and in an extreme fashion…” Tails looked awkwardly back to his window. He sighed, “You’ll have to excuse them. This is kinda a normal occurrence with those two.” He twisted to turn back and look to her before gesturing an arm out in apology.

“Is she always this… um…” Ember didn’t know how to put it, sucking her lower lip in, and trying to think of a ‘polite’ way to say it.

“Proud?”

“No.”

“Direct?”

“Nu-huh.”

“Entitled?” Tails kept going, as if none of these words were new to him.

Ember laughed.

“Hey! I finally got you to laugh!” Tails looked thrilled, but his enthusiasm bothered Ember and she quickly quieted down again.

“I was just gonna say much… Ehem.” She continued, “I guess ‘dramatic’ would be a good way to put it.”

Tails noticed her shift, and pulled back, bending his ears to try and give her some space. “R-right. That is a good word.” He smiled again and gestured to the couch. “Uhh… I know it’s not usually right but… Amy kinda left before I could ask you to bunk with her. I’ll make a call, and until then, you can room on the couch for now if you like.” He tried to be hospitable, and Ember appreciated it.

“Sure.” She nodded, and went to take a small nap.

—

Not too long after that, Ember was working on lyrics, not sure how to do music quite yet until Amy came in with breakfast.

“So, you said Shadow wanted you to learn the importance of something found here on earth?” She dusted off her hands on her apron, as Ember began to touch and test the food, seeing it didn’t look disgusting, and began to eat it. “Did he mention why? Or what?”

“Dreams.” She responded, not caring about being secretive anymore. Besides, Shadow would pick her up eventually. She was assured by his parting words.

If he was just abandoning her, he wouldn’t have given her a set amount of time.

She slurped up her eggs and began devouring her ham sandwich, then started to sip at the milk.

“Wow, you sure eat a lot.” Amy giggled, “That’s good! I once heard something from a show or… was it an article? Men like women with a big appetite!”

“I don’t think I care much about those things.” She took the napkin and happily began to shred it, liking the noise and fiddling with something her claws could do, as Amy looked a bit horrified by the image.

She looked straight at Amy.

Amy looked straight at her, then the napkin.

Lifting another napkin up, Ember never broke her creepy smile or eye contact as she raised her nail to the paper napkin… and gently stripped it down to cut the napkin in two.

She placed it by her side and then entangled her fingers together, politely leaning over her empty plate.

“That was delicious!”

“Emm…hmm…” Amy shivered in fright, before quickly pointing to the plate.

“Yes, I’d love some more.”

Amy took the plate and quickly stopped talking to her, giving Ember a rather quiet day, which was kinda what she wanted.

Lifting her feet up on the table, Ember flipped through channels, leaving scratch and jabbed marks on the buttons and device, but finding something she enjoyed and watched as people sang on t.v.

Amy was doing dishes, before hearing the channels finally rest on something and sticking her head out.

“…You like music?”

Turning a little defensive, Ember decided she had scared Amy enough today with intimidation and just remained silent. She lifted a leg over the other and kept them off the ground still.

She tried to relax, but Amy made her nervous for some reason… maybe it was because she was so… so… open about her life? Herself? Maybe she slightly envied that in her.

“…Well.” Amy walked over the T.V, turning it off and looking sternly to Ember.

This new direction made her lower her feet from the table.

“Oh, thank you.” Amy saw the unpredictable movement of her taking her feet off her lovely table and was a little surprised by it, but continued as she folded her arms. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you! The least you can do is let me help you out!”

“…Huh?” Ember was under the impression she had been helping her this whole time…

“My dream. Let me tell you about my dream.”

“I’d… rather not.” Ember sunk into the couch, before Amy came over and excitedly sat next to her.

Was that intimidation not enough?

Ember was hoping to wait out the time and just get back with Shadow, pretending to have learned something and spout out general things just to continue traveling with him.

But no…

No, there was Sonic and his friends…

They seemed determined to get her to open and liven up around them.

She sighed as Amy continued, “I want more than anything to marry Sonic The Hedgehog!”

Ember thought that odd, and put a hand to her cheek, leaning on the couch.

“Okay.”

“But that means more than just being with Sonic.”

“…?”

“My dream can only be realized if Sonic understands how much we both need each other.”

Amy looked up above the fire place at many photos of her friends and her with Sonic.

“Sonic wants a carefree life, and I want more than anything to be with him. In order for both of us to have what we dream of, we need to find ways that we both can be happy living and being the way we are.”

She closed her eyes and smiled, as Ember wasn’t sure if she understood that… but seeing Amy’s sudden passion and drive…

It slightly… moved her.

“One day, you’ll meet someone that you want to share your dreams with, too.” Amy opened her eyes and rose her head to once again give Ember an incredibly unselfish smile, full of grace and unconditional love. “I hope you’ll find ways to be happy too. Living both your lives the way you wish too. The way you dream it to be.”

“The way I… dream it… to be.” Ember looked down and daydreamed about her and Shadow, living peacefully as a family, and taking care of one another.

A sudden understanding rose in her like a wave upon the shore, and she nodded with a new found energy inside of her. “I think I get it!” she picked up her notepad that Tails had given her and wrote some lyrics down.

“Hmm?” Amy peeked over to see her notes.

Twisting and falling in a sea of oceans, I find my memories~ Threaded and woven into shreds that bleed my anxiety~ I long for your dream. Whatever it is, I’ll seize it through any means~ I want a dream~ I want you!~

Amy’s eyebrow twitched, thinking the lyrics a little punk rock or dark.

—

Back with Tails, it was getting close to the time that Sonic’s friends would show up.

Ember watched the clock, still unsure if Sonic still thought she’d sing in his family’s band.

She looked over at Tails, deciding the time would go faster if she spoke with him.

He was cleaning some dishes at the open kitchen and cleared her throat, getting his attention as he looked up.

“Hmm? Did you need something?”

She placed the book she was pretending to read down and tried her best to not look scary, “…What’s your dream?”

He froze up a moment, startled she supposed, before dropping a plate into the sink and quivering in nerves.

“W-w-wha-what brought that out… all of a sudden..?”

“May I know?”

She tried to look innocently inquiring, but she wasn’t sure why she felt she needed too. Were dreams meant to be secretive?

“…My dream? Hmm..” Tails thought about it. He looked up and absentmindedly began to speak out loud, rubbing a plate he had picked up from the dirty, soapy dishes below in his sink. “I guess… to be of use to my friends and Sonic! I used to be bullied a lot as a kid… so…” he nodded and smiled kindly over to her. “Definitely to be an asset to the team!”

“…To not be lonely again?”

“Ah!”

He dropped another plate, having it splatter into the water and wet his face. Luckily, it didn’t break, but he rubbed the water off his fur and looked a little nervous to reply to her.

“I… Um… p-perhaps? Haha…”

Maybe that was too direct or personal.

“Hmm…” she took out her notepad and began to write.

“Oh! My notepad!” Excitedly, Tails flew up a little and looked over her head from in front of her. “I’m glad you found it useful! … huh?”

Am I just a burden, to your living nightmares? Tell me where I need to go? Tell me where I need to be? There’s only one hope left for me. I must survive~ I must thrive~ To keep your sacred dreams alive. Tell me what’s your dream? Whatever it is, I’ll seize it through any means~ I want a dream~ I want you!~ And I want to be of use~ To you~

Tails shook a little in the air, clearly spooked a little but happy she was writing something. “S..Song.. lyrics?”

“Hmm.” She nodded, sucking her lips in.

Do or die, you will survive. I’ll never give up, even through countless lies. These dreams we carry, it’s much to heavy, but I’ll push you through, till the battle’s, murders, are done and over!

“This sounds good.” She smiled, seeming to really connect to it all, but Tails slowly shied away, unable to handle words like ‘murder’ and ‘die’.

—

Finally, the hour came and Sonic joked and laughed, seeming at ease with talking although Ember silently knew the truth of his comfortability with seeing them all again.

She kept mostly away from them, until food was served, and helped Tails and Amy pass out food.

She was looking for one last plate to hand out, not sure where the guest was, considering Sonic said he had a brother who was hiding out somewhere in the other rooms.

The garage was fashioned into a ‘concert’ of sorts, and she decided it was best to check there.

Opening the door, she heard the tapping of some metal and closed the door behind her, seeing a green hedgehog making a rhythm on the constructed band set.

He was playing drums, or rather, was in front of the drums and tapping a stick to the most annoying part of it; the cymbal.

Her ears hooked back at each ‘ting’ or ‘clank’ it made before clearing her throat and handing him the plate.

“Here.”

“Oh? My bad, miss.” He certainly looked like someone was a past era, the way he dressed and held himself.

He took the plate but flinched back.

“Y’ouch! Plate scratched me, man!” he looked at his hands, a cut had noticeably formed and was bleeding as Ember put the plate down and quickly looked at her claw.

She had accidentally scratched him while trying to hand him the plate!

“I’m sorry.” She held her finger, not sure what to do but quickly turned to get help.

“Woah! Hold your horses, cowgirl.” He pulled her back, and the sudden touch of someone’s hand on her arm unwillingly froze in her in mid-step.

No one had touched her for a long time… she was living on her own, after all… all those years…

Even this time with the Sonic gang… them laughing and smiling with her… They never really approached or touched her either.

She wanted to yank her arm back, but something about the way he held her arm left her completely in the blank, and she just stared at his hand, listening…

“It’s only a scratch. Those are some rad, long nails you got there! Freaky~” he snickered, only trying to compliment.

She grew self-conscious and looked away. “Sorry.”

“Nah, dudette. You’re alright. Battle scars are cool.” He licked his finger and then pulled out something to wrap it in. “It’s not very deep. Man, you must sharpen them like blades! How long you’ve had them?”

“What?” she didn’t understand, and lifted one hand up to show him her claws. “I was… created with them.”

“No, no, man! Haha! I mean the length. Do you trim’em?”

She didn’t know why she laughed, but the two of them started bursting out laughing.

He put a hand to his forehead, “Haha! You must be Sonic’s friend. I’m Manic. Lil Sis in there is Sonia. Though she’s not really lil, we’re all triplets. Spooky, right?” he twiddled his fingers in front of himself, then snickered to himself again, putting his hands to his sides. “Man. You’re chill. What’s your name?”

“..Ember.”

“Epic band name. Sick.” He gave her the finger guns, and she thought that so weird but strangely cool when he did it.

“Do you play, my dudette?”

“Your?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, my bad… uh… Ems. Do you play?” he gestured to the instruments. “I prefer drums, here!” he raced to the seat as she thought over his strange, and quickly inspired nickname for her.

“Listen to this!” He lifted up his sticks, tapping them three times before playing a fast-paced drum beat.

It was… loud… but wonderfully rhythmatic.

She smiled as he finished it off and then tossed his stick, grabbing it backwards and handing her the front of it.

“Here you go.”

She only stared at it a moment.

“Don’t worry, just try it out for size! It’s amazing what one little tap of this baby can do.”

She carefully took the stick in two fingers, pulling it out delicately as to not scratch him again, and then started tapping the cymbal.

“Yeah… real nice beat.” He nodded.

“Hehe, thanks.” She couldn’t help but find him charming.

He leaned forward a bit, “I guess your instrument isn’t drums?”

“Nah.” She smiled, then tapped his nose with the stick, “Guess.”

He looked completely smitten by that action, and immediately started listed a ton of instruments. “You don’t look like a violin kind of girl… Guitar? Bass? Tell me it’s… Oh, not the triangle.” He covered his head as she shook hers, giggling and leaning over the drums.

After a moment, he was officially stumped, and she pointed to her throat.

“Woah, Ems, hang on… you’re…” he pointed to her. “…A yodeler?”

She laughed, “What!? No! I sing!”

He smiled, seeing she liked his little joke. “Right. I should have guessed! The instrument of the soul, man.” He tapped his forehead and then gestured out to her.

She thought that funny, “Soul?”

“Yo, Ems. Got any music for your soul-song?”

She looked down, almost saddened, “I barely have a dream to give it.”

“Woah, deep.” He placed a hand on his heart. “You know, dreams are meant to be played through and learned from. It sometimes takes a band to play your soul-music, Ember. Allow me.” He spun his one drumstick, and offered her his hand to take the other. “To demonstrate~” he winked to her, with as much charm as his brother usually showed off as well.

Creating a phenomenal beat, Ember tossed the notebook and sang the last part with all her might, grabbing the mic as Sonic and the others came down into the garage, picking an instrument up and picking up where they left off.

Tell me what it’s supposed to mean? The meaning of a soul? The loneliness frightens me, I need your dream to breathe! Ohh-ooohh-oh-oh! ohoh~ Gather family and friends, loves ones- come and see! I’ve found, at long last a dream. Now that I know what it is, I’ll seize it through any means~ I want this dream~ I want to be, with, you!~ Ohh-oooh-oh-oh! Ohoh~

“Girl got some lungs!” Manic praised, as Sonia nodded in agreement.

“She would be fantastic as a career girl!” Sonia clapped for her as Amy drooled over Sonic, who tried to ignore her and turn his attentions to Ember.

“Want to go again?” he offered her his hand.

With a new resolve, Ember nodded confidentially, and took his hand.

I want to make more dreams with you!

[anautisticdragon-blog]

Empath vs. Sociopath; Laci Green & the Alt-Right

I think this is what a lot of ideologies and groups come down to, isn't it? At least, at the end of the day. The way I see it is that if a person is able to see every other human as a human being without dehumanising them, then they're not going to jubilantly revel in hierarchical superiority or eroding the rights of others, are they? That's just the way I see it. As an empath, I consider myself an ally of every mind that's ever suffered, that's just the way I am. So no matter who you are, if you're a person who's suffered, then I'd hope to be someone you can trust and call friend. It's pretty obvious by now what I've had to endure, I think, right? I'm a big softie, I care about people, I don't want anyone to endure what I have, nor do I want them to experience the sheer lack of concern I had to endure following the most horrific events of my life. I think, as an empath, there are a lot of invisible prejudices that we overlook, too. Redheads can have it pretty rough, with their characters always being replaced with what the mainstream would find 'more attractive.' DC has been especially egregious with this, replacing famous redheads Wally West and Jimmy Olsen. I was happy to see more ethnicity representation, I always am, but why not replace blond men instead? Why couldn't we have had a black Barry Allen in the New 52? I personally feel that would've been more empowering, instead it just feels like a political play to quietly remove redheads from their media. Disappointing. Another invisible prejudice are those who identify differently. I will say that this might be because of trauma and life experiences. I spent most of my youth raised by dogs (I wish I was joking about this). Not in the literal sense, of course, as I know people will go there. No, I was just left alone a lot and the only company I had were dogs. I imprinted on them. I don't exactly identify as human, now, thanks to those experiences. I can't really do anything about that, nor do I want to, as it's now as important a part of my identity as anything else. Should I be ridiculed for that? Those on the alt-right end of the spectrum would definitely say yes, i should. I feel they'd then go as far as to suggest either ECT or ICT as a 'cure.' Why do I say this? I've had those interactions. Of course I have. It's not really difficult, is it? All you have to do is ask the people at Debate Alt-Right their opinions on this topic and you'll see what I mean. Such ugliness. And that's what this comes down to. The extreme left to the alt-right is simply a spectrum, right? It starts with high empathy at the extreme-left, these individuals have an almost superhuman level of empathy and concern. As we progress to the right, we see a continual drop in empathy, as empathy is not a constant. I've mentioned before that the "Us vs. Them!" dogma of the in-group vs. the out-group allows a person to turn off their empathy for the out-group, dehumanising them. Don't deny this, you'd be a Holocaust denier. There's plenty of evidence to emphatically support this position. As someone who's studied humanity, I'd say that every atrocity in human history has been a sociopath-lead affair that's preyed on the exceedingly human ability to turn off one's empathy for the out-group. If you look at our history, at every atrocity, you'll see this pattern repeated time and time again. Those who have this very group-focused, ideology-obsessed mindset tend to be the easiest to manipulate into disabling their empathy. All the manipulator has to do is promise better benefits to the in-group in order to get them on board with just about any kind of awful, horrific thing. Sure, some people might resist this, and that resistance would push them more toward a left-leaning mindset as they become more and more self aware. Others will dutifully accept their brainwashing and eagerly gravitate more toward the right. As one progresses right and they're coaxed into considering their own benefits, privilege, and power over others (and the potential loss of these things), we'll see an almost mutual level of decrease in self awareness. I think that this is what's happening with Laci Green at the moment, she's being coaxed, brainwashed into considering her own charmed lifestyle and how she might lose it by fighting the monsters of the alt-right. Their efforts to brainwash her using this fear have lowered her overall level of self awareness. It's a fairly common sociopathic tactic, the only way to combat it is to bolster one's own self awareness and keep remind oneself that every human being is, in fact, a human being. Even if that human being isn't of our own group. Let's look at an obvious example of this. I have a huge amount of respect for Stephen Fry, he's a beautiful man who's suffered more than one should have to. He's clever, but he's not always the most self aware person. At one point, he made a very trans insensitive joke. Instead of apologising, he was coaxed into doubling down by the right, this allowed the brainwashing to seep in, which reduced his self awareness further. You don't need to take my word for this. In fact, I invite you to research it for yourself. This isn't a conspiracy theory. It's plain to see based upon how he reacted afterwards, who he was talking to, and what was being said. The sad part is is that this kind of behaviour can be found everywhere, the insidious sociopathic influence is why tactics like false flag operations exist in the first place. And it's the box of tricks used by alt-right 'Tubers (potato!) to 'convince' people they're right. I really want you to see this for what it is... I know you might want to rail against this -- because you feel like you might've been played or manipulated, and the human mind absolutely hates that -- but I'm asking you to at least just consider the possibility. Set aside the cognitive dissonance and introspectively interrogate yourself to see if your findings align with any of this. Another example is David Gaider. I wouldn't call him a transphobe but merely another gay person who's trans insensitive. He's made some rather tasteless, tacit, and tactless jokes about trans people along the way. How did he react when called on it? At first, he was unsure, though it evolved into him doubling down. Why? What reason could he have for not apologising and showing empathy? The human mind doesn't like to admit it was wrong. It allows more alt-right ideologies to seep into the mind of someone who might otherwise lean toward a more moderate -- even left -- perspective. If someone is looking for evidence that their jokes weren't insensitive, groups like the alt-right are more than happy to provide, convincing the insensitive person that they were entirely justified in their ire, that trans people are simply trying to erode their rights and identity as a gay person. This is what the extreme right works, this is their box of tricks. On a similar note? I've seen the alt-right influence in trans groups, too. They twist them to attack otherkin and those with unusual identities and identity politics, using the poisonous, Machiavellian rhetoric that if trans people don't lash out against these people, if they don't go on the attack, they'll be lumped in with them and the power that trans people have fought to secure will be reduced and diluted. This is how they drive us apart, this is the leverage they have. It's very powerful. Are you a gay person? Do you have strangely negative perceptions and feelings of and about the trans community? Do you feel they're eroding your identity and rights as a gay person? Well, you've been manipulated. I believe the common term for this is 'cucked,' right? That. You've been cucked by the alt-right. Are you a trans person? Do you have strangely negative perceptions and feelings of and about the otherkin community? Do you feel they're eroding your identity and rights as a trans person? Well, you've been manipulated too. Cucked by the alt-right, a pawn used to further their ends. I'm sorry. If I don't bring light to this, it won't ever be seen. Here's a fun question: Why haven't the alt-right achieved political domination? It seems like they should if they're this good at manipulating, right? The answer to that one is simpler than you might think. If you keep in mind that empathy is a spectrum, the empathy of certain individuals is so pronounced that it cannot be subverted into something twisted, it's almost impossible to brainwash such a person to hate the out-group. They have an innate inclination to see every human being as a human being, so manipulative politics designed to have them think in an "Us vs. Them!" way will be rejected. It's just the way their mind works. You can see this in autistic people where their empathy is dialled up to 11, they have so much care and concern for others that it can be quite the overload and difficult to deal with. The upside of this is that they'll see right through attempts to manipulate them, as they aren't so inclined toward group thinking. A person with extreme empathy will always extend 'human' out to everyone, even those they disagree with. As a funny example? The alt-right wishes to 'cure' autism as it makes them less, they're 'inhuman' people. Funny, that. Whereas those with extreme empathy will rail against this idea as the 'cures' for autism sound just as destructive as the 'cures' the extreme right have suggested for gay people over the years. It's just that the target has shifted from gay people to autistic people. "Oh, we can't cure the gays," the extreme right grumbles, "then we'll cure the retards." A part of this manipulation tactic is to make autistic people feel as uncomfortable with themselves as possible, which is an entertainingly obvious tactic. They'll employ turns of phrase like 'autistically screeching,' and liberally use words like 'retard' to try to erode the identity of autistic people. Thing is? They've met their match so it's not working nearly as well as they'd like, or even at all. This makes them extremely angry, when they're angry, they slip up. This is what the alt-right does. They undermine your identity to try and bring you over to their side. This is how they got Laci Green. They continually worked to undermine her identity, which was a very effective brainwashing technique. Eventually she broke, as people do, and began aligning with them out of her own cognitive dissonance. It's an incredibly powerful tool that they use quite often, awareness of this will serve to de-fang it. I think it's the job of every empath to raise awareness to the manipulative techniques used by alt-right sociopaths. If ever you see a person or group trying to undermine your identity, you need to interrogate yourself to find out why. And whether responding to this will actually result in a stronger or weaker position for yourself. After all, did obeying the alt-right work out so well for Fry or Gaider? I don't think it did. It hurt them, badly. If they'd just apologised, it would have strengthened their identity, it would have cemented the plight of gay people and earned them more allies amongst the trans community. It's an old tactic: Divide and conquer, by driving us apart, the alt-right wins. If they can segregate us into groups who're so focused on in-fighting that we've forgotten that all of these people are still human beings? That's how these sociopaths win. And the thing is? A lot of people on the right and alt-right are human beings, too. The unfortunate part is that they've been brainwashed, their own cognitive dissonance has been used against them to manipulate them. Their fear of being powerless, of losing their privilege, of their identity being eroded, or even just something as simple as not wanting to own up to their mistakes. This is the foundation of the alt-right ideology. "You are superior, so your wrongness doesn't matter. Enjoy privilege!" It bloody works, too. Have some awareness, then. I'd like to reach out to ask gay people to not allow themselves to be manipulated into hating trans people. If you happen to say anything that's a little insensitive, just own it and apologise, you'll be stronger for having done so. I'd lke to reach out to ask trans people the same, don't be manipulated into hating otherkin. Okay? Same to every group. We are all human beings. Let's remember to care about one another as though we're human beings, yeah? And we could even stand to care about the alt-right a little more, because most of them are just as innocent as you or I. They've been played by masterful manipulators who know exactly how to get what they want from people. I'd like to see a new movement, where instead of attacking we raise awareness of these tactics, these manipulations, and strengthen our bonds. If you're a person who's suffered, who's experienced prejudice, I stand with you. What's that, you're white? Why's that matter? You might be gay, disabled, or even a redhead. You've experienced the same shit any of us have. Oh, you're straight? Well, you may have experienced racial hatred, you may be disabled, et cetera. See what I'm getting at, here? It's the prejudice that matters, that unites us. We're united against the bigotry of a small number of very talented sociopaths I believe the alt-right movement would just fall apart if we de-fanged them by making people aware of their manipulation tactics. Have you been played? Okay, so has everyone at some point in their life. You have a choice, now: You can either double down and continue to be a witless patsy, or you can own it and become a stronger person who's less vulnerable to these rancid forms of manipulation. At the end of the day, there's only one, true choice that matters. Why does this matter? Because it's an abstraction, we're talking about ideals here rather than any particular individuals or groups. We must choose between the iconic systems of empathy and sociopathy. The former wishes for true equality, for everyone, even at the expense of their own privilege; The latter desires ever greater privilege and benefit at the expense of all others. Which describes your thinking? You shouldn’t treat this as an absolute, either. As I said, it's a spectrum. You don't need to be this perfect being, you can make mistakes, I do. I feel I'm an extremely flawed individual, I still have a ways to go. Still, you need to think about what drives your motivations, as I do. It's like the political spectrum, yeah? From far left to far right, but it's more poignant and meaningful, I think. Which do you find you lean more towards? Perhaps you sit right in the middle and you don't care either way? I just believe it's important to think about.

There’s no reasoning with sociopathy, after all. All you can do is try to spare people from its cancerous influence. As an empath, I say it’s important to have a conscience, I say that caring is more relevant today than ever before! What do you say? Why? Ask yourself. Care and be cared for? Use and be used? Just different modes of human function, but you know which I prefer. That’s starkly obvious by now. It's your choice to make. Just be aware that you actually have that choice.