#hell. even the UNITY EMPLOYEES are protesting this

[dailynarilamb]

I think I should stop responding to what’s basically a reactionary post urging people to genuinely believe COTL is being deleted. The more I respond, the more the person who @ed me gets what they want in spreading it for “awareness.”

Anyways, fuck Unity for what they’re doing and fuck capitalism. The CEO behind this bullshit is from EA and if that doesn’t explain everything, then…. The fuck am I even alive for.

[antoine-roquentin]

In 1807, Heinrich von Kleist published a short story called The Earthquake in Chile. Its heroes are a man sitting in prison and a woman in a convent, each confined for the crime of conceiving their child out of wedlock. All of a sudden, an earthquake hits, the buildings that house them collapse, and the couple rediscover each other in the wreckage. Seeking shelter in the woods, they meet people who know of their sin but welcome rather than judge them. In the flush of the emergency, all is transformed: “Instead of the usual trivial tea-table gossip about the ways of the world, everyone was now telling stories of extraordinary heroic deeds.” Exhilarated, the couple follows the masses to the only remaining cathedral, where to their horror, the preacher rages against their transgressions. At the climax of the sermon, the crowd identifies the pair and clubs them to death. The inverted world is gone as soon as it came.

As the Covid-19 contagion passed through China, Western Europe, and the United States, we had our own version of the earthquake. Lockdowns have merged with uncertainty about economic growth to crater oil prices and spike unemployment rates to heights with no historical comparison.

As has become routine during such shocks—from the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis to the Global Financial Crisis in 2008 to the victories of Trump and Brexit in 2016—the rumor ricocheted through the op-eds and articles, think pieces, and tweets, that neoliberalism was dead.

How could anyone claim that markets were the solution to all social problems when it was the countries with strong states and safety nets—Germany, South Korea, Taiwan—where the virus was under control and those with a libertarian streak—the US and the UK—where leaders hesitated to intervene and let different parts of the country outbid each other for life-saving ventilators, test kits, and face masks? Daily applause for frontline health care workers must mean new value for the agents of social reproduction. Generous tips for delivery drivers and gestures of solidarity with Amazon warehouse workers must mean a clear-eyed look at the underpaid labor that makes modern life so frictionless. Visions of blue sky over Delhi and Beijing, air pollution indices registering green in the center of Los Angeles, companies paying people to take barrels of oil they no longer wanted… Surely, after the pandemic we would recognize we had been living in a cursed world and this is the correct one. Humanity had an unearned chance for redemption.

But if we were the couple in the story taking refuge in the woods, we are all now streaming into the cathedral for the fateful service. In the past weeks, a $2 trillion rescue package breezed through US Congress that will overwhelmingly benefit large corporations and the super rich, not ordinary workers. Speculation of a bailout for the US oil sector will surely keep high-carbon capitalism churning onward, especially as the Environmental Protection Agency has lifted regulations for the duration of the crisis. In Canada, the premier of Alberta pledged $7 billion for its own cherished pipeline project. The value of nurses and other health care workers has been recognized in the United States, but only in the sense that they are one of the few exceptions in a presidential executive order that otherwise provisionally banned all immigration to the country.

America has found its own sin-drenched couple to turn on. This week a strategy memo urged Republican candidates to “Attack China.” More than half of Americans surveyed want reparations from China for the virus; the United States has defunded the World Health Organization in protest against its supposed subordination to the country; and the state of Missouri has sued the People’s Republic of China (and a string of associated institutions) in a domestic court. A Fox News commentator beloved by the president shouted that politicians must “start working on how you’re going to punish, ostracize, alienate, and financially sanction and make China accountable for what they did to us and the rest of the world.” A fragile unity will be restored—as it so often is—by targeting the outsider, the alien, the nonwhite person.

Without intervention, the community after the earthquake reconstitutes the one that preceded it. The interregnum extends only if there are social formations to carry it. And right now, the streets are empty, with would-be marchers self-distancing and juggling children and babies.

The leading mainstream political opponent to Trump is an elderly man in a Delaware basement with a habit of vanishing from the public eye for long stretches of time. Joe Biden was the safety candidate against an insurgent Bernie Sanders. He now sits in a bunker with no movement behind him.

We have seen a world where capitalism stops. But it will start again. When America “reopens,” it will be much like the old America. Big companies will be bigger, ever more beholden to the leader for having saved them. Arguments for austerity will return in the wake of the unprecedented spending.

The “thought leaders” in Trump’s recently announced Great American Economic Revival Industry Groups are all from the “free market” think tanks that have advised the GOP since the days of Ronald Reagan—Heritage Foundation, Cato Institute, Hoover Institution, American Legislative Exchange Council—they’re the priests arriving to give their sermon. The church of neoliberalism will be rebuilt and the flash of paradise in the emergency snuffed out.

For the real story, look up. Above the steeple, the vultures are circling. The Wall Street Journal predicts a wave of defaults, bankruptcies, and restructurings. Imperiled companies will see their devalued stock scooped by so-called distressed debt specialists, more commonly known as vulture investors, who make use of the generosities of US Chapter 11 law to strip employees of benefits or offload them to the state before flipping their acquisitions at a profit.

A pioneer in vulture investing and now the commerce secretary, Wilbur Ross praised bankruptcy in 2003 as “the corporate form of Darwinism.” Howard Marks, director of investment fund Oaktree Capital Management, was even more graphic in a recent letter to shareholders quoted in The Wall Street Journal. “Capitalism without bankruptcy is like Catholicism without hell,” he wrote, suggesting that federal bailouts shouldn’t shield market actors from “a healthy fear of loss.” He failed to add that people like himself have learned how to monetize the flames. His own Oaktree Capital Fund is reportedly raising “$15 billion for what would be the biggest-ever distressed-debt fund.”

The next year will be a litany of the “workouts and turnarounds” that bankruptcy specialists are known for, ruthlessly wringing the value out of companies, while ignoring the human or social costs. Distressed debt funds are the loan sharks of the business world, and will feel no compunction about pursuing the bottom line. We have seen a preview of such dispassionate calculation in the last month, as stock values soared alongside record unemployment numbers and mounting deaths. The combination seemed shocking to some people, even scandalous. “The stock market doesn’t care about your feelings,” was the response of a Los Angeles Times business reporter, “nor should it.”

[soulmate-game]

Crack One shot

Soulmates were real, but there was no universal type of bond. The only agreed upon fact was that everyone only had one soulmate, and that was whatever that person needed most in life. If what they needed most was a romantic partner, their soulmate would be romantic. If they needed family or a lifelong friend more, then that would be the bond they would have. It could show up in any way, some more common than others but many unique to that pair or trio of soul bonded individuals.

Marinette had arrived in Gotham last week. She had won the Wayne Enterprises International Scholastic Competition for her and her class, the reward for which included a month long trip to Gotham. Three of those weeks would be spent in Gotham Academy during the week, with the weekends spent in personalized internships with Wayne Enterprises employees.

Except Marinette, who as the winner of the competition, got her internship with Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake themselves.

And after finding out that Robin was her romantic soulmate on her first night in Gotham? She was really hoping this internship would go smoothly without any life altering discoveries.

Someone needed to flick Tikki for not giving her enough good luck though, because that did not happen.

Marinette thought stumbling through her and Robin’s game-styled Bond would be more than enough confusion and complication for at least the rest of the year for her. But no. No, of course not. Because when she met Bruce Wayne at his manor for their first official day of internship on Saturday, nine days after arriving in Gotham City, she shook the billionaire’s hand for the first time.

And when their hands connected, the only thing in either of their favor is the fact that Alix had turned down the invitation to come with Marinette and therefore the only other people in the mansion were Bruce’s family (including Alfred, of course). Because as soon as their hands touched, bright silver light shone for a moment before what was basically a holographic screen popped up. On it in bold black font were the words:

— SOULBOND INITIATED STATUS: Familial FAMILIARITY LEVEL: Introductory BONDED INDIVIDUALS: Bruce Wayne (AKA:REDACTED) and Marinette Dupain-Cheng (AKA: REDACTED) INITIATE SOULBOND GUIDE? (Y / N) —

“B-But I already met my soulmate on Thursday!” Marinette objected, eyes wide as she pulled her hand away like it burned. “This can’t— this is a prank, right? New WayneTech or something?”

Unfortunately, Bruce stares at his own hand in similar shock.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I also already met my soulmate,” he informed gravely, poking his palm with the index finger of his opposite hand. “But look. I did not get a physical mark from my romantic soulmate, but…”

Marinette knew. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but she knew. Everybody with a physical soulmark said that you knew when it was real, when it wasn’t paint or a tattoo or anything else, because it felt real. In some intrinsic, magical, mysterious way, everyone intuitively knew if a physical mark was or wasn’t genuine.

And the little, silver bat signal on the center of Marinette’s palm was definitely genuine. Her eyes went wide at the sight of it, and the information on the holographic soulbond-board changed.

BONDED INDIVIDUALS: Bruce Wayne (AKA: Batman)

Bruce showed Marinette the small silver ladybug symbol on the exact same spot on his own palm.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng (AKA: Ladybug)

“What the fuck?” That was Dick, who was the first to get over his shocked silence. But not very well. “What. The. Fuck? If Bruce had a familial soulmate, I would have thought it would be me. You know, first adopted son and everything,” he waved at himself, but his tone wasn’t jealous. It was just confused. “Or any of this other adopted children,” Richard gestured to the line of them next to him. “Why get a familial soulmate now? And why have two soulmates?”

The last line on the hologram began to flash insistently.

ACTIVATE SOULBOND GUIDE? (Y / N)

“I, uh, think we should click yes, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette suggested, lifting her hand to do just that before pausing and glancing at her new (what? Father figure? Uncle figure? Oh my god if Bruce was Batman, did that mean Damian was Robin? The builds and estimated measurements matched up. Did that mean Bruce—) “Mon dieu, you’re supposed to be my father in law figure,” Marinette realized aloud, her face suddenly paper white at the realization.

“... I agree, let’s see what this ‘Soulbond guide’ is, exactly,” her familial soulmate decided to say, ignoring her realization entirely. He pressed the ‘Y’ with one finger before Marinette or his other children could protest. The silver screen changed, the text melting away in favor of showcasing a horizontal line. Until that line spoke, and moved to show the wavelengths of its voice as it did so. Like a digital mouth. Occasionally text would pop up to complement or supplement the spoken words.

“Hello. I am your SOULBOND guide, A.I.D.E, or Autonomous Introspective Destiny Escort. I am a pocket personality created by the Universe and Fate Itself as your guide and informant regarding your soul bond, and nothing but your soul bond. My knowledge may extend to some aspects of your personality, memories, background, and motives behind actions, but otherwise does not delve far beyond the specificities of your Bond. Even my knowledge of your timeline and social structure in your reality are limited. That being said, do you have any questions regarding your Bond?”

“Oh my god, it even reflects Bruce’s emotion issues,” Jason breathed, thoroughly intrigued and entertained.

“But what does that say about Marinette?” Tim shot back. “She isn’t emotionally stunted like both of her soulmates.”

Yeah, everyone agreed at that point that trying to hide their identities from the French girl was a moot point.

“No,” Marinette agreed slowly, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t even want to ask what you mean by emotionally stunted, because if Robin is any indication…” she winced, and several people in the room chuckled. Jason outright cackled. “But after dealing with HawkMoth for so long and not being able to let out any of my negative emotions, I developed a kind of mental system I guess. I just kinda… click and delete my anger or betrayal as often as it takes, if that makes sense.”

“That is not healthy, and we will talk about that later,” Damian said instantly, not looking pleased. Marinette just shrugged and grinned at him sheepishly.

As usual, Bruce was the first to actually begin to interrog— ahem— ask questions.

“Why do we have two soul bonds?” He asked, getting right to the point.

“In your case, it is due to your alter ego BATMAN. BATMAN has been a separate part of yourself, or at the very least you have seen him as separate from yourself as Bruce Wayne, for more than eighteen years. This grants BATMAN his own soulmate, as if he were his own entity. People such as Superman do not have this attribute, as they are fully cognizant of the unity of their two identities. BATMAN’s soulmate is Marinette, a familial soulmate. In her case, Marinette is in possession of the Ladybug Miraculous, which holds the power of Creation. This, along with the fact that Marinette is what is classified as a TRUE LADYBUG and/or a CREATION SOUL, gives rise to the possibility of a second soulmate being created for her as the need arises. This was compounded by the fact that she, like you, also sees LADYBUG as being a separate person from her own identity as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Since she has held both a true CREATION SOUL and maintained this mindframe of being two separate people for several years, LADYBUG was granted a soulmate of her own, which is you. Does that suitably answer your question?”

“The first of many,” Bruce admitted grimly, turning to Marinette. “Do you want to ask anything else, or get on with the internship?”

“Just one question today,” she answered immediately, her mind buzzing. “What does the soul bond allow us to do, and how do we activate it?”

“You can activate the Soul Screen and myself by tapping your soulmark with that intention in mind. Your abilities are as follows; Mental Communication link— a two-way telepathy activated on command only when the Bond Mark is activated. Surveillance— the ability to see through your Soulmate’s eyes through the Soul Screen in emergency situations only. Bond Text— The ability to send written messages to your Soulmate by holding onto your soul mark, imagining the contents of the text, and sending it. Nobody except your soulmate will be able to see said message, and it will appear on the palm that hosts that individual’s Soul Mark. SOS— If one member of the soul bond is in life threatening danger, the other member’s bond mark will glow and a meter showcasing the endangered member’s life force will appear next to the mark. Upon the life force extinguishing, this Bond will permanently dissolve. Resurrection, time travel, and magical Cures will not revive this Bond.”

“In other words, the Universe is calling both of you out for being reckless and is only giving you once Chance here,” Barbara surmised ruthlessly. “Good luck. Alfred, what’s for lunch?”

As everyone filed out of the room with the dissolution of the Soulbond’s novelty, Damian, Bruce, and Marinette were left standing in awkward silence. Silently, Marinette shut off the Soul Screen and A.I.D.E with it.

“... we won’t be able to keep secrets anymore,” Marinette said, seemingly just thinking out loud. “Once we activate the Soul Screen, AIDE will totally rat out any we try to keep.”

“She was my soulmate first, Father, so I’m stealing her now,” Damian said by way of warning Bruce before he picked Marinette up and carried her away. The billionaire playboy philanthropist just stared after them, wondering what the hell he did to taunt the Universe into making him the butt of all of its jokes.

He tapped his ear twice, a different bond awakening. “Selina? Please tell me you’re in town. I think I’ll crack out some of the good alcohol tonight.”

“Celebrating something?” The familiar voice purred in his ear.

“Coping.”

—*—*—*—*—* This is not at all canon to the original story, but takes place in the same universe. Just an idea I had for a second that I wanted to write a stupid one shot for. This is crack and I’m okay with that.

[crazyzaika]

between hell and heaven chapter 4

Hey guys, here we are. Chapter 4. Hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts. Again a big thank you to my beta doginshoes.

Greets Z ♥

Chapter 4

She went up the stairs and grinned wide. Slowly she felt the exhaustion, but she didn't let it show. She never had. Lucy knew she had stomped him into the ground and it felt great. She loved to play, loved magictag and of course, she loved to win. And probably it hadn't been fair to delay everything for such a long time, but he should feel what it felt like to be ice-cold finished. After all, he'd finished off these four unfamiliar teenagers and risked a big mouth. Then he shouldn't have to be surprised if he got a return. Natsu was a little further behind her, she could feel his anger and magic, but she didn't care.

When she returned to the entrance area, she grinned broadly and the others welcomed her. The boys grinned as wide as she did and Juvia and Levy fell around her neck laughing.

"Wow, that was an absolute mega performance."

"This was the first time Natsu had ever been so beaten up."

"SHUT UP", his angry exclamation ripped the hum of praise towards Lucy and they all looked at him. He snorted and fixed her angrily.

"So... how did you do that, huh? Did you cheat?" he asked growling and she pulled her brows together. Couldn't someone lose? Her lips turned to a broad grin, then she laughed.

"I'm a former active member of Virgin Star," she said, shrugging her shoulders. His jaw dropped down, "but hey. You took my challenge, so keep your cheeky mouth shut. Someone who plays with so little mind and love has rarely come across me. Even the guys from Red Death played with more devotion than you and we even got broken bones and if I hadn't dodged one of the shots from one of their snipers, I probably would have died. Magictag is not a game to harass others, all right? It's a tactical war game," she said, and coldness lay in her brown eyes. Her words had silenced the others. Levy looked at Lucy with big eyes. She would have died in the championships? Bewilderment was also in the faces of the others. Nobody had heard anything about it. Sure, there were injuries, but... it was only color with which they shot. Could someone really die? Natsu also frowned confusedly.

"You almost died? Through paint? Are you serious?" he asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Somehow he couldn't really believe it. Lucy rolled his eyes.

"Sure, when the weapons are restyled like Red Death's," she said, remembering how much impact the enemy's weapons had had. This team had wanted them all dead. She smiled and then pulled up the black long top that was close to her skin. She pulled it up to her ribs and when Natsu saw the ugly scar tissue that destroyed her flawless porcelain skin, he was stunned.

His heart stopped for a moment and everyone else was speechless. His anger seemed to fizzle out and he couldn't take his eyes off her skin and scar. Lucy just smiled and you could see that she carried this old scar with pride. The skin was reddish and was like a notch in the soft pale skin. The edges were bulging and it looked like someone had ripped something out of her body. Not deep, only superficial, but it was enough to destroy the perfection of her body.

"Unfortunately it was a graze shot", Lucy said and Natsus eyes flew up to her own. She pulled the cloth down again and he swallowed easily. She was even wounded and he realized that she took this game much more seriously than he had ever done. Before he could say anything, Lucy looked at her friends and grinned broadly.

"So... do we still want to play or do we go back to the dorm?"

"Uh... "

"Juvia would love to go back," Juvia replied and Levy nodded. She had just been shocked. She hadn't expected anything like this to happen to her new friend. And it scared her. Magictag was a war game, of course, but so far she had never considered it so dangerous. Lucy smiled. She understood it and nodded.

"Okay, then we'll go back," she said and waved to the boys, completely ignoring Natsu, and to the hall employee and saying goodbye. They left the hall and walked through the city back to campus. Lucy yawned cautiously.

"Are you tired already? Because of the game?" Levy asked and grinned slightly. The blonde grinned back and shrugged her shoulders. The game had been minimally exhausting. Real competitions were much more strenuous, because you had to keep an eye on several opponents. So she shook her head only slightly, grinned.

"Not from the game. That did wear me out a bit, but rather because of the ride," she admitted and grinned broadly.

Natsu ran his fingers through his hair and sighed slightly. His shoulder protested as he moved, but he ignored it. She impressed him, even though somewhere he was still angry about his scratched ego. But he just couldn't change it anymore. And if he considered it carefully, then he hadn't had a real chance to win against her. She had been in the professional league. Well, she had only played in the junior league, but still. Maybe she could become a member of the team? After all, the university also had a team. But they weren't really strong. They were rather middle class and even if he didn't like to admit it, it simply irriated him.

"And what do we do now?"

"Good question, ask another one," growled Gray. Natsu loosened his shoulders, at least he tried. He pulled out his lacrimapad, took a look at it and frowned for a moment, then his lips turned to a big grin.

"We have an assignment," he said and laughed quietly. The others listened, looked at Natsu, who took a cigarette from Gajeel, stuck it between his lips and ignited it with his magic.

"A mission", Laxus asked, and the boys started to move, left of the hall. Natsu nodded and blew smoke into the air.

"Aye, Raven Blood is causing trouble again," he noted, "Erza says a raid is planned in the western part. Must be a drug deal."

"Interesting. Who's running it?"

"Erza's unity. Mira will keep out of it this time. We're supposed to stop by. As a backup," he added, enjoying the taste of the tobacco flowing through his lungs. The others also grinned as Natsu lifted his gaze from the device's display and he saw the silent approval in the eyes of the others. They stepped into the parking lot in front of the building and ran to the motorcycles they had come on earlier. Each put on a magic headset so they could communicate on the road if necessary. He pulled the cigarette one last time, then flicked it to the ground.

"Well then, let's go stir up some idiots who think they can shower our city with drugs," Natsu said and they started their machines, which came to life with a loud thunder. Of course, it would be easier if they let a car come, but none of them wanted to. And they were in the southern part, so the western part wasn't too far away. Houses just flew past them as they shot through the streets. While they were driving in the direction Erza had given them, Natsu called her to let her know.

"Scarlett," she growled after a click and Natsu suppressed a laugh. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins. He loved speed and accelerated again.

"Jo, are on the way. Exact location?"

"The warehouses, you'll see it as soon as you get there," she just gave back and his grin became diabolical.

"I'm already really hot on it," he growled and heard the annoyed sigh, but Erza didn't say anything about it, just hung up. Natsu, who drove at the head of the small squad, made a daring turn and skilfully turned and drove in the right direction and his boys followed him without a moment's hesitation. Today he would be able to rip some asses open.

When they arrived at the warehouses in question, Natsu already heard and saw the fights. For a moment he pulled a light pout because nobody seemed to have waited for him. But well, his team was the backup. Simply because they usually broke everything apart. He saw Erza's red shining hair, which was just led by a wooden sword. She ducked cleverly under her opponent, hit her opponent's throat and he overturned, fell unconscious to the ground. Natsu turned off his machine, pulled the helmet off his head and let his gaze wander. A total of 10 members of Fairy Tail were present, who were ready to arrest about 20 criminals.

"Do they need our help at all?" asked Laxus, who leaned forward on his machine and looked at the whole thing. "It can't do any harm, can it? After all, we are the backup and so we can rub Erza's nose in that she needed our help," Natsu said and laughed quietly. Then he swung off his machine, made sure it didn't fall over and loosened his shoulders again, stepping towards the fighting ones. Oh, that would be fun and clearly exhausting, he was convinced. Better than the fight with Lucy. And he could let out his pent-up aggression on these idiots. A guy he didn't know ran roaring towards him, swinging an iron bar. Natsu skilfully avoided the attack and then kicked the guy in the face. Then the guy simply fell over.

"Well then, let's go", growled Gajeel and the others followed their leader.

Lucy pushed through the rows of seats. Today she had her first course, her first lecture and was looking forward to it. Her heart was beating up to her neck and she was already jittery to learn new things. And although she wanted to change, she continued to wear her old clothes. She had already got funny looks and that was absolutely unpleasant for her. She wore a white blouse and a long dark blue skirt reaching to the middle of her calves. Simple wedge sandals in black completed her outfit. Loki sat two rows behind her at her request. What could happen to her here? Someone sat next to her. The room was already well filled. And she looked up to see who was sitting next to her. When she saw Natsu next to her she flinched back. Confusion gripped her senses. What was he doing here?

He grinned at her and leaned back. Her eyes scurried over his appearance. He wore a tank top, black jeans, jumper boots and a black leather jacket. Her brow twitched upwards, but she said nothing. Wasn't he a year above her?

"Uh..." she brought out and he grinned wider.

"Hello, beauty. Long time no see," he said and she pulled her eyebrows together. Yes, it was exactly a weekend ago. She had arrived last Friday and luckily hadn't seen him over the weekend. And that was a good thing. He looked good, yes. But his character was just disgusting and she knew about his reputation. Natsu leaned slightly in her direction as the auditorium filled slowly.

"So... my little flower," he grumbled and she opened her eyes. Did he just call her a little flower? She blinked and snorted slightly.

"Leave me alone. Aren't you a year above me? Then what are you doing here, mhm?" she growled and he shrugged his shoulders with a crooked grin.

"I have to repeat the course", he said and her eyes widened. Then he leaned towards her with a grin on his face and came quite close to her. Too close for her taste and she leaned aside to avoid him. Something that automatically lifted her upper softness and made her stand out even more than before. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

"How about we learn together, my little star," he asked with a broad grin and she felt redness on her cheeks. Why did he have to give her these stupid nicknames? She didn't understand it.

"L... leave me alone. I will not learn with you. You can do that very well alone", she brought out, but she was insecure. It was other on the magictagfields. . Her heartbeat accelerated restlessly.

"Sure? I wanted to offer you to join ou university team without having to do the test," he said and shrugged his shoulders. A fellow student pushed Lucy roughly aside to sit down and she was thrown directly against Natsu. His face landed between her breasts and she hissed in shock, but he laughed quietly and detached himself from her.

"Team," she asked and frowned in confusion. Natsu shrugged her shoulders.

"Yes ... magictag. The university has a team but normally you have to do a test to be able to join us and ... normally we don't take girls, but since you're good ..."

"I'm in," she said, and her eyes were glowing. Her heart was racing. Magictag! The university had a team where she could play! His brows went up and the grin on his lips widened as he bent over again, grabbed a blonde strand and wrapped it around his left index finger.

"But only when you study with me, my Beauty," he purred and again her cheeks burned with shame at this nickname. It was unpleasant for her and why for gods sake did he play with her hair? She didn't really like that. She bit her lower lip and he leaned forward to her again. Uncertainly, she looked to the side and saw the professor of the course come in and put his documents on the desk. She swallowed. She wanted to play Magictag again and sighed.

"All right ... but only on one condition," she said and smiled at him. Salmon eyebrows went up.

"And that would be?

"Loki comes with me," she replied. He frowned his and went through his hair, but still didn't let go of her strand. Then he leaned back and shrugged his shoulders.

"For all I care," he growled and she grinned. Then she pulled on her strand of hair and he reluctantly let go. She turned her eyes forward to the professor and listened to his explanations. While he explained things, she took notes and her thoughts were completely fixed on them. Magic in combat was incredibly wide-ranging.

"Read chapters 1-5 until the next lesson and think about what kind of magic you want to learn to expand," the professor pushed his sheets together, Lucy eagerly scribbled his homework, "see you all on the next thursday."

And so he finished the lecture. Lucy bent down and picked up her bag, which she had placed in front of her feet on the floor, then pushed in her notebook, pencil case and textbook and looked up. Natsu next to her was asleep in his chair. She blinked as everyone around her packed up as well. She frowned. Was he serious? He was asleep? In class? No wonder he had to repeat the course. She sighed and stabbed him in the cheek. But that didn't help. The girl who had sat next to her snorted amusedly.

"Just let the rowdy sleep, he'll fall through anyway, the idiot. How he made it to university surprised me anyway," she said, laughed hatefully and marched away. Lucy looked after her with big eyes. How could anyone be so rude? Sure, he was a player and had also behaved quite stupidly, but ... was he such a bad person? After all, he had been accepted at university, hadn't he? He couldn't have been that stupid. She shook his shoulder.

"Natsu, wake up," she said quietly and ignored the giggling of the other students. Then Loki pushed herself to her.

"Lucy," he asked and looked at her waiting. Lucy smiled.

"Uh... I can't get him awake," she said and Loki looked at Natsu. His eyes became narrow. Then he grabbed the sleeper by the right cheek, pinched in and pulled Natsu up from the chair. This immediately woke Natsu up and he slapped Loki's hand away.

"Dude, what are you doing?" he nagged and rubbed his red cheek.

"Very nice, you're awake. Lucy-sama, can we go then?" Loki asked coolly and looked at his guarded friend waiting. She smiled and nodded.

"Yes Loki. We can," she said and shoved herself past Natsu, shouldering her bag, but the latter held her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

"Loki is a guy," he asked and pulled his brows together angrily. Lucy looked up at him, smiled and nodded. She took her arm from him and then quickly pushed Loki out of the auditorium and followed him. Natsu just let her stand. He clenched his hands to fists and was annoyed. His dark eyes followed the two and he growled. This Loki wouldn't get in his way. Under no circumstances. Lucy would belong to him!

AN: So ... thank you for all your support. In german, my story is up to chap 12. And I have to say: sometimes I really got depressed in so much desinterest in my story. I mean I ask myself, if my writing is not good enough because of so little feedback. And some people dropped my story, because not enough NaLu(even if I had written in my summary, that the mainpairings are NaLu, GaLe, Gruvia and Miraxus). And yeah ... I got depressed and had fallen in a deeeep creativydeep. And after I oke part in a little writingcompetition and put so much work and love into it, only one person ratet for my. Yes I know I'm selfish and stuff, but I requested myself: I'm not good enough? And that broke my creativity again. But then I startet translate this because some person wanted to read it and know here are we. You all are so sweet, giving me so much backup. Thank you. You're words are so important to me *overwhelms everyone with hearts*

And know I'm nearly crying haha XD

Love you guys, Z ♥

[likeaspeedingarrow]

Best Friends? Or is there more to it.

Soulmate (n): A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

 Day 3 of Olivarry week 2017: Soulmate AU. I think this is the most I’ve ever written at once...

Summary: Barry Allen has been searching for his Soulmate his entire life. His soul mark does nothing but confuse him, but is it a sign of things to come?Oliver Queen's soul mark showed up late and he began to think he didn't have a soulmate. Now he doesn't deserve one. What happens when he meets his soulmate?

Inspiration was taken from this post.

Enjoy!  You can also read it over on AO3

“Some people don’t believe in the existence of Soulmates!” Barry bit out in frustration as he looked on his computer. “How can they not?”

“Barry.” Iris’ voice broke him out of his frustrated haze. She was currently studying to be a Journalist and had somehow managed to take over more space than necessary in his very important crime lab.

Barry turned to his sister, “Yes? What can I do for you Miss West?”

Iris rolled her eyes fondly at her brother’s typical antics. “Maybe these people just don’t like being… constricted.” Iris looked at the piles of paper she had scattered around his lab in frustration as she looked for something unidentified. “I mean,” She paused as she ducked under a desk, only to sigh when what she was looking for wasn’t there. “ Most of the people you’ve found that don’t believe in them seem like the frat boy type. A super hot billionaire playboy for instance.” Iris let out a little cheer as she finally found what she was looking for.

Barry turned towards her new position, pondering her thought. There was a time in his life where Barry had really hoped Iris was his Soulmate but sadly for him his mark hadn’t matched hers. Soulmate marks came in pairs, one on each soulmate and were meant to represent their unity. They were also supposedly meant to help soulmates find each other but this didn’t work when everyone covered them. “Don’t they realise a soulmate can be platonic?” He questioned.

Iris laughed lightly beside him, “You really do get worked up about this don’t you?”

“My soulmate is out there and suffering Iris, I can feel it.” Very few pairs of soulmates could actually feel what their other half was going through and Barry wasn’t sure that he and his soulmate were one of those but he wasn’t going to admit that now lest he ruins his claim.

“Can...” Barry heard Iris take a deep breath. “Can I see your mark?”

Barry paused for a moment, asking to see someone’s soulmate mark was a very intimate question. Eventually, he shrugged, not seeing a problem with it as he and Iris had lived together most of their lives, so he pulled his shirt over his head and turned so that his back was facing Iris. He felt Iris brush her thumb over his mark- an arrow crossed by a lightning bolt. It hadn’t made sense to either of them, but Barry supposed that was the point. Only you and your soulmate would understand.

“So where’s your next stop?”

Barry looked at her knowing that she knew the whole reason for his travels. Most others assumed that he was searching for the impossible but that was only a small part of it. Barry had yet to meet his soulmate. “Starling City. I have a really good feeling about this one.

Iris smiled, “Just be careful, okay?”

 The first thing about Starling City was that it rained. A lot. The rain was so heavy that he was forced to take cover under his magazine, his kit swinging at his side. The second thing he noticed was that the drivers were all assholes, including taxi drivers. Soaked to the bone and shivering, Barry was forced to run to the crime scene he had planned to invade.

"Actually, it was only one guy!" He managed to shout, despite feeling slightly winded from the run.

Felicity, Barry decided near the end of the day, was great but she wasn't his soulmate. She was, however, another friend and Barry liked Friends.It wouldn't be until later when Barry discovered who his soulmate was.

 Consciousness hit him slowly and Barry let out a groan, blinking quickly a few times in succession as a harsh light invaded his retinas. "What the hell?" He muttered, pushing himself up slowly.

When he was up he was met with the sight of a panic-stricken team Arrow. Felicity was stood directly opposite him, staring at him in a pleading way. "Please save my friend."  She begged and Barry thought he could see tears beginning to form in her eyes.

His gaze swung from her, past Diggle and to a table which seemed to hold an unconscious body on it. Barry swore he felt his heart stop briefly when he saw Oliver Queen lying there, the tiniest hint of a very specific lightning bolt peeking from the neck of his jacket. He snapped to focus quickly after that. He had a soulmate to save.

Barry hesitated slightly, unsure of whether or not it was sensible to leave a gift here. Knowing that he would miss his train if he didn't leave soon and deciding that really, he had nothing to lose, he left the gift on a table. His soulmate was a superhero after all and all superheroes deserved a proper way to conceal their Civilian identity. Barry also knew that despite Oliver's protests, the greasepaint job would not have held up for much longer. Especially not seeing that Oliver was already on his second superhero name.

He whistled as he left the foundry.

Barry had meant to tell Iris about finding his soulmate, he really had but as usual, crime had struck and by the time Barry had finished processing the evidence from the last crime, it had been time to head to STAR Labs in order to see the particle accelerator turn on so he never got the chance. Iris, as it turns out had met her own soulmate that night after her laptop had been stolen. It had turned out to be a new employee of the CCPD. Barry thought she was happy about it.

As Iris introduced herself to her soulmate, Barry found himself in his lab. Tidying up some of his old work, he turned on the TV turning it to the news station. He figured he could keep track of what was going on at STAR Labs whilst tidying this way. His night had certainly turned out differently than he expected it to and Iris wasn't even there to talk to that evening.

From his desk, his phone began to ring and he stumbled over to it clumsily, the name read Felicity and Barry smiled at the thought of his new friend. "Felicity. Hey." He sighed slightly as she asked him if he had seen the particle accelerator turn on, him giving her a lie about being late, as usual, and hung up after promising to talk to her again soon.

The news broadcast caught his attention even as he noticed the storm building in the sky. He could see the lightning making its path directly towards him but for some unknown reason, he wasn't scared. In fact, he felt a certain affinity for it. As lightning struck his last coherent thought was 'at least that Mark finally makes sense.'

 After finding out about his powers, Barry's first instinct was to run straight to Starling City, the prospect of having this power to cut down the commute between Starling and Central City was exciting. Of course though, despite his wishes, he had a job to do and a civic duty to perform.

Watching Clyde Mardon cause a car crash by enveloping the street he was on in a fog, coupled with a very familiar argument with Joe about what really happened the night his mother was murdered proved to be his limit. He had forgotten just how emotionally draining those arguments could be and despite Iris' attempts at comforting him, he didn't really feel much better and he began to realise why Iris wasn't meant to be his soulmate.

He reached for his phone, he needed to talk to Oliver.

 "I don't think that lightning struck you, Barry, I think it chose you." This one small sentence had meant more to Barry than Oliver could ever know, just knowing that someone he felt connected to has confidence in him stirred emotions within himself that Barry honestly hadn't taken the time to think about.

Perhaps this is what prompted Barry to just blurt it out. "You're my soulmate, Oliver." Oliver shot Barry a look so Barry, despite his better instincts and the cold weather stripped himself of his shirt, turning so that his back now faced Oliver. "Look familiar?" He called over his shoulder.

Barry could see Oliver's eyes widen slightly from under the hood. "I never believed..."

"You never believed in soulmates, right?" Barry scoffed, yanking his shirt back on more roughly than intended in his frustration."Typical frat boy, billionaire playboy type. You must have gone through a lot of girls before the island, you didn't want to feel restricted, right?" Barry huffed, shaking is head slightly.

However, what Barry certainly hadn't anticipated was Oliver's reaction. He felt, rather than saw the moment when Oliver's gloved hand took hold of his arm and allowed himself to be pulled closer to the older male, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment. "That's not what I meant at all Barry." Oliver's voice breathed in his ear, sending shivers down Barry's spine. Barry chose this moment to look back to Oliver and to his shock, Oliver looked saddened and was trying to compose himself before continuing.  "My mum and dad were not soulmates... growing up I kept hearing stories about these mythical things that just sounded wonderful. So I began reading into them."

"You willing read a book outside of College?" Barry asked, slightly surprised.

Oliver shot him a glare. "Barry..." his voice sounded like a growl.

Barry coughed, "Sorry. Right. Yes, continue."

"Anyway..." Oliver rolled his eyes, "in my reading I came across the notion of soul marks." Barry's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered where Oliver was going with this. "I didn't have one so I didn't think I had a soulmate. Years later, that mark appeared but I couldn't decipher it, I guess we know what it means now though." Oliver paused, a small smile growing on his face, Barry thought it made him look even more handsome. "I just never believed I would have a soulmate as good and as light as you, especially not with how dark I've become."

A thoughtful look crossed Barry's face. "Maybe being soulmates isn't about being identical in personality, Oliver. " Barry decided, "Maybe it's about being opposites. Think about it." Barry smiled slightly, "Now thank you for the advice, and for not calling me crazy of course but you have a city to protect. We'll see each other again."  Oliver nodded, pulling up his mask.

Barry watched Oliver swing to another building muttering "cool" just before flashing away, orange lightning trailing behind him. He was unknowingly echoed by Oliver only seconds later.

The next time Barry saw Oliver, the meeting occurred somewhere the former wasn't expecting. Central City. Oliver had just helped Barry out in a warehouse when they met the rest of Team Arrow near a barn.

"So um..." Barry started unsurely.  "What are you guys doing in Central City?"

Barry was slightly unhappy when it was Felicity who answered his question.

Later on, Barry met Oliver in a field, he was late. Oliver's question of "How can you have super speed and still not be on time?" was one that Barry wished he actually had the answer to.

Instead, he gives Oliver a smartass answer that he later regrets.

Painfully.

When Oliver met Barry again he could almost instantly tell that something was wrong. Barry's posture was tense and the other man's eyes were much duller than usual. The spark that identifies Barry Allen from other people is still there but it's dimmer, it caused Barry's face to just look wrong and caused Oliver to feel something that he couldn't be completely bothered to identify it. Not when Barry was acting strangely.

Only then does he notice the anger seeping into the younger man's normally jovial tone. "I told Felicity you didn't want my help!" He called to Barry's retreating form.

"Yeah?" Barry replies, half snapping and half whining. "You're finally right about something!"

Oliver frowned as Barry sped away, pulling out his phone to call Felicity and the rest of the people at STAR Labs.

Subduing Barry in the middle of Central City was one of the hardest things Oliver had to do. Despite everything though, Oliver still knew exactly what Barry needed to hear. "I still believe in you, Barry." He grabbed the younger male in a headlock, pulling him so that he could see the lights and let out a sigh of relief as he felt Barry's body relaxed as he was finally drained of the effects of what happened.

Working as a team became easier the next time and they blended better while taking down Bivilio, Oliver would admit that Barry's genuine apology had helped immensely with that.

Oliver was, to say the least, very surprised to see Barry in ARGUS as a red gloved hand caught a boomerang inches from his own face. with the immediate danger removed, his thoughts turned to the Scarlet Speedster and suddenly he felt panicked for some reason.

It finally occurred to him later as he watched Barry flash into the foundry unmasked and eating sushi right in front of Lyla. He didn't want the younger man to be corrupted or worse, experimented on

Later that year, Barry asked Oliver for help and the older male agreed. The Arrow worked alongside both Firestorm and The Flash and successful helped his younger friend defeat his mother's killer. Oliver asked Barry for a favour in return.

Barry's boyish grin and reply of "Whenever, wherever." Made Oliver much happier than he would admit.

As did seeing a red streak leaving Nanda Parbat.

When the two had taken down Savage together as a team, it had made Oliver feel incredibly proud. Out of all of his friends, Barry had also been the most supportive about his son, something he'll freely admit he thought would be taken by Felicity. Barry had also gotten a hug out of him, something nobody had really accomplished outside of family since Tommy had died. His son's action figure sent his thoughts straight to his lanky friend and he knew without a doubt that the next words out of his mouth were absolutely true.

"He's one of the best guys I know."

Barry felt guilty about running to Starling... well now Star City for help yet again, even more so when he caused Diggle to throw up again. But what they were facing in Central City was an absolutely global catastrophe and Barry was smart enough to know that they needed to put what forces they could afford to on the problem, which included Teams Arrow and Flash.

Oliver's question of "Aliens?" and Digg's subsequent statement after Barry had finished explaining exactly just what was going on in Central City along with the bombshell of Lyla knowing about it certainly didn't help matters.

Oliver's support of him even after finding out about Flashpoint however, did.

"To things not being normal."

"To life being full." Oliver looked at Barry, seeing the darkness begining to settle within him. He thought back to that night on a Starling City rooftop, Barry's voice coming to him almost instantly "Maybe it's about being opposites." To Barry, he said "I think you were right that night."

Barry wasn't certain about what night Oliver meant and frowned in concentration. "About what?"

"About Soulmates being some kind of Opposites. It's about... Balance."

Barry chuckled lightly, "Good to know."  A nervous look overtook his face. "Ollie, can I try something?" He asked, setting his halfway empty beer bottle on the bar in front of him and steeling himself. He didn't want to have any regrets. Oliver wasn't sure just what was going on but he trusted Barry, so he nodded his head. Upon Oliver's nod, Barry gently cupped Oliver's face in his hands and slowly kissed him.

If either man had any doubts previously, they were erased in that moment.

[fapangel]

And not all the grandstanding assholes popping a squat and taking a big shit on our symbol of national unity? || Well that's the thing, isn't it? These men have the opportunity to make their voice heard in a way very few other citizens can. Whatever else the Anthem is, it is ALSO a symbol, and the primary purpose of all symbols of all kinds is to communicate something, something in itself, something in the way it's presented, and something in how we interact with it.

But it’s not a symbol of anything they say it is - it’s most certainly not a symbol of racism - and more important, it’s a symbol of the values that underpin our nation’s social contract. The last time people got a real strong opinion about that contract having failed them, we had a Civil War that killed millions of Americans. This isn’t a fucking joke, nor is it  “just a political statement.” This is serious business. 

And while we’re at it, these very public, very wealthy men with thousands upon thousands of devoted fans following them on Facebook and Twitter and such have immense opportunities to exercise their Freedom of Speech and make A Statement. They can do it off the field, and they can most certainly do it without wiping their ass with America’s name. They have a right to freedom of speech, sure, but I’m starting to think that I was misguided to defend their right to do it on the field. Even James Damore, the “evil misogynist” at Google didn’t go and make public shitfits about anything - he was discussing company-relevant business (and he took pains to point out why it was financially relevant to the company,) on an internal message board, meant for use by company employees only. The document was passed to outsiders and used to orchestrate a campaign of slander and lies against the man to enforce a political narrative. James Damore himself never decided to make a big fucking public stink from his workplace, like these NFL players are doing. 

Freedom of Speech is much, much more than a legal prescription on what the government can and cannot censor - it’s a core principle and value of our democratic and open society. And for that reason it’s vitally important that our culture preserve an inherent respect for it, and that, by necessity, requires us to always resist a knee-jerk “THAT’S NOT THE APPROPRIATE PLACE FOR SPEECH, YER THE WEAKEST LINK, VOTED OFF THE ISLAND!” in response to every statement we don’t like. 

But.

With that said.

You had better understand that Colin Krinkledick and the rest aren’t just offending a lot of people, they’re royally pissing them off. His act of “speech” isn’t some “quiet, thoughtful protest.” It’s an extremely deliberate and savage slander against the symbol of America itself, and that means a hell of a lot to some of us. Colin is free to say whatever he wants, but if he does it on TV, on the clock, while people who paid thousands of dollars for tickets to the event are looking on, and he’s using that time and opportunity to insult the flag many Americans loved ones died to protect, the flag many Americans had handed to them in a triangle fold by a solemn man as they stood at their father or brother or son’s graveside, then you had best fucking expect people to get fucking angry. 

I’ve had this conversation once already. When I mentioned Damore, the reply was a pretty flippant one, “oh yeah, that misogynist saying women were inferior, I don’t have much sympathy for him.” At the time the inaccuracy of the statement is what pissed me off - Damore said no such thing, as anyone who read the damn document itself can attest to, but in retrospect there’s always an alternative facts issue of some degree inherent in this stuff, and its only through collision that it’s reconciled. But now what strikes me the most is the seeming lack of equal consideration, of empathy. It’s okay to dismiss Damore - he was misogynist, he had it coming, he said things that really pissed off women. But this same conversationalist was rather upset with the knee-jerk reee of the right-wingers that were trampling over the concept of freedom-of-speech, because they were letting their angry emotions speak first, instead of their principles. 

Well, try to remember that it works both ways - and in case you haven’t figured it out yet, protesting the anthem and the flag makes a lot of Americans really fucking angry. So don’t be terribly surprised when a lot of them don’t stop to explore the deep and significant Principles behind it and just run straight to Twitter to tell you to GO FUCK YOURSELF. 

[fmdjaewonarchive]

► 00:24 AM

dates: february 11th through february 14th, 2019 mentions of: grandma park, the only park we stan in this house word count: 1.6k warnings: mentions of (parental) death, grieving, i think that’s all for once (also a brief mention of soo’s hospitalization but its only name dropped in there like once) details: february 13th marks the 12 year anniversary of the passing of jaewon’s parents and... oh boy does it not go over well combined with promotions for simon says still ongoing and unexpected studio time.

the new year starts off like any other, dreary, cold, miserable. and just like any other year, the beginning of february creeps up on jaewon sooner than expected. when he realizes they’ve already broken into the second year of the month, he also realizes that his least favorite day of the year is approaching steadily.

he never thinks much of the specific day until it’s nearly around the corner, the first signs always showing up a few days in advantage, somewhere between 7 to 3 days usually, depending on how busy jaewon has been and with unity in the middle of promotions, soo’s hospitalization and recording his solo album, he’s busier than he usually is at this time of the year. which is probably why he only realizes what day it is (or more accurately, what day is approaching) late in the evening of the 11th of february after they arrive home from their busan fansign. the 11th, which means less than 2 days before the 13th, less than 2 days until the anniversary of his parents’ passing.

the 12th he spends completely agitated, his temper much easier triggered than it usually is but for once he’s not met with protest when he unreasonably lashes out. when he tells the boys to get it together on the choreography they just nod in agreement and carry on. even when he snaps at his manager, the man most unwilling to put up with his bullshit, he’s met with nothing but a sympathetic smile. jaewon doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse.

the 13th itself is nothing like the day before. where his every emotion had been heightened the previous day, he seems completely desensitized the next, like nothing that happens quite, gets through to him. the hollow feeling isn’t half as surprising as it should have been because jaewon knows the exact routine as by clockwork at this point, he knows every last step of his emotions going on lockdown like the back of his hands. he has spent the first 2 or so years of his parents passing in a constant state numbness and while it had gotten better after that, it has always returned at random intervals, sometimes for longer periods of time, sometimes for just a few days but the one day he could always predict was february 13th, the only constant in a unpredictable pattern.

the fog in his mind makes him slower than he usually is. like everything takes just a split second more to quite get through to him and while it probably shows in his performance that day, jaewon for once finds himself not caring. why would he care about the quality of a 3-minute stage when he can’t bring it up to care about literally anything else in the world. all he has to do is get through his schedules, it doesn’t have to be his best, hell it barely has to be minimal effort, he just needs to get them done.

he checks his phone constantly throughout the day, just for a few seconds, just to register the time in his mind only to tuck the device away again, starting the whole cycle over again within the next few seconds or minutes. it’s the only sign giving away just how incredibly antsy he is, how he’s dying to get out already because he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t spend today out of all days worrying about performances and interviews or any of those things. he should be with his grandmother, he should be at their grave, he should be doing something, anything to pay his respects but instead, he’s trapped in a backstage dressing room.

the day has already slowly faded into the evening when their manager signals them they’re free to go but before jaewon can even feel the relief seeping in through his numbed senses, the man adds they want him down at the studio, that they want to re-record some parts after some last minute changes to one of the songs. jaewon can hear how apologetic his manager is in his voice, can read from the man’s face that he is every inch as sorry as he looks and in that moment jaewon decides that, yes, the pity is definitely worse. he almost wishes his manager would just go back to bossing him around.

time in the studio seems to pass impossibly slow. or maybe it doesn’t and it’s really just been that long. jaewon doesn’t know and because he’s constantly working, no time to even glimpse at his phone without being rude towards the producers that are just as much spending their late hours of the evening in the studio as he is, he doesn’t even have a clue of what time it is, doesn’t know just how long he has left. somewhere in the back of his mind he knows it’s too late to go visit them, to bring new flowers like he does every year but some part clings on to a shred of hope to somehow, one way or another he can at least still do something, can at least still bring it up to visit his grandmother.

when he finally gets to check his phone, after parting way with the producers and thanking them for their hard work, the number 00:24 taunts him in big white letters that starkly contrast with his dark phone background. the words tuesday, 14 february displayed under the time in a smaller font confirming his worst fears. he is too late. he had one job, just to go see them on the day of their passing, he already goes to visit them so little with his tight schedule but today, or well yesterday, was the only day he had to be there, the only day that showing up wasn’t optional but a requirement, the least he owed them for everything they did for him was to go pay his respects but he hadn’t.

for the first time in 12 years he hadn’t.

a slight tremble creeps into his fingers as he unlocks his phone, ignoring the way his chest constricts as he realizes he has 3 missed calls from his grandmother, all ranging from the last 2 hours. he had texted her earlier in the evening, promising that he’d come to her place directly after leaving the studio. back when he had still believed that would be on time.

when he calls her back he doesn’t expect her to pick up, having anticipated she has gone to bed already but instead he’s surprised by a soft click, indicating she answered his call. “jaewon-ah,” he’s greeted by the warm, gentle tone of her voice and it’s enough to break him down to pieces, to make the entire fortress his emotions have been tightly locked down under all day crumble down as he blinks back the first tears. “halmeoni i’m sorry, i- ” he doesn’t get much further before his voice cracks, the first sob muffled by the palm of his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “it’s okay jaewon-ah, don’t apologize, it’s okay.” she shushes him gently and jaewon can’t help but wonder how she’s still so gentle with him, so patient while he absolutely loathes himself for falling through on the one thing he should do for his parents.

he lets himself slide down the wall of the hallway, phone still clutched to his ear and hand covering his face. it’s a good thing most employees have gone home at this time at night because he’s sitting in plain sight and jaewon can’t recall the last time he’s ever let himself lose grip of his emotions in such a public space. “i tried, i really tried to get out earlier.” he presses out unevenly between sobs, perhaps so more to assure himself than his grandmother. “i know you did, you’ve been working all day, this was outside of your control, there is no use in being so hard on yourself.” she responds and jaewon wants to protest, wants to bring in an argument, any argument about why this definitely makes him an awful person, an awful son but his grandmother seems to know exactly what he’s about to say. she always seems to know what’s going on his mind. “it’s just a date on the calendar jaewon-ah. i know it’s the first time you missed it but it won’t be the last one and you can’t beat yourself up over that. nothing changes yes? i know you love them and i know you miss them, i do too, you not being there today doesn’t take away from that. the last thing they’d want is for you to bend over backward for something so small while you prove just how much you love them so often.”

the longer she talks, the less unruly his sobs become. his grandmother has always had a healing effect on him, her voice has coaxed him through more bad days than anyone else has, than anyone else possibly ever will. it remains silent on her side for a while, allowing jaewon to slow his breathing down to a normal level and he wipes at the stray tears left on his face, letting his head fall back to tiredly rest against the wall. “go home jaewon,” she encourages him. “it’s late and you’ve had a long day, there is nothing you can change now anyway. the boys are probably waiting for you to get home too. we’ll go some other time yeah? when promotions are over and when your schedule gives for it but for now, please just go home and rest up.” the concern is palpable in her voice and it’s enough to for once, make jaewon concede and listen.

[loudlytransparenttrash]

This Week Within Our Colleges: Part 2

Classes were canceled at St. Olaf College after students protested an obviously fake “racist note” left on a student’s car. In response to this note, students blocked entrances to campus buildings, participated in a mass group therapy session and listed a set of demands for the school President. “We demand the removal of Arne Christenson from the Advisory Board of The Institute for Freedom & Community given Mr. Christenson’s political views and values as a Christian Zionist.” “We demand the creation of more programs for students of color and racial and cultural sensitivity training for staff and we demand that St. Olaf be prepared to facilitate the transition of undocumented and first generation students,” was another demand the group made. One black student had this to say, “I can't turn a corner without feeling like somebody is going to be there, waiting for me," she said. "It's just so hard, and scary.” President David Anderson consoled, "It does hurt us deeply. We are allies. We are struggling like hell to be the best allies that we can."

An open letter signed by 22 UCLA professors urges students to join them in a weekly protest against the Trump administration. “We gather there to bear witness to the Orwellian nightmare that is the presidency of Donald Trump, and to let the world know that we cannot let this become normal,” history professor Teofilo Ruiz announces. The letter concludes by encouraging students to join the group of professor’s weekly anti-Trump protest, urging attendees to “bring signs to articulate your opposition and your engagement.” 

Male students who talk too much in class are oppressing their female peers, a Wesleyan University student contends. Tara Joy, a freshman who came to Wesleyan from an all-girls high school, paints this as a manifestation of oppression and gender inequality, arguing that despite constituting 57 percent of the college population, women are consistently denied the same classroom opportunities afforded to their male classmates.

A pro-choice professor at Purdue University accused pro-life organizations of “child pornography” for using images of fetuses as a rhetorical device during a debate. Professor David Sanders argued displaying images of "a butt naked body of a child" constitutes child pornography. One attendee took the opportunity to point out that Sanders had effectively conceded that it's a child.

The president of the San Diego Community College faculty union encouraged professors to cancel their classes and take their students to the May Day protests. He even managed to tie the day’s events to President Trump, arguing that “given the threats we face from the Trump administration, it is extremely important that we demonstrate our solidarity with one another. These are troubled times. Only our unity and mutual support will get us through with minimal damage to our most vulnerable community members.”

After more than four hours of contentious debate, the George Washington University student government narrowly rejected a proposal put forward by Students for Justice in Palestine to stop the university from being associated with companies that do business with Israel. Students supporting the proposal argued that by investing in these companies, the university makes itself complicit in the terrorism that they claim Israelis commit against Palestinians.

Student organizations at American University have created a list of demands to present to the administration. The ultimatum targets food service providers, accuses the university of having a "white supremacist" curriculum, and demands various forms of segregation. “Abandon the white supremacist and colonial curriculum in all schools for a more transformative and decolonized curriculum.” Another pushed for segregated campus safe spaces, demanding “the establishment of separate resource centers for Black, Latinx, Asian Pacific Islander, Native Americans, Muslim students, undocumented students, and queer and trans students.” The list also demands increased financial aid for all students, a tuition freeze and training programs for AU faculty to “deconstruct oppressive behavior in the classroom.”

Cornell is offering a course on President Trump’s ‘xenophobic nationalism.’ The course description reads, “Donald Trump and Barak [sic] Obama give us two visions of America and of the world: xenophobic nationalism and pragmatic cosmopolitanism. America and the world are thus constituted by great diversity.” Of course, it comes as no surprise that a highly paid, far-left professor at Cornell would not only consider President Trump to be a “xenophobic nationalist” but then go and teach his political views to students, and the “oppressed, victimized students” who will be taking this course, it’s worth noting this course alone costs more than most Americans’ monthly salary. 

SB677, introduced by Republican state senator John Moorlach, aims to “ensure that students who witness activities in the classroom which violate state or federal law or regulation and/or a local agency policy are free to document and report the situation to the necessary authorities or to the media, including social media.” Senator Moorlach introduced the bill after Caleb O’Neil, an Orange Coast College student, was suspended for recording Professor Olga Perez Stable-Cox calling Donald Trump a white supremacist and his election “an act of terrorism” during a classroom rant in which she also referred to Vice President Mike Pence as “one of the most anti-gay humans in this country.”

University of Iowa hosted a three-day event called “Exploring White Identity for Effective Allyship.” “This event provides a space for white identified people to discuss Whiteness and its privileges with other White people. This can be the first step to eliminating tokenism and increasing responsibility among allies to eliminate racism.”

Student leaders wrote an open letter demanding that Clemson University create an LGBTQ safe space on campus to rectify the school’s alleged callousness toward such students. Their letter declares that “a permanent space must be allocated to the LGBTQ+ community” because “incoming LGBTQ+ and other underrepresented students enter campus with the deck stacked against them.”

San Diego State University will put employees through a sexual-assault training program devised by an organization that opposes due process for accused students in campus rape investigations. ATIXA has made a lucrative business out of helping colleges respond to sexual-assault allegations following the Obama administration’s 2011 “Dear Colleague” letter, which prescribed specific investigation protocols and ordered colleges to use a low evidence standard. In December 2014, student Francisco Sousa was expelled by SDSU after a fellow student, Alexa Romano, accused him of rape. When administrators investigated, they refused to let Sousa provide evidence that would have likely exonerated him, including text messages, social media posts and witnesses. It also named him as a rape suspect in a campus-wide email. More than two years later, the lawsuit has been settled and the university will pay damages and clear Sousa’s disciplinary record after realizing it was yet another false rape claim to begin with. 

American University blocked a student fundraiser event “Bad(minton) and Boujee” set on raising funds for a veterans group whose founder got his master’s degree at AU. It was supposed to be a badminton-themed event, using rapper Migos’ song as a play on words but the school refused to host the event because “boujee” might be seen as “cultural appropriation.” One little bitch senior, Sydney Young, had this to say to the group: “I think it was the fact that someone expressed to you that the usage of those terms could be offensive or hurt somebody or be disrespectful to someone’s culture, and that wasn’t enough for them to change it.”

A student at the University of California, Berkeley, has written an op-ed claiming that free speech is merely “a tactic used by the state,” and that Berkeley should prioritize the “safety of the marginalized” over American constitutional freedoms. UC Berkeley transfer student Juniperangelica Xiomara Cordova-Goff (that’s a mouthful) writes: “Free speech is not dead. It was never alive.” Cordova-Goff, a self-described “brown trans femme,” claims that the American ideal of “sharing perspectives and differing opinions” has “done nothing more than maintain the white supremacist, capitalistic and patriarchal nature that allowed colonizers to protect their power centuries ago and that has allowed their descendants to elect an openly racist, queerphobic, Islamophobic, xenophobic and anti-poverty administration.”

Columbia University has capitulated to student protesters who demanded an end to a politically incorrect marching band tradition that some have deemed “unsafe” and “triggering.” Orgo Night has historically been held at midnight the day of the organic chemistry final exams. During the event, the marching band occupies a room in the library and plays music while also performing a comedy skit, which often takes jabs at students and cranky administrators. Students Tracey Wang and Dunni Oduyemi called the event “an unsafe space.” “Every semester after Orgo Night, some students leave Butler feeling miserable and triggered and have to turn to one another for consolation while our peers celebrate. We ask administrators to listen to us, to acknowledge us, and to protect us. Their failure to do so is proof the administration does not care about its students of color, its queer students, or its trans students.” The administration ultimately blocked the marching band from performing in the library and instead they were forced to deliver its half-hour skit to an audience of hundreds outside the library on a freezing cold night.

[junker-town]

Trash Or Nawl: All Hail Shannon Sharpe, Patron Saint of Yak & Milds

Welcome to Trash Or Nawl, a weekly column to help you weed through the Internet Muck. To do that, I’ll be breaking it down to a helpful binary: Is something trash? Or nawl? Topics here will involve sports and whatever else the hell I say is sports or sports adjacent. I’ll do my best to make sense of what's going on each week, but the thing to remember is, no matter what I say, most of these things are still trash.

You might say this is simplistic, and hell yeah it is. This is how I make sense of the chaos. Professional grade hating restores power to my powerless stupid fan hands. I give a middle finger because I've given up clapping.

Trash or Nawl criteria: It's very simple. We will pick a topic. We will breakdown why or why it isn't trash. You can agree, you can comment or tweet your disagreements. Or we can fight. Really, it's up to you.

Apologies for being off last week, kids. The President was out here firin’ from the hip so I had to do some “Journalisms” to keep the streets fed. Either way, My Real President Ben Simmons had a lot to say on that. Philly forever.

So, let’s get right into it.

Shannon Sharpe Is Awf That Yak & Milds, Skip

HE BEEN ON THEM MILDS WITH THAT YAK, HARD, YESTERDAY, SKIP

IF YO TEAM DIDN’T SCORE A POINT YESTERDAY DON’T TOUCH THE VICTORY CIGARS

WHY YOU BE ON HIM ON THESE MILDS?! HE JUST BE ON THESE MILDS AND HENN, DOG, AND Y’ALL WORRIED BOUT HIM.

There are only so many moments in American history when the Respectability Cape is untucked and a moment made for a Boondocks cut scene is put in front of a White American audience. Y’all just gone have to deal with this. Shannon said fuck the morning news, because he been off them milds and that Yak, Skip. He been off that Henn, dog. And goddamnit, he deserves it.

Shannon took that Respectability Cape — the limited edition Jason Whitlock Player Colorway — off and put his “HennyThing is Possible” dad hat on with a matching chain and some Nike Boots right from the 08’ Wale “Chillin” video. What modern host of the daily sports shock jock collective can not only fight for black rights but also be unapologetic whenever he chooses?

White people, gather round. Put the La Croix down. I make a simple request. Do not gentrify Black & Milds. Do not start calling them Dark & Neutrals. Do not try them. They are not for you. Leave what left we have of our stake in this country. And if any videos of y’all making Taylor Swift sounding remixes to what Shannon did surface, I will file Cease & Desist papers on behalf of Black America.

Thank You,

Management.

Wait. Music hums from the rafters. Oh. OH! IS THAT SHANNON’S MUSIC?!

@ShannonSharpe - Yac and Mild (REMIX) LMAOOO!!!!!!!! http://pic.twitter.com/XVAPLHIvdK

— Remix god (@Remixgodsuede) October 3, 2017

VERDICT: NOT TRASH, AT ALL

Old, Curmudgeon Chris Paul Is Back

Oh, this is what y’all wanted, Houston?

Old-ass, no-hair havin-ass, midget in a sport full of giants-ass, Chris Paul is out here mad again. No, this is not an indictment of Paul. This is to say: fuck you Andre Roberson, you fake ass Bruce Bowen, learn how to shoot, man.

In the year 2017, we are still allowing - not only trash ass cities to be good at sports (Yo, OKC) - millionaire, superhuman basketball boys to keep air-balling basketballs. The entire point of the sport is to score more points than the other person. Eventually, we need to stop letting these “defensive-specialists” onto the court. Like, yeah, you wanna keep the clamps on folks, but YOU ALSO WANNA SCORE POINTS, FAM.

In no world if I’m picking random players off the wall to run 5’s am I saying “Yes, please, give me the guy who can’t shoot past 15 feet, is a guard, and looks like he should be playing Ligue 3 soccer in Grenoble.”

Only person who should be embarrassed here is Roberson and Sam Presti. Presti for not getting trash off the floor. Roberson because he’s a marginally worse shooter than Lamelo Ball.

Chris Paul hasn’t been able to ride roller coasters because of his height his entire, adult life. It’s not about basketball after you yell “hell, nah!” at my jumper. It’s about hands. You not gonna openly embarrass me in front of my loved ones even if I’m wrong. Nah, b. Throw a chair or square up.

VERDICT ON ROBERSON’S JUMPER: SUPER TRASH

VERDICT ON CHRIS PAUL’S HECKLING: A1 SHIT TALKIN

The Pittsburgh Hockey Boys

White People, gather back around. Look, I know we’ve had nice, long talks about Boston, but we gotta have another one. The hockey boys of Pittsburgh — aka Boston’s “Metropolitan-born, but still went to West Virginia because they had bad grades” third cousin — decided in the last few weeks that they wanted to cape for White America.

Don’t worry, they will tell you this is not about politics, it’s about honor and tradition and unity. Different shit completely. Margaret, please check off the “honor is bullshit” box on your “White America Rides Again” bingo card.

“The Pittsburgh Penguins respect the institution of the Office of the President, and the long tradition of championship teams visiting the White House,” the Penguins’ statement reads via The Washington Post.

Yeaaaahhhh hook that shit up to an IV and send it to my bloodstream.

“We attended White House ceremonies after previous championships — touring the historic building and visiting briefly with Presidents George H.W. Bush and Barack Obama — and have accepted an invitation to attend again this year.”

Oh hell yeah, we supported that one guy half of y’all kinda liked and half of y’all kinda didn’t, and we supported y’alls black president! We are definitely doing the right thing on this one, guys!

“Any agreement or disagreement with a president’s politics, policies or agenda can be expressed in other ways. However, we very much respect the rights of other individuals and groups to express themselves as they see fit.”

Woooooo, that’s a beautiful, goddamn lie. Chef’s Kiss.

Listen, protest is something that always upsets the majority no matter where or how it happens. For the Penguins organization to pass judgement AT THE SAME TIME TRUMP WAS OUT HERE SPRAYING THE CHOPPA AT BLACK ATHLETES on people wishing to do so is cowardly. It also perpetuates the ideas of the “Unity Above All Else” crowd when it comes to athletes not just being entertaining meat sacks. It protects the ideals of the organization rather than the employees.

This was a tool for the president to pass off his harmful rhetoric. He is now happy with mostly white hockey fans (and NASCAR, we see you Confederate Flag Waving Bro and Miller Lite Enthusiast Bro) and used it as a way to attack the black, athletic elite. So, thank you, Pittsburgh. This was real, real dope of y’all. Oh, and tell y’all local newspapers just because the mayor isn’t going doesn’t mean he’s “taking a knee” on the subject.

Whispers: and this is expected of a hockey town that shit on P.K. Subban and Joel Ward for being black and beating the brakes off your bad team.

VERDICT: PIPING HOT TRASH

If you disagree with these verdicts, comment below. As stated earlier, you can agree, comment, tweet through your frustration or fight. Really, it’s up to you.

[junker-town]

Lawmakers of color expected a culture war from Donald Trump. Just not in sports.

WASHINGTON — The old congressman was scuttling his way through the tunnel. Pap, pap, pap. The tap of his penny loafers was the only music you could hear that time of night. The old congressman was late. But he was taking his time. This week had been long enough. And there is no one alive in a position to tell John Lewis what to do.

Lewis was searching for his words. The second most-tenured black congressman was trying to pull together what happened the last few days. The president had found the latest targets for his vitriol -- the NFL and NBA and, more specifically, the black athletes within the sports who had led protests or spoken out against the president. Congress would have to react, but how?

Meanwhile, the world seemed in chaos. Rhetoric between North Korea and Donald Trump escalated. Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands were without power. Health care was on the line for Americans. Yet despite all this, the president seemed transfixed on one main topic: protesting black athletes and the leagues in which they play.

“I’m somewhat shocked he would go down this road,” Lewis said.

For a week, Trump issued statement after statement that seemed aimed at Black America. On Friday at a senatorial campaign rally for failed-candidate Luther Strange, Trump referred to mostly black protesters in the NBA and NFL as sons of bitches. He insisted a private company, the NFL, act and change how its employees conduct themselves at work while violating no First Amendment laws. He vilified them for protesting for black lives.

“I wasn't preoccupied with the NFL,” Trump said during a press conference with the Prime Minister of Spain. He doubled down on the fact that his feud with the NFL was something that deserved his time, and wasn’t distracting him from his legislative agenda. “I was ashamed of what was taking place.”

These are the moments that make Lewis reflect. He first came to Washington in 1961. “I was 21 years old. I had all my hair and was a few pounds lighter,” he said. He followed the road from the Capitol to the South. He spent years as a Freedom Rider, working with different groups to fight Jim Crow and the racism that makes up so much of the fabric of American history.

Photo by Rick Diamond/Getty Images

It led him to get his skull bashed in by Alabama State Troopers in Selma. Before many of his trips, he remembers setting a precedent, one that has leaked into the NFL for the last two seasons.

“We kneeled before we left on the march from Selma to Montgomery. We kneeled in courtrooms and courthouse steps. We kneeled when Dr. King came here in 1957. We kneeled on the steps to the Lincoln Memorial. I think the president needs to read a little history,” Lewis said.

Trump’s comments threw Congress into action, but there was already work being done. Many comments from the Capitol weren’t as reactive as they might have seemed.

This had been on the minds of many. This was building for months as more and more protesters took to the streets and the sidelines, troubled by a re-rise of white supremacist groups emboldened by the presidency. Yes, some of these lawmakers were positioning themselves in the middle of what seemed a never-ending news cycle. But some have been waiting for this moment.

Between political pandering and television talking points, lawmakers of color have been expecting this war with Trump. Throwing verbal spears at America’s black, athletic elite? Okay, that’s not how they drew it up. But a culture war against black folks? Well, ask around, that’s been on the horizon forever.

But the old congressman had spent too much time reminiscing for one day. He had to go. But before he left, he thought for a moment. Were black and brown lawmakers in the federal government prepared for this fight? Hell, were progressive-minded Americans ready?

“Well,” Lewis said, taking time to go over everything that’s happened. “I think the American people have received what they voted for.”

By the time Barbara Lee, a black Democratic lawmaker from Oakland, had caught up on the news, it almost seemed too late. Trump’s base was already taking victory laps. The assumption from the right was that they’d won. Trump attacked predominantly black protestors from two professional sports leagues, and the prevailing message had shifted.

This was no longer about police brutality and systemic racial injustice to Trump and his followers. They had pivoted the argument to the idea that this was about the flag and patriotism. The NFL had aided this pivot by joining the protesters, but only along the lines of “unity.” Colin Kaepernick’s original message seemed lost.

Republican lawmakers had also jumped in.

“What I don’t think people seem to get is when you do it on the flag and the anthem, it looks like you’re protesting against the ideals of America, the patriotism, the people that’ve put their lives on the line or given their life for the country,” Speaker Paul Ryan (R-Wisc.) said.

“I think it’s misguided to protest the anthem and the flag because people don’t see it, on some political issue,” Ryan continued. “They see it as protesting against the people who have given their lives for this country and the ideals that we all strive for.”

“It's totally inappropriate,” Sen. Pat Toomey, a Pennsylvania Republican told CNBC. “What they ought to do is show their respect for the people who helped secure the country that they have.”

"Every man, woman, child in this country should stand for the national anthem,” Sen. Tim Scott, a South Carolina Republican -- and the only black Republican in the Senate -- said after Toomey. Scott is the only member of the Senate who has personally discussed issues of race with Trump. “That should go without question.”

The rhetoric was unsurprising to Lee, though this time, it felt personal. The Warriors are her district’s team. She’s ridden championship parade floats through the Oakland summers with Curry and the gang. The MVP hand-wrote a letter to Lee for her mother Massey, a super-fan, after she died. To disrespect them was to disrespect her, especially given she’d already invited the club to come to Congress when an invitation to the White House was still on the table.

What did unsettle her was watching the president and other white groups, the NFL included, co-opt the language of protest and transform it into a stunt. Unity? That’s not what Colin Kaepernick knelt for. Brotherhood? Michael Bennett didn’t get cuffed, a knee put into his neck and a gun to his ear for that. The flag? Black folks are as American as anyone else in a country they built.

Photo by Aaron P. Bernstein/Getty Images

“Challenging them as patriots, thinking they aren’t living up to what America prides itself as being, he’s almost saying they’re un-American,” Lee said. “That’s the implication. It’s a very hard moment. I know what these players must feel that their president has the audacity to take them on in this way. It’s outrageous.”

It all felt a part of the Trump roadmap, where the ideals of white supremacy are co-opted in the rhetoric of "taking America back." The NFL helped him, framing protests about institutional injustice as a “unity” exercise, all to avoid speaking about how the Kaepernick effect had led to a second year of protest and dissent.

Lee noticed this shift. The president has become a master of spin in an age of never-ending coverage and tweets and used it to keep turning America against American athletes. Lee believes it’s intolerable.

“That’s disgusting,” she said. “This is to keep people from talking about the real issues. Equality and justice isn’t a priority for him. The black community seems to understand there’s a heck of a lot to lose and the president is leading that charge.”

Lee’s colleague, Nancy Pelosi, the Democratic Leader of the House and a representative of San Francisco, is also pulling for the Warriors to come to Congress. She sees the spin the White House is using. To her, the president is the “deflector-in-chief.”

The NFL and NBA discussions were perfect distractions for a president under fire. Anything not to talk about the legislative agenda, the countless Americans without power in Puerto Rico or those nervous about the safety of their health care.

“It’s unfortunate,” Pelosi said. “As the president of the United States, this is a unifying opportunity for him. I just can’t answer for what’s in his soul or in his heart about these things. I do know what he says is not unifying for our country.”

Lawmakers of color mirrored the messages of Lee and Pelosi. Adriano Espaillat, a Dominican-born, rookie congressman from New York, said Trump “spent his time calling people names and trying to pontificate to America with a hollow soul.” Ted Lieu, a California Democrat and veteran, said Trump’s “unfortunately the same person, maybe even worse, than the person he was when he campaigned.” Cedric Richmond, the New Orleanian head of the Congressional Black Caucus, said “no one says” what Trump said.

“We’re ready. We know who he is.” - Congresswoman Barbara Lee

“In his mind, and how he thinks, it’s an easy sell to get his numbers back up to the base he appeals to by creating division,” Richmond said. “He’s saying: ‘Look at those ungrateful, African-American football players that make millions but don’t respect our flag or our country or our heritage. Well, it’s everyone’s heritage.”

It is all of this that had Lee invigorated by week’s end. The language shift, the attacks on protest, the death threats sent to players and their families, was possible in any version of America but Trump gave supplied the spark. But, Lee said, what people are forgetting is the patriotism it takes to dissent.

If anything, these players should be applauded, she thinks. They’re more American than the president trying to delegitimize them.

“The president isn’t winning this,” she said. “This is more than a skirmish. This is a divisive tactic that he’s using.” She paused. “We’re ready. We know who he is.”

Back in March, Richmond and many black lawmakers on the Hill, traveled to the White House to meet with Trump. There, they handed him a 125-page policy book. In it was the detailed concerns of the caucus about criminal justice reform, racial profiling and police brutality.

It’s unclear if the president ever read it.. Richmond wrote in a letter this week that their offerings were “completely disregarded.” So, Richmond and the rest declined to meet with Trump again in June.

For Richmond, it was unsurprising that Trump would have a problem with the protesting players, as he had not seemed to care at all for the concerns of black lawmakers.

“None of the forms of protest over injustice and inequality have been deemed acceptable,” Richmond said. “They criticized Black Lives Matter. They criticized the Mothers of the Movement. Now, they criticize taking a knee. The question then becomes: is it the method of the protest or is it the message of the protest?”

Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

Richmond said there’s a “real concern” if this is the right job for Trump. Lee is tired of the president shining a light on himself instead of the “heroes” of this moment. Lewis still backs the power of protest, he just wishes the president would pick up a history book.

The culture war the president started against two predominantly black leagues and it’s protesters is changing by the day. But the lawmakers who’ve been fighting to keep black people and their concerns relevant in this fight have come prepared.

Congressmen and players have been working together since last season to attempt and create criminal justice reform policy. But any work they’ve done seems like it could be upended, at any moment, with one tweet or tirade.

“He should stay out of the NFL’s business, especially as the president of the United States, especially as he is standing up for people to be fired after calling them sons of bitches,” Richmond said of Trump.

He then thought back to our previous president, playing a game black folks, progressives, and resistors play every so often, in a world where the current president feeds on and legitimizes white supremacy in an attempt to delegitimize America’s first black president. This game is maddening every time.

“Close your eyes,” Richmond said. “Now imagine if Barack Obama called people S.O.B’s.”