#now there's errors in my aid and my credits are still fucked up

[shoezuki]

hi hello so for any people curious bout the dream beef i am talking about im gon chronicle it all here in a hopefully fully contextual way for both longterm weirdos and new people who dont know bout my parasocial beef w dream. ill try to keep my biases out of it somewhat but anyways,

this began with a podcast Tommyinnit and Jack Manifold have together in which they had philza as a guest. Episode 9 is currently behind a paywall on their patreon but they have a youtube channel where they post them publically as well. Not sure if they make all their episodes public eventually or not but i digress.

Twitter user _constel_ has posted 5 clips from the podcast in question that contain their discussion about dream. I have downloaded the videos but tumblr doesnt want me to put them in this post so i will try and sum up each clip as I go.

Clip 1: Phil starts talking about how once the dsmp was done people would joke about how their 'contracts' would be over and they would be allowed to talk about things behind the scenes. philza mentions the infamous philza tweet in response to dream.

for context, the main discussion is around this exchange from around february 2021, where dream 'jokingly' argues that he is responsible to tommy's high viewership on youtube:

Most of it the tweets are deleted by both parties but it was very much a whole thing. Phil has apparently joked about revealing the context of his reply 'when he retires' (mentioned clip 1).

Jack Manifold had apparently been in a call with tommyinnit when the exchange was happening and recalls tommy being extremely stressed. The context philza gives is that he was texted by tommy to look at the thread while he was going on a walk and tommy was panicking over if dream was genuine (mentioned clip 2). Philza says "I'll find out if he's fucking joking' and that he essentially vibe checked dream. Tommy also states that after the twitter exchange he legitimately wrote in his diary to never be rude to dream: "never be horrible to dream. It's not worth it. It makes me too sad". Additionally jack manifold establishes that he hated dream from the beginning, they hate each other, and that, although he acknowledges dream aided him through the dream smp, he hates how dream 'takes ownership of other people and their accomplishments because he was a guiding hand' (mentioned clip 3).

Jack manifold mentions that tommy was 16 during this exchange and philza additionally says it was out of line (Clip 4). Philza more openly talks about there being 'reds flag after red flags' with dream in clip 5.

OKAY thats honestly a vague description and theres a LOT more so watch the clips if u want. Heres another tweet 'summarizing' it as well. But anyways this of course had people talking about dream again, some people (accidentally?) acting like this is about dream smp lore, and a lot of people concerned about how tommy was afraid to upset dream and would blame himself when dream picked fights with him.

Dream's response on dreamwastaken was to tweet about how he appreciated everyone who was on the server dispite differences, as well as a zip file to download the dsmp server/world file.

Worth noting there is a limitation on how many people can download the file within 24 hours so now people are only getting an error message when trying to access it which is fucking funny. On his private he also tweeted "love and appreciate you guys <3 very happy to be uploading again :) hope to keep it rolling" (Im not cropping out the reply its funny)

Thats all hes said so far, I havent seen tommy or jack manifold talking about it either. technically it isnt outright in response to their podcast but obviously everyone is taking it as such.

final stuff/my thoughts: dream has obviously had a tendency to kinda 'take credit' for 'making' the streamers who were on the dsmp and its notable that in his tweet he still acts like his server was the reason for people's fame and relationships. Saying 'a group of creators most of which would never have collaborated under any other circumstance got together and made something really cool' is just his thinly veiled way of still taking credit for tommy's fame and the relationships he and others have made and its moronic. Not to mention dsmp was very much NOT the server that got these specific people together, i mean techno and phil met through minecraft mondays, tommy and jack manifold met both of them through smp earth i believe. Even if the dsmp wasnt a thing they probably would have collaborated with other members through mcc eventually. the idea that the dsmp was what brought them together and a bunch of minecraft clowns would 'never have collaborated under any other circumstance' is stupid.

anyways sorry this is long as shit. im going to pray dream doesnt let this go for at least 3 to 5 business days as per usual

[dangerpronebuddie]

.

[nu-metal-confessions]

What the FUCK is up Ozzfest?!?!?!?!

Lead in of the century, huh?

Well, nu year = nu confessional. I dun dusted off the kneeler and shellacked up some new prayer cards to get ready for overhaul. Take some time to enjoy the new wicker smell.

Now I did not say nu blog. Some time ago I may have said something along the lines of 'blog will be deleted lol bye', but I have an update!

THIS piece of shit is no longer banned! Sooooooo, that means a fresh start doesn't necessarily mean deletion and relocation. Nah, I can freshen up and get my shit together.

Pretty much the same policy as last time as laid out in the bio (except for one change but I'll get to that later), but I got some plans. Make it a real throwback to some old fandom confession blogs I've been lurking on.

When I get a confession, I will do my best to add a visual aid in the form of a image edit, gif, short video, or, if the confession concerns a specific song or album, an audio file you'll be able to listen to via Tumblr. No external links.

This will let me polish up any errors in a sent confession and make everything a little nicer to look at and interact with. I also hope it will encourage YOU to make longer confessions, more thought out confessions, hotter takes, and so on.

This also means I will no longer be posting confessions as straight up replies to asks, so feel free to go off anon. If you do, please specify if you'd like me to credit you for the confession.

Thirsty Thursdays will be held each week where I will exclusively post any horny or otherwise sexually explicit confessions I have on hand. So don't worry, you still get to be perverts. One day a week. Use it wisely.

This post will be updated as I get more organized and come up with more to add. Use the replies of this post to ask for any clarification.

[arcticdementor]

Stefanie Gray explains why, as a teenager, she was so anxious to leave her home state of Florida to go to college.

“I went to garbage schools and I’m from a garbage low-income suburb where everyone sucks Oxycontin all day,” she says. “I needed to get out.”

She got into Hunter College in New York, but both her parents had died and she had nowhere near enough to pay tuition, so she borrowed. “I just had nothing and was poor as hell, so I took out loans,” she says.

This being 2006, just a year after the infamous Bankruptcy Bill of 2005 was passed, she believed news stories about student loans being non-dischargeable in bankruptcy. She believed they would be with her for life, or until they were paid off.

“My understanding was, it’s better to purchase 55 big-screen TVs on a credit card, and discharge that in a court of law, then be a student who’s getting an education,” she says.

Still, she asked for financial aid: “I was like, ‘My parents are dead, I'm a literal fucking orphan, I have no siblings. I'm just taking out this money to put my ass through school.”

Instead of a denial, she got plenty of credit, including a slice of what were called “direct-to-consumer” loans, that came with a whopping 14% interest rate. One of her loans also came from a company called MyRichUncle that, before going bankrupt in 2009, would briefly become famous for running an ad disclosing a kickback system that existed between student lenders and college financial aid offices.

Gray was not the cliché undergrad, majoring in intersectional basket-weaving with no plan to repay her loans. She took geographical mapping, with the specific aim of getting a paying job quickly. But she graduated in the middle of the post-2008 crash, when “53% of people 18 to 29 were unemployed or underemployed.”

“I couldn't even get a job scrubbing toilets at a local motel,” she recalls. “They told me straight up that I was over-educated. I was like, “Literally, I'll do your housekeeping. I don't give a shit, just let me make money and not get evicted and end up homeless.”

The lender Sallie Mae at the time had an amusingly loathsome policy of charging a repeating $150 fee every three months just for the privilege of applying for forbearance. Gray was so pissed about having to pay $50 a month just to say she was broke that she started a change.org petition that ended up gathering 170,000 signatures.

She personally delivered those to the Washington offices of Sallie Mae and ended up extracting a compromise out of the firm: they’d still charge the fee, but she could at least apply it to her balance, as opposed to just sticking it in the company’s pocket as an extra. This meager “partial” victory over a student lender was so rare, the New York Times wrote about it.

“I definitely poked the bear,” she says.

Gray still owed a ton of student debt — it had ballooned from $36,000 to $77,000, in fact — and collectors were calling her nonstop, perhaps with a little edge thanks to who she was. “They were telling me I should hit up people I know for money, which was one thing,” she recalls. “But when they started talking about giving blood, or selling plasma… I don’t know.”

Sallie Mae ultimately sued Gray four times. In doing so, they made a strange error. It might have slipped by, but for luck. “By the grace of God,” Gray said, she met a man in the lobby of a courthouse, a future state Senator named Kevin Thomas, who took a look at her case. “Huh, I’ve got some ideas,” he said, eventually pointing to a problem right at the top of her lawsuit.

Sallie Mae did not represent itself in court as Sallie Mae. The listed plaintiff was “SLM Private Credit Student Loan Trust VL Funding LLC.” As was increasingly the case with mortgages and other forms of debt, student loans by then were typically gathered, pooled, and chopped into slices called tranches, to be marketed to investors. Gray, essentially, was being sued by a tranche of student loan debt, a little like being sued by the coach section of an airline flight.

When Thomas advised her to look up the plaintiff’s name, she discovered it wasn’t registered to do business in the State of New York, which prompted the judge to rule that the entity lacked standing to sue. He fined Sallie Mae $10,000 for “nonsense” and gave Gray another rare victory over a student lender, which she ended up writing about herself this time, in The Guardian.

Corporate creditors often play probabilities and mass-sue even if they don’t always have great cases, knowing a huge percentage of borrowers either won’t show up in court (as with credit card holders) or will agree to anything to avoid judgments, the usual scenario with student borrowers.

“What usually happens in pretty much 99% of these cases is you beg and plead and say, ‘Please don't put a judgment against me, I'll do anything… because a judgment against you means you're not going to be able to buy a home, you’re not going to be able to do basically anything involving credit for the next 20 years.”

…

The passage of the Bankruptcy Abuse Prevention and Consumer Protection Act of 2005 was a classic demonstration of how America works, or doesn’t, depending on your point of view. While we focus on differences between Republicans and Democrats, it’s their uncanny habit of having just a sliver of enough agreement to pass crucial industry-friendly bills that really defines the parties.

Whether it’s NAFTA, the Iraq War authorization, or the Obama stimulus, there are always just enough aisle-crossers to get the job done, and the tally usually tracks with industry money with humorous accuracy. In this law signed by George Bush, sponsored by Republican Chuck Grassley, and greased by millions in donations from entities like Sallie Mae, the crucial votes were cast by a handful of aisle-crossing Democrats, including especially the Delawareans Joe Biden and Tom Carper. Hillary Clinton, who took $140,000 from bank interests in her Senate run, had voted for an earlier version.

Party intrigue is only part of the magic of American politics. Public relations matter, too, and the Bankruptcy Bill turned out to be the poster child for another cherished national phenomenon: the double-lie.

…

Years later, pundits still debate whether there really ever was an epidemic of debt-fleeing deadbeats, or whether legislators in 2005 who just a few years later gave “fresh starts” to bankrupt Wall Street banks ever cared about “moral hazard,” or if it’s fair to cut off a single Mom in a trailer when Donald Trump got to brag about “brilliantly” filing four commercial bankruptcies, and so on.

In other words, we argue the why of the bill, but not the what. What did that law say, exactly? For years, it was believed that it absolutely closed the door on bankruptcy for whole classes of borrowers, and one in particular: students. Nearly fifteen years after the bill’s passage, journalists were still using language like, “The bill made it completely impossible to discharge student loan debt.”

…

The phrase “Just asking questions” today often carries a negative connotation. It’s the language of the conspiracy theorist, we’re told. But sometimes in America we’re just not told the whole story, and when the press can’t or won’t do it, it’s left to individual people to fill in the blanks. In a few rare cases, they find out something they weren’t supposed to, and in rarer cases still, they learn enough to beat the system. This is one of those stories.

…

Smith’s explanation of the history of the student loan exemption and where it all went wrong is biting and psychologically astute. In his telling, the courts’ historically sneering attitude toward student borrowers has its roots in an ages-old generational debate.

“This started out as an an argument between the Greatest Generation and Baby Boomers,” Smith notes. “A lot of the law was created by people railing against draft-dodging deadbeat hippies.”

He points to a 1980 ruling by a judge named Richard Merrick, who in denying relief to a former student, wrote the following:

The arrogance of former students who had received so much from society, frequently including draft deferment, and who had given back so little in return, accompanied by their vehemence in asserting their constitutional and statutory rights, frequently were not well received by legislators and jurists, senior to them, who had lived through the Depression, had worked their ways through college and graduate school, had served in World War II, and had been paying the taxes which made possible the student loans.

Smith laughs about this I didn’t climb the hills at Normandy with a knife in my teeth just to eat the debt on your useless-ass liberal arts degree perspective, noting that “when those guys who did all that complaining went to school, only rich prep school kids went to college, and by the way, tuition was like ten bucks.” Still, he wasn’t completely unsympathetic to the conservative position.

…

This concern about “deadbeats” gaming the system — kids taking out fat loans to go to school and bailing on them before the end of the graduation party — led that 1985 court to take a hardcore position against students who made “virtually no attempt to repay.” They established a three-pronged standard that came to be known as the “Brunner test” for determining if a student faced enough “undue hardship” to be granted relief from student debt.

Among other things, the court ruled that a newly graduated student had to do more than demonstrate a temporary inability to handle bills. Instead, a “total incapacity now and in the future to pay” had to be present for a court to grant relief. Over the course of the next decades, it became axiomatic that basically no sentient being could pass the Brunner test.

…

In 2015, he was practicing law at the Texas litigation firm Bickel and Brewer when he came across a case involving a former Pace University student named Lesley Campbell, who was seeking to discharge a $15,000 loan she took out while studying for a bar exam. Smith believed a loan given out to a woman who’d already completed her studies, and who used the money to pay for rent and groceries, was not covering an “educational benefit” as required by law. A judge named Carla Craig agreed and canceled Campbell’s loan, and Campbell v. Citibank became one of the earlier dents in the public perception that there were no exceptions to the prohibition on discharging student debts.

“I thought, ‘Wait, what? This might be important,’” says Smith.

By law, Smith believed, lenders needed to be wary of three major exceptions to the non-dischargeability rule:

— If a loan was not made to a student attending a Title IV accredited school, he thought it was probably not a “qualified educational loan.”

— If the student was not a full-time student — in practice, this meant taking less than six credits — the loan was probably dischargeable.

— And if the loan was made in an amount over and above the actual cost of attending an accredited school, the excess might not be “eligible” money, and potentially dischargeable.

Practically speaking, this means if you got a loan for an unaccredited school, were not a full-time student, or borrowed for something other than school expenses, you might be eligible for relief in court.

Smith found companies had been working around these restrictions in the blunt predatory spirit of a giant-sized Columbia Record Club. Companies lent hundreds of thousands to teenagers over and above the cost of tuition, or to people who’d already graduated, or to attendees of dubious unaccredited institutions, or to a dozen other inappropriate destinations. Then they called these glorified credit card balances non-dischargeable educational debts — Gray got one of these “direct-to-consumer” specials — and either sold them into the financial system as investments, borrowed against them as positive assets, or both.

…

Smith thought these practices were nuts, and tried to convince his bosses to start suing financial companies.

“They were like, ‘You do know what we do around here, right?’ We defend banks,” he recalls, laughing. “I said, ‘Not these particular banks.’ They said it didn’t matter, it was a question of optics, and besides, who was going to pay off in the end? A bunch of penniless students?”

Furious, Smith stormed off, deciding to hang his own shingle and fight the system on his own. “My sister kept saying to me, ‘You have to stop trying to live in a John Grisham novel,’” he recalls, laughing. “There were parts of it where I was probably super melodramatic, saying things like, ‘I'm going to go find justice.’”

Slowly however, Smith did find clients, and began filing and winning cases. With each suit, he learned more and more about student lenders. In one critical moment, he discovered that the same companies who were representing in court that their loans were absolutely non-dischargeable were telling investors something entirely different. In one prospectus for a trust packed full of loans managed by Sallie Mae, investors were told that the process for creating the aforementioned “direct-to-consumer” loans:

Does not involve school certification as an additional control and, therefore, may be subject to some additional risk that the loans are not used for qualified education expenses… You will bear any risk of loss resulting from the discharge.

Sallie Mae was warning investors that the loans might be discharged in bankruptcy. Why the honesty? Because the parties who’d be packaging and selling these student loan-backed instruments included Credit Suisse, JP Morgan Chase, and Deutsche Bank.

“It’s one thing to lie to a bunch of broke students. They don’t matter,” Smith says. “It’s another to lie to JP Morgan Chase and Deutsche Bank. You screw those people, they’ll fight back.”

…

In June of 2018, a case involving a Navy veteran named Kevin Rosenberg went through the courts. Rosenberg owed hundreds of thousands of dollars and tried to keep current on his loans, but after his hiking and camping store folded in 2017, he found himself busted and unable to pay. His case was essentially the opposite of Brunner: he clearly hadn’t tried to game the system, he made a good faith effort to pay, and he demonstrated a long-term inability to make good. All of this was taken into consideration by a judge named Cecilia Morris, who ruled that Rosenberg qualified for “undue hardship.”

“Most people… believe it impossible to discharge student loans,” Morris wrote. “This Court will not participate in perpetuating these myths.” The ruling essentially blew up the legend of the unbeatable Brunner standard.

Given a fresh start, Rosenberg moved to Norway to become an Arctic tour guide. “I want people to know that this is a viable option,” he said at the time. The ruling attracted a small flurry of news attention, including a feature in the Wall Street Journal, as the case sent a tremor through the student lending world. More and more people were now testing their luck in bankruptcy, suing their lenders, and asking more and more uncomfortable questions about the nature of the education business.

In the summer of 2012, a former bond trader named Michael Grabis sat in the waiting room of a Manhattan financial company, biding time before a job interview. In the eighties, Grabis’s father was a successful bond trader who worked in a swank office atop the World Trade Center, but after the 1987 crash, the family fell out of the smart set overnight. His father lost his job and spiraled, his mother had to look for a job, and “we just became working class people.”

Michael tried to rewrite the family story, going to school and going into the bond business himself, first with the Bank of New York, and eventually for Schwab. But he, too, lost his job in a crash, in 2008, and now was trying to break the pattern of bubble economy misery. However, he’d exited Pennsylvania’s Lafayette College in the nineties carrying tens of thousands in student loans. That number had since been compounded by fees and penalties, and the usual letters, notices, and phone calls from debt collectors came nonstop.

Now, awaiting a job interview, his phone rang again. It was a collection call for Sallie Mae, and it wasn’t just one voice on the line.

“They had two women call at once,” Grabis recalls. “They told me I’d made bad life choices, that I lived in too expensive a city, that I had to move to a cheaper place, so I could afford to pay them,” Grabis explains. “I tried to tell them I was literally at that moment trying to get a job to help pay my bills, but these people are trained to just hound you without listening. I was shaking when I got off the phone, and ended up having a bad interview.”

Two years later, more out of desperation and anger than any real expectation of relief, Grabis went to federal court in the Southern District of New York and filed for bankruptcy. At the time, he, too, believed student loans could not be eliminated. But the more he read about the way student loans were constructed and sold — he’d had experience in doing shovel-work constructing mortgage-backed securities, so he understood the Student Loan Asset-Backed Securities (SLABS) market — he started to develop a theory. Everyone dealing with the finances of higher education in America knew the system was rotten, he thought. But what if someone could prove it?

The 2005 Bankruptcy Act says former students can’t discharge loans for “qualified educational expenses,” i.e. loans given to students so that they might attend tax-exempt non-profit educational institutions. Historically, that exemption covered almost all higher education loans.

What if America’s universities no longer deserve their non-profit status? What if they’re no longer schools, and are instead first and foremost crude profit-making ventures, leveraging federal bankruptcy law and the I.R.S. code into a single, ongoing predatory lending scheme?

This is essentially what Grabis argued, in a motion filed last January. He named Navient, Lafayette College, the U.S. Department of Education, Joe Biden, his own exasperated judge, and a host of other “unknown co-perpetrators” as part of a scheme against him, claiming the entirety of America’s higher education business had become an illegal moneymaking scam.

“They created a fraud,” he says flatly.

…

Grabis doesn’t have a lawyer, his case has been going on for the better part of six years, and at first blush, his argument sounds like a Hail Mary from a desperate debtor. The only catch is, he might be right.

By any metric, something unnatural is going on in the education business. While other industries in America suffered declines thanks to financial crises, increased exposure to foreign competition, and other factors, higher education has grown suspiciously fat in the last half-century. Tuition costs are up 100% at universities over and above inflation since 2000, despite the 2008 crash, with some schools jacking up prices at three, four times the rate of inflation dating back to the seventies.

Bloat at the administrative level makes the average university look like a parody of an NFL team, where every brain-dead cousin to the owner gets on the payroll. According to Education Week, “fundraisers, financial aid advisers, global recruitment staff, and many others grew by 60 percent between 1993 and 2009,” which is ten times the rate of growth for tenured faculty positions.

…

Hovering over all this is a fact not generally known to the public: many American universities, even ones claiming to be broke, are sitting atop mountains of reserve cash. In 2013, after the University of Wisconsin blamed post-crash troubles for raising tuition 5.5%, UW system president Kevin Reilly in 2013 admitted that the school actually held $638 million in reserve, separate and distinct from the school endowment. Moreover, Reilly said, other big schools were doing the same thing. UW’s reserve was 25% of its operating budget, for instance, but the University of Minnesota’s was 29%, while Illinois maintained a whopping 34% buffer.

When Alan Collinge of Student Loan Justice looked into it, he found many other schools were sitting atop mass reserves even as they pleaded poverty to raise tuition rates. “They’re all doing it,” he said.

In the mortgage bubble that led to the 2008 crash, financiers siphoned fortunes off home loans that were unlikely to be repaid. Student loans are the same game, but worse. All the key players get richer as that $1.7 trillion pile of debt expands, and the fact that everyone knows huge percentages of student borrowers will never pay is immaterial. More campus palaces get built, more administrators get added to payrolls, and perhaps most importantly, the list of assets grows for financial companies, whether or not the loans perform.

…

“As long as it’s collateralized at Navient, they can borrow against that,” Smith says. “They say, ‘Look, we've got $3 billion in assets, which are just consumer loans in negative amortization that are not being repaid, but are being artificially kept out of default so Navient can borrow against that from other banks.

“When I realized that, I was like, ‘Oh, my god. They’re happy that the loans are growing instead of being repaid, because it gives them more collateral to borrow against.’” Smith’s comments echo complaints made by virtually every student borrower in trouble I’ve ever interviewed: lenders are not motivated to reduce the size of balances by actually getting paid. Instead, the game is about keeping loans alive and endlessly growing the balance, through new fees, penalties, etc.

There are two ways of approaching reform of the system. One is the Bernie Sanders route, which would involve debt forgiveness and free higher education. A market-based approach meanwhile dreams of reintroducing discipline into student lending; if students could default, schools couldn’t endlessly raise costs on the back of unlimited government-backed credit.

Which idea is more correct can be debated, but the one thing we know for sure is that the current system is the worst of both worlds, enriching all the most undeserving actors, and hitting that increasingly prevalent policy sweet spot of privatized profit and socialized risk. Whether it gets blown up in bankruptcy courts or simply collapses eventually under its own financial weight — there’s an argument that the market will be massively disrupted if and when the administration ends the Covid-19 deferment of student loan payments — the lie can’t go on much longer.

“It’s just obvious that this has become a printing money operation,” says Grabis. “The colleges charge whatever they want, then they go to the government and continuously increase the size of the loans.” If you’re on the inside, that’s a beautiful thing. What about for everyone else?

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 41

WARNINGS: Dark Tyler.  Angsty Tyler,  I suppose.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thorsbathroomchicken​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

The storage facility lies on the outskirts of town; in the middle of a derelict portion of an industrial complex.  Abandoned warehouses flanking it to both the east and west, long abandoned train tracks to the north and a sewage treatment plant to the south.  Weeds manage to thrive within the chips and cracks of old concrete,  litter caught up in the rusted metal of a chain link fence. There hasn't been true signs of life in these parts for years; the factories that were still thriving were more than a kilometre, and no one aside from those wanting to take belongings out of their lockers ever visited the area.  The sense and appearance of abandonment and neglect adding something dark and dreary to an already sinister plan

He's the last to arrive; parking the SUV among the small group of vehicles already gathered by the front gate.  The security system for the facility had long ago been vandalized; someone had broken into the security system and stolen all the intricate parts, rendering the keypad useless. All that exists now are loose wires and scattered bits of metal,  the gate permanently left open for anyone...whether it be thief or transient...to gain access.  He kills the ignition and checks his phone; reading through unopened text messages, the engine softly ticking as is it cools. Letting his wife know that he'd arrived safe and sound at his first destination, but not giving any details.

The less she knows the better; some things are better left unspoken, some plans better left just between the people actually getting their hands dirty.  All his resolve is gone. All his patience shredded. Any and all mercy has ceased to exist. He's at peace with his decision; resolved, determined, calm.  With not even the slightest bit of hesitation or an inkling of remorse haunting him.   And he tells himself that this could have been avoided had McMann not crossed that line.  If he'd simply had the balls to go right to the source of his issues instead of taking a coward's way out. This is on him now. Whatever happens...whatever plan begins to unravel...the moment Tyler steps up of the car, it is a fate that the other man has brought onto himself.  No one will find him out here.  No one will be able to hear the suffering, the begging, the pleading. No one will be able to come to his aid. And in the end, when he finally thinks it's over and he's about to be shown mercy, he'll be handed over to begin another nightmare all in itself.

He sends her a second message. Telling her that he loves her. Reassuring her that everything is going to be okay.  That he'll message her once the second part of that day's mission is done and McMann has been taken care up; holed up somewhere under lock and key, where he'll be kept until the IRA has made up their mind.  And he adds : 'I'll see you when I see you', the exact words he's used for the past four years every time he abandons her and their children to go and solve someone else's problems.  

“What do you think?”  Yaz asks, when Tyler joins him at the front gate.  

He'd been there for an hour now, arranging things exactly as had been requested. Their own surveillance feed that they can view from their cell phones or their laptops; cameras placed at the front gate, the doorway of the unit Tyler had rented using a fake name and stolen credit card, and three within the actual storage locker itself. There'd be eyes and ears on McMann twenty four hours a day; no one aside from those who knew of the storage locker and the plans for it would be going in or out. The situation would be controlled. Monitored. Right down to the very second.  And if he somehow managed to get away and make a run for it, he wouldn't get far; Yaz would be installing an ankle monitor the moment McMann arrived on site.

“I think it's perfect,” he replies, as they fall in step alongside of each other and pass through the gate.  Dirt and gravel crackling under the soles of his combat boots; kicking away any wayward rubbish that lies in his path. The storm the night before had brought the humidity; sweat glistens on his brow and trickles down his temples; the back of his t-shirt already damp.

“Esme's okay?”

“She's sick. Can't keep anything down. Not even water.”

“The baby or...?”

“Could be the baby. Could be stress. Could be nerves. She's been sick before; with all the others. But nothing this bad.”

“A sign maybe? That something is wrong? With the baby?”

Tyler frowns. “Why  the fuck would you even say that?”

“I'm not saying that there is something wrong. And I'm not wishing or hoping there is. I'm just saying that...fuck...I don't even know what I'm saying.”  He's nervous. Despite all the jobs that he's assisted with, all the perilous and high stakes situations he's been in, the nerves have been rubbed raw. This is a first for him. When they'll actually be inflicting the damage instead of trying to end it.

“she's fine,” Tyler says, more an attempt to reassure himself than Yaz. “The baby's fine. She's just freaking out. She's thousands of miles away from home. From her kids. She's worried about them, worried about Ovi and Chloe, worried about me. This fucking sucks, mate. That she has to go through all of this. Especially now. This should be a happy time. We just found out we're having a baby. We should be ecstatic. And instead we're dealing with this bullshit.  She deserves better than this. So does that baby.”

“Well at least we can kind of see the finish line now,”  Yaz reasons. “We're a hell of a lot closer than we were two days ago, that's for sure. Heard anything from the IRA yet?”

“Flynn said it would be two days at the earliest, four at the latest. I don't expect to hear anything from them for a while.”

The air inside the storage building is stifling; humidity hanging heavily. The air conditioning unit is ancient and had long ago stopped working, and the owners of the facility seemed to be in no hurry to fix it.  A foul stench lingers in the air; a mixture of rotting garbage in the bins outside,  pollution from the factories and the mills only a kilometre away, and the tell tale odour of mould and mildew. Not the most pleasant, but after wading through that sewer in Dhaka and having to wait there for more than hour for Gaspar to pick them up, smells rarely bother Tyler anymore.  But he notices the way Yaz scrunches up his nose; a scowl appearing on his face before he begins to cough and gag.

“What if they don't agree to this?” Yaz asks. “What if this is all for nothing?”

“Even if they do say no, it won't be for nothing. Trust me.”

“How long will you keep him here? If they don't want him.  How long does he have before...you know...”

“I'll kill him when I'm good and ready. And I will. Kill him. If they don't.”  

He's calm as he says it. Matter of fact. There's no hesitation. He'd made the decision on the drive over. If the IRA didn't want McMann, then he'd take care of the problem himself. But not before the other man was taught a very valuable lesson. It's the first time he hasn't experienced even the slightest bit of remorse or guilt over the thought of taking another life.  Killing had never been about satisfaction or pleasure. He's killed because he's had to. Because his own survival came down to it. He's never been proud of the reputation. Or the body count. But this is different.

This is personal.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Yaz asks, as motions towards the last door on the left.  Garage style; black aluminum that rolls up into the ceiling. He'd rented the largest one possible; so whoever was in charge of watching McMann during set shifts would have a place to eat and rest.  There'd be a team of four, switching out every six hours.  And always a set off eyes on either laptop or cell phone.

“It's what I need to do,”  Tyler replies. “For my wife. For my kids.”

“Do you think she'd really want this, Tyler? If she knew exactly what you were up to? You think she'd want to know what you're capable of?”

“She already knows that, mate. She saw what I was capable of five and a half years ago in Dhaka. She knows who I am. She knows what I do.”

“But this? This goes above and beyond what she saw. What she knows. Do you really think she'd want to know about this? About what kind of man you can be?”

“No,” he admits. “Probably not. She'd probably hate me. Or be scared of me She'd probably never trust me again. Maybe she'd even leave me and take my kids.”

It's the bitter and hard truth of the situation; in the middle of trying to protect and avenge his family, he could in fact end up losing them.  But she'd understand. If she'd listen to him long enough. If she gave him a chance to explain, she would realize that he'd done it for her. For their kids. To protect the only things that truly mattered in his life. She'd saved him. Given him a second chance. And McMann had threatened that. To take away the one person that he had held on for.  

And he deserved to pay for it.

“Then why do it?”  Yaz asks.  “Why risk it? Why risk losing everything over one person?”

“Because,” he replies, and steps over the threshold of the storage unit. “He fucked with the wrong man's family.”

***

“Things are coming together,” Mark says, his hands on his hips as he watches two of his Marines -Nathan and Zak- secure the last two cameras; one above the door, the other in the middle of the room to the left, three inches from the ceiling.  The remaining member of his team has been assigned to stay behind at the hotel, ordered to stay glued to Esme's hip at all times until Tyler's returned from the his meeting with McMann.  “Not too shabby for a couple of jar heads, huh?  They're determined to get shit done, that's for sure.”

“It all gonna be ready for when he gets here?” Tyler asks. He doesn't want to leave any stone unturned. Not even the simplest of details can be overlooked. There is no room for error.  And even the smallest mistake could spell disaster.

“Should be. Come check this out...”

There's a crude metal chair in the middle of the room; a sack made from heavy black fabric that will be used to cover McMann's head and a package of zip ties sitting on the seat.  But it's  meal table pushed against the far wall that Mark leads him too. A wide selection of knives and handguns nearly arranged on top of it, along with the lesser used tools of the trade.

“We've got the usual,” Mark says, as he nods down at the objects on display. “Standard run of the mill shit. But these...” he takes two steps sideways.  “...this is where the real nasty stuff is. The ones that can really pack a punch. We've got a couple of tasers, a few box cutters, a ball-peen hammer, crowbar. Even a couple pairs of pliers. You know, for the little jobs and small spaces you need to get into.”

Tyler picks up a handsaw; inspecting the edges, the handle, the sharpness of the blade.

“That was my personal addition,” Mark says. “Right from my own collection. She's seen some dirty jobs, if you know what I mean. Hasn't let me down yet.”

Tyler smirks. “You do this kind of shit often?”

“Things used to get a little wild in Iraq. We used to have to resort to some pretty extreme things when dealing with the terrorists. Especially the ones we caught that were guilty of doing unspeakable shit to women and kids. You know, the kind that needs to meet the karma bus head on. I'm sure you saw some things in the Middle East.”

Tyler nods. His final three tours with the Australian army had been spent in Kandahar. He'd seen first hand what the Taliban had been capable of doing to women and children. He'd been on night patrol when his platoon had managed to capture a man known to be a serial rapist and pedophile. It's where he'd seen and learned the most savage of tricks in his playbook.  Committing every act of depravity his commanding officer had inflicted upon that Iraqi to his memory.  He had hoped that he'd never have to use any of those things; that a gun, knife, or fist would be the only weapons he'd have to rely on while on the job.  But now the inevitable is right there in front of him. And instead of horror and disgust, he feels nothing.  

He has nothing left to give. The job has taken it all. Every ounce of compassion and humanity that he'd ever possessed.

“You don't have to do this,” Mark says. “I know why you're doing it. And I get why you feel like it has to be done. But you don't need to do it, Tyler.”

“Yeah...” he picks up one of the box cutters and clicks open the blade.  “...I do.”

“Once you cross that line, you can't come back. You realize that, don't you? Once you go from killing out of necessity to killing for sport...for revenge...you'll never be the same.  Once we become that monster that's been living inside of us for years...for decades...that monster never goes away.  That monster is going to live with you for the rest of your life.”

“If that's the way it has to be...” he shrugs as his voice trails off.

“Kid, listen to me. I've been in this type of situation before. I've had to resort to some pretty sick and twisted shit to get things I needed. To teach someone a lesson.  And it fucks with you. It does something to you. Up here...” he taps the tip of his index fingers against his temple. “...it changes you. To the point you won't even recognize yourself. You're going wake up one morning and you're going to look in the mirror and not even know who the fuck you are anymore. Is that really what you want? To become some former version of yourself? And I'm not just talking about what it's going to do to you. I'm talking about what it's going to do to Esme. To see you like that. To not even know who you are anymore. Is that really want you want?”

“I'm not the same man I was when we first met. That man died that day on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Five and half years ago that man died and this is who was left behind. Do you think that was fair to her? That she had to see that? That she had to sit there while I was dying in her arms?  That she stayed behind just to save my life? She gave up everything that day. She was never the same. Neither of us were.”

“She stayed because she wanted to be with you. Because she was in love with you. When Esme loves, she loves hard. With everything she's got. Do you really think she sees you the way you see yourself? You think you died that day. She thinks she saved you. She thinks she's the one that kept you hanging on.”

“She was,” he admits. “She's the only reason I did hang on.”

“She doesn't see you any differently now than she did back then. You're the same Tyler in her eyes. She doesn't look at you and see someone damaged and broken. She just sees you. That's it But this? What you're going to do here? That will change you. You will become a different person. And not a better one. Is that what you really want for her? Do you want her to look at you one day and not know who the fuck you are anymore? Because this is going to haunt you. This is going to eat at you. And she's going to be the one that pays the ultimate price.”

Tyler nods, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It's a nervous habit. Or one he resorts to when emotion is beginning to overwhelm him. He won't be able to keep it a secret forever. He knows that. But if he can hold it together just long enough to be victorious over his own monsters and his own demons, he can spare her the knowledge of just who he is and what he's capable of.  If he can keep the secret just long enough...to the point where it doesn't eat him alive from the inside out...everything will be okay.

They'd be okay.

“You've got this amazing thing going  on,” Mark continues. “You've got a wife, four kids, one on the way. Why would you want to fuck that up?”

“I don't,” he clears his throat noisily. “That's the last thing I want.”

“Think about those kids, Tyler. Your kids. You won't be the person they know right now. You won't be the same dad you are this very second.  Is that really what you want? They're just babies still. The oldest is only five. Five! And you're going to go back to those kids and slowly you're going to become a different person. Right in front of them. Think about what that's going to do to them. When daddy suddenly isn't daddy anymore. For fuck sakes. Tyler. You do not have to  do this.”

“Yes. I do,” he insists.  “They deserve this.”

“The fuck they do. Look, I get it. You're pissed. McMann fucked with the wrong guy.  He never should have went after your family. But they're safe. You took care of things. You found out before it got any further. You got your kids out. You got Ovi and the girl out. You protected them. Now they're safe and that's all that matters. What is this going to do? You doing this? Other than fuck you up?”

“He needs to be taught a lesson. I warned him. Before I even got on that plane to come here. I told him that if I found out he was fucking with me and going after my family, I'd make him sorry. And that's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to make him sorry. He's going to pay. I'm going to teach him a very valuable lesson. For as long and as painfully as I can.”

“But why? Why the fuck do you need to do that? Jesus Christ, Tyler. Do you realize what you sound like? Do you realize who you sound like?  You sound just like those crazy fucks that you have to rescue people from. This is the kind of shit those people do. What guys like Mahajan and Asif did to people. When did you cross that line? When did you stop being the hero and start being one of them?”

“Let's get one thing straight...”  Tyler's voice is low, menacing, as he turns to face Mark.  “...I've never been a hero. I've never claimed to be one. I never wanted to be one.  I help people because it's my job. I go in there, I get shit done, I get paid. That's it.  I don't do it to be a fucking hero.”

“But you're still one of the good guys. You still go in and help people. This? This is not helping people. This is far from it. You don't kill because you like it. You kill because you have to. To save yourself. To save your mark. But this is intentional, Tyler. You have this all planned and all thought out and you're acting like it's no big deal. That it's just a normal day for you. This is not normal!”

“He needs to pay,”  Tyler growls.  “He needs to pay for going anywhere near my kids. For taking me away from them. For bringing my wife into this fucking mess. And I'm going to make him pay. And there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

“I could tell Nik.”

Tyler gives a dry laugh. “What the fuck is she going to do? She has nothing to with this. This all me. I'm in charge here. So go. Run off to her and tell her. I don't give a shit. She can't stop me either.”

“I'll tell Esme, then.”

Tyler's eyes narrowed. “Don't do that. Don't bring her into this.  That's fucking low and you know it. Using her against me? Using my own wife as a weapon?”

“She's the only one that can stop you from fucking your whole life up.  She saved you once. Let her save you again.”

“I don't need saving. I need revenge. I want him to pay. For what he did to my family. For what he's put them through. What he's put her through. She deserves that. She deserves revenge.”

“She doesn't want revenge, Tyler. She want her husband. She wants the father of her kids. As he is now. Now what he's going to become if he goes through with this. She wants a normal life. With you. And that won't happen if you do this.  This has gone far enough. You're going to hand McMann over and he can be the IRA's problem.”

“And if they don't want him? What then?”

“Then you kill him. Nice and clean. None of this shit.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “That's not enough. That's not nearly enough.”

“This is fucking insane and you know it. You're unhinged. You need to get your shit together. You need to get your fucking head on straight. Forget about this. You don't need to do this. Because I will tell her. I'm not bullshitting. I will call her right now. Is that what you want? You want me to call her right now and let her know where you are and what you're up to?”

Tyler's eyes narrow, his nostrils flare. “Don't do this.”

“Fuck this,” Mark removes his cell phone from pocket of his hoodie. “If you're not going to back down and get your shit together, I'll let her handle this. She's pretty good at reining you, right? She's gotten used to having to keep you under control.”

“Don't do this,”  Tyler repeats. “Don't fucking do this.”

“You did this. You did this, Rake. And if you're not going to save yourself, maybe she can.”

He only manages to get the screen turned on and the first number pushed, Tyler's elbow slamming into his face and sending him sprawling backwards into the floor.  And there's a clamour as chaos erupts within the storage unit; the two Marines quickly bolting to their boss' side; ladders toppling over with a crash.

“Rake... you fucking asshole!” Mark bellows, as he struggles to his feet, a hand clutching his broken and bloody nose. “...what the hell is wrong with you? Are you fucking crazy?!”

“You should have just stayed the fuck away!” Tyler roars. “You should have stayed away from her. You never should have showed up at my house. You have no right. You have no fucking right being anywhere near her!”

“Is that really what this is about? Is that what you just did what you did? Because you're jealous.”

“I'm jealous?! What the fuck do I have to be jealous of. She left you, remember? She got tired of your shit and she left. Do you buddies know what you did? Do they know how you treated her? Huh? Did you tell them any of that? Or did you just make her out to be the bad person?”

“You're going to resort to that? You're going to resort to bringing that shit up? Are you that fucking desperate?”

“Did he tell you?”  Tyler asks the Marines.  “Did he? Did he tell you that my wife is his ex wife? Did he tell you why she left him? Did he tell you about how he got a blow job from a stewardess coming back from his honeymoon? I bet he didn't tell you that.”

“You're really going to do this?” Mark rages. “You're really going to bring this up?  It's none of your fucking business!”

“She's my fucking business! She's my wife. That makes her my business. I bet you didn't tell them that you liked to beat on her. That at first you started hitting her where she could hid the bruises with clothes. But then after awhile you just didn't give a fuck anymore and you'd give her black eyes, split lips, bloody noses.  How about the two times you put her in the hospital? Do you blokes now about that? Well if you didn't, you sure as fuck do now.”

“Whoa...whoa...” Yaz finally appears from the corridor, having been caught up organizing and setting up any remaining technology.  “What the hell is going on here?”

“He's fucking crazy,” Mark nods in Tyler's direction. “That's what's going on here.”

“I'm just letting these guy know what an upstanding citizen their boss is,”  Tyler explains.  “You know, the kind that likes to beat on women. The kind that likes to cheat on them. The kind that's a narcissistic dick bag that gas lighted her into thinking she was the problem, That she wasn't good enough. That she'd never be good enough.  Or how about how he blamed her for losing a baby the doctor said never would have been viable in the first place.”

Mark's eyes narrow.  “How'd you...”

“You fucking dumb ass. Did you really think I wouldn't ask her when you told me about the baby she lost? Did you honestly think I wouldn't want to know? Because I knew it couldn't be a problem with her because we have four kids. I've never had a problem getting her pregnant. And all those kids arrived safe and sound.  No issues whatsoever. She showed me the pathology report.  It was a severe abnormality passed down through the y gene. Meaning you, asshole.  It came from you. And you still fucking blamed her. You still made her think it was her goddamn fault.  How fucking sick do you have to be to do that your own wife? When she's already upset that she lost a baby in the first place?!”

“Okay...okay...” Yaz claps a hand down on Tyler's shoulder. “...this is private stuff, man. This doesn't need to be brought up. No one needs to hear this.”

“He needs to hear it,” Tyler nods in Mark's direction.  “Because he's been playing these fucking games for ten years now. Ten years she's held all that shit inside of her. Thinking she isn't good enough. Being told no one would ever love her because of how messed up she was. Do you remembering telling her that? Don't deny it. Don't stand here and lie to my face. Be a man. For once. Be a man and admit it. Own it. That you fucked with her head. That you made her think she'd never find anyone better than you. That's what you told her, right?”

“I admit it. I said some...things...”

“Yeah, you did. You sure fucking did, mate. You fucking broke her.  And you know what, I came along and I helped put her back together. All those things you told her? About how no one would ever love her? I proved you wrong.  I came along and I loved her. With everything I fucking have. Everything I am. I made her forget about you and you can't fucking stand it.”

“She's way too good for you.” Mark gives a dry laugh.  “And one day she's going to wake up and wonder why the hell she wasted so many years of her life with you.”

“You keep telling yourself that, mate. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Because guess what? While you're sleeping alone? I'm sleeping next to her. With her.  And you can't fucking stand the thought of it.”

“Enough!” Yaz snaps. “Both of you! Enough is enough. Now I get there's some issues. Between the two of you. I get shit is messy. Mark, you crossed a fucking line by ever showing up at Tyler's house looking for Esme. You went there to try and cause shit between them and it blew up in your face and you can't handle that.  Tyler and Esme are tight. Their bond? You can't break that shit. No one can. Now, we need to all work together here. We need to get this asshole and make him pay. Can't we all agree on that? That McMann needs to go down for all the shit he's pulled? Right?” he stares pointedly at Tyler. “Right?”

Tyler nods.

“Right?” he turns his gaze to Mark and the two marines, all three nodding in confirmation.   “For fuck sakes, this is not the time for shit to be falling apart. We're all working towards a common goal here. You three have your reasons for wanting McMann to suffer, and Tyler has his reasons. And it doesn't matter if I agree with how Tyler is going about things. What he does when he's left here with McMann is his business. Just like I won't give a shit what you guys to do him.  But this is my boy...”  he claps Tyler on the back of his neck. “...this is my brother. This stupid fuck...this ugly face...has been through more shit than the three of you together. And you know what? His stubborn ass just keeps getting back up.  I saw this guy near death. Like right on its fucking doorstep. And he made death his bitch. So if you've got a problem with him, you've got a problem with me. And my sister. And our entire team.”

“We have no issues with him,” Nathan speaks up. “With either of you.”

Zak shrugs. “I've got no problems.”

“So it just you,” Yaz smirks at Mark. “Time to let shit go, man. She's not yours anymore. She's his. And he's not letting her go. Deal with.”

Mark gives a snort, then turns on his heel to stomp from the room, purposefully bumping Tyler's shoulder with his on the way out.

“What a drama queen,”  Yaz shakes his head. “Why didn't you tell me you were going to knock him the fuck out?  You know I wanted to see that. You know I wanted ringside seats! The fuck is wrong with you? Doing me like that?”

“Next time I'll let you know. So we can watch.  Hey about what you said...”

“I said what I said. Don't go getting all little wuss bitch baby on me.”

Tyler grins. “Actually, I was going to ask if you really think my face is ugly.”

Yaz smirks. “You know you're my boy crush. Now quit riding my jock and get the fuck out of here.  Go and see your wife. Spend some time with her before you go and meet McMann. You both need it. That time.”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods.  “We do.”

“And I'd say wrap it before you tap it but you've proven time and time again you don't know what  that means, so...”

“You're a real fucking dick, Yaz,” he laughs as he heads for the door.

“Maybe. But you love me. And you'd miss me if I was gone.  Admit it, Tyler! You'd miss me!”   He frowns when he receives a smirk and the middle finger in response. “Why you do me like that? Why you do your boy like that?”

He receives no answer. Just the sound of the soles of combat boots as they disappear down the hall.

[quackson-man]

Babysitter | Part 1

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: You weren’t expecting Steve to be THE babysitter

Warnings: Grammatical errors (sorry), bad writing too

Word count: 1,855

Theme: Fluff, Angst

A/N:  Okay guys so this is my first time writing a fic. not that its the first but it would be the first time i’m posting one so hit me up and let me know what you think of it. Honestly i’ll be open with criticisms because English is not my first language. :))

i couldn’t wait any longer for prologue to reach a hundred notes so yeah 

as promised, here's another one

Babysitter Series - | Prologue | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

MASTERLIST can be found here 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve Harrington.

He was this fat kid who you used to make fun of because he's fat. You would always tease him for being shorter than you. Well who is he to blame? The kid was well fed by your mother whenever he was in your house.

He too would retaliate in the most loving way he know how. His friendly nature didn't help him either get into your nerves. You would actually find it funny that he doesn’t know how to be mischievous because he was so sweet. Not that you were asking but you find it cute.

He would always try to shame you for how straight and silky your locks are that its making you look more pretty. How your eyes were weird because your pupils were the lightest he have ever seen his entire life. Basically he was calling you out for being so beautiful which made your heart melt considering how pure and innocent he once was. 

In school, Steve was jolly. His signature of a laugh and smile radiated a welcoming warm aura to his classmates. He had so many friends because of his personality. Kids would always invite him to play with them in the playground. He would also befriend other kids who has no one to talk to. No one goes unwelcome under his watch. 

That made him a crowd favorite among other students. He would get these silly awards for being too friendly and kind that hang high in the school’s bulletin board. 

But moments like these was short-lived. His intelligence and rankings soared high. He practically aced all his tests with flying colors which made him accelerate and skip to another grade and graduate earlier than you. Your school was only middle so he had to transfer to Hawkins High.

It made you sad of course, you thought that he was going away for a long time (even though Hawkins Middle and High just sat next to each other). But that didn’t justify the end of your puppy love towards him. Steve promised he would always drop by to hang with you, which he never failed to live up to.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Your ass still in pain after that fall. “Mom are you fucking serious?”. You stood up with your palm on both cheeks. Mixed reactions flowing through your face. You didn’t know if it was pure happiness, raging anger or what. But you couldn’t care less. 

“Okay first, language, second, yes why? I mean I kinda miss the boy though and I haven’t seen him in ages! third, I won’t call in random people who we don’t know, at least Steve is a someone” She replied. 

“...Steve is a someone”. That ranged a bell. Steve was not just someone. He was THE one. 

“But mom that would be super awkward! considering that we also too haven’t talked in ages!” you sassed. “See?! now is a good time to reconcile and catch up, I’m sure you miss Steve too!” You followed your mom to as she moves her way to the other side of the kitchen to place the plates she has in her hands. 

“Uh, Uh I ain’t missing him” you lied as you felt pain pinch your heart. Lump forming in your throat. You hardly noticed and kept the thought at the back of your mind while you talk to your mom. 

“I’ve carried you inside me for 9 months how naive do you think I am?” she retorted. “You wouldn’t act like that if you do” she added. “Besides, its just for a short time” 

“Yeah how long?” you sarcastically replied. “Until he earns enough for his college”. That took you by surprise, so does that mean he will be here for a while?

“He will start by Monday, so breakfast is the only last thing you’re going to do. He’ll be at 5″ 

Great. Another nice morning. 

You found yourself in the bedroom again breathing heavy in your pillows with your front against the cushion of the bed. This is going to be easy right? You thought to yourself. The news of Steve working for you is too much for you to take, hell even handle. 

Thoughts of him resurfaced your brain again. You haven’t heard of the name since high school. Heck both of you weren’t even the same people as before. Of course things have changed. He changed. So you changed to. 

Part of you wants to see him. See how he was doing without you in life. See how he made his life out to be. There were so many questions forming in your mind. Questions he could only answer. You were curious but prying was not something you would do. 

Deep down it hurts you when you said that you have moved on and have completely forgotten about him. You miss Steve so much, but you have just decided to quit on your childish feelings because it was taking you nowhere. You needed to grow up and be matured enough to face the harsh reality that he does not feel the same way for you. 

Playtime’s over. 

Truth is, you didn’t quit on those feelings. You just set them aside and buried it deep beneath your mind. 

You hoped things won’t be awkward as you think it would. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Monday came. Classes were a bore but you never thought that being stuck in one would help your mind to be ease. You couldn’t help yourself but get distracted. So distracted that you were staring blank at the windows of your classroom. 

Never thought that these mathematical equations could help. 

This is the day huh? Where you could see Steve again. You prayed that nothing weird happens. You promised yourself to keep your feelings at bay and maintain your professional stature around him. Personal matter shouldn’t interfere with work right? Even if you’re just working as a babysitter. 

Still surprised that after losing Steve so many years he would just come by crash-

“Ms. (Y/LN)” Mr. Mundy called you out. 

You wake up and came back to your senses. “Could you answer Problem #4 in the board” He politely asked. 

You faced the board only too see writings of equations you can’t comprehend and make sense of. But you got to admit, it helped you more to be preoccupied and get more oblivious. 

“No” you answered with honesty. “Mr. Mundy I really can’t think and function properly right now, can I drop by at the nurse’s office?” you lied.

“Okay, get a pass and make it quick” You nodded then you grabbed your things and have decided to cut class and be with yourself for a while. 

Once you got yourself out of the classroom, you begin walking the endless hallways of the school. You really didn’t have any concrete plans where you would go to. You guess that its something for your feet to decide. 

You were walking with your face down on the floor when...

 ...you’ve stumbled upon something that caught your eye. 

His name, his face. 

Steve was sporty and it was a fact. He wasn’t smart to do anything but he was dumb enough to try everything.  At first he doubted himself, but with enough support coming from you he became eager and even have asked his parents to enroll him in sport camps to become better.  Which made him excel at every sport he played. 

Standing now before you was a big brown shelf that contained all of the  memorabilia of achievements, his achievements Hawkins High ever received. 

Not that you were taking credit but you were one of the people who got him where he is right now. 

And there he was. Displaying that smile you know you loved. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Go Steve!” you shouted with the crowd. You were watching one of Steve’s basketball game. Steve was seconds away from throwing that ball to victory. Other players were keen on preventing him to score from their side of the court. 

Screams intensified. Tension was high. Pressure was on him. You grasp your hand hardly as you watch Steve play. 

05

Steve ran as fast as he could while dribbling the ball on his hand. Another player blocked him. But he was swift to throw the ball to one of his team mates. Which made the player blocking him get distracted. 

04

Steve then rallied to his team mate who was now feet away from the opponent’s basket. The poor player was surrounded but Steve came to his aid. He threw the ball back to Steve so he could be the one to throw it.

03

Catching it, Steve ran as he makes a high jump and reach for the basket to throw in the ball. 

02

The crowd gasp for air. 

01

“CONGRATULATIONS HAWKINS HIGH, YOU WILL BE COMPETING IN THE STATE TOURNAMENT” the commentator screamed through the microphone. People cheered more louder than ever. You jumped from excitement. With much adrenaline in your system you ran down to congratulate your friend. 

“Steve!” you screamed. The boy was carried by his team mates and was swaying him like a baby. “Steve!” you tried to get the attention of the boy.

Steve heard you. From all the people chanting his name, your voice stood out from the rest. But the chaotic crowd around him made it hard to look for you. Your height made it almost impossible. Steve figured that you might be outside the thick layer of sweaty bodies surrounding him. 

He chased his breath as he told his teammates to bring him down which in no second they obliged to. Steve walked the tight little spaces he could find to make it to you. He was like a thread coming inside of a needle. 

You look for an entrance within the crowd. To no avail your body can’t seem to budge it. So you just waited for him when...

You heard him yell your name. 

“(Y/N)” The exhausted boy ran to hug you. You hugged back. His hair tangling and sticking from his sweating face. What a sight. 

“(Y/N) I can’t believe we won!” He hug you tightly and carried your weight to swing you into a complete spin. 

Bringing you down he holds your shoulder and shakes you much to his delight. “Yeah me too! I’m so happy for you!” You happily cried back. 

This was the first time your boy won. After months and months of practice he actually won. You were also proud of yourself considering that you were at his side from the beginning. 

“Say, why don’t you come to my house later? My parents promised me that if I win today they would let me throw the biggest victory party ever” He asked.

“Sure! why not! let’s celebrate your win loser!” You sarcastically joked as he reached for your hair to dangle it.

Your talk was cut short when you were interrupted by his rowdy team mates. You laughed at the sight. But you couldn’t care less because you were going to see him later on. 

That’s when your fates changed. This was his best...and this was your worst

----------------------------------------------------------------

okay the people who liked the prologue would be my taglist for this series:

@omgdani17 @thatwrestlingfan91 @scr05 @michaels-endtime @st4rc0urt @hxrgreeves @arielebroooks @rosewinchester555 @live--aloud @rara-de-nacimiento @ilovemycat91 @crossbowitch @milkbaer @onlystylesangels @elizabeth0929 @liv-raines @reckless-memequeen @hvrcruxes @milk-n-cheese @overobsessedellie @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @sattyrs @h-oneyholland @thespian-anon @jjustpeachytbh @lokisqueen96 @spacedoutsher @alphawolfmg @bisshies @1800kaspbrak @imagesofeveryone @miiinghoee @slytherinandco @iyaksandrovna @marisaswift @nerdymcnerdster24 @iluvmesomemarvelndc @i-like-writing-stuff @trunichole15 @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @prankstermind @ok44335 @a-westie @txyyylxrsworld @coldhearts-coldhands @sippingw4terfalls @sabrinasdobrik @tangyeggos @lilypad-55449 @runningwithstolenart @danimartineza @trashyemonerd @mymanjoekeery @citlxllitl @kiara1302 @cuppycakeci @emotrash @just-ivy @court-of-stars-and-shadows @10blurredsmoke10 @corneliaurkko @stephaniejxox @idlikesomefrieswiththat @star-babe64 @milkycorpse @plumpkin222 @popperpopchyk @deepestballoonama-fandoms @lukesurferhair @eve05glee @samsam2524 @sof-pat-mat @dazedimagines @supremebesson @courteousdolan @hella-serius @ms-littleworld @gabby913 @nicolettalauren @anotherrandomrepostblog @smoochcth @deathundertacker @ibelongtolevionly @somethingtoavenge @hayhayheran @just-ivy @theyoutubedork @liv-raines @peter-b-pasta @courteousdolan 

[enkisstories]

Well adjusted

- A DBH fanfic in my usual AU-

(Fall 2039, Last year’s revolution failed, Machine!Connor escaped destruction, deviated and is now pretending to be an RK900 at the DPD where Daniel works as a janitor. Between chapters 2 and 3 Daniel had suddenly moved up to police technician without me explaining how that happened. This fic remedies that.)

- Sims version coming later finished and turned out much better -

Tina Chen entered the cafeteria for a last-minute bagel and coffee before her shift. Having hoped to find it empty, the officer backed out again when she saw at least three co-workers sitting and chatting inside. She hadn’t come far when she heard the familiar voice of Detective Reed: “Come back here, Tina, and see something cool!”

Tina turned around again, expecting to see something that was funny in an inappropriate way. She was not prepared for Gavin closing in on the precinct’s android janitor, grabbing it and stomping his foot down hard on the device’s toes. The abused PL600 twitched, but instead of pulling its damaged foot off the ground it raised both its hands to the forehead and held it. On second glance Tina thought the thing was looking as if it was suffering from migraines.

“I was wrong!” Gavin cheered. “Androids DO feel pain! Only not where they got hit!”

That last part amused the man to no end and he could not stop laughing.

Meanwhile the janitor (everyone called it “Sardines” only, because it didn’t seem to have a given name) processed a multitude of error reports. Unlike human brains that made them feel the pain in the bodypart where it originated, a digital one gathered all the notifications in the same place, resulting in a severe headache for the android in question. Sardines had had to deal with constant headaches for weeks after his severed limbs had gotten re-attached. Connor claimed that “feeling” pain this way was a side-effect of deviance. He, too, found that he had trouble reading his own files clearly. In the RK’s case it wasn’t error reports getting replaced by physical pain, but him losing control over his major selling point, the crimescene re- and preconstruction app. More and more that program felt like a tool rather than an integral part of himself to Connor.

“Damn… damn you, detective!” Sardines hissed, all the while dismissing several prompts to forward the reports to CyberLife.

“I admit that is funny”, Tina agreed. “Do it again!”

Sardines glared at the officer, wishing Connor on both her and Reed.

“I think I’d rather show you a direct comparison to human pain!” he snapped.

The next thing Tina saw was Sardines pulling Gavin closer to himself. Taken by surprise the man found himself in a headlock, however, Sardines’ amateurishly repaired arms could not hold his victim tight enough. Gavin slipped away, grinned – and got tripped by the shaft of Sardines’ scrubber. The android raised the stick again, preparing to deliver a painful blow.

When Captain Fowler passed by the cafeteria next, accompanied by the new RK900, a full blown fistfight between the detective and the janitor had ensued. Each was getting cheered at by a small crowd of officers as well as a random handcuffed suspect whom officer Wilson had secured to the cupboard. The android’s supporters were the more numerous, Jeffrey noticed. Pretty much only Tina and the diehard android haters like Dave Allen preferred Reed over the kind PL600.

Gavin and Sardines were rolling on the floor now. Officers had to jump aside quickly, lest they’d get hit, too. Bob Lewis used the opportunity to kick Gavin, who was to believe it had been Sardines…

“Stop that! Will you… fucking… stop that, toaster?!”

“Wasn’t me! Now shut up and keep dying!”

“Don’t lie to me while I’m trying to beat you up!”

“I’m not lying! Not me!”

The captain savored the sight for a few second. “Why can’t you be integrated so well”, he then addressed Connor.

“That was sarcasm, Sir…?”

The RK didn’t receive an answer. Connor strongly suspected that it would have been “No” in this workplace, where putting each other to the gunpoint during arguments was considered proper conduct. But then you went and beat up one little detective and suddenly you were the office villain… that wasn’t fair! On the upside, the android who had beaten up Gavin Reed had been the RK800 prototype, whereas Connor was posing as his own successor. So at least this wasn’t on Connor’s cap anymore.

While Connor was pondering the unfairness of life in general and his own specifically, Tina explained the situation to Captain Fowler. The man seemed impressed by what he heard.

“Androids experiencing an equivalent of pain? That’s a gamechanger in police work!”

He turned to Sardines: “I want you to prepare a presentation on this. Take especially care to line out the differences, if any, in how it works for deviants compared to non-glitched androids!”

“Will… do… Sir…” the PL600 stammered.

“And wash your hands when you’re done with the detective”, Connor added. “You don’t know where it’s been.”

“Oh… right.” Only now Sardines realized that he was still grabbing Gavin. He let go of him and got up.

“Say, Reed, this keeps happening to you, huh? Getting trashed by our androids?” Dave gleefully commented while the human got up, too. Preferring Reed over Sardines didn’t mean that he’d liked either of them much, after all…

He knows, Daniel, the DPD’s canned sardine, thought. Fowler knows… or suspects… that I’m a deviant. Maybe even exactly which one. Or... what if he thinks I’m Simon?! I need to be careful!

But maybe Captain Fowler cared only about a smoothly running police department? In this case being useful instead of careful was the safer bet.

“I’ll start immediately on the lecture”, Daniel promised.

“But that was MY discovery!” Gavin protested between wiping his bloodied nose. “It should count for my promotion credit!”

As “Sardines” left the cafeteria, Connor stepped next to Gavin.

“Weren’t you the one who was afraid my predecessor would put him out of job, Mr. Reed?” he asked. “Don’t worry anymore! An RK android isn’t even needed for that. Looks like a common, outdated PL600 can achieve that feat.”

Gavin stared at the android. And then he stared some more. Eventually he uttered: “You’re right, tincan!”

Androids taking people’s jobs… but androids had to get programmed by humans in the first place. Adding one and one together that meant the future was in android training! Passing on experience, breaking the toasters in, teaching them the peculiarities of their workplace… Was that really so different from showing cadets the ropes? Whatever. It seemed to be the best path to get ahead and and thus Gavin Reed did something he’d never have thought possible: He ran after the PL600, shouting “Wait for me!”

Daniel turned around sharply.

“Why are you trailing after me? We aren’t fucking dating!”

“Ha! You’re one strange device. If your humans do not want you, you kill them, but if they want you, you yell at them.”

“I strongly contest that you are “my” human, detective.”

To almost everyone at the DPD, however, Sardines was exactly that: Gavin’s generous donation to the station, to avoid having to chip in for coffee or snacks ever again. Only Anderson and Connor were aware of the truth and they had their own reasons to keep it to themselves: Hank because he genuinely wanted to aid the deviants (and if he managed to re-socialize Daniel, there was nothing he wouldn’t be able to achieve), and Connor because if he exposed Daniel as a deviant, the PL600 in turn would expose him.

Daniel’s cover story came with the upside of officially being privately owned, not part of the DPD’s inventory. It came with the downside of being privately owned by Gavin Reed. The same Gavin Reed who now offered: “I’ll help you with the presentation!”

“Oh, right”, Daniel sighed. “The extra work you saddled me with. As if triple shifts day in and day out weren’t bad enough already.”

“Aw” Gavin went, “does the poor deviant have to work for a change?” He took a step closer and hissed: “Just say the word and you can join your kin at camp five instead!”

“I’m telling you that I don’t need help to set the presentation up!”

To Daniel’s surprise the detective nodded at this.

“Righto”, Gavin said. “But there’s subtleties in cop dynamics that you aren’t aware of. You need help to excel.”

“You’re scary when you’re making sense for once.”

Gavin reached up and slapped the android on its shoulder.

“Come on, let’s put their shiny new Connor to shame together! It’s the next best thing to getting revenge on the old one.”

Next to Hank Anderson Daniel was the only one in on the RK’s secret, he therefore knew it wasn’t just the “next best” thing. It was the real deal!

Daniel smiled. “I could warm up to that, detective.”

Connor watched the duo occupy an empty desk. He heard them discuss their project, then chat and eventually laugh at a joke one of them had made. His outwards expression didn’t change in any way, but secretly the android was crying blue murder:

First I catch deviance, then the two most annoying things in my life are teaming up. Figures.

[eeveecryptid]

※ LOCAL MAN SCREAMS INTO THE VOID: RE6 EDITION

a thrilling saga of shit i’ve heard while listening to my friend play resident evil 6, with the occasional moment of my own commentary. may include nsfw material. feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.!

“ got vored by a big boy. ”

“ about to take the fuckin kneecaps in this village. ”

“ you know how to turn around, you useless fucking gay! ”

“ i’m gay, s/he’s just useless. ”

“ you’re my partner, you gotta tell me when i’m being stupid. ”

“ i don’t know, and i don’t want you to get my stupid. ”

“ s/he needs some milk and a goddamn pharmacist. ”

“ i don’t have big dick energy, i have dumb bitch energy. ”

“ you have a stupid amount of machine gun ammo, you can keep it! ”

“ are you using the machine gun like a sniper rifle? god, that’s my wife. ”

“ none of us know how to drive in video games– or in real life, for that matter. ”

“ ...i got scared and blew his head off. ”

“ I’M BEING CAREFUL, HONEY-BUN. ”

“ wow, the power of gay. ”

“ you finally giving me more shotgun shells? thanks, boo. ”

“ i guess you can survive for now, (name). ”

“ it’s a wonder how (name) is so goddamn stupid, but (second name) is not. ”

“ (name) is a smart girl/boy who could probably take your kneecaps if you pissed her/him off. ”

“ you’re shooting a machine gun like a fucking sniper rifle--- god, i love you. ”

“ just fling our whole bodies off of the boat. ”

“ this is where i stand when i’m being a lil’ bitch. ”

“ we’re both really dumb, but still alive. ”

“ when i said i wanted someone to go down on me, this isn’t what i meant. ”

“ i’m gonna take one for the team and buy a first-aid kit. ”

“ i don’t want to lose my kneecaps again, that hurts. ”

“ now we’re gonna be so fucked up, we think we can take on anybody here. ”

“ if we get trapped, it’s my fault and i apologize. ”

“ to get away from danger, we have to stop, drop, and roll into more danger. ”

“ maybe if we run far enough, they’ll forget about us! ”

“ if i wasn’t a punk-ass bitch, then i guess i could just use it from where i’m standing. ”

“ we’re going to pretend that i’ve learned from my previous errors. i haven’t, but we can pretend. ”

“ peace was never an option. ”

“ they’re just gonna pop out of nowhere, and we have to be okay with this. ”

“ i’m shooting you point-blank with a rifle, die already! ”

“ are the big scary guys gone? ”

“ give me some credit, i’m looting a corpse and then running. ”

“ (name) only died because my batteries died. ”

“ i love you, but pwease, just trust me. ”

“ my sense of self-preservation is gone, it has BEEN gone. ”

“ you need to be smart while i’m stupid, because i’m always stupid. ”

“ you ever just punch a zombie so hard they disintegrate? welcome to my ted talk. ”

“ i shot him, you’re just a pussy. ”

“ you know who else is a pussy? me, hi, i’m (name) and this is my ted talk. ”

“ can i punch him to death? ”

“ we’ll give it to (name) because s/he’s smart. ”

[tudorscharlot]

Bohemian Rhapsody (Bryan Singer/Dexter Fletcher, 2018)

31 Halloweens of October #34

(An important note about the following tirade: I know that this film was written by Anthony McCarten and Peter Morgan and that it was directed by Bryan Singer and Dexter Fletcher. But it is obvious from the course of its labored, years-long development and from the final product itself that this film was made in strict accordance with the views of Brian May and Roger Taylor. And I hold them ultimately responsible for the film that was made.)   This is the most deeply offensive film I've seen in years (probably since I saw Nymphomaniac: Vol. II). The music of Queen is so important to me on an emotional level and on a fundamental, worldview level that it would be fair to describe my devotion to it as religious. And I know I'm not alone on planet earth in feeling that way. Fuck this movie and everyone responsible for it forever. Do not go and see this. Don't give them your money and don't give them any sense of validation that what they've done is acceptable. (After seeing the cringe-inducing trailer, I vowed to never give this film a cent of my money. But then I was unexpectedly given a free ticket to see it. I went to see Suspiria for the second time in 24 hours with my best friend, but the theater it was showing in was having technical problems. The theater manager gave us tickets to a later showing of Suspiria and offered us free passes to anything that was playing right then, as well as free concessions. Even though I was now essentially being paid to see this film, I still only reluctantly accepted the situation.) It feels like a cheap shot to come at this movie over the chronological inaccuracies. The last thing I ever want to be is one of those "ACTUALLY..." guys who misses the poetic forest for the literal trees. I don't think it's critically important in a non-documentary, narrative film to be 100% accurate on dry, historical details, especially when it benefits the narrative structure to make slight revisions and combinations of events. Liberties taken in service of the spirit of the larger truth are fine by me. But the extremity of what they did in this film is egregious, lazy, and ultimately just confusing. So yes, I am going to go there, right now. The vocal version of "Seven Seas of Rhye" was not recorded during the sessions for Queen. "Another One Bites the Dust" was recorded three years after "We Will Rock You". Freddie Mercury did not release his first solo album until four years after Roger Taylor released his first solo album and one year after Roger released his second solo album (which goes some way toward debunking the notion that the band viewed Freddie's solo projects as a betrayal). Freddie did not return from an extended period of isolation in Munich and beg the band to perform at Live Aid. Queen just had completed the massive, nearly year-long world tour for The Works less than two months before their appearance at Live Aid - it had not been years since they played onstage together. The band did not decide to start sharing all writing credits equally until they recorded The Miracle three years and two albums after Live Aid. And, as far as is publicly known, Freddie Mercury did not find out that he was HIV-positive until 1986 or 1987. (And this is all off the top of my head.)

None of this should matter, but it does matter. Because the moment that Brian May and Roger Taylor slapped their names on this thing as executive producers, the nature of the project and its relationship to the Queen oeuvre changed. What is this movie, and who is it for? Queen is one of the biggest bands ever, but I would still argue that a biopic about Freddie Mercury ought to be aimed primarily at people already familiar with him and Queen and the music they made. It should be for the fans, and the filmmakers should assume a certain basic level of familiarity with their story among viewers. And in that case, they should know that having all of these historical inaccuracies is only going to irritate devotees like me who have a deeper-than-Wikipedia knowledge of the subject matter. And, whether or not these inaccuracies irritate me, I'd certainly expect them to irritate the two men who lived these experiences and who exercised serious executive control over this movie from start to finish. Why would Brian and Roger sign off on such an error-riddled version of their own story? I mentioned Wikipedia up there, and I've read at least one review that snarkily described this film as an adaptation of the Wikipedia entry for Queen. I think that even that is giving it too much credit. This film is like an adaptation of a Buzzfeed "25 Things You Might Not Know About Queen" list (with an emphasis on the factual inaccuracies those lists always have). Bohemian Rhapsody is clearly not intended as a thoughtful love-letter to serious fans of Queen. So does that mean it is aimed at the widest common denominator - a promotional item designed and deployed to attract record-buyers (or Spotify-streamers) unfamiliar with the band? And to stoke nostalgia among extant fans who may then be enticed to buy whatever new reconfiguration of Queen's Greatest Hits is being released along with this film? On the one hand, yes, obviously. I'll never fault living artists (or the estates of deceased artists) for working to keep their valuable bodies of work alive in the public consciousness and available to new generations of potential fans. But there are tasteful, thoughtful, discerning ways to do this (see the recent John Lennon Imagine boxed set or Queen's own Made in Heaven album). Careful and caring artists or estates share archival or celebratory releases that add substance. Greedy people who've lost the plot completely offer up crass, sloppy, tasteless cash grabs. And that's what this goddamned movie is. And what virtually everything Brian May and Roger Taylor have done in the name of Queen over the last two decades has been. I say "greedy" and "cash grab," but I don't think this is just about money. It's also more abstract. There's an idea and an image of Queen that is very real for them and for me and for so many people in the world, and it is precious. But Queen is in the past. Queen as we know them and want them ended when Freddie Mercury left us. It's not right and it's not fair, but what was can never be again. No matter how many Queen + whatever asshole tours or holograms or biopics are shoved at us. On the other hand, though, this film is a far more dangerous thing than just a promotional cash grab. It is a piece of propaganda. When Brian May and Roger Taylor made themselves executive producers of this film, it became canon. Which confers on this film and its creators a much higher level of responsibility with regards to the legacy of Queen. And every person who made this film failed to be honest or faithful to Freddie and the idea of Queen. It's shameful. Even if Brian and Roger set out to share an honest but loving account of the story of Freddie and Queen, such an endeavor is impossible in their hands. It is impossible for two members of a four-person group to present their own version of events and group dynamics to the world as though it were an official and objective record of what happened and get it right. Even free of conscious, questionable intentions, they are too close to be objective. But I do not believe they are free of conscious, questionable intentions. This film never disputes Freddie Mercury's genius talents as a performer or songwriter. And it is generous in its portrayal of his kindness, sweetness, and wit. But it also presents him as a pill-popping sexual deviant whose pursuit of a solo career in the 1980s was an ego-driven affront to the unity of Queen, rather than the healthy and fairly standard outlet for expression that any artist a decade in with a massively successful band tends to engage in (see also: Roger Taylor, for fuck's sake). And it also presents him as the only real source of discord in the band. This is all in striking contrast to the presentation of Brian and Roger as blandly stable family men dedicated wholly to the vision of Queen. (There are a couple of winking references to Roger cheating on his wife, but these references lack the weight of similar events in Freddie's story.) An important side-note: It should also be mentioned that John Deacon is presented as basically a non-entity whose only contribution is to frequently make silly faces that are eerily like Andy Samberg mugging (seriously, find a still or clip of this actor in this movie - it's fucked up). In real life, John Deacon more or less permanently parted ways with Brian May and Roger Taylor in the late 1990s. It has been widely assumed (he may even have said so at some point) that this was because he didn't like the way they were handling the legacy of the band. Fast-forward to 2018 and this film's portrayal of John seems to be grinding a major axe of butt-hurt at him. It's so fucking petty. But back to Freddie. What do we know about Freddie Mercury, the private citizen? We know he was extremely private and largely refused to ever discuss his personal life with the press. That doesn't mean that it's strictly off-limits and inappropriate to discuss his private life in a film about him now. There are private things about Freddie (both personal and professional) that the surviving members of Queen definitely knew. Jim Hutton and others have shared personal things about Freddie over the years since his death, as well. I believe it's okay to respectfully reveal private details in the service of telling a great artist's story. The problem here is that Brian and Roger have shot any credibility they had as reliable or unbiased sources. If they can't even get the decade and order in which two of their biggest hits were recorded - if accurately representing something as verifiable and relevant to the development of their work as that isn't important for this film, why should and how can we believe anything this films tells us that can't be verified beyond "the executive producers say it happened"? If major events in their recording and performing career can be juggled around willy-nilly to fit the desired narrative arc, how we can trust that the same wild liberties aren’t being taken with unverifiable closed-door meetings and private arguments? I'm SURE that Freddie Mercury was sometimes flamboyantly egotistical in the studio and backstage. But I'm equally sure that every other member of Queen was just as egotistical, just as often. They never would have accomplished the things they accomplished if there weren't huge amounts of ego and ambition and personal investment between them. But I do not buy that this film accurately represents Freddie's temperament, his ego, or his behavior in many of the specific situations it reenacts. It doesn’t get his style. Watch any video of Freddie performing or being interviewed - this film doesn't get him at all. I'm not queer and I'm not Parsi, but the way this film handles Freddie's relationship with his ethnicity, with his family, and with his sexuality feels pretty boilerplate and cliched. It doesn't strike me that any particularly negative stereotypes are being indulged, but it does feel like a lot of simplistic movie tropes are employed to quickly dispense with these matters. I am glad that so much attention is given to Freddie's relationship with Mary Austin, but it nonetheless feels tonally wrong. I think that their relationship was beautiful and I don't think this movie quite gets it. And sure, what the fuck do I know? Very little. But I know they were lifelong companions in ways that went far beyond sex, and that she was the love of his life. And I know that I can't trust that the two guys who were there are representing it truthfully now. I'd rather take Freddie's word for it. And UGH. What the ever-loving fuck is up with Rami Malek's prosthetic bucked teeth in this movie? Let's get something straight: Freddie Mercury was a physically beautiful man. My god, he was. It is an obnoxious insult to have some guy prancing around like fucking Nosferatu playing at being Freddie Mercury. No serious actor would need fake teeth to play this role, and no serious filmmaker would ever even consider such a thing. All this heavy, meta shit aside, this is also just a bad movie on the most basic level. It is so bloated with unnecessary show-off shots, rock and roll biopic cliches, embarrassing dialogue, and one-dimensional performances that even hearing some of my favorite music ever at high volumes in a movie theater couldn't transport me. Some serious acting talent was assembled here, and some of the cast do an admirable job with what they were given, but this movie has no heart. Bohemian Rhapsody makes Freddie Mercury a caricature. It tries not to, and it really is mostly a very flattering caricature. But it's a reduction that fails terribly in its mission to show us who Freddie Mercury was. Freddie Mercury deserves infinitely better than this film. This film should not have been made. If they had gotten everything perfectly right, it would still be a pointless and distasteful exercise. Go watch any video of Freddie Mercury performing or just talking and the emptiness of this film becomes instantly clear. (Note: I’ve tagged this film with my October horror film viewing because this film is horrible.)

[pepperf]

I love my job, I do, I've drunk the Kool-Aid, but it's currently stressing me the fuck out, and the light at the end of the tunnel won’t arrive until (probably) September. So I'm seeking distraction to keep me from anxiety-spiralling, but I can't focus enough to write. Fucking ugh.

Anyhow, I'm never going to write this idea, and I feel like Chash has effectively covered it in a multitude of ways, so it would make a rubbish prompt. So I'm just going to post it as-is:

Bellamy and Clarke high school AU, entirely based on lines from Hamilton:

Bellamy and Clarke are students at George Washington High School, arch-rivals/enemies, which started when Bellamy transferred in, junior year, and was immediately, infuriatingly popular. Wells is president of the student council, Clarke is his (unofficial, unelected) chief advisor. And now there's this guy, who gets the students' attention with seemingly no effort, and, even worse, he has OPINIONS. Clarke feels he's deliberately pitting himself against her; Bellamy feels that she has taken power just because no one else cared.

(Honestly, most of them still don't care, but they are interested in the Bellamy-and-Clarke soap opera.)

They're both smart and driven, but they can't help provoking each other and getting into trouble for it. "Sir, I don't know what you heard, but whatever it is, Bellamy started it!"

They argue over how to raise funds, and then about how to use them. Clarke wants to put the money into sport A, which is small and unpopular but somewhat elitist (expensive equipment). Bellamy argues that sport B--more popular, easier for low-income students to participate--has raised more, so they should get to use it. Clarke puts together a plan, Bellamy uses his charisma to try to get it shot down: "This financial plan is an outrageous demand, and it's too many damn pages for any student to understand!"

Clarke's plan is approved by the school. Bellamy thinks Clarke used her advantage, as her mom is on the board. "It must be nice, to have Washington on your side." Clarke: *shocked gasp*

Wells tells Clarke he's not going to run for student council next year: "Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that--" "Oh stop channeling your dad, Wells, you just want more free time." "Well, yeah. I've been on student council for three years, Clarke. Three years! I want my life back!"

And then Bellamy’s mom dies, and he disappears for a month, with a ton of stuff to deal with. Clarke finds out, but--what can she do? They're not friends, they're not even friendly. But she anonymously sends him her notes from class, and frets about him. She asks her mom to ask Kane to look out for him--which he does, with mixed results. "Son--" "Don't call me son."

They run into each other before the new term begins, and Bellamy thanks her for the notes, because he recognised her style. He claims that his new situation is okay, he and Octavia are now in temporary foster care, and the place is pretty swanky compared to his mom's home. "It's quiet uptown."

Senior year begins, and Bellamy comes back, but he's kind of missing in action, keeping his head down and not arguing with Clarke, because he needs to stay out of trouble, just until he graduates/turns 18.

The school council elections come up, and Murphy--in his early, asshole incarnation, the point at which none of us believed he'd become one of our favourite characters--decides to run, because he wants to be in the room where it happens. He gives Bellamy credit for putting the idea in his head: "I'm chasing what I want, and you know what? I learned that from you."

Clarke is also running, so Murphy looks for dirt to discredit her, and finds out about Finn. He insinuates that she should drop out before the rumours grow, so Clarke--of course--immediately stands up in front of the class and gives them a precis of what happened. She avoids talking about her own hurt feelings. "The world has no right to my heart, the world has no place in my bed, they don't get to know what I said." Bellamy picks up on it, though. 

The vote is split, and it comes to Bellamy to exert his influence. And to everyone's surprise, he comes down on Clarke's side. "I have never agreed with Clarke Griffin once, we have fought on like 75 different fronts---but when all is said and all is done, Clarke has beliefs. Murphy has none."

"Every action has its equal opposite reaction," says Clarke, and offers Bellamy the vice-presidency, telling him it will be good for his college applications. But that role doesn't exist, Murphy objects, being a sore loser. "Ooh, you know what, we can change that! You know why? Because I'm the president."

[sourwolfstories]

what r some good long sterek fics pls help

Indelible Marks by billtheradish

The house never burned. The pack is strong. Derek will never need to be the alpha, and his sister is a troll. (Actually, most of his family is like that.)

Derek is an apprentice tattoo artist, and Stiles isn’t old enough to get ink of his own yet. But that doesn’t stop him from being interesting…

(This story is now out of buffer, but I will always announce when the next update will be, and am trying to keep to a regular posting schedule. Also, please be advised that this is essentially a rough draft. That doesn’t mean it’s riddled with typos, every chapter is edited, just that the overarching plot and side stories haven’t had a chance to be edited in full yet–but they will be. An edited version of this story will be posted eventually, so if the current length isn’t your cup of tea, just come back later.)

Home by TheTypewriterGirl

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”

“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.

“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.

*

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college.

Well, except for the fact that he’s a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica’s epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there’s this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him.

Oh, and the murders, of course.

But other than that stuff… totally the same old BH.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

Love Thy Neighbor…He’s Hot by Triangulum

Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with Stiles as their neighbor. Yeah he can be loud, but he keeps it to normal hours, and he brings them food, they have movie nights, he’s so beautiful, and okay, Derek might be pining. The only problem is, Stiles has a girlfriend. And Derek HATES her.

OR

The one where Derek and Laura live next door to Stiles, and Derek has a completely out of control crush. A Sterek as neighbors one shot AU that got wildly out of control.

The Hollow Moon by thepsychicclam

It’s the summer after Stiles’ first year of college, and he’s working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he’s okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn’t care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he’s just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

Permanent Fixture by linksofmemories

Derek is Scott’s older brother. Stiles is Scott’s best friend. Derek is falling in love with Stiles. This is a bit of a problem.

Wild Horses by thepsychicclam

Derek’s a drifter with no home, no destination, and no will to live. Stiles works on his family’s failing cattle and horse ranch while all his friends are going off to college. When Derek falls asleep in a random barn, exhausted and half-starved, he doesn’t expect to wake up on the other end of the sheriff’s shotgun. And Stiles sure as hell doesn’t expect his dad to invite the drifter in for breakfast.

Play Crack the Sky by WeAreTheCyclones

Excerpt from “Hale Pulls the Plug on the Future of Rock,” Rolling Stone, Issue 1203 – Oct. 2014“Fans and music industry vets alike are left reeling in the wake of bassist Derek Hale’s sudden departure from Smokes for Harris. At a time when the foursome from Beacon Hills, California seems to be on the cusp of rock superstardom after just one double platinum record, Smokes has everything to lose.”

Excerpt from “Smokes for Harris: Gladiator,” SPIN.com – Feb. 2015“Smokes for Harris gives in a little to the pop punk of yesteryear in their sophomore effort, but rather than pandering to fans of a lost era they elevate the genre in a way that hasn’t been seen in quite some time. Frontman Stiles Stilinski works double duty as singer and primary songwriter and proves that he can handle the task even without former bassist Derek Hale.“

Three Marks by sanam

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off—And suddenly it was done.Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt.”

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

Windows by dr_girlfriend

Derek has a new neighbor who won’t stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I…I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by zosofi

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

Dating Backwards by RemainNameless

Pornstars Derek and Stiles work for the same company. Derek only shoots with werewolves and Stiles only shoots with humans. That’s not going to change after they meet. It’s really not.(It might.)

Didn’t See That Coming by knittersrevolt

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

No Homo by RemainNameless

Stiles’ sophomore year starts something like this:3 FourLokos+ 1 peer-pressuring cat- 1 best bro to end all best bros= 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads “str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic”.Derek is the fool who replies.

There’s Monsters at Home by calrissian18

“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many.

The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”

Derek despised him.

Prince Among Wolves by tylerfucklin

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Between Men and Lions by standinginanicedress

“I thought we could be friends,” Derek offers, to which Stiles gets an odd smile on his face.

“Friends,” he repeats, an odd inflection.

“Yes, friends.”

Stiles laughs, just barely. It’s more of an exhalation of breath than it is genuine mirth or anything else, and then he smiles. “I’m pretty good at friends,” he says with a tilt to his head, and Derek clears his throat and has to look away.

What’s Best For Everyone, Isn’t What’s Easy by gatergirl79

Derek is gone and Stiles is left holding the baby…well, a cheery three year old named Leah actually. While Derek searches for her mom, Stiles plays daddy. When the sour-alpha wolf returns with his ex in toe, things get strained between Stiles and Derek. Especially now that’s they’ve realized just what they mean to each other

[megacircuit9universe]

Bad Penny

WED APR 29 2020

Okay, so the Covid pandemic has been an issue in America now for two months. I held off early on from doing any commentary or speculation about it, because it’s an extremely serious situation, and I felt I needed to just shut up and see how the situation developed.

Two months later, however, it’s time for some kind of an analysis.

Firstly, social distancing has been working incredibly well, anywhere it’s being taken seriously, and especially where it was established (by Gubernatorial decree) early.  And by, incredibly well, I mean... the hospitals have not been overrun with cases, and the death toll has been minimal... but even in states that are doing great.. there are still a lot of cases, and a lot of deaths.

The general “curve” in America... the climb in cases over time, has been flattened to an appreciable degree, but nowhere are we tailing off yet, and seeing any significant decline.

Two months in, we are still in the grip of this virus, but it’s now at least under control.  It’s at a plateau.  

The initial terror of those early weeks, when the cases just kept climbing, and projections were that hospitals would be overwhelmed... has subsided.  And now we’ve all dealt with this long enough to have gotten used to wearing masks in public, wearing gloves and washing our hands frequently, wiping down our groceries with sani-wipes after we get them home, and late night talk show hosts doing their monologues from home to no audience, and if they even have a guest, doing it via remote video conference.

People are trying their best to stay home, but not all people can stay home. Essential workers must still get out there and work every day, putting themselves at risk, while those who can stay home are getting restless... and running out of money.

Which brings us to the flip side of this extremely bad penny, which fate has dealt us... the economy.

Of course, if you’ve followed this blog, you know that’s been one of the main subjects for a couple years now... that good old self driving economy that had been booming along for a straight decade, seemingly impervious to any upset... even after three reckless years of a Trump administration.

I’ve stipulated many times over the span of these essays that a recession, being a thing to bedevil Donald Trump, was off the table.  It wasn’t gonna happen.  I believe in aliens, and that time travelers have predicted Trump presiding over a market crash... and STILL did not believe that, in this specific worldline, a recession could happen... because clearly, effective measures had been taken to prevent those predictions from coming true... namely and army of AI bots to regulate bubbles from getting too large, and sudden downturns from lasting over a week.

Yet... entering May of 2020... here we are.

And where is that?

Crude oil prices went negative last week.  The airline industry is operating at around 5% of what it was doing a year ago.  All sports, movie theaters, and any other public entertainment is shut down.  All schools are closed.  Weddings and funerals alike are being cancelled.  This means no catering for such events, no Senior proms, no graduation parties.  That hurts restaurants, who are already suffering from no dining room customers.

Small business are shuttering left and right.  Gyms and massage parlors. All barbershops and hair salons.  Pretty much all retail, including malls. 

Unemployment is higher now than it was at the peak of the Great Depression, and Congressional attempts to help people out, while they are sheltering in place... have been abysmal.

A one time payment of $1200.00 to each adult... not enough for most people to get through two weeks... and most people have not gotten these tiny checks, because the system is overwhelmed.

Same for small business aid... which they’ve attempted twice now to roll out.  Both times the money vanished into the wind instantly before it could get to those who need it... getting sucked up by large businesses who gamed the system and got in the door early... because we trusted big banks to dole out this Federal money on the government’s behalf.

Even scrap metal prices have fallen into a black hole.  Scrap iron and steel, which last year, got you a dollar or two a pound?... three tenths of a cent per pound today.  THREE POUNDS FOR A PENNY!

Now, they’re warning about disruptions in the supply chain of meat... not because we have any shortage of meat coming from the farms, but because Covid is breaking out in the meat packing plants, where “essential” workers cannot get any distance from one another, and do not have any time off to shelter from the virus.

The stock market itself is burnt toast.  It’s black, crispy, and smoking.

That AI bot coalition I wrote about last fall... that formed after Trump began fucking with tariffs, and conspired to get the ball rolling on his impeachment... well who the hell knows what’s become of them now, but the lower level economy bots are probably all frozen in permanent error mode, unable to process the world we are in now, thanks to a caronavirus.

So... is this economic crash Trump’s fault directly?  No.

The virus was a product of evolution that came out of Wuhan China... it had nothing to do with tariffs or politics.  It popped up by chance, and once it did, it was destined to spread around the world.

But in the US, we... specifically Trump, had a good three months warning, as it ravaged China, and spread to Europe... in order to prepare.

Obama had a pandemic task force.  If he had still been president, we would’ve been warned in January, and a federal lock down (rather than state by state) would’ve began in February, at the first sign that this virus had made its way into common spread.

Manufacture of PPE, and tests would have been ramped up immediately, and contact tracing would’ve also begun.

The economy would still have taken a it with all the social distancing, but there would also have been a world more pressure on congress (especially the senate) to get people proper compensation for lost wages while in lockdown.

States would have had all the resources they needed to battle the virus on the front lines and... because we got started so early, with such a well planned, and focused response... the entire run of the pandemic in America would have been far less severe, and under control in far less time... likely seeing us get back to something like normal life by April.

Granted, no matter who was president in 2020, we still would not yet have a vaccine, so even in the best case scenario, caution would be the watchword all through spring and summer... but with high levels of testing available, not just to identify the infected, but also the ones who’d recovered... it might just be the inconvenience of masks in public, smaller gatherings in public, and more intense screening at airports.

It would’ve been a mild recession, economically.  Businesses not doing as well as they did the year before.  People losing jobs in non essential industries, but then finding new niches online. 

I’m sure that in this best case scenario, people would still be bitching about their rights during lockdown, and then bitching more about it all having been an overblown hoax in the mild aftermath... crying that we never do all this stuff for the Flu!

Which, by the way, we should take the Flu more seriously.  Flu death tolls should not be so easily ignored every year.

At any rate, my point with the above paragraphs is to point out that under Trump, going into May, we are in a deadlock with Sars-COV2... while the economy is in a death spiral. 

And the only reason we’re doing THAT good, is thanks to the extreme struggles and sacrifice of state governments, and the people themselves... both forced to deal with this on their own, with no cooperation or material support from the federal government at all.

“Aw, come on!  You can’t say, NO support...”

Yes I can.  When you can’t even get your token support money where it’s supposed to go, because your distribution system is too half-assed to keep any track of it... yes I can.

I speculated, way back when this started, that perhaps they, the time travelers and their AI counterparts on our dark web, knew that the one scenario in which Donald Trump always fails to seize total power, is in timelines where a pandemic strikes in his first Presidential term... before he’s had enough time to dismantle the democracy... and because it’s just the one kind of problem he has no ability to bullshit away.

I dropped that line of speculation because it seemed then, and still seems now, too drastic of a move for agents of this type, who’s motto is, “first, do no harm,” to unleash a pandemic... not just on America, but the whole planet... to stop one President from becoming a dictator in one country on one of an infinite number of world lines.

That said... of all the types of national or global crises which could fall into a President’s lap while in office... pandemic DOES seem now truly to be the ONE scenario... Donald Trump just cannot get the upper hand against in any way.

Early on I thought, Well, this will be his 9/11.  His Great Recession.  This is his moment to shine and win reelection easily, because all he has to do is let the CDC run the show and then take all the credit when they get it under control!

But no.

He has refused to take a leadership role at any stage in this crisis... leaving it up to the states to deal with it... but also refusing to help the states... and also getting quite bristly with the CDC along the way.

He did, does, and will continue to believe he can bullshit this pandemic away, by minimizing it... promising it will magically go away... attacking anybody who takes it too seriously, or who questions his idiotic ideas for quick fixes like Hydroxychoroquin at first...

...and then last week his jaw dropping suggestion on live TV that maybe we should inject people with disinfectants as a kind of cleaning of the body... and then hit the body with UV light strong enough to penetrate the skin?

I do believe that profoundly moronic statement in front of the world... which he belabored for over a minute with full confidence... was in fact his coup de grace. 

Forget about, “grab them by the pussy,” this was on a whole other level of stupid and dangerous, at a moment in history when such stupidity was least tolerable by the planet as a whole, and most indelible.

And he’s not done being that level of stupid, either.  

This crisis is faaar from over, thanks to his total failure to lead... a fact which is no secret to anybody by this point... and he’s got six looong months to go between now and the election.

Six long months in which Sars-COV2 is NOT going away.

Six long months in which the destroyed economy is NOT getting any better.

Six long months in which to keep floundering, and flapping his gums with ever more ludicrous gems like... inject the body with disinfectants.  

Joe Biden may be barely lucid for two hours a day if you inject him full of steroids first thing in the morning... but at this point, even the most butt hurt Bernie supporter (and I am one) will be voting for Biden in November.. even if we have to wear a hazmat suit to the polls because the second wave of Covid19 is fully underway.

Trump... already impeached last year... now utterly unable to get caronavirus out of the news cycle ever again, even for a day... unable to get people to forget about it... because it’s upended their lives for years to come...

...unable to lean on a booming economy... and also unable to shake loose from the blame for, what is shaping up to be Depression II (forcing the history books to rename the one in the 30s as Depression I, going forward) will not have a goddam leg to stand on for reelection... even if his opponent were to be a paper bag with googly eyes taped to it.

So, the question is... was this just a coincidence in an election year?  Was it Yaweh?  Or was it the time force, making a last ditch offensive to stop Trump from becoming a dictator?

Well... if it was the latter... then it could only be warranted, if they knew for damn certain, that the death toll... globally... not just in America... in worldlines where Trump does seize total power... is always in the high millions.

I’m not saying that’s true.

I’m saying that for a deliberate pandemic to be staged... killing a couple to three million, as this one will likely do... it would have to be a last resort, and only to save, say... ten to twenty million over the same period of time.

Could any President, even one as idiotic and narcissistic as Trump, kill ten to twenty million people around the globe in a second term?  It sounds ridiculous. But... we were living in pretty ridiculous times even before this pandemic, and are certainly now, in extremely ridiculous times.  So... maybe?  Why not?

Double digit millions of deaths globally is just a few nuclear launches.  We’ve all known that since the 1950s.

And you have to admit... if there were ever a world leader dumb enough to actually start a nuclear war with China, Russia, India, etc... it would be Trump. He’s that stupid, and he’s that stubborn.

Even if he had to live out his last ten or twenty years in an underground bunker, he’d probably do it to settle some score or other... if he had nobody around to stop him, and no working democracy to stay his hand.

But... and I know this entry is dragging on by this point... we can’t bring up nuclear war without talking about the aliens.

According to this model, that’s the only thing they really care about, when it comes to Earthly affairs.  They’ve been closely monitoring us since the end of WWII, because we figured out nuclear fission bombs.

Life?  Check in every million years.

Fire?  Check in every thousand years.

Electricity?  Check in every hundred.

Fission bombs?  Keep an outpost nearby and troll their air forces and orbital space stations.

Weirdly, two days ago, it made headlines that the Pentagon had suddenly certified some old fighter plane footage of unidentified flying objects, trolling the air force pilots, was in fact real and not some hoax.

This was footage like they declassified back in 2015 or so... but they felt now was the time to come out and say... yes, this is real. We stand by this footage of little tick-tack objects locked onto by fighter plane scanners... outmaneuvering and outrunning them, despite all we know about the laws of physics, and despite the fact that one pilot on the radio is like, “There’s a whole fleet of them!”

Why did the Pentagon remind us of that stuff now... and stand by it’s legitimacy?

The motive would seem unclear.

But... Kim Jong-Un... dictatorial leader of North Korea, also happens to have gone missing since last week. He missed a big celebration of his grandfather god, Kim Ill-sung, and has not turned up since. 

The most credible speculation, coming out of China and Japan is that he’s dead.

According to these sources, he is either dead, or brain dead in a vegetative state... but he’s probably dead.

So, from the perspective of nuclear war... and who on planet Earth is the most dangerous global player with nukes... the only one actually blowing up nukes on testing sites in the last thirty years... and the one most likely to trigger a full global nuclear exchange...

...Well, that would be the same human in charge of that one hunk of land on the Korean Peninsula, that, as viewed from orbit, by night, is extremely dark and devoid of electric lights, even while all the land around it is shining very brightly.

In other words, Kim Jong-Un, would stick out as a sore thumb to aliens, obsessed with preventing nuclear war. 

And... he’s dead now.

...In this election year that the other loose cannon to worry about... in America... is also suddenly in very deep political trouble, due to an unexpected global pandemic which is killing a couple million... but not ten or twenty million overnight, with centuries, to millenniums of radioactive repercussions to stunt the progress of human kind.

But if the time traveler side of this is right, then we HAVE had such nuclear exchanges in other worldlines, here in the early 21st century... so in those worldlines, the aliens failed to intervene.

You have to go back over a year, I think... in this blog... to find the last time I speculated about the AI from time travelers, and the AI from 20-teen tech intermingling on the dark web with AI from alien tech.

And back then, I wasn’t sure what role the alien AI bots were really playing.

And I haven’t had anything new to say about that since then.

But now, on the eve of May 2020... there’s a case to be made that they just might’ve been quietly paying attention... and decided, in an extremely rare act of intervention in Earthly affairs... to take out Kim Jong-Un.

It doesn’t mean the aliens are behind the pandemic... which would not be their MO... but maybe the pandemic forced their hand, given the intel they had about how destabilizing it was to the world order... and yes, intel from our local time bots about how things went in other worldlines here on the ground with the same group of players running the world states.

Things to think about.

I’m far from stating anything definitively tonight.  I’m just a guy with a model.  And I’ve got some pretty insane world events to try and plug into that model... from the pandemic, to Trumps shitty response to it after two months, to the disappearance of Kim Jong-Un, to the Pentagon trying to low key tell us aliens are real.

We’ll see how shit plays out through spring and summer.

Until then, I am once again... going to bed.

[iluvtv]

Mom Guilt

Since today I will be tackling the taboo topics of both guilt and remorse I may as well start with my own caveat; I apologize.

I'm going to do some mom-splaining here...

Recently I watched the first ten episodes of both I'm Sorry and I Feel Bad. Both shows are Momedies and in case you hadn't noticed I am far more fluent in the more ego-centric brand of SWF Humor. No matter, intrigued by these curiously similar premises and my general obsession with female comedic powerhouses (including the women behind these titles) I assumed I had nothing to lose (ten hours on the sofa aside).

In full disclosure, while Andrea Savage's I'm Sorry wasn't exactly a show I fell for immediately, the stellar cast and the unapologetically hilarious style of Savage's parenting was enough to keep me watching. A clever choice indeed, by the final episode of Season One I felt pure sadness that I had no more episodes to watch and apologetic that I hadn't immediately understood the show's intentions. While my earliest notes state I am impressed by the cast they also indicate confusion towards the uneven tone.  Or to be as authentic as Savage my actual notations read as such:

"So many snappy quips.

Cast is epic...

Hope show gets better.

RN all just parents talking shit"

As I struggled to grasp I'm Sorry I also started dabbling with I Feel Bad. A show I found so problematic that no matter which lens I looked through I just wound up feeling... well, bad.

My ability to embrace the intentions behind I'm Sorry was aided through Savage's interview on Dax Shepard's (wonderful) podcast Armchair Expert. Her voice allowed a clear point of reference, making it much easier to deduce the ambitions behind her creative portrayal of just how humorous motherhood is. 

The feminist credo she passes to her daughter doesn't hurt the show's hilarity either. Savage's offbeat parenting hacks towards inciting female power seemingly misfire, all the while actually breeding a totally self-actualized kid who will proudly push back on the agenda. Amelia patiently explains to her mother "Ariel doesn't need a voice because she is the prettiest."

Savage makes this whole process just so darn relatable.

So, maybe I am just an ignorant audience and I still don't get I Feel Bad. Maybe a few interviews and episodes later I'll be espousing this show as the sleeper hit I knew about all along. But for now, as a woman who very much does not "have it all" I couldn't help but feel insulted by I Feel Bad's beautiful, successful protagonist, Emet. This is a mom who spends each episode lamenting her inability to "do it all" while somehow managing to round off each half hour by achieving whatever seemed implausible earlier in the day. Along the way, her funny, nuclear (though, to be fair racially diverse) family, comedically (and again, to be fair, often judgmentally) applauds her missteps.

Somehow each episode lands like a small punch in the gut. By episode six I was pretty sure I was being Sheryl Sanberg'ed all over again.

Emet's successful gaming illustration job, sweet and loving husband, goofy dad, terribly hands-on mom and mostly self-sufficient children (we hardly ever even see the baby) is all just a little much. This is a working mom that makes leaning in look suspiciously like lying down.

So, is I Feel Bad actually the minority mother's manifesto it was built as or is it just another major female guilt trip?

Admittedly here, Savage's television alter-ego which is practically exclusively based in reality is a wildly talented and beautiful comedienne, married to a successful lawyer with a cute (if sometimes obnoxiously inconvenient) daughter. In spite of this the show somehow just doesn't feel overdone. Instead, her down to earth approach to life and incessant and often deprecating commentary induce both cringing and appreciative nodding. Even I understand her plight and I am a single woman living in a one bedroom apartment writing a blog for free.

Perhaps this can be attributed to the humor. Savage's commitment to every joke intrinsically carries this series.

Once I finished listening to her and Dax chat I was entirely smitten with this woman. She sees the world through satire tinged goggles, she is attracted to banter and surrounds both her work and home life with this ethic.

Realizing the comedians on her show were mostly improvising I embraced the occasional awkwardness in tone for all it was intended to be.

It is this constantly improving unrehearsed dialogue in which, I'm Sorry thrives. The show has a fabulously charming Curb your Enthusiasm feel but I suppose I need to quantify this statement.

I understand charming to mean Judith Light telling Andrea Savage to go fuck herself during a geriatric Zumba class when Savage (the youngest person in the room by some 20-odd years) requests to turn up the A/C. Or charming like when your newly not racist four-year-old daughter runs into the "grown-up" dinner party in blackface  (the very same exclusively invited guests who just discovered you probably peed on your hands to alleviate the "jalapeno burn" you acquired whilst preparing their guacamole) only to announce that she is "Fat Albert!" Charming like when your best friend gleefully squeals, "I'm just so excited to see what you have planned next! First piss guac, then blackface. Its probably going to be something antisemitic!" Charming like 7a at the fertility clinic watching men leave the waiting room one by one to go masturbate in a cup and appreciating the experience as nothing more than amazing content."It's kind of like the reverse walk of shame," Savage announces gaining hearty laughs from the other patients and causing her husband to shrink into his chair, muttering; "please don't engage the room."

This is the kind of parenting I can comprehend.

I'm Sorry features a team already skilled at doing improvisation with one another and while it does take a bit for both viewer and actor to fully grasp the unpredictable tone of a real-life mom, it's bumps and misses are a welcome side effect of both the show and actual motherhood.

This story focus' on the perils a funny mom who writes crass humor for a living might actually have to face. Her writing partner, Kyle (Jason Mantzoukas) wonders how she can go from "blow jobs to kindergarten" and her husband teases: "Moms aren't supposed to be funny. Don't you watch TV? Get more hairy and tired."

All teasing from loved ones aside, this show works because Andrea is not actually perfect. She explains in the first episode that she is "disgusting" and later acknowledges she is on an equal playing field with a woman she once accused of being a "garbage person".  These fallacies lead to a character who is both likable and entirely relatable; I too am struggling through a semi-charmed life with plenty to apologize for.

Most notable perhaps, is the final two scenes of season one when Savage accidentally changes her email signature to her favorite (just for laughs) porn picture of a girl biting a man's dick (this is a pic she utilizes as an ongoing gag in many different facets and even unwittingly exposes her four-year-old daughter to at one point in the season). Without realizing her mistake, she shoots off an email to the elite kindergarten her daughter was just accepted to, informing them how thrilled her family is to join the school next fall. Spoiler alert, the season ends with her begging for redemption.

But that's the thing, we don't know if she'll get it and if the Dean's face is any indication Amelia's future here looks highly doubtful.

And while this is an error perhaps enhanced for the comedic effect her apology does sound genuine. She hadn't quite meant for her humor to hurt her daughter's future, an intent likely all decent mom's can relate to

Far less avant-garde, I Feel Bad follows the mainstream sitcom throughline in which conflict is presented, dealt with and solved all in the matter of one episode. Personally, I have no problem with this tactic, designed of course to give us a fresh start each week. The problem here lies with the premise of the show. How badly can you really feel about an error which only takes 28 minutes with commercials to rectify? But what really grates at me here is that our protagonist hasn't so much as fixed her problem as she's found a grovely way to make it redeeming. If anything, it's more insulting that Emet’s cute creativeness has all but rendered her infallible.

For all the enjoyment of Andrea's apology-prompting endeavors (Amelia sharing the gossip of her mother's stretched out vagina to her pre-school chums. Andrea and her mother commiserating about being stuck in successful marriages all the while knowing they'd be at their very best as sexy widows), Emet’s missteps just prompt angst. She left me wondering if I was somehow failing at life. Why wasn't own annoying TV family rallying around my picturesque existence, rooting for me as I lamented my imperfections?

Case in point: during I Feel Bad's holiday episode Emet allegedly feels bad because her kids don't know about their own culture.

I say allegedly here because in actuality she displays zero remorse for her kids' minimal grasp on both Judaism and Hinduism. What Emet actually seems concerned with (as is true in almost every episode) is not her children's well-being but rather how she comes across to the world. In this particular episode, the person she is most concerned with impressing is her Mother in Law. She does this by hiding her own mother inside a Casino.

In some sort of off-beat coup Emet pays the Indian side of her family to silence through Paula Abdul tickets and a $300 credit card charge at CVS ("just imagine how long that receipt is?!" her husband laments)  and while admittedly this is a good hush approach if you ever are interested in buying my silence it's also kind of a not-so-cute, dare I say asshole move to try to embrace one culture by buying off another (sounds like some kind of ass-backward deal #45 might brag about).

All this is of little concern to Emet and her husband though. Instead, the mezuzah on the door, the brisket on the table and expensive Hannukah decorations in the yard are effective enough, causing one Grandma to swoon while the other returns with a carefully calculated revenge approach aimed at convincing her grandchildren (those kids we allegedly are all so worried about being culturally out of touch) that Diwali is the cooler holiday.

Shenanigans ensue.

The pageantry culminates in a backyard, multi-generational family paint war. Of course, everyone winds up laughing and bonding about Emet’s lies and oddly accept equal blame for her dishonesty, each adult copping to their own inability to raise a future generation to be more woke.

Now everyone is happy, they have created new (and obviously better) traditions and all the while the stereotypical old Jewish couple visiting Emet’s inlaws remain indoors blissfully unaware o the commotion, chatting amongst themselves about what a good brisket "the Indian woman has prepared."

And scene.

Did Emet really ever feel bad that her kids are cultural ignoramus'?

Absolutely not.

Can everyone get behind her scheming, lying and flagrant consumeristic overspending because she said she did? Absolutely.

And her family is colorful and happy. Problem solved, yay!

How bizarre.

I may live 1,000 lives and I will never get away with holiday mischief like this.

I'm Sorry but I can't help but Feel Bad.

And so I suppose now is the time to reflect on the actual difference between the two phrases from which each show hails its title.

Similar, sure but fundamentally, "I feel bad" and "I'm sorry" (not the television shows per se, though it does pertain here)  the actual implications behind these phrases are very, very different. If someone feels bad they crashed your car that somehow has an entirely different ring to it than they're sorry they crashed your car.

Karen R. Koenig a licensed psychotherapist I found online (the best place for psychobabble) explains the phenomenon as such:

“I’m sorry,” usually indicates that people feel regret or remorse for having caused pain: they wish they hadn’t done what they did...This mindset is different from someone feeling guilty. That is, people can feel momentarily badly that they did something wrong, but not regret it. The guilt comes from recognizing that what they did was wrong, but not from actually feeling sorry that it happened. Guilt often arises only because someone gets caught. My take is that most of the time, abusers experience momentary guilt, but little more."

If this doesn't prove I Feel Bad is just the gentle sit-com equivalent of gaslighting I'm not sure what does? I get enough of that noise when I read the news, thank you very much.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 23- Zadar: In Which I Am Too Grumpy To Enjoy Anything, But Like More Than Usual

I awoke early, today feeling quite sick; eating an entire pizza just before bed will do that to you, I suppose. I pulled myself into a vaguely vertical position and grumpily checked my phone. 7:30am. Guh. Still no internet. Double guh.

Realising I was feeling too queasy to get back to sleep, I decided to not even try and instead just start my day. I was however, simultaneously too grumpy, given the lack of internet that I had endured for the past six days, despite paying for internet access on each and every one of them, to be bothered actually going out. I sat then, for far too long, in a bit of a sad huff, watching trash, longing to finish my christmas shopping and disconnecting and reconnecting from the wifi over and over again, whispering the words “of course...” to myself each time I did, more angrily with each iteration.

Eventually though I actually got out of bed and inspected the flat a little more closely. This proved to be a fairly poor move, as, from a distance, the flat, although a bit gaudy, seemed quite nice, but under scrutiny, things started to irk. The only form of heating was an air conditioning unit, for example, which did an excellent job of making one half-meter long strip of the floor very, very warm indeed, though did little for any other spot in the flat. This coupled with the frankly unacceptable number of fairly large holes in the wall, leading directly to the outside world had made the flat exceptionally cold, especially in December. The shower also, only had half a sliding door, meaning that if you wanted to wash yourself, it meant spraying gallons of water onto the bathroom floor, with literally no alternative. The toilet's flush, also, lacked any degree of power sufficient to dispose of solids. I had guessed, at least; I didn't have an awkward, panicked moment where I tried desperately to flush a turd, but couldn't, though it didn't escape my notice that that scenario would be one that danced closer and closer to reality as time went on.

Poop anxiety aside, I realised that I really should actually go out and enjoy Croatia. This was my big treat at the end of the trip and I was spending it being (admittedly justifiably) grumpy in a gross, cold flat. I also had no food and was starting to become quite hungry, so I strapped my shoes to my reluctant feet and fucked off into Zadar.

My first order of business, unsurprisingly, was to find something to eat. Perhaps more surprisingly, though not entirely unsurprisingly, the trend of not being able to find any functioning restaurants to take my money and fill my stomach continued. I walked around old town, to a pancake cafe twenty minutes outside of town and several restaurants in between and uniformly, they were all either closed or apparently had never opened. Once more, I gave up and decided to find a supermarket instead.

Close to an hour later, I had found one that was actuall)y open. I spent a ludicrous amount of Croatian money, (though very little British money on a ludicrous amount of provisions for the coming days. With them in hand, I returned home to make my own damned pancakes.  Fuck the system.

My pancakes were actualy remarkably successful, given that I mixed the batter in a saucepan, with a spoon for a whisk, with the aid of no scales whatsoever

Yes, I ate all of them.

and, once they were ready, I desperately wolfed them down, no doubt only moments from dying of starvation, otherwise.

By this point, my early start had begun to catch up with me, I was still grumpy, still desperately needed the internet and had just eaten a big, big plate of starch, so I am unashamed to say that I napped for an hour. It was great and I regret nothing.

By the time I woke up, it was around 4pm. I had given myself the cut-off point of 5, before I would give up hope on the internet again for the day, Slavica having promised so eagerly that it would be fixed by tomorrow afternoon, the previous day. Five rolled around and I was still being flashed a big DNS error shaped finger. I was becoming anxious about getting Christmas presents delivered in time for the 25th and so decided to venture out into the city again to find a cafe with wifi that I could use. Or just a cafe. Or even a person. Just one.

Thankfully (and shockingly) it didn't take me long to find one. A cafe, that is. I went inside, ordered a tea I didn't want and set about ordering presents for an hour, or would have done if my open office document listing all the specific presents I wanted to buy hadn't corrupted at that point, leaving me to hastily reconstruct the list from memory, in the middle of this cafe, with very limited battery power remaining on the laptop. Somehow though, I managed this and indeed to get everything ordered. At least I that was out of the way. Now the lack of internet was only ruining my time there in a non-urgent capacity.

I paid for the tea which I didn't want and barely drank and left, quite sure that having sat there for an hour, nursing a single drink, clearly only interested in their internet connection, had caused the staff to lose patience with me, entirely. I returned home to discover that the internet still didn't work. I decided to message Slavica again, scraping away at my remaining data in the process.

To her credit, within moments of me pressing send, she showed up at my door like some ancient spectre to address my concerns. She reassured me that the internet would be fixed by tomorrow (which sounded familiar...) and in place of it, offered me the wifi password of her neighbour, which didn't make a lot of sense, given that she had claimed the building's wifi was down, but okay. At least she had done something. It was useless, obviously; to use the neighbours wifi I'd have needed to stand outside, on the balcony, in the rain, which didn't sound particularly nice, or sustainable, but at least she had done something...

Slightly less furious than I had been, though still thoroughly dismayed that something so basic to the AirBNB experience was being denied to me, I decided to fritter away the rest of the evening the only way I could, by watching trash, playing games on my phone and generally being quite cold.

[mohamedfrueh0-blog]

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[deewhyfootballclub]

Round 1. Wakehurst 2 v DY Prems 2. The comeback story..

Our first game of the 2017 season. 1st of April too, April fools day and apart from Stu Nairn’s bingo passion wagon he’s been driving around and Dan Cuz’s Toni & Gay bowl cut, there weren't too many jokes or pranks pulled off this year.

If I’d said at the start of the day (whilst I was crushing the ‘coke can’ to a few vids under the category.. ‘big tits and Japan’ on fuq.com), that 2 of our starting central midfielders would be covered in claret, one with a broken nose and the other with a black shiner, you probably wouldn't believe me. The Boatshed was heaving too, 45+ year old chicken heads and dick heads everywhere. It was nearing 1pm, 8.5 hours after our 2-2 battle with Wakehurst. Out of nowhere, POP.... Some drunk idiot sucker punched ‘Gerry the Ginger’ Stu and ‘Diamond Dallas’ Driller on the dance floor. I think it had something to do with Drillers murderous 90’s 1..2…step moves or Stu telling the guy to ‘jog on cunt’ at one point. I’m not sure..

So, that wasn't the only battle for them that day…(terrible segway….).

Wakehurst - we’re a young and organised team. Captain America in midfield is probably used to running the games for them, as well as the tuck shop for the Under 10’s. Barely out of School, strutted around like he owned the place (but decent lad after….still a prick). They also had a tricky English winger, terrible banter so him and Tony got on really well. Knew their plan and stuck to it first half. Nothing special when pressured. Respect on the pizza front afterwards too. 

Pre Game - Ryan sets the team mood day with his detailed team talk. He used the white board he found behind the sheds at the DYRSL and his 18 little round magnets (22 players) made up of a few reds and blues, the actual magnets without the coloured case on them and a I (heart) Sydney fridge magnet to make up the numbers.

The game plan was simple. To play football through the back and holding midfield (me) with Dallas and Gerry supporting the attack. 

“Stu, that’s a fine. You’re pubes are fucking massive” - Matt Cooper

Dan Johns back in the team after his post aids illness straight into left midfield with simple Jack at left back. Tony Vale and Gibbo as centre half(s). Hairy arse Luca right back with cleaning business Andre ahead off him. Instructions given to individuals, we we’re sent out to get warm. The pre match warm up starts with a bit of funky leg yoga with a skinnier Dan Johns followed by our two lines drills and possession 5 aside. We weren't at training on Thursday so there we’re a few heavy legs and attitudes as Stu Nairn tried his best to get the season engine revved up. Just like his 1.1 litre bingo mustang, we came out flat and slow, facing pressure from the whistle.

Wakehurst to their credit, came out the blocks faster than Gascoyne spotting a single black chick in the Ivanhoe. From the first whistle, we we’re on the back foot, totally underestimating the home advantage of working with a pitch the length of Coops’s chin and width of Dan Johns ankles. They attacked well first 30 minutes with several diagonal balls maximising their space and pace, catching us out on a few occasions. They snatched an early goal from a silly DY error. We just couldn't get into it. We looked like we we’re simply going through the motions of being there and not wanting to compete. Work rate was there but there was no demand for the ball, people hiding, no early mongrel for the ball which all resulting in a good team taking advantage of us. They scored another one shortly after making it 2-0 to the home team within 25 mins.

10 minutes before half time, we are now starting to wake and a few dicey challenges in midfield give us with an opportunity to get back in the game. A nice bit of possession play provided Coops the ball from 15 yards out to drive past his man to shoot across the keepers left for his first League goal of the season and 4th of the week.

“What’s wrong with my jeans?” - Stu Nairn

Half time talk was calm and constructive. We went to a diamond shape midfield and had Tony sitting a little deeper to cut off the longer ball over the top, where they we’re getting all their wins.

Second half was our half. It felt different. Wakeshurst has clearly started to back off and give us more space. We had more structure moving forward on a narrow pitch. We looked hungry, strong, technical in spells and the desire was there to get on the ball again. Total contrast to first half and Wakehurst knew it.

A wonderful little free kick from Dan Johns (easily a contender for goal of the season) already put us at 2-2. Wakehurst began to shit themselves. The same way I did 9.30 hours later when I saw my two mates get whacked by some prick.

The game then just became a game of chance and Dee Why pressure. It was scrappy but our heart was there. Big Benny Gascoyne came on for the last 30 minutes as did Heggy for last 20. Both did all they could but unfortunately, we ran out of time and the game finished a draw.

Mug of the game: 
Man of the Match: TBC

Next game: Mid week FFA Rnd4 Cup game Thursday 6th v Dulwich FC in Marrickville.

2 points please Driller…Paddy.