#also to heck with that president he can jump in a hole

[martianbugsbunny]

"What would you do if I was dying? Hold me and let me die in your arms or just let me lay there and bleed?"

[macro-collections]

You knew it was too good to be true when the frat guys of Alpha Kappa Omega invited you to their house for a “party.” You were definitely a likable and more or less popular guy on campus, but rarely were invited to the exclusive parties by AΚΩ.

When you arrived, the guys were all in their comfortable clothes getting a head start on the drinking games - your typical frat games like pong, flip cup, etc. Most of the guys wore sweatpants, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and a variety of sneakers ranging from well worn athletic type to much more maintained fashionable ones. Not exactly “party” clothes. You also found it strange that there seemed to be nobody from outside the frat there, but figured maybe you were just early. As you shyly walked deeper into the unfamiliar frat house, you get the strange sensation like eyes are locking on you as you pass, only to quickly look away before you can notice. As you examine the room, nothing seems strange. Just a bunch of super attractive college frat guys playing drinking games while consuming an exorbitant amount of cheap beer.

Suddenly, you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see Ryan, the guy who invited you here. His eyes were only partially open, a little bloodshot, and he had trouble standing, but somehow he still had a handsome look about him. He clearly already was several beers and a few hits on a joint in. “Duuuuuude, you made it,” Ryan says in a borderline obnoxious tone. “Yo, guys check it out - look whose here!” One by one the guys leave their respective games and start to make their way surrounding me. They all take their turns casually saying hi. The dull music in the background is upstaged by half-hearted “yo’s” and “sup’s.” As the not-so-genuine greetings go on, it seems the guys share glances with each other - almost like they were smirking to each other?

“Here you go bud - drink up!” Caleb, one of the other guys, says as he hands me a red cup full of beer. “Uh, thanks” I say somewhat weirded out by the whole situation. This is all new to me, so I figured what the heck, drink up and get the party going. Wanting to impress you new friends,  you decided to chug the full glass and crunch the cup in your hand. The guys look stunned and shocked as you do this. Their jaws dropped, they looked around at each other and began mumbling things to one another. You wanted a reaction from them, but this seemed to be a bit of an overreaction for just chugging one beer to be honest. Before you could think much more, your stomach feels a sharp stabbing pain and you keel over. You feel like you are going to be sick. Your body gets tingly all over, the same feeling when your leg falls asleep but everywhere. Your vision gets wobbly and dark. There is a ringing in your ear and then suddenly - black.

When you open your eyes, thankfully the pain and tingling is gone. Your vision has returned to normal, except you feel like you may be confused because you can’t make sense of what you are seeing. You see these massive multi-colored things roughly the size of cars moving around you. Stranger still, is that these “cars” have these long narrow things rising above them. If you were being honest, it looked like legs leading down to a sneaker but at that size? It just makes no sense.

“Woah! Dude, look - he’s so tiny! He’s, like, as small as a bug!” You heard one of the guys say, only it was impossibly loud and was seemingly coming from far above you. Then suddenly it all hit you - the tingling, the darkness, the “cars”with things rising out of them. Though it still didn’t make sense, you figured out what had happened - somehow you had shrunk to about 2 inches tall! Those “cars” WERE sneakers - the sneakers of the frat guys of ΑΚΩ! You begin to panic and want to run, but you look up and you see them all - all 10 of them - have you surrounded and are looking down at you. You’re going nowhere.

You hear the guys talking with each other. “Dude how is he so small? I thought this was just a simple prank where we make him just, like, chest height for a while so we could tease him a little. This is way more than that!” Ryan says. “Well I thought he was only going to take a sip! I didn’t expect him to chug the whole damn thing, bro!” Caleb retorts. The guys seem to be a bit concerned. “Let’s change him back and forget the whole thing” one says. “No way! He knows too much now - besides, he is too small to take the reverse pill now anyway!” Another replies. “Shit” Caleb says, noticeably frustrated.

“Guys, guys, guuuys. Chill, bros.” Ryan chimes in with his high-as-a-kite carefree tone. “You’re looking at this all wrong. See, you are seeing this as a bad thing. Where as I, see this as an opportunity. A f*cking awesome one. Dudes, we have our own tiny pet!” The guys all pause a moment, look down at you, and the mood in the room changes instantly. “Yooooooooo that’s sick!” One of the guys relies as the other join in on the excitement of the newfound situation. You can’t believe what you are hearing. PET?

“Ok, ok, ok, but who gets to keep him?” Caleb asks. “I mean, we all want him right?” The others nod. “Alright so I say we play a game of Kings to see who wins him. We will keep the lil’ dude in the middle of the table and whoever wins, gets to keep him. Deal?” The others agree, and suddenly Caleb’s massive hand is engulfing you and carrying you to the table.

The game starts and the guys all take their turns obeying the various rules and taking their respective turns drinking as the game dictates. You see guys staring at you at various points of the game. At one point, when the others weren’t paying attention, one of the guys, Austin, slowly reached his massive hand out and grabs you. His palms are soft, slightly moist, and his finger nails were well-trimmed and clean. His fist closes around you. He slowly pulls you down from the table, and holds you a moment on his lap. Then, acting as if he had an itch, he lowers you down to his grey high-top old skool Vans and slips you into the sneaker, pressed up against his black dri-fit socks and the interior fabric of the sneaker. Austin wore these sneakers all day and every day, so they had definitely been worn in. That was very obvious to you based on the smell, moisture, and heat inside of the sneaker. You could barely breathe, and even when you could, it was filled with the 20 year old frat guys foot stench.

The guys go about their game, almost forgetting for a while the whole reason they started playing in the first place. They clearly have not noticed that you are no longer on the table. In Austin’s sneaker, you manage to position yourself through your squirming to near one of the lace holes. You are able to use that to hoist yourself up and out of the sneaker. Finally, fresh air. Your joy is short lived however as a slight shift in Austin’s foot causes you to go tumbling on the floor under the table. You hear the commotion of the game above you, and you look around to see 10 pairs of sneakered feet. Nike Air Max. Jordan’s. New Balance 574s. Nike running shoes. Black low-top old skool vans. So many sneaker variety’s, all in various stages of wear. As the guys play their game, you had some near-miss encounters with the unaware giant's sneakers. In one instance, you're able to jump out of the way just in time before the dirty sole of a Nike nearly crushed you. Finally, the guys notice you’re missing. “Yo, where is the little dude?” One asks. “Shit, where is he?” You see the sneakers all spring into action as the drunk frat guys begin searching for you. All except for Austin who thinks you are safely in his sneaker. Finally, one of the guys peers under the table, locks eyes on you, and smirks. “Yooooo there you are little man!” He says. "What you doing down there? That’s a dangerous place for you, bro. Besides, you don’t want to be near our nasty fee-“ he catches himself before he can finish. He gets up and you hear whispering from the guys. Then, laughter, followed by a “let’s do it.”

The guys all return to their seats, but one by one they kick off their sneakers revealing their socked feet. Black dri fit, white dri-fit, low socks, high socks, clean socks, dirty socks, each guy had a different sock and different condition from the last. Once all of the guys had their shoes removed, they began to bring them in towards you. You found yourself in the center as these massive college socked feet close in. The heat, moisture, and smell begins to hit you. Suddenly, you have 10 pairs of feet each rubbing over you. You are passed around from foot to foot, rolled and pressed into each socked sole. The guys laugh as they feel you under their rank feet, and they just go about their game. This goes on for quite a while, and the guys get increasingly more drunk. Finally, the feet retract. You think they are finally done tormenting you, but you see that it is about to get worse. The socks are all coming off. Some use their toes to get them off while other reach down and peel them off with their fingers. Eventually, all 10 sets of bare feet are ready, and similar to before begin to close in around you. For a group of college guys, their feet are well maintained. Toe nails are mostly clean and trimmed, the hair on their feet is just the right amount, and their soles are smooth and soft with hardly any callouses. Though the smell and sweat is a different story. Also like before, the guys take their turns rolling you around under their bare soles, forcing your head between their sweaty toes, and adding just enough pressure to knock the wind out of you and maybe even crack a few bones. This goes on for about 30 minutes as the guys continue their game until you feel a set of toes curl around you, and slowly drag you out from the pile towards the frat dude that the toes belong to.

When you get to the bottom of the chair, you look up and see that you are at the feet of Blake, the frat President and arguably the most attractive and most popular guy on campus. Blake has short black hair, deep, warm brown eyes, and a chiseled jawline. He reaches down, picks you up and dangles you between his thumb and fore finger. You are above the table again. “Hey bro-ooos” Blake says in a teasing tone to his frat brothers. “Lookie what I’ve got.” Blake continues with a handsome smile, revealing his perfect white teeth. The others look towards Blake and begin to protest with a sporadic “hey!” or “dude, come on!” Some even reach out to try and grab me, but Blake just pulls me further away from them and laughs. As some get up to try and make their way towards him, Blake lifts you up above his head and sticks out his tongue. “Ah, ah, ah, - don’t come another step closer or else.” The guys pause for a moment and look at each other.

After a brief pause, a voice breaks the silence. “Do it.” Caleb is smirking as he challenged Blake. “He’s bluffing. He doesn’t have the guts.” Caleb says condescendingly. “Oh I don’t, don’t I?” Blake replies. With that, Blake lowers you and places you face first onto his extended tongue. The surface was soft, warm, moist, and smooth. You scream as Blake rolls his tongue back into his mouth, past the row of his perfect white teeth, and closes his lips sealing you in. He begins to taste you, rolling you around and sucking on you like a candy. To the guys outside, they can hear the sucking, slurping and smacking sounds as Blake tastes you. They see a lump appear in one cheek, and then the other. “Still think I won’t do it?” Blake manages to ask, with you in his mouth. “You’re really going to eat a tiny man? Come on dude there is NO WAY you will do it. 10 bucks says he spits him out.” Caleb continues his challenge. Blake simply clinched his lips into a slight frown as he shrugs, clearly trying to play coy with his buddies. Then, Blake closes his eyes, extends his neck some and takes one massive gulp. He swallows hard, and loudly. The guys can hear the *glllckkkk* even over the distant music. They see his neck muscles flex, even showing a slight vein on either side of the neck. His neck thickens as all of the muscles spring into action, and then his Adam’s apple goes up and down. Then, the muscles all relax. Blake’s opens his eyes, and then opens his mouth to reveal that it is empty. He moves his tongue around to show further proof. The guys can’t believe what they just saw - they buddy Blake just swallowed a tiny dude whole! They erupt into comments of disbelief. Blake looks at Caleb, smirks, and says, “pay up, dude.” The others laugh as they watch Caleb hand over a $10 bill to Blake. “Woah, I can feel him in there man. He’s f*cking wiggling around. It feels so weird dude!” The others try to listen to Blake's gut to see if they can hear anything. They all hear the typical sounds of digestion - gurgles and growls - but one swears he heard screaming too. After a few minutes of this, they all get bored and decide to keep drinking, more or less forgetting about you entirely.

From your perspective, you can’t believe you are in the mouth of a 21 year old frat stud. As he tastes you, you are surrounded by the smell of beer on his breath. His saliva drenched you as he rolls you around. The tongue works on you as you as it presses you against his cheeks, into his teeth, and against the roof of his mouth. It’s all disorienting. Though it is mostly dark, there is still some deep red light that manages to shine in through his cheeks. You hear some commotion outside. Blake speaks for a moment causing you to bounce around. You hear more talking outside, and then the tongue pauses, then lifts up. “Oh no. Oh no no” you think to yourself. In one fell swoop the tongue lifts up causing you to slide to the back of Blake's throat. You try to grab on to something - anything - but it is all so fast you don’t have the chance. You reach the back of his throat and are greeted by the uvula. You look up to the dangling muscle above you, and beyond it can barely make out the nasal cavity. The uvula quickly descends onto you and forces your head from where it is in a downward motion. You are now upside down, head first towards the esophagus. You see the flap sealing of the trachea allowing full passage into the esophagus. You barely have a second to notice this before your head is forced into the right opening. The muscles tighten suffocatingly around you, and pull you in a downward motion. You feel the uvula behind you nudging you along the way. The deafening, wet sound of Blake swallowing you surrounds you and you are on your way. You hear breathing and a heartbeat as you descend, finally being squeezed through the tight opening to the stomach. You land in a pool of beer in the stomach. The air is stale and humid and smells like old beer. The walls are slimy and wrinkled. They are already pulsating as it recognizes the new arrival of food. You do everything you can to try abs escape, yelling to Blake to let out as you do. You try and climb out, but there is no way you are getting out. Your skin starts to tingle and burn, the stomach walls squeeze in around you. Beer pours down from above splashing onto you. You hear gurgles and growls around you. More of the stomach juices splashes up from below you, burning you more. You scream. You are getting light headed. After about 20 minutes of this, you are barely conscious. Your last thoughts are "how could it end this way? Just as food for a college frat guy." Then, one final gurgle, a splash of acid, and pressure from the stomach walls, and you fade to darkness as your body disintegrates into a goopy ooze to be further digested as a soupy mix. Blake continues his evening with his buddies, and forgets about you all together until a few days later when he noticed the missing person poster for you. But by then, you and whatever was left of you were long gone.

[tardis-ghost-blog]

Soul’s Shadow Ch2 (Doctor Who)

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He was already a few steps ahead before I got my body to react and follow him, the gun still in my hands. The metal had gotten warm from my own body temperature, but the weight and feeling was still so uncanny. I wondered if it was even loaded, and if so, why he would give it to me just like that. Right here and an now I would be able to simply shoot him in the back - and I was rather certain he wouldn't be able to avoid it this far away.

With a sigh I stuffed the weapon into my small shoulder bag. This was all just a weird dream anyway, right? Speaking of which... I pinched my nose shut with my fingers, trying to breathe through it anyway. When this didn't succeed I counted my fingers... twice. And finally pulled out a crumbled receipt from my pocket to read its content.

Alright... all reality checks indicated that I, indeed, was awake. No lucid dream for me, then. I frowned and sighed. Both, because it would have been cool, and because it meant I was awake and this was really happening.

"Where are we going, Mr. Saxon?" I asked eventually, when he walked down an alley I had rarely used before.

"Don't call me that. It's not my name."

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled and managed to get next to him. He wasn't that big, actually, compared to me he was, of course, but still not so much. And he looked rather cool in those clothes, sparkling the unfitting wish in me to sit down and draw him. I coughed slightly to get my head clear. "What is your name, then?"

The stranger turned around, halted in his steps and observed me for a few seconds.

"I am the Master," he announced with a proud smile.

"Of what?"

"Huh?"

"Master of what?" I wanted to know.

He raised a brow and shrugged, grinning boyishly. "Of everything."

I couldn't help it. My stupid brain just never stands still. "Well, not of Great Britain anymore,"

Instead of murdering me, the Master only let out a short laugh. It sounded honestly amused, though, making me smile a little myself. At least he seemed to have some humour.

"Oh, one day the universe itself will be mine, just you watch me," he said sweetly, like a boy telling his mom he wants to become a pilot.

Somehow the Master felt so childish and boyish, it was hard to believe he was the same man whom almost all of Britain had wanted as Prime Minister.

My thoughts briefly wandered back to that time, trying to puzzle together what exactly he had even told people. Something flashed behind my eyes, too quickly gone to really grasp. Images, impressions. Screams and smoke and round objects flying through the sky. I blinked perplex and shook my head.

"What's with you?" the Master bowed down a little, curiously observing my puzzled features.

"N... nothing. Just slept bad, 's all."

He shrugged and straightened again, wanting to continue the walk, however turning around once more. "And what do they call you?"

"Call...? Oh... I'm Lucy."

His face dropped instantly, morphing into an expression of annoyance and almost hate. "You have any other names?"

"Nooo..." I responded carefully. "What's wrong with it?"

The Master grunted and rolled his eyes. "My former wife's name. And that beasty thing tried to shoot me. Missed, of course. Never held a gun in her life before, but still..."

"Oh. Sorry."

"I'll just call you Lu, how about that?" He smiled again. "Alternatively we can settle on stupid earth ape."

"That's a bit long, innit?" I chuckled. "Lu's fine. But still, where're we going?"

"A shortcut into town."

"Oh.... I see. Say..." Again I felt my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Was I really about to do this? "The person I choose... do they have to live nearby?"

The Master tilted his head. "I have no TARDIS, right now. So, wherever they are, you have to get us there."

What the hell was a TARDIS?

I nodded. "Can you... mhm... get money? I mean, lots of it. Without anyone noticing it, of course. I... don't have much."

His eyes glinted happily. "No problem."

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

The landscape rushed past the window, trees and fields, villages and cities, all a blur of colour. It had gotten evening, the sky took on soft dark shades, and orange and white lamps faded into light. Sometimes the train halted, and the later it got, the less people entered or exited. Sometimes the stations were completely empty and through the window seeped the smell of foreignness.

"As a child I always imagined to go on a ride like this," I mumbled dreamily, "and simply get off the train at one of those empty, black stations. Not knowing where I am, or where to go."

The Master sat opposite to me, arms folded over his chest, eyes closed and his head resting against the window. He wasn't asleep, that I could tell. He didn't feel asleep, more relaxed, in a weird way.

"You like long train rides, too, huh?"

He smiled, his eyes creeping open. "It's so nicely quiet."

"Quiet..." I repeated absently, my gaze wandering back to the darkness-covered world outside. "Trains are so loud, though. I like how they sound. As if the wheels on the tracks are singing a song."

His gaze rested on me, I felt it intensely and looked at him, eventually. Although we had the lights dimmed in our compartment I could still see his eyes. And like before they fascinated me. Usually I can't look people in the eyes for long. It always feels so overwhelming, distracting, downright unpleasant. Because of that they often think I'm not listening... But I understand a lot more when I don't have to look. With the Master it was different, as if his gaze wasn't constantly searching for a way to call me out, to tell me how inhuman I behave and rub it into my face. He just didn't care.

"That's a hellishly long ride to get rid of a person," he remarked after we parted from another station.

My gaze kept glued to the window, but I still nodded. The sound of the train lulled me into a light slumber, brought me back to some hours ago, when the Master had entered a bank only to walk over to the banker and had told him to hand him a hundred thousand Euros. Astonished I had watched the scene, had glared at the Master with an opened mouth when he pushed the bag into my hands.

I had to transfer most of it to my bank account, not wanting to carry it all around with me, and the rest of the way my thoughts turned summersaults. I could finally pay back all of my student debts! I could afford a brand new gaming PC, a bike or... a bed.

Thinking about my almost empty apartment I concluded it would be wise to start with the basics. I hadn't been able to afford furniture, so far, my belongings only consisting of a mattress on the floor, a shaky table and chair for my laptop and three cupboards that could - with lots of good will - be called a kitchen. Heck! I didn't even own a fridge!

Now, all of a sudden, none of it was a problem anymore. I was free, I had enough to live for at least a few years, in case my bad luck with finding jobs would continue.

And all that for the price of a human life.

"Who is it?" the Master asked, as if he had read my thoughts.

The question tore me out of the thoughts, bringing me back to the present moment, and also to a past long gone, to the time of my childhood - if you can call it that - to years of fear and being caged in. None of it was his busyness.

"You didn't want to know."

"Now I do," he countered calmly.

"Because it's quiet?"

An almost pained smile appeared on his face. I had hit a point, although I had no clue what it was about. Only another puzzle piece for my pattern oriented mind, another snipped about the strange man in front of me, that once had been known by every person in the country, but was now unrecognized, as it seemed.

"What happened when you became Prime Minister?" I couldn't help but ask, ignoring his own question. "I remember the spheres killing the president, but then..." Again, images whizzed through my head, probably created by my brain to fill the gaps. A brain can do that... create false memories, because remembering something at all is better than having a hole in your head.

"I took over the earth," the Master told with a grin. "First I decimated the human race, then had some fun with you all." He snickered. "Wiped out Japan, built a police state, let my Toclafane decimate a few more of you, here and there. You know... just for fun. Humans reproduce so fast, it almost doesn't matter."

I only blinked at him, confused.

"No, you didn't."

"Well, you wouldn't remember. It all was based on a paradox, so it never happened."

Again I blinked. There was something in my mind, pieces that got put together, a pattern, evolving from the net of information and thoughts in my head. Then it clicked.

"You're alien, too, aren't you?"

It made sense. Looking back at the attacks on earth, so far, his strange behaviour, the weird terms he always used, the way he felt so different... I glanced back into his eyes, knowing it to be true, no matter if he would deny it now or not. No human could have such eyes.

"What if?"

"Hm..." I made, noncommittally, shrugged and drew my legs up on the seat to wrap my arms around them. "A paradox..." I thought out loud, leaning my head against the window. If he was alien then it was possible he had the technology to make something like that possible. "You really did all those things, then?"

A childish smile let his eyes crinkle with joy. "Scared now?" he teased and gave me a mock-pout. "It's not the worst thing I've ever done, if that consoles you."

It didn't. But that he wasn't a good person had been obvious right from the start. I probably should have been scared, should have risked jumping from the train only the get away from this man. Strangely enough my heart was calm, my mind only tired because it was so late already.

No, I wasn't scared... yet. Had he been human I would have assumed he was a psychopath, but somehow that didn't quite fit him. There was more to the Master, a calmness behind the chaos in his eyes, a softness, buried beneath the ocean of blood and cries he seemed to have left behind. An image flashed through my head, of him kneeling in the rain, crying out an unspeakable pain, without anyone every listening.

I blinked it away. It happens sometimes, my brain just creating scenes and images from what I pick up from other people. No idea if I'm really that empathic... Or if it's more like with blind people... I can't read body language and facial expressions so well, but instead I somehow can sense people's moods and feelings, without even looking at them. I think everyone can do that, but most people don't have to.

"How is it?" I mumbled. "To take a life."

The Master smiled and leaned forward, hands folded in his lap. "Exciting. You finally understand how much power you have, what you're capable of, and that no one can stand in your way any longer." He chuckled a little. "You'll see for yourself."

I swallowed and glanced away. Rain started to trickle down the window and I closed it, listening to the added sound of drops against glass. So soothing, distracting me from what was ahead.

"You're an odd one," the Master remarked quietly. "About to commit murder, but you don't even look bothered about it. And there you humans are so annoyingly moral."

"I don't understand moral," I softly admitted and shrugged. "There usually is no logic behind it. It's just things you don't do, because you... don't do it. But no one ever tells you, why."

The Master laughed quietly to himself and leaned back again, signalling the conversation to be over. I didn't mind, feeling tired anyway. Good thing those seats were long. I slipped out of my shoes, lifted my legs up, while taking my glasses off and placing them on top of the trash bin.

"Wake me, when we're there," I mumbled and curled myself up on the seat.

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc IV: Megamart of Darkness (6)

Chapter 6: Franklin vs. Penn: Ultimate Grudge Match

“I’m sorry,” He said, all polite-and-founding-father like, “but the museum is now closed. Those who do not leave WILL BE EXTERMINATED. As I always say, early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and NOT DEAD! Thank you so much for visiting the Franklin Institute, and please come back tomorrow, when I WON’T KILL YOU!”

           Unfortunately for Silverstein, I’d been in situations like this a thousand times before. See, when you get in trouble, be it trying to flood the house, drawing pictures on the walls, or just plain old putting fireworks in your breakfast cereal, you learn real quick to always have a buddy (or little brother) on standby. Why? Because-

“It was them, Mr. Franklin!” I cried, pointing my index finger. “They started it!”

Then I ran. Always run before they can think long enough to punish you!

There was a loud Pop as Ben Franklin cracked his knuckles.

“A fool and his money are soon parted, as is a certain Quaker and his life if he does not leave now. I once said visitors and fish stink after three days, but you were rotten on arrival, pacifist!”

Penn stamped his foot so hard it cracked the floor, accepting the challenge. “I may not believe in fighting, but soon you shall see why they call us the Quakers, you impoverished d!ck!”

“Uhh… guys? I’m still here.” Said Silverstein, just in time for Penn to kick him into a marble pillar.

“The child is mine to reprimand, you fool!”

“’Tis not!”

“’Tis too!”

“’Tis not!”

           As much as I wanted to hear a riveting philosophical debate between two of PA’s most famous citizens, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting crushed by giants, either. Instead I ran. I ran so far away. Now, keep in mind I hadn’t been to the museum since I was five, which made searching out the train an absolute pain. Having two giant men bumbling behind me didn’t exactly help.

All I could think was runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun.

           It should have been easy: all I needed to do was find that stupid train, bring it to life with gold dust, and vamoose! If only I could remember which room the darn thing was in! Instead, I ran through rooms filled with electricity, weather, and ‘shudder’ physics. Sometime along the way, I realized this is where parents put all the boring sciences nobody cared about, locking them away from the rest of the world. This wasn’t a museum, this was a prison. A prison of learning.

           Then there were Ben Franklin and William Penn hot on my tail, reducing rooms to rubble as they went. I had no idea what would happen when all that science got released into the world, but I didn’t want to find out. At least they seemed more interested in each other than me. Until Ben Franklin stuffed Penn’s body up a working Tesla coil, that is. Penn might have recovered, had he been made of something other than bronze. Instead, the room exploded in a burst of electricity, Franklin and I leaping out in the nick of time like a pair of action heroes.

           Of course, without Penn to distract him, I had to contend with Big Ben himself (and Silverstein, whenever the heck he got back in the fight). So now on top of finding Baldwin (seriously, how hard can finding a 400,000 pound choo-choo train possibly be?!) I had the world’s angriest founding father on my tail, spitting maxims at me. Maxims that were also really bad puns about my demise (that I may or may not still sometimes hear in my sleep).

“I once said three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. So far, one down, one to go!”

I slammed my knuckles to my head.

Come on, Watt! Think, thiiinnnnkkkkkk!

I pumped my ten year old legs hard enough to pop my knees off, the air pushing back against me like concrete. There was a flash; the world spun. Then everything was still. Absolutely still.

                                                          .   .   .

           When I opened my eyes, I back at the Franklin Institute. Srta. Now, it was day and there were tons of guests. And in that great thong of guests was none other than five year old me being dragged along his parents. 

Fist, I was right confused about what the hey was going on, when it struck me that just last year I managed to run faster than the speed of light, going back through time. But back then, I’d sprained my ankle so I shouldn’t have been able to go that fast again. This had to be an illusion! Unless...

Unless, being a soul now, my ghost ankle wasn’t sprained, which, combined with my dinosaur feet, had let me run fast enough to break he sound barrier again and go back to the day my parents first took me to this hell of learning! Should I have been worried I wasn’t more shocked? Maybe, but all my mind could think of was how I distinctly remembered seeing a giant train as the last stop on my visit. It took my nerve wracked mind five seconds to churn out a plan. And so began the first (but sadly, not last) time I would find myself stalking somebody.

           Funny about stalking. In the movies they make it look like some daring spy espionage thing while some awesome music plays in the background. Fact is, you spend most of it just sitting around searching for that perfect mix of part of the crowd, but not so much you’ve lost your target, the whole time internally screaming Darn it, kid! Put down the plastic stegosaurus and get a move on to the trains already! (I also felt tempted to tell him throwing Steggy into incoming traffic on the way home was a terrible idea even by 5-year-old standards, but that’s the sort of thing that causes time paradoxes, so I kept my mouth shut.) Seriously, it’s no wonder I didn’t remember squat about the place! And somehow, despite having his face in front of a dinosaur the whole time, little Watt spent hours in front of every exhibit (except the giant human heart, that one sent little me screaming for the exit until Mom convinced him there were no ghosts in there). If it weren’t for Dad grumbling how ‘we should’ve just gone to the dinosaurs like we usually do’ while Mom countered with ‘we need to expand our son’s horizons’, I might have died of boredom for the third time that summer.

           One planetarium show later (which I sat outside for, seeing I didn’t have a ticket) they finally got a move on to the trains, which actually got little me to stop staring at his plastic dinosaur for five seconds. Heck, I found myself gaping at the darn thing (which of course was in an out of the way area most people wouldn’t even notice if it wasn’t on the map.)

           So I knew where the Baldwin was, now I could get going returning to my own time! As if on cue, a loudspeaker screamed

“ATTENTION GUESTS! IN FIVE MINUTES THERE WILL BE A DEMONSTRATION OF OUR TESLA COIL IN THE WONDERS OF ELECTRICITY EXHIBIT!”

           Mom, determined to get little me to see there was more to life than dinosaurs (Mom, I love you, but you’re wrong) immediately started dragging the family over. Naturally, I followed suit, knowing full well how this story ended.

Turned out, there was one other thing that could get little me to take his eyes off his plastic dinosaur for more than five seconds (that wasn’t a giant, fleshy organ in the middle of a museum hall). And that was seeing their future self running into the Tesla coil right as the demonstration began.

Have you ever been barbequed? Roasted so dark your skin feels like lava, then you can’t feel anything at all? Well, jumping into that coil was like that, and more. Only thing I could feel was my brains being spun around like clothes in a washer. All the while, I thought of that stupid giant heart. Whose heart did it even belong to, anyway, and who thought it was a good idea to put it in the middle of a museum hall where all a manner of kids could crawl through it to their heart’s content?

Whose heart was it?

But I already knew the answer, just like I know the history of dinosaurs. With that knowledge, I came up with the perfect plan.

And everything was still, absolutely still.

                                                         .   .   .

           When I got back up, it was nighttime in 2006, angry Ben Franklin and all. Quick on my feet, I ran to where the little kids go to learn how disgusting they are on the inside. Franklin followed close behind, each footstep a five on the Richter scale. If I wanted to pull my plan off, I couldn’t miss a beat. Running was a bit trickier, though: somehow, I’d sprained my ghost ankle from running so fast. Not that I really had time to wonder how that worked. 

Anyway!

           Most kids like theme parks. I was never one of them. You know why? Because of those creepy animal mascots! Just like clowns, there’s something inhuman about them! But at the end of the day, a thousand of those costumed freaks seemed less scary than Big Ben Franklin’s ticker. And this is coming from a guy who literally lived in the Underworld for a few weeks!

           Did you know it glows at night?! It freaking glows at night like some bloody Chinese lantern. While pulsing! It was enough to make me lose my lunch (or Cheetos, in this case) to the point where I wondered if being crushed to death in the marble hands of our first president might not be such a bad thing after all. (He was our first president, right?) But at the end of it all, I flinched. First I was fleeing from death, the next moment I was lodged somewhere in Big Ben’s left ventricle.

“Coward! Come out and face me!” He cried, punching a hole mere inches from my face.

I may or may have not screamed as blood splattered my face. For the next few minutes, it was a fight for survival. Franklin ripped open the heart, trying to grab me, and I didn’t know what would kill me first: Fists, or the guy’s cringy maxims.

“He who would sacrifice his freedom for security deserves neither!”

Punch.

“My energy and persistence will conquer all things-that includes your flimsy little bones!”

Slam!

I would have parried with quips of my own, but really, it’s kinda hard to come up with puns for ‘ventricle’. But in the end, I decided who lived a-or-ta died, so that’s neat.

Sure enough, the more Franklin punched, the more blood spread over his marble face, the slower the heat beat and the weaker he got, over and over and over…

“Nothing is… certain in life… but death and…”

Just like that, Ben Franklin collapsed on the floor. Now it was my turn for a witty one liner.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you an investment in knowledge pays the best interest? Fun fact about the heart: when it stops beating, you stop living.”

And with that, I went to my way toward the Baldwin, but not before Franklin gave me one last ominous warning.

“He who lives upon hope…”

I didn’t hear the rest because by then, he’d drowned in his own blood.

           So I ran to the best of my memory, diving down that staircase where they keep the pendulum thingy into the space travel exhibit (or as I like to call it: ‘You think it’s gonna be fun, but it’s not’.) And who do I see leaning against a replica lunar module but Smell Silverstein himself, looking mighty proud of himself

“Good evening, Watterson.” He said, all sinister-like. “You probably think you’ve been doing real good, busting up two of Pennsylvania’s most famous figures like that. Too bad, mother*cker! Because I’m Shel mother*ckin’ Silverstein, and now, you will be crushed by the wrath of Apollo, the Living Lunar Module!”

With as much charisma as he could muster, he took some dust from his pocket and splashed it on the space thing.

Nothing happened.

Shel looked at his hands, now a bright orange. “What the Stephen Hellenberg?! This isn’t gold dust, this is CHEESE PUFF DUST!”

           You know that gold dust Silverstein tried to snatch from me earlier? Too bad he didn’t have good night vision (the kind you get from constantly checking for monsters under your bed) otherwise he’d have noticed I’d pulled the ol’ switcheroo on him. 

And I made certain he wouldn’t have time to correct his mistake. 

You ever rammed a guy twice your size before? The key is to catch them by surprise, because even if you’re an eighty pound wimp like yours truly, if the other guy isn’t expecting it, they’ll topple like a domino, bang their head on the leg of a lunar module, and that will be that.

           Of course, I didn’t exactly have time to celebrate my victory. With what little energy I had left, I tottered over to the train exhibit. For a moment I’d expected the worst, but there it was, black, long, and big as a house: the Baldwin 60000, the greatest locomotive ever designed by man. Right where I’d left it. Climbing into the cockpit, I opened the firebox, pouring every last ounce of Penn’s gold dust inside. The whole thing shimmered as streams of gold circled the train, like some kind of magic spell.

“What the f*ck?!”

A deep booming voice erupted from right out of nowhere.

“Where am I? What is this place?! How the hell am I talking?!”

“Hey, relax-“

“And now there’s a voice in my head!”

“Actually, my name’s Watt, and I’m gonna bust you out of here.”

“Well I’m not interested! If you’ll excuse me, I have to go back to being the greatest steam engine in America!”

I slapped my head, finally realizing my Mom put up with this crap every time she put me to bed at night.

“C’mon, Baldwin, I nearly got sent to the Underworld, MULTIPLE TIMES I might add, trying to rescue you!”

“Then if you want a train so badly, go to Rocket over there! He’d probably help you out!”

Rocket was a dinky little rust bucket who probably couldn’t outrun a fourth grader, much less crush a Wegmart Greeter. In fact, I’m still not sure if that thing even qualified as a train.

Fortunately, my Mom put up with this crap every time she put me to bed, so let’s just say I knew a little about getting people to do what you want.

“Fine then,” I said, putting up my hands and making an exasperated sigh. “Guess you won’t have the chance to be famous, then.”

“How?!” The desperation in his voice was palpable.

“Oh, I just wanted you of run over a Wegmart Greeter and help some geese get their nesting grounds back. It would get you in the papers. But I could just go over to Rocket, since you insisted…”

A whistle erupted. “NO! NO! You definitely want me! Ever since I’ve somehow gained a consciousness, all I’ve had the inescapable urge to do something stupid that’ll land me in the papers! I’m a very useful engine, I SWEAR! Please don’t leave meee!”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes “Okay, but promise you’ll do everything I say, alright.”

“Yes, yes! Anything for fame!”

Just at that moment, William Penn barged in, creating a giant Quaker shaped hole in the wall. His hair was a bit frazzled, but other than that he looked just as dandy as when I first saw him.

“Halt, Wastrel! In the name of Penn-“

“CHARGE!” I screamed.

With an ear shattering whistle Baldwin rammed forward, shattering Penn’s bronze butt into a million pieces. But we didn’t stop there. No, we kept going through the museum, out the other end, and…

“We’re going to crash into traffic!”

“Don’t worry, kid! You just have to belieeeeevvvveeeee!”

“How is that supposed to-“

“Do you want to ram through a traffic jam or not?!”

So I did. I hugged the firebox, believing we might somehow get away with all this. Gradually, the ground stopped screeching beneath us. When I finally found the courage to look down, we were a hundred feet in the air. I wondered what passersbys would think when they looked up to see a seven hundred thousand pound train making a silhouette as it passed over the moon.

“What the heck is happening?!”

“Magic, kid! The Magic of BELEIVING, MOTHERFORKER!” He tooted his whistle triumphantly “Just don’t stop, or we all fall to our deaths. I’ll even sing a song to help you remember!”

“No that’s-“

“Don’t stop! Beleivviiiinnnngg!”

I screamed all the way back to the pond.

                                                          .   .   .

Just like I promised, Baldwin did get in the papers. Specifically, an article in the National Esquirerer titled

“Lascivious Locomotive Finishes Founding Father! Makes Daring Escape into the Heavens!”

Right beneath an article about one of the most pressing issues of our time:

‘Hannah Montana: the American Beethoven?’

[project-ohagi]

Keiji Akaashi x Reader {Haikyuu!!}

The grace with which he had been blessed was astounding, even to his upperclassmen. You always searched for him in the onslaught during break and lunch, hoping against hope that he would gaze your way. His politeness and the blunt way he voiced his opinions were surely going to be your downfall; every time he opened his mouth, your heart began pounding in your chest, and all the blood in your system would surge to your ears and cheeks. The sound of blood swirling around your head almost drowned out your love's magnificent voice. Almost. Once, he caught you zoned-out, on cloud nine, and questioned the intensity of your blush. The handsome setter thought that perhaps you were ill and seeking medical attention. Afterwards, he seemed to make a routine of greeting you every morning, and on the off-chance you happened to meet in the hallways.

Although he never appeared too interested in physical contact, his friend was incredibly touchy-feely. It humoured you for a while, but gradually, the amusement was replaced with fury - that was your man, your gorgeous specimen, and no matter how close those two were, Bokuto was not getting Keiji. You dedicated an entire journal to learning and recording his habits, mannerisms, likes and dislikes, as well as any other helpful bits of information. You wanted to know everything.

Sitting behind him in class had its advantages, because he couldn't tell that you were writing about him, and from your angle, you could garner his mood from the movement of his upper body alone. You didn't need to be an expert at deciphering facial expressions. You were quickly becoming a master on the topic of Keiji Akaashi. Following him also worked in your favour - the way he stood (hands interlocked behind his back) was utterly adorable, so you started copying it. You would try out the things you knew he liked, and also considered joining the girls' volleyball team. However, that way there would be less chance of you seeing his matches up close.

You examined his character in more depth, exploring how he talked to, and acted around, his classmates and team mates. His closest confidante was indeed Bokuto, but you feared that striking up a conversation would lead to some weird places. He was such a loud, rambunctious individual, and you couldn't risk the exposure. Not when you were so near to completing your most daring, yet most exciting plan. It needed perfecting and executing, but that was now only a matter of days. Keiji was quiet, but certainly not shy. Heck, you weren't exactly sure he was capable of reading the mood, but all his little quirks combined to make him so incredibly endearing.

Your Romeo was far more special and charming than anyone else in your life, and you were prepared to go to some insane lengths to keep him caged. Ten foot tall iron bars, and an ivory roof would surely sedate him. He would look so handsome, so perfectly submissive, splayed out amongst your sheets. His hands would turn a hot white as he gripped them, trying to chain himself to reality. The poor thing wouldn't know what to do, lying and trembling beneath you. Nothing would be veiling his perfection from your eyes, so they could feast on what they saw, and it would satisfy them for life.

A sticky white liquid would dribble down his stomach, having been shot out a short while earlier, when your lips closed around his throbbing member, and sultry moans filled the room. Keiji's soft, haggard sounds would be music to your ears - a choir of angels, and your legs would further entrap him. Lining his member up with your aching hole, you would sheathe him inside, relishing in the sudden, pleasure-induced moan that escaped his lips. It would be throaty, in his lustful haze. Leaning forwards, you would forcefully press your lips together, coaxing his tongue out to play. At some point, he might gain control, turning the tide of dominance. Pinning you to the bed, perhaps he would will you to beg, to plead for his glorious sex. He might release you, or he could make you suffer. Maybe he would pull out, so that only the tip remained, or perhaps he would even deny your orgasm, as punishment for screwing with him. Would he do that?

Licking your lips, you imagined all the possibilities, ranging from soft sex to rough sex, to no sex at all. It was entirely plausible that, once he gained the upper hand, he would tie you against the bed, stranding you until morning, or whenever someone decided to walk in and found your naked, or semi-naked body, shaking from the cold, desiring nothing but Keiji Akaashi.

Then again, Fukurōdani would provide the best environment. Plus, it would be much easier to find and lure your prey in a place that he felt comfortable. You might be able to find a jump rope to tie his hands, and maybe the gymnasium's storeroom would be a good spot to launch an attack. However, first came the annoying part: removing Keiji's larger-than-life friend from the picture. You didn't really have to go to the extreme of killing him, but that was always a viable option. No, you could just get someone to help you take his attention off Keiji, and go home by himself. He was constantly hoarding your beloved, never letting you get too close. You could have even sworn he glared at you once, for attempting to limit the space between yourself and the setter. Regardless, he had to go, if only for a few hours.

You crossed your legs, well aware that you were growing too aroused, from your fantasies alone. The object of your (obsessive) affections tilted his head in concentration. You loved this, because it meant that he was working really hard. He was incredibly smart, but never boasted about his grades. You adored his humility. The temperature had risen significantly in the past few minutes, but you hadn't noticed, since you spaced out. However, the heat seemed to affect Keiji, as his blazer was draped gracefully over the back of his chair, and you could see the sweat rolling down his neck. In that moment, all remaining reason flooded out, and you had to stab your hand with a sharpened pencil, just to stop yourself from leaning in and lapping up the substance. Glancing at the clock, you realised that there were less than ten minutes left. You sighed in relief. Keiji's dark eyes flicked to the side, catching a glimpse of your flustered state. He would attest to being concerned. You were a classmate, after all.

He looked back towards the teacher, listening with one ear. The notes in his book were becoming more and more confusing - his focus was wavering, as he tried to disperse it between you and the lesson. He always appeared so cool, so collected, able to dish out the most brutally honest comments without batting an eye, but, a slight panic was building in his stomach. It twisted unnaturally, bringing him to the brink of nausea. Although, no-one would be able to tell, not even if they invaded his personal space, like Bokuto. The extraordinarily beautiful setter often noticed you staring, out of the corner of his eye, but he never said anything. You seemed quite timid, since you scarcely talked to anyone, so he didn't necessarily want to make you uncomfortable. However, while he thought that you kept your head down and got work done, you actually had a very different, very special reason for scribbling in your book, only sparing two or three glances towards the teacher.

Earlier, you had been in the process of writing out, and testing, various methods of torture/execution. You see, Keiji had a bad habit of being friendly around the girls at school. Well, he was an incredibly amiable person anyway, but, much like Aobajōsai's setter, he had a fanclub. They were absolutely obsessed with him.

Although, they could never love Keiji like you did.

Their president was a small-ish, brown-haired female, who compensated for her height by donning these ridiculous, strictly prohibited heels, which gave her a few more inches. She had a horrible, toxic sort of personality, and a smile that could wipe out an entire species. For her, you implemented a very special, very inhumane plan. One day, during lunch, you asked her (privately) about joining the Keiji Akaashi Fanclub. She was thrilled to have yet another member, and she entrusted you with all sorts of written documents, ready and waiting for your signature. The two of you had a clandestine meeting, because you wanted to 'show' her something. You shrugged off all her guesses. There was a spring in your step, and a happy giggle bubbling in your throat. In your bag, an iron contraption sat amongst your school supplies. After placing it (with much force) on her head, and twisting it violently, almost breaking the poor girl's jaw before the fun really started, you hauled her into the furnace.

She had been your first victim.

Proceeding her, were five more members of that detestable, and frankly annoying, club. When they were dealt with, you transitioned into Phase 2, which primarily involved the possible abduction, and definite enchantment, of your love: Keiji Akaashi. So now, you were in class, gazing dreamily at him, and wondering about your plan. It needed a touch more...flavour, so it would, unfortunately, have to wait. At least until tomorrow.

The bell rang, and freedom had never tasted so sweet. Thankfully, your chosen methods of extermination required minimal bloodshed, so nothing was visible on your clothes. Just as you packed away your items, and got out of your chair, a mildly concerned-looking Keiji blocked your view of the door. You recognised a slight imbalance in his stance, indicating that something was troubling him.

"(L/n)-san." He addressed, nonchalantly.

Your response was almost too quick. "Yes, Kei-Akaashi-kun?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Did you need me for something? You're always staring. It can be confusing."

"Ah..." You guessed he stopped himself from saying 'annoying'. "I can tell you tomorrow, maybe?" You muttered, attempting to stall for time.

Shaking his head, he spoke, "Please tell me now."

This was happening far too suddenly, yet you weren't about to let this opportunity slide. "Um...well, I could tell you on the way back? We go the same way, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, we do. Let's go then." His fingers brushed past yours, causing your skin to prickle.

Right, cool. Just keep this momentum, and everything will go smoothly.

While walking, you spotted him fumbling with his fingers - something he did quite frequently. It wasn't really a sign of anxiety, but you found it adorable. His gunmetal blue eyes were fixated on the road ahead, and his lips had long since been sealed. You desperately needed to take action, otherwise, if your actual strategy did not work, you would completely fail. You couldn't let him go home, but it would seem really strange if you asked him to join you for a cup of tea, or something to that effect. Whilst you were pondering this dilemma, droplets of water dripped down on to your hair and clothes, thoroughly wetting both of you. Since your house was close, and you lived alone, this was the perfect opportunity to invite him inside. Silently, you thanked whatever god was out there, listening to your prayers.

The two of you hurried inside, grabbing some towels and shaking yourselves off. Your (e/c) eyes glimpsed his shirt, now transparent due to exposure to the rain. Gulping, you averted your gaze, attempting not to grow too aroused. Keiji looked around, seeing nothing he didn't expect. Your hallway was pretty barren, to be honest, because everything of personal value was compiled in your room. That is to say, you had lots of...helpful tools.

"Thank you. I figured it might rain, so I gave my umbrella to Bokuto-san." He nodded politely.

Sighing, you stated, "You do so much for him."

"He's our captain. If he loses his cheerful nature, he won't be as good in practise." He clarified, not seeming to understand why you suddenly sounded quite out-of-sorts.

I need some love too, y'know?

You smiled. "I get that. Sorry, I wasn't trying to offend you."

He followed your lead, walking slowly behind you. "It's alright. I should have brought another umbrella, so you didn't get wet."

"It was inevitable."

I'm always wet when you're around, Keiji.

"I apologise anyway." He bowed, halting his movements.

You stopped outside your bedroom door. "Then, how about you make it up to me?"

[thefrogtheme]

The Mysterious White Wire!™ —A James Woods Conspiracy

Or as others might call it... 

A Shirt Crease!™ —A Frogman Reality

I have sooo many questions. As in, I have like... four questions. 

What is it connected to? What would that device even do? Why not use wireless tech? Why isn’t it under the shirt?

Sadly, this blurry video of another video was enough to start a trending hashtag and myriad other cheating conspiracies. 

Let us take a journey together. A trek into the #JoeWired hashtag where you will see firsthand the smoothbrain’d conspiracy-mongers in action. 

Shall we?

The Case of the Magic Eyeballs!™ —A LindaF Ocular Machination

Unnatural eye movements? Reading the air? Smart lenses? Neat! How very sci-fi we are getting already. But do smart lenses even exist?

Yes, this is a real technology being developed, but there are no working prototypes and the R&D phase is expected to last for several more years. The picture above is a prop and the concept lenses are bulky and very noticeable.

So smart lenses are out. Though that would have been really cool.

Moving on to the next conspiracy...

Intravenous Adrenaline!™ —A SoulFliesFree Reminder

Ah yes, I almost forgot about his performance enhancing drugs. Taking a pill before the event wasn’t good enough. He needs Adderall STRAIGHT INTO HIS VEINS. Without it, he will drift into a coma. His Odinsleep could last for hundreds of years. Don’t fall asleep, Sleepy Joe!

Wait, I’m sensing alternate theories from the BonkoSphere...

The Redundant Microphone!™ —A GMom Nonsensical Notion

So, it’s not an IV.  It’s... a microphone? 

Because it’s not like his voice is being amplified and broadcast to everyone already. He needs a secret special secondary microphone... for reasons.

Next up we have Corey Lynn... an “Investigative Journalist.” 

First some background on our intrepid reporter extraordinaire.

She thinks AIDS was engineered in a lab and people were purposely infected so that Bill Gates, Bill Clinton, and George Soros could make billions of dollars.  

Corey is a fact finder and truth seeker through and through—as evidenced by her merchandise. Something all good journalists have.

I don’t know how she crammed so much wisdom onto a $20 iPhone case (free shipping available). 

As you can see, Corey is highly attuned to detect anything suspicious. And she may have broken this Biden debate cheating thing wide open.

Look at that investigative effort. She went all the way to the C-SPAN YouTube channel to get a good peep at this mysterious thing poking out of Biden’s sleeve. She took high definition screen caps and zoomed in—just like a crime scene investigator might do.

Corey thinks the IV drugs and secret microphone theories are silly. Obviously. 

Clearly it is... 

ELECTRODES MAYBE!™ —A Corey Lynn Paradigm Shift (Women’s Flowy Tank Top, Only $26.99)

Yes, electrodes are much less silly. Because electric shocks are a proven way to keep “Sleepy Joe” from his permanent slumber. Makes perfect sense! 

Case closed.

Wait, she has another theory. It’s some kind of... hypnosis triggering device? 

Corey, your paradigm is shifting a bit much. 

She can’t say which for sure because she’s “no expert.” And I am always comforted when investigative journalists say “if that is in fact true.” 

Still, brilliant investigative work!

Sayyyy... I wonder what would happen if instead of staring at pixels and wildly speculating, Corey did like... 8 seconds of research. (Or, as some might call it, “investigating.”) Just to see “if that is in fact true” before jumping the gun and blasting misinformation out to over 100,000 followers. 

The Super Sad Sentimental Souvenir!™ —A Bojo Fact That Can Be Verified Via Multiple Sources

Pssh, likely story! 

Have you considered his dead son’s rosary is a perfect place to hide a combination IV/microphone/electrodes maybe/hypnosis device? 

Eh? EHHHH??

Next up, we have...

The Mystery of the Missing Ear Canal!™ —An Anonymous (Yet Patriotic) Observation

Wait a sec... where is his ear canal? 

HIS EAR CANAL IS MISSING! OMG!!!!

Though I think American Patriot Anon70768033 has trouble telling right from left. That would be his right ear, friend. But don’t fret, Elaine from NorCal has the left ear covered. She even circled it! Just in case you forgot what ears are or where they are located. 

She compared both ears! She’s 99.5% sure!  Large red circles don’t lie!

The problem is, all of these pictures are taken at different focal lengths from different angles under different lighting. Meaning each photo has different lens compression, distortion, and angle of view. This can cause features to appear wildly different.

Not to mention shadows can change appearance quite a bit too.  

Does she have nostrils or not? If you can’t see the nostril holes, do they even exist?

But Elaine from NorCal is 99.5% sure and I trust her forensic analysis.

New questions... Does the shirt crease wire attach to the secret earpiece?  Does it go into his body up through a neck vein and plug into the earpiece from the inside?  Do all of the pieces connect together? Is this all a single connected conspiracy!!??

The wire, the rosary, the drugs, the smart lenses, the earpiece... they must be part of an elaborate technological system designed to help Joe Biden cheat. Without this system he wouldn’t have been able to deliver epic verbal blows such as... 

“C’mon man!” “Will you shut up?” “It’s hard to get any word in with this clown.”

That doesn't sound like him at all. He didn’t say malarkey once. They probably had Patton Oswalt parked in a van outside on zinger duty. 

This is getting complicated. I think I’m going to need a diagram or something. 

Oh, good... Eugene has me covered!

The MS Paint Diagram of Doom!™ —A Eugene Exhibition Extravaganza

Welp, this looks very official and the science certainly checks out. I’m 99.5% sure. 

Also, in EXHIBIT C & D, Eugene is positive there is an earpiece in the RIGHT ear. I’m glad we cleared that up as well.

Uh oh... I may have done another 8 seconds of research. 

I found this photo from the debate looking straight down his ear hole. 

Hmm, that looks pretty ear canal-y to me. 

I’m gonna need a closer look to be sure. TO PHOTOSHOP! 

The Great Ear Hole Enhancement!™ —A Frogman Earvestigation

WAIT! DON'T LOOK AT THAT! ERASE THAT IMAGE FROM YOUR BRAIN!

Sorry... I didn’t mean to alarm you. 

I’m such an idiot! I forgot to circle the area in question. I mean, without a circle you probably didn’t even know what the heck you were looking at. Is that a Martian crater? Is it a Sarlacc Pit? 

OKAY, YOU CAN LOOK NOW!

HIS EAR CANAL IS BACK! WHAT. IS. HAPPENING?  IS ANYTHING REAL?

I... I just don’t know what to believe anymore. 

Eugene! I think I need another diagram!

I realize I have conclusively proven Joe Biden has ear holes and all of these theories have come crumbling down. But I still think there is something to this earpiece business. I refuse to believe the president of these United States would make something like that up. I refuse to believe this is all a bunch of... malarkey. 

Which is why I thought I would join in on the spurious speculations.

SKULL SOUND!™ —An Original Sir Frogsworth Conspiracy (And Cool Idea for a Band Name)

If it were me, I would have gone with bone conduction tech. You can transmit and receive audio directly through vibrations in the skull. Basically your own skull becomes a speaker and microphone. It’s a proven technology that really exists and was even used in the short-lived Google Glass augmented reality spectacles. 

Theoretically, you could place the speaker under a false flap of skin on the temple and hide the bulkier electronics under a hairpiece. Something any competent special effects makeup artist could do. 

Now, I’m not a professional diargram-ologist like Eugene, but I imagine it could work something like this.

In real life, it might look something like this random photo I found of no one in particular. 

Technology like this is quite advanced and very expensive to develop. 

If I were to estimate, it would probably cost something like... $70,000. 

[lovetnaomi]

Secrets of the Dusk Chapter 4

               Todoroki glared at the mansion, his hand tightening around the bag he was holding. It wasn’t enough to contain the empty hole radiating in his chest. The feeling that was bombarding him simply by looking at that house. If his hand tightened anymore around the bag the strap would shred from his summoning claws, his mind shifting to Uraraka’s heat in his arms as he picked her up off the hallway floor. Her erratic heartbeat. It wouldn’t be healthy for her to stay. He needed to adjust her environment. There’d be no point of bringing her home if she didn’t live. He couldn’t be the thing that killed her. 

Not after attempting to rescue her. Todoroki swallowed. He’d be in, then out. He wouldn’t stay longer than he needed to. And hopefully, he’d be back in time so that Katsuki would be able to enjoy his singular day outside a month.

               Todoroki sighed, his hand around the knocker on the door. He was capable of researching how to create what she needed himself. But it would take time. A luxury he didn’t have. He sighed trying to resign himself to using the door knocker. The door swung open. His older sister Fuyumi smiling at him.

               “Shouto!” She smiled, reaching for him.

               “Hey, sis-, where’s dad?” It was supposed to be an affection tone, and yet it came out dark and grumbly. The way his sister’s smile fell there would be no hiding it. It wasn’t his fault this place brought out the worst in him.

Fuyumi’s eyes darkened, her snowflake colored eyes swirling as she tried to determine the circumstances of his visit, “in the usual spot”

He nodded, as Fuyumi let him in the door, the saddened atmosphere from her likely realization that he wouldn’t be staying long. He glanced towards her; she must’ve been lonely. In such a big house, with a pretend family.

“The offer is still on the table.”

“It’s okay if I wanted to move out, I would find my own place. Besides how would I look if I had my little brother taking care of me?”

Fuyumi gave him a fake laugh. She didn’t want to admit it. She was a hostage to this house. She was trapped within the way that a person kept returning to a toxic relationship. The house had curled its chains so tight around her wrists if they weren’t metaphorical, she wouldn’t be able to move. There wasn’t much one could do when the person kept running back to what was the danger.

Todoroki shifted, moving towards the training room, he wasn’t much better. At the end of the day, he had returned to this cage. He shifted the door open, as expected the room was unnecessarily up in flames. He glanced around looking for the full-grown man who was having a temper-tantrum.

“I need something.”

“So, you’ve finally come crawling back?”

Todoroki slammed the door shut. This was stupid. He would create what he needed himself. He turned heading down the hall. He didn’t need to put up with this nonsense. He didn’t have time or the patience for it.

“Wait.”

He couldn’t turn around now. Not with the slight grin that was forming on his face. He needed to know he had won first.

“What did you come here for?”

“My mother’s bracelet.”

“An odd thing for a half demon to want.”

“It’s not for me.” The part he dreaded the most. The fact that he would have to tell his father what or rather who it was for. He turned, the bracelet already in his father’s hands. His mother hadn’t needed it after leaving their mountain, her psychic abilities eventually stabilized into a form of shield. But she had also left the mountain due to unwelcoming circumstances. Therefore, she didn’t need it. That meant it could only be in his father’s possession.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know yet, but she’s under my protection now.”

His father threw him the necklace, it landed in his hand. He glanced down at it, wondering if Uraraka would agree to wear such an expensive looking piece. Maybe he’d be able to play it off as a gift that he never to use or a prize he had won. The bracelet was silver, but near contained a sphere that echoed with the constellations of the atmosphere, a reminder that the world had more to offer than they could ever imagine.  

“Thank-“ The words weren’t intentional, something that had slipped over his building courtesy that wasn’t there before, the words didn’t sound right coming from his mouth and especially not towards a man who truly didn’t deserve them. But the words never had time to form.

“In exchange bring her around some time. That’s what you can do to keep that.”

“We’ll see.” Todoroki tightened his hand around the jewelry. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was supposed to do, but if it prevented her from getting sick any further it would have to do. He had already stooped to asking his father to for it instead of creating it himself.

“Remember, we’re demons Shouto. Keep your end of the deal.”

He rolled his eyes, “I never agreed.”

“I’ll see you next weekend.”

Todoroki shut the door, annoyance bubbling in his chest as he glanced towards the jewel in his hand. He didn’t feel quite safe bringing her around his family. He wanted them to remain far, far away from them. Especially if he was going to keep his heritage a secret. He glanced towards Fuyumi tending the garden in the front yard.

“If nothing else, at least consider it visiting me?” Fuyumi smiled, her eyes darting around as if she wasn’t sure what she wanted to focus on. And after effect of their household.

He shook his head, “I don’t want her to know what we are.”

“What about Katsuki? He’s practically a hermit.”

“You know he can’t leave the house. I’ve already started researching what happened to him.”

Fuyumi nodded, glancing towards the flowers, “It’s an unusual circumstance, most vampires are capable of leaving the house during the night, then there are even some capable of walking during the day. The old ones, the ones who have made long-time friends with witches, the powerful ones.”

Todoroki shook his head, “I don’t think it has anything to do with his power.” He had seen Katsuki’s power firsthand. The last time someone had tried to break into his house. He remembered glancing towards the carnage that laid about doorway, Katsuki had slowly turned to him, a half-disturbing smile as a façade on his face, “Hope they weren’t friends of yours.” He knew they weren’t his friends by the words they had said upon entering. And if he didn’t know by now, having Uraraka in the house had proven Katsuki was capable of being patient. Todoroki knew he didn’t know much about Katsuki’s background, other than he was practically confined to being the guard dog of his house, but if he was able to discern one thing from a glance at Katsuki was that he had grown up making quick decisions to save his own life. Quick decisions with as much limited information he had on hand. And one of those decisions had stolen his life. In one of the most brutal matters he could imagine. Todoroki glanced towards the necklace, tightening his grip on it; he wouldn’t let the supernatural community steal Uraraka’s life too. He would be patient too.

~~~~

               Uraraka glanced through her fevered eyes, she had opened them a couple times since feeling one of the guys lift her off of the hallway floor to what she could only assume what was currently presiding as her own bed.  One of the guys had been coming and going, but in the darkness of the room she wasn’t sure who it was. What if they knew she found out? What if they knew she found out about Katsuki’s faked death and were poisoning her and every hour one of them would check on her to see if the poison had finished her off yet? That wasn’t it. In fact, she was starting to feel slightly better. This would probably be the best time to find some answers, when they thought she wasn’t able to move about the house, she slid off the covers. Gingerly she placed her feet to the floor planning on moving so quietly not even a forest animal from outside would be able to hear her move. The cold of the flooring flowed against her feet almost as a repellent to tell her to get back to bed. Sure, they weren’t trying to actively murder her, or at least it didn’t feel like-Todoroki probably wouldn’t have been bothered to bring her home at all if he was just going to murder her-but something didn’t feel right in this household. She slid into the corridor, checking bother ways, before sliding into the next room. She would have to be careful to avoid Katsuki’s and Todoroki’s rooms even though those rooms were the ones that likely provided the most answers. But she couldn’t risk running into either of them while her curiosity was getting the best of her. She slid her feet into the next room: a library.

               Even with the distraction, she found herself in complete awe. The room was lined with bookshelves all the way around, one would have to guess that the walls were made of bookshelves, as they cascaded around the center of the room, the only discernable clear position towards the back, a writing desk with a single lamp on it. Uraraka found herself moving towards it. She turned, running her fingers over the books behind the desk. Nothing quite struck out at her. The books seemed to have titles from various languages, but all of the books contained the scent of a well-aged book. There would be no doubt that these were hard to get hands upon in this day-and-age. She brushed the dust off, opening the book. A small creature flew out of it. Uraraka jumped backward, glancing towards the creature that glowed a luminescent sky-blue. It floated in front of her face, no bigger than her hand. She blinked at it glancing towards the book, “Guess you were trapped in there, huh?” Then back towards the creature wondering if it was a fever-induced illusion.

               Uraraka turned sliding the book back, glancing towards the creature which still floated in front of her. It wasn’t something that she knew naturally flourished in the area. But heck, who was she to say what creatures existed. They were still finding new creatures and organisms in the ocean, so how would anyone know all the creatures that existed on the land? The creature opened its mouth, she glanced towards it expecting no sound to come out of it at all, but instead, a deep booming voice spoke to her, “What do you desire?” It echoed throughout the room.

               She jumped glancing back towards the creature. She may have been accepting of its existence, but she wasn’t prepared for it to being spoken language. Her mouth opened, but before she could get the words out another interrupted her.

               “Don’t talk directly to it.” Katsuki snapped in the doorway before approaching her and slamming the glowing creature into the book again. He slid the book back into its place before scanning the books over, “What are you doing in here?”

               “I-I, I wanted to know more.” She replied.

               Katsuki rolled his eyes, his fingers twitching as he was considering something. Likely the fact that she had gotten out of bed with such a high fever and decided it’d be time to explore the house. He ran a hand through his hair, “Look, everybody’s got their secrets and problems. Don’t let that thing out again.”

               “Just because it’s different doesn’t mean-“

               “It’s dangerous. Don’t let it out.” Katsuki turned, stuffing his hands in his pockets before beginning to remove himself from the room, muttering to himself, “It would probably ask for something stupid in exchange anyway. No point selling your life for something you want that you’ll never get.” His mutterings already down the hallway incomprehensible to the human ear.

               Uraraka’s eyes shifted back towards the books, majority containing titles written in unknown languages and kept securely on the shelves. There was a careful organization, yet cobwebs decorated the edges of most of the novels. Uraraka swallowed. That could only mean the rest of the books contained other creatures. She glanced towards the book that contained the glowing blue creature. Katsuki had said it was dangerous. They had the goodness in their hearts to attempt to rescue her, even if it was just from the elements. That meant likely everything else in these books was a dangerous creature. She glanced towards the desk, completely blank. This room wouldn’t have anything that it could offer to her. If she knew anything about the unknown it was that most of the other species that humans tended to attempt to deny were incredibly particular about word choices. She shut the door behind herself, glancing towards Katsuki still stomping down the hall, annoyed and muttering how if she was feeling well enough to explore the house, she shouldn’t have collapsed in the first place.

               The images wouldn’t leave her mind. And Katsuki didn’t seem like the type to lie. She glanced towards his profile, he seemed so….so alive. If Katsuki hadn’t interrupted, her she likely would’ve decided everything she had done was a fever-induced dream. It wasn’t like her to go about wandering through other people’s stuff without their permission. Uraraka glanced towards Katsuki, his back still her as he wandered back towards the kitchen where he typically remained. She wondered if it would be smart to even ask. They were allowing her to stay there. They hadn’t asked many questions about her very obvious uncomfortable circumstances. Would it be fair to ask about their own? And yet-that image on the screen cycled around in his head. Katsuki was dead. But that wasn’t quite right either. She glanced towards him disappearing into the next room. He wasn’t quite alive, but he wasn’t quite dead. Stuck somewhere in the middle.  Uraraka followed him into the kitchen, he was wandering aimlessly. Similarly, to a bored tiger at the zoo. He had seemed to be trapped within the house.

               She took a breath, “Does it hurt?”

               “Huh?” He snapped, pulling pans out and placing them on the stove.

               A hand twitched moving to her other sleeve, “Being trapped between life and death, does it hurt?”  

               She expected him to slam the pot onto the stove, instead there was a silent quite movement to it. As though he hadn’t processed that she was beginning to figure out what was up in the couple days that she had been there.

               “It’s more like a buzzing. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. I’m not like the others. Todoroki’ the secret-optimist has been researching ways to see if they can fix me.” Katsuki laughed, rolling his eyes, “there’s no proper way to bring the dead back to life.”

               “He knows?”

               “Can’t exactly not know that you live with a vampire that can only leave on the new moon.”

               “You’re a vampire?”

               He glanced towards her, his eyes widening before turning back to the pot a few angry mutterings as he stirred the pot, “So, you used me to figure it out?”

               “Essentially you told me.”

               “Ah, my death. Newspaper?”

               “No. Criminal justice elective.”

               “Weird they’d use an unsolved murder case. But when I get my hands on the vampire that made me that way I’m going to kill them. Tried to kill me I guess, but dumbasses didn’t realize how hard I’d be to kill. I’m too resilient to go down without a fight.” Katsuki let a tilt of a smile on his face. He was hiding it. How much everything had hurt. He didn’t want to be this way. “Of course, I don’t want to be this way. I can’t even enjoy the good parts about what I’ve become. But I’m going to show them what it’s like to live like this. They’ll never leave once I trap them in their own creation.”

               Uraraka nodded, glancing back towards the front door.

               “What?”

               “There was a knocking.”

               “Todoroki’s the only other who’d come here. And I would’ve heard it first if someone knocked.”

               Someone knocked on the door. Katsuki’s eyes shifted back to her, his red eyes squinting at her as he rolled up his sleeves, “I really liked this shirt too.” He huffed, before motioning her to stay with the food and leaving towards the front door. “Let’s see which dumbass thinks they can take me this month.” He muttered on his way.

               Uraraka glanced down towards what Katsuki was cooking for her letting her mind wander. Did that mean Todoroki was a vampire too? Was she just being kept as a meal until she was healthy enough to eat? She had ambitions too. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight if that was the truth. Besides vampires had plenty of weaknesses. Her eyes slid towards the wooden spatula laying out on the counter a crossed the kitchen.  She wouldn’t go down here.

               But she didn’t have anywhere else to go. And they had been kind. Uraraka shook her head. Kindness was a trap. But her gut said they didn’t want to hurt her, her gut was telling her that this…even with all the secrets it contained….was going to be home.

               “Where’s your key?” Katsuki’s voice snapped from the other room.

               “I forgot it. Where’s Uraraka?”

               “Kitchen.”

               “Okay.”

               “Wait, one more thing. She knows.”

               “She knows?”

               “Yeah, seems to have put it together about me herself.”

               Uraraka lowered the spatula, lowering herself to the nearby table. Even if she was ready to take them, a wave of dizziness was already flowering towards her. It felt as though she had dehydrated on the beach on a hot day. She slid to the floor her mind screaming at her to press her head to the cool floor that it would make her feel better. Uraraka grabbed the leg of the table trying to pull herself back up. She didn’t want to worry Todoroki more than she had already.

               The door slid open, “Hey, there’s a lot of things we need to talk about-“ Todoroki paused, suddenly by her side, “You said she was in the kitchen not that she had collapsed in the kitchen.”

               “Don’t be stupid I wouldn’t leave her like that.” Katsuki’s voice snapped from the other room.

               “I’m fine. Just a moment.” She whispered.

               Todoroki sighed, digging around in his pocket, “It was my mother’s. She needed it because she was too strong too.” Out of his pocket he pulled a small chain wrapping it around her wrist, a gem that glowed with the decadence of the nighttime sky.  

               “It’s probably expensive, I can’t accept this.”

               “It’s fine. I’m not sure how it works but that pressure you were just feeling should be easier now.”

               She glanced towards him, feeling the dizziness fade. She let out a breath, whatever it was, it was radiating from Todoroki. The thing that had made her dizzy without a second thought was Todoroki’s atmosphere, it was flowering off him like a rainstorm that was about to be upgraded to a tsunami. Something beautiful but tangling within his hands not yet to realize how much he was about to lose control over it. A single movement would tangle the thinly kempt wires. His presence was chaos. Just a moment until the thread snapped and tangled him more. It was strangling him.

               Uraraka scanned him over, wondering what he had gone through to obtain such an item, “Are you okay?”

               Todoroki let out a soft laugh, “You’re the one on the floor and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” He shook his head.

               Uraraka glanced at him, waiting for his answer.

               “Just had to visit a disgruntled family member is all.”

               Uraraka nodded, her eyes shifting to Katsuki’s back in the doorway as she moved to support herself, shifting onto the chairs at the table, “You said we have some things to talk about?”

               Todoroki nodded, sliding the chair back and giving Katsuki a slight glance before beginning, “The first thing is we may not be humans, but neither of us are going to attack you. Katsuki while having a temper is very intelligent-“ ,Katuski huffed from the doorway, “-And the second thing is regrettably, my father wants to meet you in exchange for that bracelet.”

               Uraraka took a breath. She had barely known these two for a week. And now she was meeting their family? Or at least Todoroki’s. She glanced down towards the bracelet the dizziness fading. If she didn’t have to feel like that again living here in exchange for meeting them, then that cost was virtually nothing.

               “Sure, when? What should I wear?”

               Todoroki frowned in contrast to what she expected. He glanced towards the wall in the kitchen before nodding.

               “What’s the matter?”

               “I don’t particularly get along with them. I was hoping to avoid the confrontation, but my father said it was a deal. I can’t exactly break a deal.”

               Uraraka nodded. Glancing towards Katsuki.

               “He can’t exactly leave the house. He’s too sensitive to light. Even an umbrella won’t help him.”

               “Curtain the windows in the car?”

               “But getting him out will be a problem.”

               Uraraka nodded, glancing towards the bowl Katsuki suddenly slid in front of him and another in front of Todoroki before moving to another room. She slid her eyes towards Todoroki was he sighed, picking up his utensils before beginning to eat.  He was eating with her. So, he wasn’t a vampire also. Uraraka slurped the food, waiting for him to say something. Was he going to say what he was? Was he waiting for her to ask? Or was he trying to keep it to himself? Uraraka glanced back down towards the bowl wondering if those questions would be okay to ask.

               Todoroki looked up from his bowl, “I’ll walk you to the college in the morning, I’ll give you some money to go dress shopping then we can go see them on the weekend.”

               Uraraka waved her hands, “You don’t have to, you’re already housing, feeding me and walking me back-and-forth for free. You’ve done plenty.”

               Todoroki shook his head, “It’s for meeting my family. It’s an inconvenience to you, consider it a courtesy of mine in exchange for me presenting this burden.”

               Uraraka sighed, “I guess if you need to keep your deals, I’ll keep mine.”

               Todoroki nodded before continuing his meal.

               “If we’re the only one’s eating why does Katsuki cook?”

               “Although he won’t straight out admit it, he likes to cook. But if you ask him, he’ll tell you he’s used to taking care of me.”

               Uraraka nodded taking the dishes instinctively washing them and heading towards her room where she opened her books and began to pour through them. Uraraka felt a hand on her shoulder.

               “You’re going to be late.”

               Her eyes slid open to Katsuki standing over her, gently shaking her awake in contrast to his noisy façade that he usually had. Her eyes slid towards the clock as she attempted to ignore the buzzing from her being asleep and the haze in her mind. Her bedroom door shut. Her eyes widened as she darted towards her dresser grabbing what she could and rapidly changing before she darted towards her bookbag stuffing as many books in knowing full-well she’d regret lack of organization when she got there. Uraraka darted towards the front door, Todoroki stood there putting his shoes on as he held out a bag to her, “Katsuki packed you breakfast.”

               “Thank you!” She shouted, a disgruntled reply in the other room along with a shout to shut the front door that they were letting too much light in. “From another room?”                “No, he’s being picky so he can wander around the house again.”

               Uraraka nodded, slipping out the front door and carefully sealing the front door again. She glanced towards Todoroki who shrugged.

               “I put the money in the bag. There should be breakfast and lunch in there.”

               Uraraka nodded accepting the bag, “You know you two don’t have to.”

               “It gives Katsuki something to do being trapped in that house. I don’t eat as much as most people. It’s giving him some entertainment.”

               Uraraka nodded, accepting the bag and turning back to the walk towards the college. It shouldn’t be too far now. She glanced towards him, “Are you sure it’s okay to walk me all the way each day? It isn’t an inconvenience? What about work?”

               Todoroki let out a faint laugh, “Don’t worry, your presence is by far the best of them all day.”

               Uraraka shook her head, trying not to let the words get to her. She couldn’t. She was nose-deep in work of her own and he was providing her a place to live. Besides he had secrets of his own. She couldn’t let this feeling get to her.

               “Uraraka!”

               She glanced up towards the woman with long-green hair bouncing towards them to join them, “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Tsuyu paused her eyes sliding over to Todoroki, a mischievous smile summoning to her face.

               Todoroki nodded, before glancing at her, “What time do you get out?”

               “About two or three hours I’ll have a break, but then I should be out by four.”

               Todoroki nodded, “After your shopping, I’ll come back here to pick you up.”

               Uraraka nodded watching as he turned walking away.

               Tsuyu glanced towards her, eyes sparkling as she was ready to know all the details, “Who is Mr. Mysterious? You never mentioned having your eyes on someone other than possibly Midoriya before.”

               Uraraka felt herself blush, playfully punching Tsuyu’s arm, “It’s not like that. I mean-I-he helped me out. We’re living together.”

               Tsuyu raised an eyebrow, “As in dating? You’re this far and didn’t say anything?”

               Her face heated more, “Tsuyu it’s not like that! I- Like roommates!” She called after Tsuyu who was already halfway a crossed the campus. Uraraka glanced towards Todoroki over her shoulder, she didn’t know what Todoroki was, but he didn’t make an action of hearing what Tsuyu had said. She scanned him over. He wasn’t bad looking either. Uraraka turned back hurrying after Tsuyu. She would have to sort everything out after the shopping trip. Her mind wandered letting her imagine what the weekend would bring her.

[fog-of-reality-blog]

Today's Media is Getting Really Old

New Post has been published on http://fogofreality.com/2017/03/17/todays-media-is-getting-really-old/

Today's Media is Getting Really Old

Watching the mainstream media today will at the least cause you to become nauseous. Since the swearing in of Donald Trump, I have tried several viewing plans to keep the sickening propaganda to a minimum, and it’s no longer working. In January I started out by watching FoxNews for 80% of the time I chose to watch cable news. That went well for the first month, although I quickly got bored by the “Trump Train”. So in February I decided to change to watching CNN 80% of the time.

How insane is the world of cable news? When Shepard Smith of FoxNews reports a story negatively on Trump, the Trump supporters call for his head. Shep trying to objective on a right wing cable network brings out the crazies saying he is a left loving CNN wannabe. Damn, what happened to unbias reporting?

Possibly the worst move I could’ve made. As bad as FoxNews was/is for Trump, CNN is the exact opposite. CNN trips over themselves to bash anything remotely associated with the Trump administration. They take it a step farther than Fox in that the talk show hosts (who claim to be news anchors) will cut off the person they are interviewing if what they say does not fit the message CNN is trying to give. It’s the furthest thing from objective news that is on cable TV. Even Fox will let the guest speak before trying to destroy their point on a subject. Anderson Cooper seems to still be the only semi-objective face on CNN. They are so absorbed with themselves, they still claim to be “The Number One Source of News” even though they rate lower than MSNBC. No doubt after Rachel Maddow’s debacle recently, CNN may jump up a position.

For two days I tried MSNBC for 80% of my news watching, and that is all I could take. If you tune in at night, it’s all about knocking Trump, drawing lines between the most obscure “facts” to build a case against him in any way possible. I think they hope that one day they will hit the mark. Sort of the blind squirrel theory. I stopped giving them 80% of my news watching time quickly.

Now I try to split the “big 3” evenly, but will no doubt stay on one a bit more due to being distracted by something going on in the real world. But for the most part, it seems to be working. I haven’t thrown one thing at the television since switching to this method.

Having said that, it’s clear to me that no one can get their daily news in an objective manner from one cable source anymore. IF you believe some of the stories, even the President has been sucked into the worm hole called MSM. Allegedly he gets his news from Fox, which is 99% right wing. That only helps those on the right looking for some rebuttals to CNN and MSNBC. Flip that explanation around and you see why watching the other two won’t provide you objectivity either.

So what I caught myself doing more and more is jumping on twitter to obtain the real news of the day. If you do to, you know that this could be dangerous in that there are many, many truly fake news sources out there. They are far worse then our grandparents’ “scandal sheets” in that sometimes it is really hard to tell you are viewing a fake news website. But after a few trials and errors, you’ll find out what to look for.

So now many wonder how the heck “alt”-right organizations like InfoWars and Briebart became so popular. They are seeing success because the MSM is choosing sides, no longer just reporting the news but telling us what to think, how to feel and trying to get us to act on that.

There are people out there that still to this date don’t understand what Obama meant by visiting “57 States”. Google it, he was accurate. Why is this still alive as a story, because the alt-right is still kicking that dead horse. Much like the left kicking the dead horse that is the crowd size at the inauguration. Really, can anyone believe that Trumps inauguration would draw more people than the first black President’s inauguration? If so, you need a reality check my friend.

Why are those stories still alive? Because of “news” reporters like Alex Jones and Rush Limbaugh. I remember trying to listen to Rush back in the day and it was really hard to do. Mr. Knowi-it-All that never did a thing for the common good. Alex Jones is just as bad only with knowledge of new technology. 80% of his broadcasts seem as if someone just kicked his dog before he went live. Clearly he was/is a fan of the “shock-jock” days of radio. For those too young, radio used to be a big thing before cable and MTV.

InfoWars and Briebart have a few good journalists, but as usual the loudest ones get the lime light (see also Hannity). Paul Joseph Watson of InfoWars does a great job when he isn’t sprinkling in a lot of comedy during his reporting, as an example.

I am still shocked that there isn’t an investor out there that has a few hundred million laying around who wants to provide the world with truly objective news. I would think that network would be a slam dunk success!.

[yahooben]

'Mass Effect: Andromeda' review: A sprawling space drama that struggles to stay on target

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ invites you to strap in for another space opera.

“Space is big,” beloved author and interdimensional traveler Douglass Adams noted in his seminal towel-seller, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” “You just won’t believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big,” he wrote, hammering home the point that when it comes to bigness, even our new president has nothing on the universe.

That size presents quite a challenge to game makers, but few have hacked away at the quandary with as much gusto as developer Bioware. The team behind the blockbuster “Mass Effect” trilogy managed to capture the epic scope of the big unknown while keeping our eyes trained on the intimate interactions between characters, a space opera in its truest — and, in terms of video games, among its best — form. So when they announced a return to their beautifully realized universe with “Mass Effect: Andromeda” ($60 for Xbox One, PS4, PC), we all got very excited indeed.

But a great deal has happened since 2012’s “Mass Effect 3” simultaneously wowed and enraged gamers; namely, “The Witcher 3,” “Fallout 4,” Bioware’s own “Dragon Age: Inquisition” and a host of other genre-blending RPGs (you could arguably toss recent greats “Horizon: Zero Dawn” and “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild” into that mix, too). Big-budget role-playing games have blossomed in the past five years.

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ has the makings of a great game, but misses the mark with a number of missteps.

And unfortunately, “Mass Effect: Andromeda” picked up some unwelcome visitors on its long journey to your gaming machine. Though it has some stellar moments, “Andromeda” tries to cram too many ideas into one package, turning its obsession with the bigness of space into a crutch for uncharacteristically shoddy workmanship.

The (next) final frontier

To answer your most obvious question: no, you do not need to have played the prior “Mass Effect” games to understand what the hell is happening here. “Andromeda” tells a self-contained story featuring entirely new characters, planets and star systems, though references to elements from the original trilogy (the Citadel, the Geth, Spectre, etc.) do occasionally pop up.

The game is set roughly 600 years after the events of the original trilogy. Just as things were heating up in the Milky Way (around the “Mass Effect 2” timeframe), several giant Ark ships were launched towards the faraway heart of the Andromeda galaxy. Snuggled in cryo beds and dreaming of a new life, the adventurous souls aboard these vessels were hoping to discover habitable new worlds and plant some flags.

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ sees you exploring the Andromeda galaxy for a new home. But – spoiler alert – things go very wrong.

Naturally, things go sideways. You play as either Scott or Sara Ryder, a twin thrust into the role of ‘Pathfinder’ and tasked with guiding a ragtag group of aliens in a quest to find a new home. It’s all pretty standard sci-fi stuff — a bite of “Star Trek,” a nibble of “Battlestar” — but Bioware crafts a well-told tale that rises above its derivative vibe to keep you, um, engaged throughout.

Mostly, that’s done though a tweaked version of the branching narrative structure Bioware is known for. Conversation options have expanded beyond the binary Paragon/Renegade of prior games, adding flexibility and giving you a bit more agency over your particular Ryder. Despite some nasty bad guys and extremely high stakes, it’s also significantly more lighthearted than the trilogy’s dour doomsday scenario. Regardless of how you play Ryder, he (or she) is quick to joke and seems intent on keeping the joy of discovery intact.

The dialogue system isn’t as thrilling as it used to be, however. Other franchises have taken the cue and built branching narratives with greater emotional value. “The Witcher 3,” “Life is Strange” — heck, the entire Telltale Games catalog (whose Season 1 of “The Walking Dead” bested “Mass Effect 3” in most 2012 Game of the Year Awards) have pushed the envelope of branching narrative design, making each choice feel impactful. Though your tone changes based on your responses in “Andromeda,” Ryder’s playful, at time snarky attitude takes some of the gravitas out of the decision-making. You rarely break a sweat.

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’s’ dialogue system lacks the kind of gravitas that makes games like ‘The Witcher 3’ so addictive and powerful.

Still, developing relationships, opening/closing paths, trying to get busy with a blue lady — it’s all here, and thanks to an interesting story, likable characters and great voicework by both male and female Ryders, “Andromeda” does a convincing job of turning you into Captain Kirk.

A downright uncanny job, you might say.

Valley of the Dolls

Unless you’ve been avoiding the internet for the last week, you’ve likely caught wind that gamers are, to put it mildly, displeased with the “Andromeda’s” animations, particularly its facial close-ups. And, well, yeah, the facial animations aren’t great. The game doesn’t just glide over the uncanny valley, it builds a big space house and moves right in.

I typically don’t put too much stock in this; plenty of outstanding games are kind of ugly up close (I’m looking into your lifeless eyes, “Fallout 4”). What makes it so rough here is the amount of time you spend staring at close-ups. A good third of the game is spent chatting with people and developing relationships, but when they look like broken robots, it breaks the spell. About halfway through the game, my Ryder inexplicably developed two wicked lazy eyes that lasted for a good 10 hours.

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’s’ human characters look like dead-eyed androids.

Perhaps the increased power of modern consoles/PCs (I played on PS4) is the culprit — as the theory goes, the closer you get to reality, the deeper the valley. But as ugly as it gets for humankind, the power leads to some amazing aliens. The brutish, dinosaur-like Krogans have never looked better, and jittery eyes and smooth skin give the amphibious Salerians incredible life. I relished every chance to chat with non-humans, both to bask in Bioware’s great work and as a respite from the mannequin onslaught.

This sort of uneven delivery extends to the rest of the game’s graphics. The art design is triumphant – Issac Asimov would commend the look and feel of the game’s colorful terrain, sweeping interstellar views and massive starships – but technical glitches abound. Flickering textures are common, load times are excessive and occasional pop-in mars the stunning planetside vistas. These sorts of glitches aren’t game-breaking, but they speak to a project struggling to bear its own weight.

Humans might not look good in ‘Mass Effect: Andromeda,’ but the aliens are gorgeous.

Galaxy quest

And make no mistake: “Andromeda’s” scope is massive.

Much of the game takes place on explorable planets that are significantly bigger than the regions found in “Dragon Age: Inquisition.” You can spend hours scouring the nooks and crannies of each location from the comfort of your Nomad rover. And as you find ways to make life more hospitable, the areas open up even further.  

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’s’ worlds are vast and beautiful.

A star map gives you free reign to explore the Heleus cluster of the Andromeda galaxy. You can only land on and explore a handful of planets, but you rarely feel hemmed in, and the desire to build outposts pushes you to approach Andromeda like a real pioneer. It’s a good hook.

But this goal is quickly buried beneath a ridiculous number of less essential Things to Do. Some are classic “Mass Effect” – your shipmates have needs, and if you want to unlock their highest-level abilities or get them into bed (perv), you’ll need to attend to those — but you pick up other, seemingly unwanted side quests with alarming ease.

Checking in on an outpost? Be careful who you talk to, because apparently every single life form in the galaxy is incapable of handling their own business. Even if they don’t have a gigantic exclamation point on their head, they’ll probably ask you to shuttle something somewhere or look into a mild, pointless drama. And you’ll feel pressed to track down every one, because you never know which insignificant-sounding rabbit hole will yield some legit XP or loot.

‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ piles on the quests like every other RPG, but organizes them poorly.

This is fairly common to RPGs, but “Andromeda’s” flood of quests is compounded by terrible quest tracking. A Journal ostensibly keeps tabs on them, but inexplicably lists them based on where you picked them up rather than where they are located in the world. It’s a crazy way to organize quests; land on a planet and you’ll have to either scour dots on the map or rummage through your Journal to figure out what, if anything, you’re supposed to do there.  

This alone drove me nuts. I may be a real-world organizational disaster (I am a writer, after all) but this is definitely a trait I don’t want to carry into my sci-fi power fantasy.

Laser tag

On the other hand, I did get to carry lots of guns. And this is one area where “Andromeda” really fixes something.

The game does a fine job of improving and even amping up “Mass Effect’s” combat. Jump jets and a handy dash make you far more maneuverable, which is a boon since you contend with enemies in open-world locations. Skills and proficiencies can totally alter the way you play. Focus on Combat to be a Rambo, invest in Biotics to be a Jedi, stick with Tech to hurl fire and ice, or spread the wealth and be a bit of each. Deep but approachable, the system serves as a solid backend for the on-the-field action.

If there’s one thing Bioware improved for ‘Mass Effect: Andromeda’ it���s the game’s combat.

I forgot exactly how shooty “Mass Effect” was, and once you get used to the fact that you’re not playing a game quite as refined as the “Halos” and “Horizons” it attempts to ape, it falls into a pleasant rhythm. Nice touches abound, like jumping and pausing in the air for a few seconds while aiming down your sights. Experimenting with different abilities is also a snap thanks to a handy respec option, quelling the FOMO that rules most games that force to to stick with one class. It’s flexible and fun.  Bioware upped their game here, for sure.

But it isn’t perfect. The wide-open universe only yields a handful of enemy types, and none of them are particularly exciting. You have little control over your two fellow squadmates, and the weak enemy A.I. means you never need to think strategically when deciding which companions to bring into battle. I mostly stuck with the Krogan warrior because he looks cool. A baffling “auto” cover system claims that you just need to move close to an object with your gun drawn to hide behind it, but it doesn’t work very well. It just ends up getting you shot a lot, even when you think you’re safe.

You want jump jets? You’ve got jump jets.

Systems overload

“Andromeda” just doesn’t know when to quit, layering on screen after screen and system after system to make even the simplest task, like equipping a hot new weapon, painstaking.

Find a gun? You’ll need to head back up to your ship or find a “forward station” to switch your loadout, because, well, who knows. Tiny, uniform iconography turns inventory management into a slog. You know the thrill of finding and ogling a gorgeous, exciting new rifle in “Destiny?” That ain’t here.

Scanning planets for resources takes forever due to pretty but infuriatingly slow pans and zooms. Tracking down a specific resource to, for instance, craft a new helmet, is a total crapshoot. Bioware’s focus on the big picture has left a surprising number of holes in its basic RPG foundation.

They even tossed in co-op multiplayer, because it’s 2017 and I think that’s required by law now. “Mass Effect 3” toyed with this and it returns largely unchanged, as you and some pals clear out waves of increasingly stubborn baddies. It’s got its own progression system and offers a decent break from the RPG slog, though considering the core game could take a good 80 hours to complete, I’m not sure anyone needs it.

So do they need “Mass Effect: Andromeda” at all? That’s a tough call. A cool game is buried beneath “Andromeda’s” issues. When the guns are on point and you’ve exploded a Biotic combo, or when the ramifications of some difficult choice made hours ago comes back to haunt you, “Mass Effect: Andromeda” scratches that old space itch. But getting past the technical gaffes and unfriendly interface requires a great deal of patience. Space is big, indeed, but it’s supposed to be fun, too.

Platform reviewed: PS4

What’s hot: Cool story; outpost settling is a good hook; improved maneuverability; deep combat options

What’s not: Technical issues; aggravating interface; seriously uncanny valley; quest quantity over quality; dated feel

More games coverage:

‘Middle-earth: Shadow of War’ lets you lead orcish armies — and destroy them

Nintendo Switch launch games: The must-haves, the maybes and the probably nots

‘For Honor’ review: You’ll need skill to survive this online fighter

‘Horizon: Zero Dawn’ Review: Combat and storytelling shine in spectacular sci-fi epic

The $450 Analogue Nt mini brings new life to old-school NES games

‘Resident Evil 7’ review: It’s a screaming good time

Ben Silverman is on Twitter at ben_silverman.

[casualeclectica]

Why?… (in response to a good friend asking, post-Trump inauguration)

First off, I respect you greatly for calling for clarification.

I do not just heedlessly jump on the liberal train or follow my friends to “keep the peace” or “avoid drama”.

I am not one to unquestioningly follow.

Even in the Army, after basic…I was sent to Hawaii…spent 2 weeks in reception where the SGT there tried to hammer into us, “Keep your head down…keep those uniforms tight…salute and just do what you’re told!” Guess what…my first week in my actual unit, I was promoted and reported straight to my battery officer each day and helped arrange training schedules and duty rosters, why? Because when I went in to speak to the Sergeant Major that first day, I was the only one of the incoming group who did NOT parrot the same reasons for joining the military…”To be the best SM!…To become a Sgt Major, Sgt Major!…To kick ass SGT Major…To serve our country sgt major!…blah blah blah butt kiss Sgt Major!” My answer was simple…”To experience the world as a soldier and see how I can make a difference in this way…SGT Major…”. The next day, my platoon sergeant called me out of formation and told me to report to our Commander…

I was raised by a very strong, independent woman (I was adopted when I was 2) who not only raised me and my brother but also over a dozen foster children, one other who was adopted as my sister. My mother ran the Northwoods Humane Society for many years when I was a child so I was exposed to caretaking of wildlife, environmental conservation efforts, heck I don’t remember it, but she says that when I was a toddler, she marched in a GreenPeace protest with me in a stroller! When I was ten we moved to Eau Claire, WI where I completed grade school. During this time, my mother worked on many community projects, started an after-school kids club, and was on the City Council for 12 years I believe. I, along with school, choir, and other activities, very much enjoyed being involved, even as a kid. I did camera work for the local Public Access TV station for several years learning basic filmography as well as video editing and tv station operation, even aired a fun little craft show episode with an older lady making bead animal key chains. I was involved in set-up and operation of several local festivities, school events, recorded local government sessions.

Now, my mom is a die-hard text-book far-left, liberal, ride or die democrat…and yes, many of my views may be influenced by that…but besides that, I have retained my individual versions of the same views. I do not believe that either side is wholly right or wrong…I do not believe that the system is set up out of concern for you, me, or any individual citizen. The cops, congress, judges, none of them are there to serve US…they are there to maintain and enforce a system (which ideally Should server US)…an outdated and very riddled system, built on old ways, hard-headedness, silly rules and laws put in place because setting an unnecessary law with unreasonable punishment is easier than a judge actually making a common-sense ruling. I am also heavily influenced by the law, morality, and ethics courses which I have attended over the years…as these have instilled in me, what I perceive to be a rather neutrally controlled aspect of right and wrong.

To actually answer your questions as much as I can at this time…

I cannot say that your feelings of support for Trump are unfounded or wrong (this leads to many arguments that I have even with other liberals and activists, many do not look at the other side of the situation with the proper question of “why do THEY think they are right?” as you yourself have asked me)…

I do not wholly know your situation, your upbringing, or your true feelings toward other people or situations…

More than being against Trump, the entity, himself….I am wholly and forever against what has been coined as a small population of Americans who now, influenced by Trump’s campaign and current statements, believe that it is okay to be racist, hateful, un-humanitarian, generally everything, EVERYTHING, I was taught was bad in the world…and now there are people, who because of Trump’s messages and implications, openly express this hate and such that have been termed by nations worldwide to be inappropriate, un-civil, and in a word, bad…

I will not sit here and say Trump is stupid…he’s obviously not! It takes some intelligence to lose several businesses to bankruptcy and still remain one of the most esteemed and valuable people on the planet… one of us misses a mortgage payment and life is hell til we’re paid up!

Borders is a fragile issue for any country…

First, I believe we are coming to an age where borders should be starting fade…with communication, trade, nearly no war as far as national, and relations, til now, pretty good…are countries truly an idea that is relevant now? This administration seems hell bent on rolling the clock backward on this and many other things. My concern is that it seems we are taking a several hundred year step backward with the intentions of the Trump administration.

Besides that, no, I do not believe “uncontrolled” borders are a good idea and I support heavily enforced immigration…but I do support immigration.

Diversity, immigration itself, hospitality are all things that made America a beacon of hope and a symbol of freedom to the world. Closing our doors, cutting ties, halting aid efforts and denying asylum…these are the marks of a selfish, nationalist, country…North Korea does exactly this…to the extreme, but yes this.

The immigration process in place right now, even refugee transference, is actually a very long and arduous process!

My feelings on terrorism being a reason to restrict immigration further? Well, if someone is hell-bent on making a terrorist statement…they will! Any system we put in place will have some kind of hole, sleeper cells from the cold war could very well still be awaiting orders possibly even passed to offspring…nothing but “NO IMMIGRATION” POLICY will prevent such deep convicted action…but as the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, can we righteously shut off immigration and continue to be the nation we see ourselves as?

I am for true freedom, true unity, true equality and the fight and/or progress to those ends…anything besides those, I am against!

This is what I believe is right.

Trump has never lived on the same plane of existence as any of us! I really don’t understand how it can be believed that a man with his name on Towers around the world, who gold-encrusts the rooms of his apartments and homes (all plural), has been depicted as a comic-book “rich a-hole” character since we were all kids, who is having his wife and son stay in their NY home, at tax payer expense, to “ease the transition” for his son and wife because it is absolutely a STEP DOWN FOR THEM TO MOVE TO THE WHITE HOUSE (thus any impeachment or such wouldn’t exactly be a punishment for him since he can just go back to his palaces and money)!!!

How?…How does this in ANY way relate to the common citizen? To the average worker? To those who did or were expected to vote for him (of course it was the very system HE claimed to be “rigged” that elected him…NOT The People, We did not elect him as the popular vote shows…)?

If I am allowed only one statement as to why I did not vote for him, it would be that, sorry, I can’t relate to him in really any way besides, yes, the system needs to change. Yes, I hope, HOPE, he doesn’t fuck things up! I hope he actually flips again (the amount of and the things he has turned on should be alarming to everyone!), and shows true concern for the citizens and well being of the nation…

I watched the inauguration…many said to boycott, but I need to keep an eye on this!

I watched, and I saw a new Soviet Union being announced…I saw North Korea being introduced….I saw a dictator, with his generals lined up behind him, just saying “we are tearing the system apart!” No plans, no assurances, it was a religion weaved, call to arms, war on everyone, Nationalist-Fascist (at least the Nazis had the Socialist facade at first), utter horror show of a national address, I hoped to never witness in my or my descendents existences!

I agree, we need change, we need to truly “drain the swamp”…but filling it with crocodiles and snakes does not seem right…Wall Street bankers…CEO’s…people known to have ties to HATE GROUPS…these are what run the country now…and you don’t understand my problem?!

One of the signs I saw in pictures of the Women’s Marches that really touched me was one held by a little old woman in a wheel chaire, it read, “90 yrs old, and I STILL have to fight for Equal Rights?”

The pussy hats…the burning crap…the insults…those are all people venting…people need to express themselves and what is wrong is that things are SO BAD THAT THESE ARE THE ONLY WAYS MANY PEOPLE FEEL THEY CAN BE HEARD!

Comments of “move on”, “accept”, “he’s your president now, get over it” all show very precisely the problem we are calling out!

Do our voices not matter? Do our opinions have no weight?

Are we a nation that should just cow-tow to whoever is in charge because “that’s just how it is?” (because conservatives sure didn’t during the entire Obama administration…just google “anti-obama signs”).

I post, share, and participate in these things because I will always do what I believe is the truly right thing.

I don’t believe in mob decisions, I don’t believe in trend followings, I don’t even just curb my tongue because “Grandma may have a problem”, I believe what I believe and stand behind what I do and say no matter who I am around or who may hear it. People liike to say “I say what I want!” and “I’m the most straight-forward person you’ll ever meet!” when all they actually mean is, I’ll act exactly as comfortable as I feel like acting and I don’t care about manners…except in certain situations and around certain people. This is not so for me, I have and show a base level of respect at all times, I swear on occasion but not out of “outspokenness”, out of admitted bad habit, and I apologize. I say that I stand for something, and if a real opportunity to support it arises, I do it!

This is how I have always been.

You know, I spent some time in Texas as an adult, I was born there but hadn’t been back since a baby, and while I rode bulls, traveled to beaches, experienced a lot!

The one thing I remember most, was when me and a buddy (who I stayed with a while) were doing a day labor job, just for something to do and some extra beer money. We were on a construction clean-up assignment.

Me, my buddy (who was like poster boy texas white frat bro type) and several men of apparent hispanic influence got to the site. My buddy and the others called the supervisor “boss” or “hoss” while I called him “Sir”…I don’t know if it was a northern attitude difference or what but I couldn’t say “Boss”. I asked what the orders were and was told just to grab whatever wasn’t attached to something else and get it in a dumpster. I said I was on it.

I worked all morning…the others trolled about picking up odds and ends, taking smoke breaks, sitting on phones, working but not working…my buddy spent all morning chatting with the “boss”.

I cleaned out 3 floors of the gutted building myself that morning…the others got 1, and after lunch my buddy pulled me aside and said “you’re workin too hard man, don’t worry about the afternoon, we’re listening to the game on the “boss”s radio, let “them” finish up”…now I looked at him and all I could say was “What? Why?”

…now, you do remember I am not white right? I am of mixed background and have black hair, brown eyes, and light tan complexion…

Well this guy leans in and says…”cuz we’re white dude!…let the mexicans do it…we’re gettin paid no matter what…”

I looked at him and said, “You just lost my respect man…I am not white! I may not be mexican, and I may speak proper english…but I am not going to work or be hanging with you!”

I walked off the work site…grabbed my stuff from his place, and went on my way…THAT is who I am…even though the other men were not even working how I was…I was not about to even think I was better than them, deserved anything different, or thought of the job differently. I was there to do a job and not judge others…that’s what I see life as…

At a very basic level…why is it okay and protected, that acknowledged Hate groups like the KKK (extreme white supremacy) or even the Black Panthers (extreme black takeover from their actions, not the ACLU and not sanctioned by other peaceful groups) have been free to march openly for their causes and beliefs of hate and racism through our nation’s capitol…but it is not okay, and made fun of, for me to walk with a sign showing MY opinion.

What I am against are double standards…mistruths…and things that we can all agree are bad things.

I have walked right by Trump supporters rallying in my town…been yelled at to “Go Home!”…my girlfriend was at one, taking pictures for her photography class, she was spit on because they thought she was “with the media” and would “portray them badly”…which they seemed to do well enough themselves…

No, not all conservatives are bad…not all republicans are bad…but they are being represented by those who ARE bad in their actions and messages and influence! Oh, and yes, supporting them, either actively or passively, will bring you to question in many people’s minds.

We live in a socialist republic with layers of democracy entwined…good business is good…good people are good…really, I believe that if the question needs asked as to whether something is good or not…it’s generally not.

I would be all for Real compromise, Real unity, Real negotiation, Real government…heck I would be happy for our nation to just simply decide whether or not it IS a racist nation…a religious nation…which religion…a war-like or peaceful nation…a productive nation…a cooperative nation…but it’s like everything that could describe a nation, America is in flux over!

Land of the free…except the millions incarcerated for minor offenses and the utter dependency on the credit industry and wall street…

Home of the brave…except many who would be brave are cowed into submission, even our heroes, soldiers, many come “home” to not be able to afford a “home” or even the care they may need to be healthy…

Land of opportunity…really only if your cards fall right, hard work actually gets few people much further than a dead end job, maybe with health insurance and some fragile attempt at retirement benefits which are always changing and the hope of maybe a 1 week vacation out of state once a year…

Land of diversity…We are, but it seems like many don’t want to be, stereotypes are exploited and often encouraged, descrimination is rampant, we spent too much effort learning the word Tolerate, and not enough time learning mutual acceptance and respect…

No, even church go-ers, those who preach tolerance, love, acceptance on a podium, dress up nice on Sundays and Holidays and kneel to a higher power, how are these some of the most judgmental, in a land of the free, practicing a religion of love, peace, and non-violence…?

What IS America? Are we just going to be a maybe-improved-version of old Russia? Are we going to start the American Empire, maybe we are jealous that other societies have such a further history than us and we must play catch-up by making every mistake they did over thousands of years, in a mere few hundred? I don’t know what it is…but I will not stand for it.

I can’t be okay with constants of “Now I’m not racist, but [something racist here]” or “I’m the last to judge, being a Christian, but [judgment of someone else here]”…you are OR you’re not!

America is like the rebel teenager of the world, with the never gonna die attitude and the definatley-not-ready for the big leagues brain…and now with direct permission to “just be an asshole, let it all out, do drugs, be nasty, jump off a cliff” kind of parenting from a leader who has nothing to lose and really doesn’t care about any of us, because in his gold-encrusted Towers, he is not one of us…and never will be. He has never lived by the same laws or the same expectations as a normal citizen, and now he is the figurehead of the nation, the main spokesman yelling to the rest of the planet “I AM AMERICA, I SPEAK FOR AMERICANS, AND I SAY SCREW YOU,WE DO WHAT WE WANT!”

I can’t, I won’t.

I may be ridiculed by many…I may one day, even be arrested…but I can promise you, as myself and how I believe.

I will not harm anyone if it is not necessary.

I will not show unwarranted disrespect.

I will not break any just laws.

My children, and their children will not be able to say our family stood by and did nothing.

I do and will make a difference.

Why should it be a peaceful transition to a nation of discrimination and hate?

Should I just accept that because of our skin color, my son and I will probably have to show our ID if we travel within US borders while others do not?

Should I just accept that statements have been made that those who even peacefully protest or voice opinion may be prosecuted?

While these may not come to reality, they have been stated by current administration, and I cannot respect or follow those who would believe these things to be good.

Take from this what you will…you have your views.

I have to say, share, do, and influence what I believe to be right…

I hope this at least gives you a glimpse as to my stand on the matter.

~D.A. Stanley 1/23/2017

originally posted to https://medium.com/@dastanley/why-in-response-to-a-good-friend-asking-post-trump-inauguration-f6f532bdcf8a#.x5jdotosn