#and of course. my computer is in a terrible state. (boo)

[montagne-russe]

vignettes into my current state

[florenceandthemachine]

i need u to talk to me about stiles and jackson and their baby girl. i need u to talk to me about how they name her claudia and how they spoil the actual everloving shit out of her and how all the single moms at the supermarket lose their entire minds when they see jackson walking around with her strapped to his chest and how stiles absolutely cannot blame them because his man is literally the world’s biggest dilf. i need u to talk to me about happy domestic stackson thank u and goodnight.

Honestly boo, I told you I had to prepare for this and sit down at a computer and I accidentally wrote a novel. But I had to, because here’s the thing.

Nothing in Stiles and Jackson’s life has ever been easy.

Stiles would start recounting the happiest moments in his life by talking about the time he almost died in high school (he remembers it fondly). Not because he’s fond of the fact that he almost died, but because while he was lying on Deatons table, bleeding out, pixie claws still dug too deeply into his chest, Jackson kissed him for the first time. Jackson was crying, and he was crying, and Jackson was begging him to stay alive, and Stiles, honestly, could have died a happy man right then and there with Jackson kissing him.

He and Jackson get married, less than a year after Stiles graduates with his masters in mythology and Jackson finishes an associates degree in Criminal Justice. Stiles gets a part time job in a local library, and Jackson starts work as his dads newest officer, and Stiles never lets him forget how good the uniform looks on him; and, he thinks as he looks over Jackson, writhing beneath him, cuffed to the headboard, it looks even better off of him.

(The wedding is a small ceremony, with the pack and Stiles’ dad there. Stiles cries the entire time. Jackson only makes fun of him a little. When the justice of the peace asks if they’ll be hyphenating their last names, Jackson snorts and takes Stiles hand and “no, absolutely not. I’ve been waiting my entire life to be a Stilinski.” Stiles cries again. Jackson just beams at him, the asshole.

[Later that night, Lydia almost passes out when a group of rouge banshees breech their territory, screeching like… well, banshees. It happens during their wedding reception, of course, because as previously stated, nothing in Stiles and Jackson’s life has ever been easy.])

They live together. They love each other. They love the pack. They still do things like patrols, once in a while, and of course it’s during a patrol that their life flips again.

They’ve only been back in town for a week after taking some time off for their wedding anniversary when they come across a woman on the side of the road. Jackson is still in full uniform and swoops in (Stiles swoons, he can admit it) to help the very dirty, very young woman, and her very small, very loud, very much a newborn, infant. The woman is crying, talking about how she didn’t mean for this to happen, she doesn’t know what to do, and the baby is crying because it’s a baby. Stiles is out of the car right behind Jackson, jacket in arms, ready to help warm the baby up.

In hindsight, he probably should have realized something was up when the woman seemed all too eager to let Stiles take the child from her. Because in less than three seconds, when Jackson and he are both focused on the baby, the woman is gone.

Whelp.

~

Jackson takes to caring for a child immediately. While Stiles is meeting with a social worker and loading a bassinet into the Jeep, Jackson bounces her in his arms—god, she couldn’t be more than three months old—and Stiles has to stop himself from looking, worried he might start to want something he can’t have. High school Stiles would have been shocked by the sight, but older, wiser Stiles knows that Jackson is one of the most caring, warm people on the planet, just beneath a crunchy exterior. Stiles loves him for it, so much, but watching the two of them interact makes his bones ache. The social worker assures him it will be temporary. Two weeks at the most, before they’re able to find some blood relation.

Two weeks turns into three, and three turns into five, and soon Stiles has worked their routine around a child that they just call “baby” because they have no right to name it (“and besides, Jacks, it’s not like she’ll remember any of this anyway”).

Stiles is glad, though, that he’s not the first one to approach the topic of adoption. Their idiot social worker does, when five weeks turns into three months with no luck. The topic comes up, about what a match they would be, and how well they work with the baby, and Stiles rudely cuts her off by dragging Jackson into the hall, knowing that Jackson wolfing out was the least of their concerns if the conversation carried on any further down that path.

Because at the mere mention of adoption, confident, smooth Jackson almost broke Stiles hand squeezing so hard. His eyes widen minutely, his smile freezes in place, and to the untrained eye, it might seem like Jackson was just a little surprised. Stiles knows Jackson well enough to know that his husband just plunged into a hell of his own making, through stress and fears and issues that years of therapy have eased, but not entirely. Sure enough, no sooner than the door closes is Jackson leaned against the wall, clutching Stiles close to him, breathing in his scent as Stiles soothes him.

His heart is breaking as he tells Jackson it’s okay. They don’t have to adopt her. It’s just an option. And he knows he’s a terrible liar but he isn’t lying when he said he would never ask Jackson to do anything that he isn’t comfortable with.

It takes a good twenty minutes before Jackson calms down enough to pull back from the embrace, eyes red with tears and hands shaking. But it’s with the same stubborn determination that he approaches everything with—everything he really wants—even if his voice is shaking when he meets Stiles eyes.

“I want, Stiles. I… I do. With you.”

Stiles can only smile, his heart soaring, terrified but optimistic. He clears his throat to speak, but once more, Jackson beats him to the punch.

“We could name her Claudia.”

Stiles is crying again.

~

Less than a week later, as Stiles is pouring over every single parenting book he could find, Jackson makes a grand entrance into their bedroom and announces that he got Claudia to go to sleep. In the same breath, he tells Stiles that he’s transferred his entire inheritance into a college fund in her name.

Stiles drops the book he’s holding and pulls Jackson to the bed with such vigor (in the name of higher education) that he’s shocked they don’t end up waking the baby.

~

They are both passable parents, but if you ask either of them, it’s because Claudia is such a chill fucking baby. She cries when she’s hungry and that’s about it. She naps when she wants to, she chatters when she wants to, she giggles and grabs Jackson’s sideburns when he wolfs out for her amusement. She has Jackson wrapped around her finger in no time flat, and when she takes her first steps well before her first birthday, Jackson is the asshole dad in Mommy and Me class talking about how advanced his baby is. Stiles would find it really annoying, but something about watching Jackson push a shopping cart with a baby strapped to his chest makes him forget anything but love. He’s a sap.

Getting Jackson one of those baby bjorn things was the best ideas of Stiles’ entire life, because there was nothing that Stiles loved more than watching Jackson go on his early morning run, in a tank top and shorts, nasty green smoothie in hand—and a baby strapped to his chest. Stiles wasn’t sure what he loved more—getting the early morning kiss from his husband (and puckering up to smack one on his daughters head), or the deeper, sweatier, longer kiss that Jackson woke him up with after coming back from his run, which Stiles regularly fed back into, tugging Jackson into the bed without a second thought.

Jackson loved any time he could spend with his daughter, but his favorite times by far were the random days that he had off. Call him... boring, or old fashioned, or lame, or— “Jackson, shut up. There is nothing wrong with spending time with your family. We’re your family, you idiot, we love spending time with you too.” ...well, whatever the case, he loved it. Running errands on a Saturday became a family affair. 

The old ladies in the natural grocer near their home love them. Stiles take full advantage of that, kissing his husband and cooing at his baby whenever they’re nearby to score an extra free sample of free range bacon or to get the latest gossip from the retirement home. He has a few of them on Sheriff Watch, and it would honestly be sad that Stiles’ dad couldn’t eat a jelly doughnut anywhere in town without Stiles knowing about it If it weren’t so funny.

Stiles finds his natural enemies in the yoga moms, though. Or at least, he would, if Jackson wasn’t Jackson. He could honestly watch hours of these single moms trying to flirt with Jackson in the produce aisle, while Stiles is standing right next to him, only to have Jackson completely dote on their kid and completely ignore them. He only intervenes once, when a busty blond thirty something mother of three reaches forward to pinch Claudia’s cheek. Stiles smiles, reaches forward, gently pulls the woman’s wrist away, and tells her that if she ever touches his daughter again, he will break her arm.

So maybe Jackson wasn’t the only one Claudia had wrapped around her pudgy fingers.

~

Claudia’s first word is “Papa”, directed solely at Jackson, and Stiles... well, Stiles couldn’t even find it in himself to be jealous, because Jackson was staring at Claudia in shock and wonder, and Stiles is falling in love all over again with him. Jackson takes in a deep breath and smiles, letting her grab on to both of his fingers, his voice crushingly soft as he nods his head.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m your Papa, and you’re my baby girl. Can you say baby? Bayyy-bee?”

She giggles and smacks him in the cheek, and the moment is over, but Jackson’s smile will be burned into Stiles brain forever. 

(Two months later, Jackson is trying to get a clean onesie on a very fussy Claudia when Stiles walks in, and she goes ramrod straight in his arms, reaching for Stiles, making grabby motions and yelling “Dada! Dada!” in her adorably desperate little baby voice. Jackson feels his heart swell as Stiles jaw hits the floor, but only for a moment, before he swoops in and plucks their daughter from his arms.)

~

Things are easy with them, and honestly, Stiles should have been suspicious—because, rule of thumb, nothing is ever easy with Stiles and Jackson. Claudia is two and things are easy. Claudia is two and she falls while toddling across the kitchen. Claudia is two and Stiles is picking her up, comforting her while Jackson kisses her booboo. Claudia is two, in Stiles arms, her tears turning into laughter. Claudia is two, and she hiccups, and suddenly Claudia has golden eyes, sharp little nails, and an alarming amount of facial hair for a two year old.

Stiles and Jackson both freeze—Stiles, because in all the parenting books he has read, nothing has prepared him for the possibility of raising a werewolf baby. Jackson freezes for a slightly more dramatic reason, his own eyes burning blue in response to his daughters gold, mouth hanging open in shock. She’s not crying anymore, at least, and Stiles can count that as a win. Hell, out of the three of them, the person who is most surprised is Claudia, who is now giggling and smacking Stiles’ cheeks, clearly enjoying the hollow sound his gaping mouth makes when hit.

Stiles immediately invites everyone over, thinking it would be easier to show everyone in person. Derek will need to do some Alpha thing to cement her place in the pack, he rationalizes, pacing the living room while texting up a storm, and Jackson... Jackson is nervous for reasons he doesn’t fully know how to articulate, bouncing Claudia on his hip. He’s come a long way since he was the angry, self obsessed sixteen year old, asking for the bite, and he knows that, but there will always be a small part of him that worries Derek is on the verge of kicking him out. He’s can feel his heart picking up as he starts to sink into his own thoughts, because what if Derek—

He doesn't get a chance to follow that rabbit hole, because a tiny, disgruntled noise is all it takes from Claudia to garner Stiles entire attention, and it isn’t even a second before Stiles is up close and personal.

“I know that look. Jackson, stop thinking. This doesn’t change anything—they already love her, and they already love you. Now they just know to count her in for future training sessions and full moon parties. Breathe, baby. Claudia and I are here to stay.”

Jackson doesn’t know when his anchor expanded to include their daughter, but honestly, it probably always did.

Erica and Boyd show up first, Erica heavily pregnant with their own kid, and Scott and Kira arrive shortly after—they’ve been looking into following their lead in the adoption game, though Stiles secretly wished any adoption they go through was no where near as eventful as theirs. Derek arrives last, unintentionally making the dramatic entrance he’s known for, and he is barely in the door for a half moment before he freezes, eyes wide, looking at the baby in Jackson’s arms. 

In his surprise, he moves quickly, too quick for Jackson’s liking—Derek is an arms reach away from him and Jackson growls, his eyes flaring blue, instinctively clutching Claudia closer to his chest. Stiles swallows and grips Jackson’s hand a little tighter, gearing up for this to be A Thing, and the rest of them are equally confused, considering they are still looking at a purely human child. One that Derek has babysat for, for fucks sake. Derek, though, has a huge grin on his face, and moves much slower as he reaches to put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. 

Derek takes a knee and takes Claudia’s little pudgy hand in his own, and honestly, it would be a hilarious sight, except Derek’s eyes are burning red and Claudia wolfs out immediately, sitting shock still, mesmerized by Derek’s own eyes. It only lasts for a moment before she’s screams with joy, reaching for Derek’s sideburns, but Derek is already standing again, pulling Stiles and Jackson into a hug. The air almost crackles with electricity and even tiny, human Stiles feels something settle as the new pack bond takes form, with Derek’s arms tight around the two of them—

—the three of them, sorry, because Claudia is currently giggling like a fool from where she’s more or less suspended between the two wolves.

~

It was kind of perfect. Derek’s first beta raising the first born wolf of their new pack. If Stiles could pause that moment in time, he would have. Because raising a toddler was easy when Claudia was a relatively chill human baby. Now, though, it was like she had been saving up all her energy for the past two years—and now that her wolf was awake, it was time to let it loose.

Claudia became a terror. A terror they loved, of course, but a terror none the less because apparently “the terrible twos” were a very real thing, even for werewolves. She pushed every limit and every boundary, getting to the point where even Derek was wary about agreeing to babysit—Derek, the worlds biggest pushover when it came to babies. “No” became her favorite word at two—by three, it was “stop”—and when she was four, she had only one thing to say to a very sleep deprived, very emotional Stiles when he brought down the wrong pair of shoes for their weekly trip to see Papa for lunch.

“No, daddy, no! I want blue shoes, not green shoes! You never listen to me! I hate you! I hate you!”

Stiles was aware that he’s probably a little hysterical at that point—but when he hears that, something inside of him just breaks. He drops the shoes and just stands there and has to remind himself to breathe, and suddenly he’s crying, and somehow Claudia’s tantrum is over before it even begins. The first tear falls, and then ten seconds later his arms are full of his daughter, frantically scrambling to be close to him, apologizing profusely for being mean, her shouts turning into tears of her own.

Stiles is beyond comprehension at this point, but it feels like a switch has been flipped, as he and his daughter dissolve into tears while sitting on the kitchen floor.

At some point, Jackson comes home when he realizes he’s being stood up for lunch. They had more or less calmed down; though they were still on the kitchen floor, Stiles had fished his tablet off of the counter and was entertaining her with old pictures—of his mother, of Jackson in high school, of her as a baby. 

He had just flicked to a picture of the three of them on Claudia’s adoption day—Stiles was beaming at the camera as his dad snapped a photo, and Jackson had a look of wonder on his face, looking down at the tiny baby swaddled in Jackson’s arms. Like he was summoned by the photo itself, Jackson comes in through the side door after parking his cruiser, takes less than three seconds to assess the situation (husband and child; on floor. scents; tears and sadness. threat level; moderate.) before shucking his utility belt and his badge and scooping them both into his arms. Claudia is crying again, but softer this time, still worn out from her earlier tantrum, apologizing in between hiccups for being so mean, but nothing could prepare either of them for the tumble of words that leaves her lips as she buries her face into Jackson’s shoulder.

“You and Daddy are still gonna keep me, right?”

Jackson is heartbroken, but... not surprised. He had gone through the same thing, more times than he can count, growing up. His parents had always brushed it off with platitudes—don’t be silly, Jackson, you’re overreacting Jackson. He finally had the chance to right some of their wrongs, the seriousness in his voice reflecting 

“You got mad, and that happens sometimes. Daddy and I can get mad sometimes too. But we never stay mad at one another, and we always apologize, right sweetpea?”

He waits for Claudia to nod before he continues, aware that Stiles is staring at him too.

“Well, you already apologized to Daddy and I. You apologized because you realize you made a mistake, and it’s okay to make mistakes. You apologize because you love us, and we love you too. We love you, Claudia. And we are never, ever going to let you go.”

(Stiles and Claudia fall asleep in Jackson’s arms, and Jackson takes a selfie, sending it to the sheriff with an apology for missing his afternoon shift. He waits until the Sheriff responds, with a laughing emoji of all things [who taught him how to do that?!], before uploading it to their digital album too.)

~

When Claudia turns five, she begs for a ladybug party at the Hale House with all her “woofpack”. Honestly, Stiles was just thankful that Derek was an absolute pushover for all of the kids in the pack—between all of their original betas, there were six little rats running around at any given time, four of which were human, and Derek was a sucker for all of them.

(Boyd and Erica’s son had popped his fangs five days earlier. Claudia is ecstatic to have a new member of her woofpack. Jackson spends a lot of time playing with the baby chubby cheeks. Stiles grins and gives them a very brief warning about the terrible twos, before calling this karmic payback for the time Erica clocked him with a piece of his own Jeep, because he will never let that go.)

Stiles was just happy that it meant he didn’t have to clean up after the party, even if he did spend the entire night beforehand icing about a million ladybug cupcakes.

“It was three dozen, Stiles, and you’re the one who didn’t want to pay a baker to make them.”

“Aw, thanks babe, your devotion and respect for me really knows no bounds.”

Jackson smirks at him and Stiles smooshes a cupcake against his nose, throwing his head back in laughter as Jackson pulls back, looking incredibly offended. They’re on the second story balcony overlooking the yard, and Stiles is only half paying attention to Jackson’s protests as he hears shrieks of joy coming from the grass below. Their daughter is running through the field with a red and black cape flying behind her, eyes gold with mirth as she avoids Erica’s outstretched hand in what appears to be a very fair game of tag.

He lets his free hand sneak into Jackson’s, like it was some kind of secret—Jackson, who has no chill, pulls him close, arms going around him from behind. Stiles laughs again as he turns to his husband, basking in the warmth that pools in his chest with another happy shriek sounds from his family below.

“Hey Jacks?”

“Yeah baby?”

Nothing in Stiles and Jackson’s life has ever been easy.

“… I want another one.”

And neither of them would change a damn thing.

[merinnan]

DMBJ Ep 6

I’ve been a bit behind putting these up on Tumblr, so I’m afraid you’re about to get a dump of the remainder of Season 1, plus the first two eps of Explore with the Note! (not all in one post, of course - 1 ep per post as usual)

So! Episode 6!

The Xiaoge Rescue Count at the start of ep 6 stands at 9 for Wu Xie, 12 for the protagonists, 13 for everyone.

- And we start back with Chengcheng and High Jr. I DON'T CARE ABOUT THIS SUBPLOT, MAKE IT GO AWAY AND BRING BACK XIAOGE AND WU XIE. 

- Why is Chengcheng calling her kidnapper dage? I don't like her or trust her. She is annoying and shady

- Oh, good, now we are back to Wu Xie being a good boy 

- That is a lot of guns and explosives Sanshu has recovered

- I am annoyed at how they all seem to think that A-Ning needs to be shielded from everything unpleasant because she's a girl. She's a goddamn mercenary leader. I think she can take knowing these things - and it's better to let her know as it's found out so that she can adjust to the news properly, instead of springing it on her when it can't be concealed anymore, like what happened when the blood zombie showed up.

- On a completely different tangent, Wu Xie's neck dressing has stayed astonishingly clear for running around in a tomb, crawling through tight tunnels, falling off of ledges and being dramatically rescued, fighting bugs, and fainting all over floors.

- Wu Xie is so sweetly optimistic 

 - LOL, sure Pangzi, you're here for archeological study 

- ....Wu Xie, you are disturbingly knowledgeable about guns for a college student

- Now that I've read the first novel between having watched ep 5 and now, my mind is slightly reeling from how innocent and babie drama Wu Xie is compared to novel Wu Xie 

- Awww. Doesn't matter which Wu Xie it is, babie with gun always looks kinda adorable.

- Also, I appreciate Wu Xie's trigger discipline. So often shows have such terrible trigger discipline. 

- Oooh, it's like a carved thing on the dais that got his attention. I thought it was like a computer drive or something at first, because it looked kinda like that.

- OH NO, THE LIVING VINES ARE HERE AND SNEAKING UP ON THEM 

- ...and pushing the button made them retreat 

- ...phew? 

- I am still concerned 

- The music signifies that something creepy is coming 

- lol, babie. Looking so innocent even though He Knows What He Did

- I don't know what that sound is, but that's not a good sound 

- ...earthquake? That's a bad thing to happen when you're in the middle of an evil cave. 

- WU FAMILY, WHY ARE YOU THE ONLY ONES TRYING TO STAY ON YOUR FEET WITHOUT HOLDING ONTO ANYTHING?! 

- So fucking stubborn

- This is where Wu Xie gets it from, if Erbai is wondering 

- A-Ning is the smartest one, staying sitting down 

- The tree opens up like a fucking security vault and ejects a coffin. Because of course if fucking does. 

- Oooh, yeah, that's that shot from the opening credits 

- "I can't read any of this, but it says this is the guy we're looking for" 

- "His story recorded here is the same as what we know" WU XIE YOU JUST SAID YOU CAN'T READ IT

- Come on. Earlier in the show you said "yes I can read this" and read it. And in the novel, you puzzle it out from being able to read bits. This part, you flat out said he couldn't read it, and now are telling everyone what it says 

 - I love continuity, but dramas really don't

- The music now is similar enough to the Harry Potter music that I almost expect an owl to go flying past 

- The owner of a coffin wanting the coffin to be opened hundreds or thousands of years later seems like it should be something more worrying than how everyone is reacting

- I wanna know how Sanshu knows the coffin has been there for 3000 years. Wu Xie can't read the dates on it, and the Warring States Period was 1500 years ago, not 3000 

- JESUS CHRIST, SANSHU, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SENSIBLE ONE!

- Why are you suggesting you open the chained shut coffin in order to see if there's somehow something alive (or alive-ish) in there? 

- Awwww! Wu Xie going "no, don't do that, Pokerface told us not to touch anything"

- Like. Not, "no uncle, that seems like a bad idea" 

- But "Xiaoge told us not to, and we should do what he says" 

- I have the feeling that if this Pangzi is agreeing with something, then you all should not be doing that thing. Because this version of Pangzi is an idiot

- HOW THE FUCK IS THE MOVING COFFIN GOING TO SECRETLY HAVE THE EXIT INSIDE IT, PANGZI 

- THAT MAKES THE LEAST SENSE OUT OF EVERYTHING SO FAR 

- Pan Zi's "WTF do you think you're doing" look

- This Pangzi is so bad 

- I even like Chengcheng better than him. And I wish they had taken her into the tomb and used her as bait. 

- I'm glad he's better in other adaptations. Like, I love the Pangzi in Chongqi. I am so glad that he was my intro to Pangzi, not this one

- DON'T MAKE THE BABIE SAD BY BEING DUMB

- A-Ning really should not be just standing there with her leg injury. I've had a muscle biopsy before where they took it from the thigh, which is a similar 'injury' to what she's got, and you do not get on your feet unless you absolutely have to for days afterwards.

- At least they have her limp when she's walking, and it's kinda sad that I'm glad they do that! 

- And Pan Zi should not be doing hard physical labour with a fucking gut wound

- But I think I'm more annoyed by A-Ning, because I have personal experience with her kind of injury so know first-hand what kind of pain she's causing herself by standing and walking 

- HUMAN BRAIN LOGIC GO

- Pangzi you fucking dick, just standing there watching. You should be pushing instead of Pan Zi 

- Hahahah, after all his shittalk and boasting, and he can't do it 

- Oh, there, finally

- I know that inside lid is supposed to be jade, but it looks so terribly fake. Oh my god. It's awful 

- It looks like a bad Photoshop of one of those Windows 98 default backgrounds

- I love the looks everyone gives Pangzi every time he slips up and talks about getting money from the stuff in the tomb 

- LOL, that's not a carving, that's a couple of translucent green plastic discs stuck on top of Windows Background Photoshop cover

- ...I'm kinda waiting for someone to suddenly shout BOO! really loudly while they're all carefully trying to listen for any sounds in the coffin

- They're almost at the end of the first novel in terms of plot, and there's still 4 and a half eps to go

- Wow, I think that's the first time I've seen Sanshu actually worried 

- lol, and now Pangzi says he believes him, rather than get his ear that close to the coffin himself 

- PANGZI DON'T STARTLE SOMEONE WHO HAS THEIR FINGER ON THE TRIGGER OF A GUN & DEFINITELY DON'T SMACK THE GUN

- Wu Xie has a lot of control to have not accidentally shot right then

- LOL, after all their declarations how they're archaeologists, not tomb robbers, & how they're here to protect cultural artefacts from robbers, etc - they go make references to the northern and southern schools of tomb raiding

- Just without actually saying exactly what the 'Southern School' being referred to actually is. 

- ....and now Pangzi jumps in front of the pointed gun as he grabs it. Do you have a fucking death wish, dude? 

 - And now we see the infamous bronze armour! Jade armour. Whatever

- You'd think they'd have learned to fucking take all of A-Ning's guns away from her after last time she held one of them at gunpoint 

- OMG, the face on the helmet is so fucking ridiculous, I can't - It's not even properly positioned over his face

- Aaaaah, Sanshu called him tianzhen  I'm so happy at being able to identify that word now it's ridiclous 

- That...that is not what peeled skin looks like 

- Pangzi comes right out and admits he's a tomb robber 

- And for the first time, no-one calls him on it

- Or correct him for calling them tomb robbers 

- Ah, there you are, Xiaoge. I was wondering how long it would take for you to be back 

- I see looking for people in a tomb requires no shirt XD

- Better shots of shirtless Xiaoge

- Like, same, Wu Xie. Same.

- Look, I have two braincells, and one is for Xiaoge and one is for pingxie

- YOU ACTING LIKE THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS, PANGZI

 - Oooh, this is a goood shot of the tattoo. And of who the tattoo is on

- I don't have a Xiaoge problem. It's the opposite of a problem.

- Seriously, Pangzi is so fucking lucky that Xiaoge didn't kill him a dozen times over during their first meetings here

- Also, now that Xiaoge has explained why he threw a knife at Pangzi, I believe it's time to update the Xiaoge Rescue Count to 9 for Wu Xie, 13 for the protagonists, 14 for everyone.

- Although maybe I should have also been keeping a People Eyerolling At Pangzi Count given how often it's been happening

- More Xiaoge pics, feat. emotions that are not 'worrying about Wu Xie'

- Also, did he throw the corpse off the platform after he broke it's neck, or did it yeet itself off somehow? 

- I mean, I too wanna know how Xiaoge knows all this stuff if this was all put here 3000 years ago

- I do love that Wu Xie is already about the only person who Xiaoge will actually look at instead of staring down or straight ahead

- LOL, Wu Xie won't even let Pangzi so much as touch this. 

- I honestly appreciate that Xiaoge appears to travel lightly enough that he doesn't have a spare shirt

- EVERYTHING makes Wu Xie better than everyone else (except Xiaoge), Pangzi

- lol, Sanshu, yes. You tell him. 

- Hahahah, and Wu Xie playing along with Sanshu, the little adorable shit 

 - THE LOOK ON HIS FACE 

- KJFDHKJDAFHFKASDJHFKJASDLHGFSKLJ 

- AND DON'T THINK I DON'T SEE THAT SMIRK, WU XIE 

- There is absolutely not enough of little shit!Wu Xie in S1

- Loooool, his little nod at Sanshu now that they got their way and made Pangzi promise to stfu for the time being 

- And that is the first time I've seen that style of carriage roll like a car 

- Those skull ballistae were a cool aesthetic, though

- THAT CARRIAGE WAS ROLLING LIKE A FUCKING CAR, HOW IS IT BACK UPRIGHT AND ROLLING ALONG THE GROUND TO THE CLIFF 

- HOW TF IS IT ROLLING ANYWHERE WITH A SMASHED WHEEL 

- HOW TF IS HE ABLE TO HOLD IT FOR EVEN A SECOND, ESPECIALLY WITH ONE HAND

- A thin as fuck flagpole is going to give you jack shit in terms of something to brace with when it comes to that much weight 

- THE SCRIPTWRITER OF THIS SCENE IS BAD AND SHOULD FEEL BAD 

- *cries in physics minor*

- I can suspend disbelief for aliens, zombies, everything about Xiaoge, logic holes, and plot pits. Apparently my line is a non-cultivator breaking the laws of physics. 

- Aaaah, here come the zombies 

- So this dude is not the zombie dude 

- He is the emperor, I think?

- OH MY GOD THAT GREENSCREEN IS JUST THE WORST 

- I thought the one on the river was bad. The one of her falling as he dives off the cliff to save her is actively painful 

- Oh, now it looks like we're gonna have a dumb love triangle in the flashback. Yay. *waves tiny flag*

- Bitch, be a bit more grateful. Yes, your ex-lover caught you as you were falling & did so by basically flying, but that's just standard wuxia defiance of physics. Your husband held a FUCKING CARRIAGE with ONE HAND for AT LEAST TWO WHOLE MINUTES to keep you alive before your ex finally showed up

- "Were you really frightened?" Your majesty, what kind of a stupid question is that? 

- The emperor's armour is really pretty, I gotta say 

- Uuuugh, this stupid love story hurts in a bad way 

- I'm just gonna fast forward through it 

- ...and there's the end of the episode.

- That love triangle is going to make me scream, I know it 

- But that does explain how they're going to pad out the episodes a bit more with how far through the plot they are already 

- None of them are even really that pretty to make up for the boring, trite, love triangle plot

- How do they expect to keep my attention through it if I don't even have eye candy?!?! 

- I will be seriously headdesking if this flashback goes on for more than the next ep! 

- Oh well, there we are. The end of ep 6

The Xiaoge Rescue Count at the end of ep 6 stands at 9 for Wu Xie, 13 for the protagonists, 14 for everyone. 

[flauntpage]

One Man’s Quest to Watch the First Day of the NCAA Tournament, Against All Odds

Three months ago my boss came to me and told me I would be covering a conference beginning on March 21. I’m sure I blankly looked at up her with my dead, beady eyes and agreed to it. It was three months away. Who cares about something that’s going to happen in three months.

Two weeks ago my wife asked me if I had put any thought into a March Madness bracket.

Oh shit. Does that start on the third week of March or the fourth? THE THIRD WEEK OR THE FOURTH?!

Of fucking course. March 21. First day of the tournament. Basketball, alcohol, legalized gambling….. CONFERENCE?!

That dog won’t hunt.

So here I am, in some God forsaken state, in a God forsaken convention hall, listening to much more successful men and women talk about their accomplishments that I couldn’t begin to understand. But am I a quitter? Am I just going to sit here and let the greatest four days of the year slip through my fingers?

Am I not going to watch any of the first two rounds of the March Madness tournament? Of course not. I’m no communist.

I decided to keep a running diary of my trials and travails of the first day of the tournament and my desperate attempts to stay connected on one of the greatest sports days of the year.

And yes, I’m well aware this is a complete ripoff of a Bill Simmons creation, but I’m sure he never did one for the first day of the tournament (don’t Google that please).

7 a.m. – Alarm blares. Wake up in the heartland in a terribly humid Marriott. It’s the best day of the year, baby, and being stuck in a conference will NOT stop me from indulging in my basest desires of losing money, making rash, last-minute decisions, and watching exploited college athletes perform for my amusement.

7:30 a.m. – First hurdle of the day. I’m not registered for the conference. After a 10 hour trip yesterday that included a three hour delay in Philadelphia and a 3 hour delay in Charlotte, I’m ready to quit and go home. Nobody would miss me here. I could drop dead in the lobby and they’d roll me into the nearest dumpster. Sadly, the person checking me in is accommodating and non-combative, and she quickly rectifies the situation and gets me checked in for the next four days. God damnit. I could taste sweet freedom for a mere moment.

7:35 a.m. – First presentation of the day begins. Did you know there are treatments that could be the next big thing when it comes to treating inherited diseases?! Who cares! (unless you have an inherited disease, in which case I’m sorry) I’m already exhausted. How is that possible? Five minutes down, only 65 million more to go (approximately).

8:02 a.m. – Successfully get my laptop online with the shaky convention center wifi. I am surrounded by hundreds of industry leaders. I immediately regret my decision to sit in the second row of a 600 person amphitheater. Why couldn’t I have been one of the cool kids and sit in the back. DAMN MY DEDICATION TO MY PROFESSIONAL CRAFT.

8:03 a.m. – Open a web browser and fire up the two brackets I’ve filled out. I minimize the browser so it’s just a small square in the top-left of my screen. Dutifully pretend to take notes on a presentation. Nod solemnly and crinkle my brow during lulls in a Power Point presentation I don’t understand at all. Give a few “Hmmms….” And “Wows!” to show I’m very invested. Fascinating insights.

8:04 a.m. – Brackets looks good. I immediately panic because both have way too much chalk. Duke, Michigan, UNC, Virginia final four in one; Duke, Michigan State, UNC, Virginia final four in the other. Virginia winning it all in one, UNC winning it all in the other. Not exactly taking a huge leap with either of these.

8:05 a.m. – Try to compensate for my cowardly Final Fours by picking some earlier upsets, which always go well. It’s best to tinker with your brackets, I find, mere hours before the tournament begins on a whim. Always a formula for success.

8:06 a.m. – I’ve heard great things about #13 Vermont. I pencil them in for a first round upset and feel very confident in my decision to do so. They seem RIPE to shock the world. Of course, I’m probably just daydreaming about Gus Johnson’s call of Taylor Coppenrath hitting one FROM THE PARKING LOTTTTTTTTT in 2005 against Syracuse. I know nothing of this year’s team (other than them beating my Alma mater SUNY Binghamton in the second round of the American East tournament). Fuck it. Vermont for life baby.

8:10 a.m. – Changes Vermont pick back to FSU.

8:46 a.m. – Sure, these speakers are rich and successful, but can they tell me if UCF stands any chance against Duke in the second round?! Probably.

9:01 a.m. – I keep getting notifications from my phone about gambling. I’m not in Jersey right now, phone, please stop reminding me. It’s really all sinking in now that during the first year of legal gambling I STILL won’t be able to gamble on the first two rounds of games. I’m like Tantalus in Hades, dying of thirst and hunger while standing in a pool of water and standing just under a tree of low hanging fruit. Each time I reach for a piece of fruit, or bend to drink from the pool, they move tantalizingly out of reach. I’m a tortured soul. I JUST WANT TO LOSE MONEY BETTING ON TEAMS I’VE NEVER SEEN PLAY, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

9:34 a.m. – I’m hunched over my computer, debating the merits of Cincinnati and agonizing over a potential second round matchup with Tennessee, when I look over and see my boss is sitting no less than 10 feet away from me. DEAR GOD. He could have been there for 20 seconds or the last two hours, I have no idea. Need to put a bell on him so he can’t sneak up on me again.

10:02 a.m. – Look at my brackets again. I’m hearing good things about this Vermont team! Real scrappy underdog squad. They’re good for an upset over FSU, fuck it.

10:35 a.m. – Changes Vermont pick back to FSU.

11:15 a.m. – Only 45 minutes left until the tip off to Louisville and Minnesota. If you think I didn’t watch a second of either of these teams play this season, you sir would be right. If you think I don’t have strong opinions on this game, YOU SIR DON’T KNOW ME AT ALL. REVENGE GAME FOR MINNESOTA AND THE PITINO’S, BABY! What did Rick Pitino ever do to Louisville? Oh yeah, all that horrible sex stuff to that woman and the massive amount of corruption over years in the program. Yeah, but still!

12:15 p.m. – The lunch break couldn’t come quick enough, a glorious hour of uninterrupted NCAA March Madness basketball in lieu of eating lunch with potential sources for future articles and career success. Going back to my room and eating a bag of chips I bought from Starbucks for lunch is the morally correct decision.

12:25 p.m. – There’s no tradition like completely overreacting in the first minutes of the first game of the tournament. WHY DID I PICK MINNESOTA?! WHAT WAS I THINKING?! Minnesota 5, Louisville 7 after 2 minutes of play.

12:26 p.m. – Minnesota hits a three to go up 8 to 7. I AM A BRACKET STAR. A BIG BRIGHT SHINING STAR.

12:31 p.m. – Body Armour sports drink? Perfect, there aren’t enough sports drinks on the market already. You mean to tell me this one tastes great AND REPLENISHES VITAL BODY NUTRIENTS AND ELECTROLYTES SO I CAN WATCH BASKETBALL ON MY ASS AT PEAK PERFORMANCE? I am sold, baby. Plus James Harden endorses it, so you know it’s great. I can’t wait to see this commercial 10,000 times over the course of the next three weeks.

12:33 p.m. – Jarvis Omersa on Minnesota has a shockingly frosted blonde curly afro. It’s….odd, to say the least. I feel weird commenting on it. Forget I mentioned it.

12:34 p.m. – God that afro is amazing. Omersa was just subbed out. I’ll miss him.

12:35 p.m. -Just realized his afro is bleached blonde because Minnesota are the GOLDEN gophers. I am an idiot.

12:37 p.m. – Louisville is up four. I’ve already metaphorically ripped my bracket to pieces. The lesson, as always, is Minnesota and all of its denizens can go straight to hell.

12:38 p.m. – Minnesota cuts the lead to one after a gorgeous steal. SKOL SKOL SKOL SKOL!

12:40 p.m. – I’ve paid more attention to half an hour of this game than anything else I’ve done today.

12:41 p.m. – Dupree McBrayer nails a three to put Minnesota up by 1 after a 9-1 run! Fuck yeah, Minnesota. Maybe you’re all not a bunch of morons and losers like previously thought! McBrayer, of course, is the brother of famed 30 Rock actor Jack McBrayer (unconfirmed).

12:44 p.m. – I had no idea there was even another game going on. LSU is trouncing Yale after 5 minutes of play. Hmm…who would have thought a team of finely tuned LSU athletes would put a hurting on five nerds from Yale who miss their abacuses? Combine that with the voodoo curse undoubtedly levied on the Yale program by a Louisiana valedictorian who was denied admission because they needed room on the wait list for Lori Loughlin’s dimwitted daughter and it’s bad news for the Yalies.

12:47 p.m. – Nine to nothing for LSU now. One of the Yale forwards collapsed at center court and started speaking in tongues as black blood spewed forth from his eyes. He coughed up an entire skull as several EMTs wearing ratty tophats with crows on their shoulders carted him off the field. Great sign for the Yalies!

12:49 p.m. – Omersa takes a huge charge! IS THE FRO OK? PLEASE GIVE US AN UPDATE.

12:55 p.m. – The afternoon sessions of this conference are about to start. Boo. BOO I SAY. I turn off my room television and let a out a hearty SIGH to nobody. That was fun.

1:15 p.m. – Walking back to the conference I pass another guest who is wearing a Louisville hat. I give him a knowing nod and point to my head as if I’m wearing the same hat. I am not, nor am I wearing any hat at all. My nod goes unreturned.

2:15 p.m. – I’m now reduced to checking the scores on my phone as the meeting is more and more crowded and I can’t risk looking on my computer. After rooting on Minnesota for the last two hours, I check both of my brackets and find that I had actually picked Louisville to win in each. CRIPES. I’m guaranteed to make this mistake no less than 200 times more over the course of the tournament.

2:20 p.m. – Louisville down 10 with 40 seconds left. They’re about to be prematurely ejected from the tournament, a huge bust that disappoints everyone as always. The ghost of Rick Pitino still haunts the program.

3 p.m.  – JESUS CHRIST, the voodoo curse held on just enough for LSU to stave off Yale’s push and win by five. The gumbo pots will be a boiling tonight in the big easy. Yale fans probably had no idea there was even a game today. WHO COULD CARE ABOUT SPORTS AT A TIME WHEN THE ECONOMY IS IN SUCH SHAMBLES? LSU notches me my first win of the day. Now we’re COOKING baby.

3:12 p.m. – Those goddamn Vermont hippies are tied with FSU at halftime. Hopefully they’ll listen to the great Phish song “Bird Vacuum” at halftime to pump themselves up and forget they have to come out to for the second half. Playing in all-hemp uniforms must be itchy as hell.

3:13 p.m. – Trying to get updates on my phone and computer without actually watching these games absolutely sucks. It’s just the worst. Prisoners of war aren’t subjected to such torturous conditions. When is the Geneva Convention ever going to work in my favor for a change?

3:43 p.m. – AUBURN…what it is you doing, baby?! I go away for 30 minutes and come back to this? TO THIS?! I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. I can smell Bruce Pearl’s flop-sweat from here. 77-76 with 8 seconds left….do we have the first huge upset of the day?! New Mexico State University, will you pull this off? Si or no?

3:49 p.m. – Twitter tells me Auburn fouled a shooter taking a three point attempt with 1 second left. I’m sure this isn’t as exciting as it sounds. I’m probably not missing a whole lot, right? I’m having just as much fun as everyone else.

3:50 p.m. -And the NMSU bastard promptly misses two of three free throws to bail out fat faced Pearl. You blew it, kid, I’m sure that moment won’t haunt you forever. By the way, I want to die. This is awful. Even my phone is sending me notifications asking me why I’m a loser and not watching these games on TV.

4 p.m. – My computer is dead. Long live my computer. The battery gave out after a nearly 7-hour struggle. She was a good computer and she’ll rise again when I get back to my room. I’m reduced to writing updates on my phone and EMAILING them to myself like I’m in a Conestoga wagon train heading West on the Oregon trail. Our supplies are low. That NMSU kid who missed the free throws has died of malaria. My brother Fartface is in ill-health.

4:10 p.m. – FSU holding off the unwashed masses of Vermont University despite the overpowering stench of patchouli oil emanating from the Vermont bench. Looks like Vermont’s performance down the stretch wasn’t too “groovy” as they’re down 8 with 2 minutes left.

4:11 pm – Just noticed MSU is down 1 at halftime to Bradley. That certainly wouldn’t be too crunch if they lost. If you gave me 10 chances to win a million dollars to tell you where Bradley is I wouldn’t come close. is it a trick question? Is it in American Samoa? Maybe the real Bradley University has been in our hearts all along?

4:15 p.m.– They’ll be crying CBD oil tears in their bongs tonight up in Vermont. Get a job, hippies. Part-time ski instructor at Killington doesn’t count if you’re only paid in weed and gummies. GROW UP.

4:28 p.m. – MSU pulling away now from American Samoa’s Bradley University. Tom Izzo and NCAA Tournament success are as consistent as John Harbaugh losing to Notre Dame every year! FOLKS! LET ME TELL YA!

4:29 p.m. – I’m so, so tired. I’ve been in this horribly lit convention center going on 11 hours now. What news is there of the outside world? Who’s the president?! WHAT YEAR IS IT?

4:39 p.m. – I swear to god this presenter gave the same presentation in the morning. I feel my soul rising away from my husk of a shell body.

4:40 p.m. – My decades dead grandma appeared before me and is urging me to let go of it all. Is that bad? She looks glorious.

4:41 p.m. – Tell my wife and son I love them.

4:42 p.m. – I’m so cold.

4:43 p.m. – I can barely breathe. I feel my heart slowing. I let out a prayer for forgiveness for my tortured soul before it leaves this ethereal plane.

4:44 p.m. – MSU up four. Sweet.

4:45 – My eyes shut for a mere moment….and the presenter finally stops blathering on and the director says the days events are over. Is it true? Could it really be true? I burst through the doors of the convention center and grab the nearest person I can find.

“Tell me, what day is it? For the love of god what day?” I ask.

“Today? Why, it’s NCAA Tournament day, sir!” He responds, as I run through the halls of the convention center, set free from my shackles to return to my hotel and watch the remaining slate of games unfettered. What joy! What freedom!

Until I realize I have to stay in this conference until Sunday.

Kill me now.

The post One Man’s Quest to Watch the First Day of the NCAA Tournament, Against All Odds appeared first on Crossing Broad.

One Man’s Quest to Watch the First Day of the NCAA Tournament, Against All Odds published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[adambstingus]

5 Ways The Modern World Makes Mass Murder Easier

OK, Christ, let’s get one thing clear here: The internet isn’t a bad thing. At no point will the world become a cartoonist’s caricature of some smoldering dumpland surrounding a cow pen of millennials checking their smartphones. I get that no one under the age of 70 wants to hear some hand-flailing diatribe about the dangers of modern conveniences or how video games and Twitter turn supple minds into itty Patrick Batemans (Batemen?). It’s horse poop.

But also horse poop: pretending that society has lurched into a tubular hack-the-planet age without any detrimental consequences. And one correlation that’s always troubled me is the FBI’s report about the rise of spree shootings adjacent to the rise in the web’s popularity. While it would be horribly irresponsible to use that data alone to point fingers at the world��s favorite new cat and porn depository, there’s certainly enough circumstantial evidence to at least support suspicious squints toward your cable router. For example …

5

The Internet Attracts Depressed, Emotionless People (According To Science)

Like I just got done saying, the internet isn’t turning people into psychopaths, just as video games and movies aren’t. But to quote the great modern mind Skeet Ulrich: “Movies don’t create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative.” In other words, troubled people can draw inspiration and solace from anywhere, and science has found that one common place to hide has been the internet.

Read Next

You’ll Have Mo’ Money & Less Problems With These 4 Courses

If a person tends to be introverted, or isolated, or generally uncomfortable dealing with other people (like I’m sure a lot of you reading this are), then the internet is a great place to find peace. There’s nothing wrong with that. But it also means that the more rejected from the world a person feels, the easier it it for them to live their life solely through a computer screen. And while we’ve only just begun to study the effects of this, what little results we have seem to indicate that excessive online use tends to go hand in hand with addiction, depression, impulsiveness, and anxiety. Getting more specific, things like online forums and file sharing tend to attract those with depressive personalities. In other words, you don’t have to be an isolated, depressed loner to enjoy 4chan and Reddit … but it helps.

And going back to the fact that these websites absolutely don’t turn you into a sociopath, they are fan-fucking-tastic if you’re already one of those to begin with. Forums and Twitter are great ways to pass the time if you have no empathy, considering how impersonal they can be. And you know who tends to fit into that? Teenagers. Specifically, teenage boys.

“Cognitive empathy” — aka the ability to relate to other people’s perspectives — is not something that develops right away in people. For girls, it happens around the age of 13, but for boys it tends to start a bit later … right around the time they become parentally untethered online. And while I’m totally speculating, it makes way more sense to me that the reason so many spree killers are young men isn’t that men are inherently terrible crime monsters, but that they are biologically more susceptible to violent actions in an age in which you can escape into a faceless digital world. After all, I remember being that age when the internet first became a thing (I’m fucking old, you guys), and can personally attest to the hours I spent on sites like rotten.com and Limewire seeing just how much my adolescent brain could take. That doesn’t mean I’m a psychopath, right? Right, guys? We wouldn’t want that.

And since my early days, it’s gotten easier to find not only just about any corner of darkness you want, but also a whole digital community lurking there with you …

4

Online Communities Make Unhealthy Interests Seem Normal

Hey, let’s say I’m really into pictures of cars having sex with dragons. Hypothetically, of course. Let’s say it really gets my hammer slamming to see a Toyota Matrix squat behind some nubile hydra and give it the full business. Twenty years ago, that’s something I would have to keep to myself, quietly understanding that it’s kind of messed up I would be into such things. Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to hope I wouldn’t be ashamed of my vehicular fetish, but it’s certainly nothing I could build a whole lifestyle around. With luck, one day I might meet a woman who shared my dark secret, and together we could dress up like Herbie and Draco and go buck wild on each other. Just a honking good time.

But today, I don’t have to worry about any of that. There’s already a Reddit community of over 3,000 people who share my interest:

I know, I know, it’s a joke subreddit. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The point I’m trying to make here is this: One of the strengths of the internet is that it unites people from all over the country and world … which at times is also one of the worst things about it as well. Because along with political advocates, LGBT groups, nerd communities, people who drink beer in the shower while naked (hey, NSFW), and any other innocuous lifestyles like cosplayers and furries, we’re also seeing the garbage unions of Nazis, child predators, animal abusers, weird-shaped egg enthusiasts, and a fucking 2,000-strong group devoted to Taylor Swift’s armpits:

Reddit Which somehow forced the dragon-fucking out of top spot on the “weirdest fetish in this article” list.

This is something we’ve talked about before with online MRA groups. In the same way that a cult isolates and bubbles people into a false interpretation of reality, some online groups find the equally susceptible and gather them under one obsessive interest. And to keep repeating, it’s not that the internet is making them this way, but rather that it’s creating a nurturing place where those beliefs can be not only unchallenged but supported. Someone like an anti-vaxxer or Sandy Hook truther would be booed out of an everyday conversation, but online, they are not alone. Online, they have a community to assure them that what they are doing isn’t bat-dong wacky-sacks.

And then it’s only a matter of time before that person grows to believe that the rest of the world is the problem. Their awkwardness, isolation, and social anxiety is suddenly a justified reaction to a backwards society. It’s only a matter of time before they proudly lash out against the non-digital world, and what was once a quiet hobby becomes some dude fucking a neighbor’s Tegu dressed like a Transformer. Or, you know, a man shooting up Planned Parenthood after enveloping himself in anti-abortion YouTube videos edited to falsely assert that the organization sells baby parts.

And I know that it seems super weird to lump violence with joke subreddits about celebrity arm fetishes, but there’s a deliberate reason I’m doing this …

3

For Every Stupid Offensive “Joke,” There’s Someone Out There Taking It Seriously

Lemme tell you about being a young punk in the very liberal state of Massachusetts, which is what I once was. In order to rebel in a place like that, the goal was to be as offensive and politically incorrect as possible. And so derogatory bands like GG Allin, GWAR, and something terrible called “Anal Cunt” were often blasted with a smirk from my shitty car. It wasn’t necessarily that I believed the screeching lyrics, but rather that I enjoyed the immature shock value of it all. And while a lot of these bands were also simply in it for smirks, there comes a time when you realize that not everyone is interpreting them ironically. At some point, you find yourself moshing to a live performance of “Hitler Was A Sensitive Man,” only to notice that the dude next to you has a swastika tattooed on his chest. That isn’t to say I don’t still listen to bands like GG Allin, but rather that I do so quietly and in more personal, adult situations — like in the shower, or doing my taxes.

And as we sort of touched on before, this shock value is likely what a lot of 4channers and younger right-wingers think they are creating:

See, the joke was this: Pretend that certain symbols like the “OK” hand sign are Nazi salutes to freak out the media into thinking it’s real. Only guess what? “Pretending” something is a Nazi salute is ultimately the same goddamn thing as using an actual Nazi salute. And the more you do it, the more you end up attracting actual Nazis. Being “ironically” racist is just being racist, especially if you’re not building to any punchline beyond “Look how racist we’re being!”

And what comes next isn’t pretty. Ever hear of Alt-Reich Nation? It was a Facebook group all about “jokingly” posting racist and sexist memes. I say “jokingly” because its creator came out and clarified just that — as he put it to The New York Times, “Nothing is meant as true; we follow none of the beliefs.” And if you’re wondering why he had to make that public correction, it’s because one of their members recently stabbed and killed someone in what appeared to be a hate crime. But I’m sure he was just doing it for the lulz.

2

No One Can Tell You’re Being Radicalized If It’s Happening Online

Going back to my own edgy punkness (and frankly the reason this whole subject feels personal to me), I got into that genre and style because I spent my junior high years feeling like a complete outcast. And not the cool kind spelled with a ‘K.’ I gravitated toward something that turned my depression into energy, something that boosted my self-worth and made me feel part of a community.

So I can’t really say it’s a bad thing if young people are doing the same with the internet. However, what makes it vastly different is that before computers, taking part in a community meant being seen doing it. There was a level of accountability toward your family and friends. That goes for the unhealthy hate groups as well. It used to be that racist and violent groups congregated in a very visual way, and anyone joining would have to physically do so by attending rallies or shows or meetings. For communities and law enforcement and parents and peers, if someone became a white supremacist, that transition would come with a lot of huge red flags (ya know, like the swastika one). But now? Not so much.

A guy like Dylann Roof, who shot up the church in Charleston, certainly posed with his fair share of Confederate Flags and guns, but so do a lot of people. His indoctrination into violence and white supremacy happened quietly online, as it does for most everyone who joins some kind of hate group these days. It can be so goddamn under the table that a respectable member of society can not only be a part of a hate group, but fucking create one:

And what’s worse is that this problem is especially evident with law enforcement. That Mr. Roof? He had run into the cops multiple times in the past, even being questioned by the police for owning parts to a firearm. But since there was nothing physical linking him to any potential violence, there was no reason to keep an eye on him. Same with the Orlando nightclub shooter, whose neighbor flat-out reported him to the FBI for potential radicalization. They thoroughly investigated it and found no hard evidence, despite it being completely true. How did they miss it? Because it was happening online, while he was alone, with nobody noticing what was happening. He was radicalized into committing mass murder without leaving the comfort of his ergonomic office chair and microwave nachos. And while that certainly speaks volumes about the delightful convenience of the digital age, I’d like to hope you’re seeing what the big problem is here. Especially because these two instances aren’t the only ones by a long shot …

1

Every Goddamn Modern Spree Killer Fits This Pattern

Guys. Literally every time some asshole suddenly kills a bunch of people with an ideological motivation, we find out that they belonged to some kind of online community spouting their exact motivations. Dylann Roof described in detail his long nights pouring through racist stories on the Council of Conservative Citizens webpage which eventually led him to be radicalized. The Oregon community college shooter from 2015? He declared his intentions on a 4chan thread he frequented (adjoined with a Pepe meme). The Dallas shooter who targeted cops? Yet again, he was a part of online hate groups and posted about the killings online. Remember Elliot Rodger, who went around targeting women in Isla Vista, California, killing seven? Not only did he post YouTube videos leading up to it, but he was also a member of anti-women forums online.

I can keep going. You probably don’t even remember the guy back in 2007 who shot up a megachurch in Colorado, killing four. He was a member of an anti-Christian site the feds were alerted to hours after the incident. And just recently, there was the unhinged and racist Portland train attacker, who was deemed too intense for a right-wing rally and kept to the internet instead.

Look, I really can’t stress this enough: Nowhere am I saying that the internet is changing sane people into racist lunatics. Nor am I trying to ignore the millions of other factors, like mental health care and gun control, which play into the uptick of spree killings. And to be honest, I can’t even offer a definitive solution beyond personal responsibility and attention toward people around you who may be troubled. But maybe it would be a good start to at least keep a compassionate eye on your friends and family, and be there to let them know that the non-meme world is pretty cool, too. Otherwise this will just continue, and not even our sexy lizards will be safe.

Ironically, follow Dave on his Twitter, where he spends a lot of his time.

Also check out We Asked A Mass Shooter Why The Hell This Keeps Happening and I Hunt Serial Killers: 6 Facts You Thought Movies Made Up.

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from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/5-ways-the-modern-world-makes-mass-murder-easier/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/172012394162

[canaryatlaw]

So I'm kind of tired, but it's more of a you woke up at 7 am and are still awake at 1 am go to bed tired rather than a complete and total state of exhaustion. This has also been the first week when I've gotten out of bed on time every morning since at least the beginning of February. I'm very happy about that. Anyway, today was pretty good, busy but good. I did wake up at 7, got ready and went to work, where I continued to work on the huge stack of trial prep papers I have, which I am slowly but surely making progress on. After spending another 8 hours on it I'd say I'm probably a third of the way through. The document I'm writing up is around 30 pages. Sigh. This is gonna take a while. But yeah, I worked on that pretty much all day, which is fine, it's boring but it's not terrible, at least it requires some brain power in summarizing and formulating what to write, so it's better than just flipping through files aimlessly. Over my lunch hour I traded between reading my oral argument outline and catching up on fanfiction, lol. I feel like I'm not making a dent into the massive back up in my inbox, but I am steadily reading and deleting emails, so it's gotta add up at some point. Hopefully over break I'll have time to really address that. The highlight of the day came around 4:40 shortly before I had to go. I had given my supervisor the affiliation agreement and first report we needed to do for field placement for him to sign off on, and the office has the supervisors do a mid-point and end-point evaluation that they keep on file in case you want to work there (since pretty much everyone they hire has clerked for them) so he had me look it over at the same time and omg you guys, it was so nice I wanted to start crying. I was a little nervous about it because I did miss a lot of days because I was so fucking exhausted for an entire month, and there was that whole incident with the crazy attorney saying I lied to her (which I knew he knew wasn't true, but still) but it was nothing but compliments and it really made me so happy. I actually wrote it down on my computer to put in my "cheer up notes" doc and I wanted to share with you guys what it was because it made me so happy, so here it is: “Rachel is hard-working, intelligent and has an incredible ability to learn the mission statement of the Office of the Public Guardian. She is an excellent legal writer and is very open to receiving comments. She has good courtroom presence and is a pleasure to work with in the office. She has all the elements in her to become a remarkable attorney and guardian ad litem.” Like......I don't think I could ask for a more glowing recommendation. And like, I do work hard. I work really hard, but I don't necessarily expect it to be noticed, I've kind of been conditioned to think it's the way it HAS to be if you want any chance of surviving in the real world, and maybe it is, but to see it really noticed like that just made me really, really happy. So that left me on a good note, though I then proceeded to leave my lunchbox in the refrigerator, where it'll hopefully stay for the next week since I'll be on spring break. Whoops, lol. So I had to do my oral argument at school at 5:30, and I did not trust public transportation to get me there on time because I've been burned way too many times by it. I knew getting an uber would mean having to deal with traffic, but I figured it still gave me a better shot. Except my uber app crashed like 3 times before I could even get one, so I ended up saying fuck it and used Lyft (not that it really matters, since most drivers are on both). Got a nice driver, had a pleasant conversation with her, traded stories of crazy funny things her kids have done and my siblings have done. It was nice. I ended up getting to school around 5:25, a little later than I would've liked but it worked. Our prof wanted us to go in pairs, one for each side, so we could argue against each other basically. So the girl I'm against is already there, we're friends so it's not a big deal, but we sit and talk for a few before our prof shows up and we get started. Overall it went pretty well, there were a few times I kind of got stuck cuz she like brought up a case I hadn't read and I just had to admit that which kind of sucked (but at the end she said in real life that wouldn't happen because you'd get your opponent's brief in advance so you'd know what to argue). But she said we both did really well, and I can deal with that. So I was happy with that. By the time we finished it was like 5:55, and I had small group at 7:30 so I had some time to kill. I went down to the lounge but it was like, completely and totally deserted so I didn't feel like sticking around there, so I went to the subway down the street and got some food since my dinner was in my lunchbox in the fridge at the office. I still had some time to kill after that, so I went across the street and got some tea from Starbucks and sat in there for a while, reading the law review article we're supposed to read for LARC tomorrow. By 7 I started heading over to the church and made it right on time. Small group was good, it was focused a lot on loving your neighbor, which if you've been following me for any length of time you know is a subject I can wax poetic on for hours on end because I have so very many feelings on the topic. It's one of the reasons I picked this small group over the others that fit into my schedule, because it's called "knowing God and loving others" and I liked that a lot. So we read the story of the Good Samaritan which of course I could recite to you by heart at this point. Then they had us break up into pies to discuss our thoughts on it and I got paired with this kind of awkward guy who was sitting next to me, he's probably at least 30 and balding quite a bit and just generally quiet, but I'm good at talking, especially on a subject like this, so we were able to keep a decent discussion going. When we reconvened as a group and they wanted to know what we talked about I of course brought up my distaste for how just about everyone walks by the homeless without so much as a second thought, as if they're not even human, and how Christians have become so good at limiting our compassion to those we think deserve it, which goes exactly against the lesson the bible is teaching here. I also talked about how love is essentially the central tenet of Christianity (1 John 4:8- "God is love" "all the commandments come down to this- love the Lord you God with all your heart soul and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself") and yet we've become so good at getting stuck in the complex pieces and tangential issues of religion without first applying love as an overriding principle, which is how you get the strict religious types like the Pharisees and their modern day equivalents (I don't need to name names, you know who I'm talking about). I then also brought up the les mis quote I'm quite fond of, "to love another person is to see the face of God," meaning God is the definition of pure love, his very character is reflected in you loving the people around you in the most selfless way. And I just think that's such a perfect way to put it, really. So yeah, as evidenced by the last several hundred words, this is obviously an issue I could go on about at length, so it was nice to get some of that out tonight. I've been enjoying small group a lot, though getting home afterwards has been a pain. I took the bus to the normal train stop I've been using for the route to church, but the bus was still 20 minutes away. Boo. It was 9:30 at that point, and the donut shop I tried the other day is right there and doesn't close till 10, so I figured if I have to wait 20 minutes for a bus I at least want to do it with a donut. I feel like actually trying one of their donuts on Sunday was a bad idea because now whenever I'm waiting I'm gonna be like "mmmm, donuts" because now I know how good they are. They obviously only had a limited selection left, but I ended up picking a captain crunch Bismarck donut, which ended up being like the exact type of donut I always want haha, it was a glazed donut stuffed with captain crunch infused vanilla custard with a few pieces of captain crunch on top, and it was just heaven. Eventually the bus did come, and eventually I did get home. I wasn't ready for bed yet so I turned on Training Day, which was a pretty solid episode. I need to know how many more episodes we're getting though, and how they're gonna wrap it up. As far as I can tell they haven't released any press beyond episode 1x07, but that may not mean anything left. It stinks because the show did have a lot of potential, but you really can't continue on when you lose the actor who is legit the main character and heart of the show. Sigh. It was good though, plenty of good action for Rebecca which I always appreciate. Then I watched Powerless quickly, which was hilarious as always, and I loved the captain cold shoutout, very funny episode. Then I spent like 15 minutes facing my damn affiliation agreement and evaluation to the field placement lady, though I probably shouldn't complain because she's been exceedingly patient with my quite late submission of these documents, probably because it's a pass/fail situation, but I still appreciate it. And yeah, then I packed my bag quickly because tomorrow is the start of the church kids team retreat a bit outside of the city, just for one night. Should be fun though! I'm looking forward to it, even if I may be the youngest person there 😂 we'll see. And then I got ready for bed and hear we are. I am tired though so I'll sign off here. Goodnight ladies and gents. Happy Friday.