#holee fuckballs

[redrobin-detective]

*sees your posts on Zukka* You. Keep talking. (Listen I love this a lot)

Listen, the Sokka/Zuko friendship was always one of my favorite platonic relationships in the series but in my latest dip into atla, my brain suddenly decided to focus on Zukka.

The boys start out shy, neither really willing to admit that they may be feeling that sort of thing for another boy, for a friend, for a former enemy. But as time passes and reality that they may very well die fighting the Fire Lord closes in on them, they decide to take the risk and take the plunge. Their love is subtle, it’s found in extended sword practices that end with gentle touches to bruised skin, its seen when Sokka grabs Zuko’s hand to show him something and “forgets” to let go, its that comfortable, slightly dreamy eyed look Zuko gets when Sokka begins going into one of his crazy plans. Despite the threat of looming death over them, they feel happy and content in each others company.

But then Sozins Comet blazes, Fire Lord Ozai falls and Fire Lord Zuko rises. Suddenly they’re not two dumb runaway teen boys in the woods where no one else can see them, now they’re leaders and war heroes standing there on the world’s stage. Now the gentle relationship, one that’s just getting onto its feet, is no longer a source of comfort but of stress and anxiety. Zuko only wants what’s best for his Nation and falling in love with a Water Tribe Chief’s son is not what was needed for stability in a wartorn nation. Sokka feels strangled by Zuko’s new position (a painful reminder of Yue’s own entrapment prior to her death) not to mention his terror when he realizes just how many people want to new Fire Lord dead.

They bicker back and forth about what to do. Sokka, for once, is the emotional one. He loves Zuko and he won’t let war or peace or anything in-between keep them apart. “I’ll just move to the Fire Nation and be your Fire Lady” Sokka says flippantly but his eyes are dead serious. Zuko is torn apart because the idea of waking up every day to Sokka sleeping next to him tangled in silken red sheets is as close to heaven as he can imagine. But the Fire Nation needs to be united now more than ever, he needs a noble woman by his side and legitimate heirs to secure his position. As much as his heart wants to be with Sokka, he knows it cannot be. “Maybe if it were a hundred years ago, or a hundred years from now,” Zuko responds exhausted from carrying the weight of disappointment in his heart. “But things are delicate right now, we can’t start another war.”

They go back and forth for months, Sokka slaves over a betrothal necklace made of volcanic glass and offers it to Zuko on bended knee. With all the willpower of someone who is all too used to self-inflicted suffering, Zuko turns down the offer but keeps the necklace. He stores it in the locked drawer by his desk and pulls it out during moments when he can’t help but ask ‘what if’. Eventually it comes to a head, both men sit down and take each others hands and discuss their future.

“I know you want this now but imagine in 2, 5, 10 years,” Zuko pleads, stroking his thumb across Sokka’s tanned hands. “You’ll see the Fire Nation as it is, with all the warts that have grown in the past 100 years without the fond tolerance of someone who grew up there. You’d remember that we are the people who killed your mother, tried to kill your entire culture. One day, you’ll look at me and remember that I am one of them and suddenly find yourself trapped in a country you hate but promised to serve and all because of me. I can’t let you do that, to yourself or to my people.” It’s a heartbreaking but eye-opening conversation. Zuko cannot leave his position and Sokka would be miserable as a Lord in the Fire Nation. They hold each other one last night, their last kiss long and meaningful to imprint the taste of each other on their lips and then pull back for the final time.

Zuko marries first, a woman he really likes and can help solidify his nation. Sokka is there the whole time, sad but also weirdly happy at the dopey loving look on Zuko’s face that used to be only for him. He thinks its called healing. They imagined the break-up being so much worse but they simply shifted back to their sword fighting without kisses afterward and gentle teasing though not draped across one another. Suddenly it was less of a burden to be together, no more worrying about being caught doing something compromising or the fate of their future. They were free to be Zuko and Sokka again, people who really, really enjoyed the others company. 

They remain the best of friends for the rest of their days. Sure they look at each sometimes with more heart than they need to and sometimes Chief Sokka will still reach for Fire Lord Zuko’s hand and “forget” to let it go for an extra few seconds, as if his muscle memory still thought they were dirty kids in a dirty war. Their wives and friends will exchange fond looks when these slip-ups happen, love that strong never quite goes away, simply finds new ways to blossom. So maybe the servants are extra attentive to the Southern Water Chief when he visits and former Chief Hakoda slaps the Fire Lord warmly on the back as he would his own son. 

Zuko is there the day Sokka dies, young and far too soon. The Lord of Fire cries as he hadn’t since his Uncle had passed not too long before. He tries not to cry too often, not just for appearances but because the tears that run from his burnt eye sear and sting with unimaginable pain. But that pain seems paltry compared to the beating ache of his heart as his best friend and one of the loves of his life lays dying. 

“I thought you bent fire not water,” Sokka quips, still following their usual script even at the end. He suddenly breaks pretense and holds Zuko’s pale hand to his cheek, leaning in to kiss the worn and wrinkled palm. Its a ghost of what could have been and even decades later both men still wondered what would have happened if Zuko had chosen to wear that necklace instead of hiding it away in a drawer. “Thank you for letting me love you.”

“I’m sorry I turned you down, I wanted it so badly, back then you were all I ever wanted-” Zuko says through shaking sobbing tears, all breath control, and control in general, lost in the face of the inevitable.

“You walrus-seal brain,” Sokka smirks, “I loved you when we were friends, when we were lovers, when we were fellow rulers, when we were husbands and fathers; I love you now when you’re gross and dripping snot everywhere. We didn’t lose anything Zuko, we still had each other and we were still happy. Not a bad way to live a life.”

“No, I guess not,” Zuko responds, leaning down to brush his lips against Sokka’s forehead. He no longer had claim to the other man’s lips but it felt less like a tragedy compared to the decades they’d had side by side as friends. One form of love wasn’t superior to another, it just meant you got to be with someone in a whole new way. “I’ll send your wife and daughters in. Goodbye my love, say hi to Aang and Uncle for me.” 

He spent that night huddled beside Suki, Katara and Toph as another of their own left them. He grieved the loss of large hands grabbing his arm, the clang of clashing swords, that sarcastic southern drawl Sokka never quite grew out of. But he did not lament the past. They had, in the end, made the best choice for themselves and their respective countries. When they’d been young, love had been about giggling kisses and wandering hands but love, real love, was not defined by its physicality. It grew when two souls drifted together and in the space between them built a home. And so long as he breathed, that home he’d made in his heart between himself and Sokka would always be lit and warm.

[angel-of-arkham]

my boggart will have no fucking clue what to do around me, since i dont fear one thing, i fear many things equally. bunch of tiny holes? absolutely disgusted. my gpa? tremble. my future? shit has me using nightlights. but do i show that fear? nope, since this god-damned society refuses weakness. besides, if the boggart uses all those fears at once, it’s gonna looks amusing.

*leans into boggarts face* so whatcha gonna do, ya bowl of fuckballs and shitgetti

[adeadphish]

Gushing about the Muse Simulation Theory World Tour Phoenix show

This was, unquestionably, one of the greatest nights of my life. A little background: Muse is one of the bands I would call my absolute favorites and more specifically, modern bands. I found them in high school with the release and airplay of "Black Holes and Revelations" with the two songs putting them on my radar being "Take a Bow" and "Knights of Cydonia" and later on, "Supermassiveg Black Hole" and "Starlight" digging it deeper, followed by each following album, culminating with "Simulation Theory " which, for all intents and purposes, stands as one of my personal favorites by them alongside BH&R and took an existing love of the band to an extreme.

Since getting into them, I have wanted to see them live, especially because Phoenix is a popular city for concerts and Muse has hit here every tour since I have gotten into them. That never happened because of time and money and it has been upsetting im ng because I kept hearing how great they were live. Because of this, when I got my shot at seeing them for the ST tour, I took it and despite all of that anticipation and expectation, I was completely blown away by the experience. This was an actual dream come true. The show was spectacular, the music was exactly what I wanted (that being, of course, Muse) the theatrics were unlike anything I had ever seen for a concert, including the holy fuckballs moment of seeing "Murph rise from the stage is all his glory to lead into a mind blowing finale, and they even played the two songs that set the seed of this love a decade ago. It was everything I could have possibly asked for and more and I am so glad I went. I am still in an incredible state of euphoria inside and I hope I get to feel it again with their next tour when they can blow me away again!!

[tainbocuailnge]

some peasants who saw miroku use air rip: holy fuckballs what in the shit was that

sango: he jacked off so much it burnt a hole in his hand

miroku: what? no, I-

sango: the only way to remove it is to kill an even bigger incel but the only person more unfuckable than unfuckable miroku is naraku

miroku, softly: please

[kivaember]

Prompt #8: Crag

Z’khuqa was currently regretting her life’s choices.

Specifically, she was regretting boldly declaring herself a master of slaying antlions to the unimpressed Ala Mhigan soldier when she had never seen an antlion in her fucking life. Ala Mhigo was awash with adventurers now, plenty of people sensing job opportunities at a country tentatively crawling out of a crippling occupation, so you had to have some pizzazz, a bit of oomph, something special, to stand up above the average, run-of-the-mill, penniless and desperate for gil adventurer and land the real jobs.

Unfortunately, Z’khuqa may as well be the poster child of the average, run-of-the-mill, penniless and desperate for gil adventurer. She envisioned adventuring life being totally different to how she imagined it when she left her tribe last summer, and her dreams of glory, money and all the babes she could woo disintegrating into disappointed reality the moment she set foot in Ul’dah.

Fucking Ul’dah.

Z’khuqa grunted as she cautiously shifted on the tiny ledge she was stuck on, loose pebbles crumbling from the edge of it and pattering down below, where a hungry congregation of antlions snapped and clicked their awful pincers at her. She envisioned antlions being… smaller. These ones were three times the size of destrier Chocobos and ten times as mean.

“Please, go away,” she hissed, pressing herself flat against the jagged rock digging into her back. Below the antlions just continued to sit there, perfectly content to wait her out. The crag she frantically climbed up in her panic to escape was heavily weathered with age and war, and there was half an Imperial gunship buried into the side of it, with large, worrying cracks and stress lines cutting through the sandy rock. Z’khuqa already almost fell to her death when trying to climb higher and enjoyed the unpleasant experience of her handhold just crumbling right out of the rock.

She was stuck, plain and simple. Antlions below, ready to tear her limb from limb, and weak, heavily stressed rock all around her, ready to drop her down below for the inevitable dismemberment.

If she thought to keep hold of her bow, she could have made this work. She could have sat on this ledge, cackling as she feathered the fucking antlions until they scurried away in a huff, or died. But no, she fucking used it as a bludgeon when the first antlion had tried to drag her beneath the sands in a terrifyingly efficient ambush. The poor thing had snapped after the third whack, though it did free her enough to flee up here.

Her legs were cramping up. She was stuck in a highly uncomfortable squatting position on the tiny ledge, and no matter how she wriggled her toes and shifted as much as she dared, her legs were just aching pain. Plus, the hot stickiness clinging to her left calf that was a steady thrum of pain, where the antlion’s jaws had cut through her leather greaves. She didn’t know how much longer she could endure this.

“Go away,” she repeated, her voice wobbling on the verge of tears when one antlion, tired of waiting it seemed, started to curiously tap its front legs on the face of the crag. Thankfully they weren’t like spiders, they were too heavy to just walk up the cliff face – but it could still find footholds, could still heave itself up enough to snag her leg and drag her down.

Z’khuqa quickly leveraged a chunk of powdery stone from near her foot, ignoring the stinging pain in her fingers as the sharp edges of rock bit into her skin, and lobbed it full force at the antlion’s head. It retreated with an offended noise, snapping its jaws and settling to wait once more with its fellows.

“Y-Yeah, you stay down there,” she sniffed, turning her head to try and see if an escape route had magically materialised in the last five minutes, “Got more rocks where that came from.”

No escape route, but Z’khuqa was getting desperate enough to make her own.

“Okay,” she mumbled, pushing through the pain of cramping muscles as she slowly, tentatively, painfully stood up. Vertigo almost hit her when she felt her centre of balance shift, her fingers frantically scrabbling at the rock behind her as she forced her weight onto her heels, her tail trapped uncomfortably between her ass and the rock. She ignored it.

“Okay,” she mumbled again, scooting half a fulm to her left. The gunship was buried on this side of the cliff, its metal rusted with exposure to the elements so parts of it were gaping holes and dirty brown. She could see where scavengers had picked the magitek clean of any valuable parts, leaving the thin, metal shell just sadly embedded into the rock. The thing was, though, was that the gunship bridged the gap between this crag, and the one next over.

Well, okay, there was a six fulm gap from the very edge of the gunship to the next crag, but any Miqo’te worth their salt could make that jump. She could make it. She had to make it.

The antlions stirred below at her movements, and she forced herself to ignore the clicking, snapping and skittering noises as she edged, slowly, towards the very far left of the ledge. The gunship remains was two fulms below and seven fulms further left. She would have to either climb there or jump.

Z’khuqa critically eyed the rusting metal. She doubted it could take high impacts well.

Gods, she was sweating buckets here. Feeling her underclothes stick uncomfortably to her, she swiped quickly at her forehead, her fringe matted against her damp skin, as she started the nerve-wracking process of turning around when there really wasn’t any room to support such a daring action. She wobbled, her balance tested, and she made a very embarrassingly distressed noise before she was facing the rockface, practically hugging it as she braced herself for the next part.

She used to like free climbing, but never did she have to climb when hungry, voracious predators sat below her. It added a terrified pressure to the whole thing that she could really do without.

“Get it together,” she whispered harshly, her voice high-pitched with fear as she started to carefully inch off the inch, testing each handhold and foothold before putting her weight onto them as she made the terrifying journey to the gunship, “That’s it. You’re doing it. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

She kept up the litany until her foot tentatively pressed against the rusted metal of the gunship’s hull. It was curved and had crumpled on impact, so it was difficult to get a steady footing when she shuffled onto it. Beneath her boots, the entire thing groaned, a metallic, eerie noise that made her fur stand on end right to the tip of her tail.

But it held. Thank fuck the metal held.

“Don’t fall,” she hissed, crouching low so she was squatting on the rusting hull. Below her the antlions were agitatedly moving about, clearly realising she was in the process of escaping, “Okay. Like you’re on thin ice, spread your body weight, move sloooow…”

The amount of willpower it took to let go of the crag was phenomenal. Breaths hitching in the back of her throat, her limbs shaking so badly she probably looked like a shitting dog, she crawled forwards on the crumpled hull until she was flat on her belly, spreading her weight out on the unstable surface. There were massive patches where the metal had rusted through, exposing the metal beams inside like some magitek skeleton.

Through the fear, there was a part of her that was elated. She was doing it. She was doing it.

“You’re fine,” she muttered feverishly, slowly leopard crawling over the hull, flinching every time the metal squeaked, groaned and screeched from her weight. The whole thing was shuddering under her, and she was sure she was leaving a wet trail from how heavily she was sweating, but she kept her gaze laser focused on the edge of the hull, where the other, more stable looking crag loomed.

You’re doing it. You’re fine. Almost there.

Z’khuqa reached the edge, where the hull cut off in a ragged tear. It looked something had ripped the gunship in half – that or its weight forced the rear end of it to just rip free. Gulping, because she could feel the entire structure start to tip warningly from her weight, she rose onto her hands and knees, eyeing the distance. It looked so far away, despite being so close. She’d only get one shot too, and yet…

The hull wobbled beneath her feet, making it fucking impossible to stand up straight and balanced. She gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut briefly, before she mustered her courage and surged forwards in a leap to make any Miqo’te proud. Behind her there was a deafening crunch of metal grinding against rock, the squeals of antlions as, for a split second, she was weightless and hopeful and-

Z’khuqa slammed into the crag.

Her hands scrambled wildly, and for a moment she had purchase. She clung onto her handhold, her feet frantically pushing into the rocky surface for a better grip when-

The rock broke off beneath her hand.

It was funny, then. Everything went horrifically slow as her body pitched backwards, her hand still clutching the broken off handhold, the other reaching out in vain for a crag out of reach. For that moment she saw a bright blue sky without even a single cloud, the rocky crags jutting high over her, and she wished something profound or cool flitted through her mind but all she thought then was ‘oh fuckballs-‘

She hit the ground.

It drove all the air right out of her lungs, her vision whiting out when a sharp, overwhelming pain lashed right through her shoulder all the way down her ribcage. She couldn’t even breathe, just writhed on the ground in wheezing agony, unable to get her limbs to coordinate enough to get up, just flopped on the ground like a dumbass beached fish, hearing the skittering and crunching of stone and fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuck-

“-et out of THE DAMN WAY BUGSHITS!”

Z’khuqa coughed and squinted through the blurry mess her vision had become at that unfamiliar yelling. A woman…? A woman! A woman, yelling and – the antlions screeching and squealing and – vibrations against the ground, scuffling, and then… silence. All Z’kuqa could see was the crag she had fallen off, with the gunship she leapt off looking several degrees lower than before, the sky and all that spinning in a disorientating circle. Gods, she was in so much pain.

“Well damn,” a voice cut through the haze of pain, and then someone was leaning over her – horned, dark scales, dark hair, bright blue eyes – “You’re alive?”

“Urghck?” Z’khuqa groaned.

“I saw that fall. Looked pretty nasty,” the unknown woman said conversationally, like Z’khuqa wasn’t lying here in crippling agony, “But hey, you Miqo’te are pretty good at surviving falls. Too bad you didn’t land on your feet, eh?”

“Nngh… ffuu… ck off,” Z’khuqa managed to grunt out, gritting her teeth when the unknown woman just chortled like that was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

“I’m just joking, c’mon,” the woman sniggered, “Never mind. Name’s Bluebird, by the way. Got any allergies to potions before I shove one down your throat?”

“Nnnoo…”

“Awesome,” Bluebird said, and there was an odd rustling noise, glass clinking on glass, “I’m guessing you’re Z’khuqa?”

“Ngh?”

“Well,” Bluebird leaned out of view, followed by the pop of a cork being pulled free, “I was sent this way, ‘cuz Jorund was saying an adventurer called Z’khuqa hadn’t come back to him about the antlion infestation she promised to deal with. Took care of that for you by the way, no worries.”

Z’khuqa said nothing, something like mortified shame creeping through the cracks of her pain. Great.

“So much for being a ‘master of slaying antlions’, huh?” Bluebird jeered at her as she leaned back into view, gently cupping the back of her head as she tipped a softly glowing bottle of potion to her lips, “Silly girl. That’s how adventurers die young.”

Maybe getting knocked unconscious from the fall would’ve been kinder, Z’khuqa thought flatly, quickly swallowing when Bluebird forced her to drink the potion. Her insides tingle, the clean aether cooling the hot pain thumping through her enough for it to be bearable – and for her to move.

“There,” Bluebird tossed the bottle away once it was empty, where it smashed audibly out of view, “Okay, my good deed is done for the day. Can you move?”

“Ngh, a little…” Z’khuqa coughed, gingerly leveraging herself up into sitting position. Her vision was still a little blurry, and her body felt black and blue, her bones aching… but she could breathe, she could move, and her vision wasn’t spotty with agony, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Bluebird pushed herself up to her feet then, brushing her hands together as she – literally – washed her hands of the matter entirely, “Have fun walking back to the Ala Mhigan Quarter. Maybe that’ll teach you to lie about being qualified for a job, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” Z’khuqa stuttered, bewildered as the woman gave her a nod and then just… walked away from her. Just like that.

… well then.

Thoroughly shamefaced – but also disgustingly grateful to be alive, albeit not in one full piece – Z’khuqa slowly climbed to her feet. The antlions’ bodies were huddled against the crag, horrifically dismembered to the point where she didn’t know where one antlion began and the other ended. It was disquieting to see, and Z’khuqa turned away, noting that ‘Bluebird’ was nowhere to be seen. Just who was she?

Probably a successful adventurer, one that hadn’t been pleased about Z’khuqa nabbing a job and bungling it. She bowed her head, taking a short, painful breath, then started to limp back towards civilisation. Bluebird was right, this whole experience would teach her to lie about her skills again. Maybe she should be content in just being an average adventurer and stick to Dodos…

Or maybe she should go out with someone else next time, give that whole party thing a chance. She didn’t like to share glory but, better to share it than end up antlion food, right?

It was a long, painful walk back to Ala Mhigo… but still, it was sweet to be alive. 

[magenta-storm]

Wow, so, it’s been an even bigger mess than I could have imagined.

For a start, they're asking me to believe they're so stupid they decided all the Constantines had to be fake without any consideration at all that there might be 1 real one there? Really? 

Even if I could get past bullshit like that, the whole concept is flawed. They’re supposed to be so broken by each other’s deaths that they’re driven to killing indiscriminately. Ok. Except none of them actually seem upset at all, they’re all just having fun slaying magical creatures. 

I could believe them killing non-humanoid monsters without much thought, but the last scene with Sara still trying to kill Charlie after everything she said to her, and Ray (you know, the guy who's soft-hearted to a fault and supposed to be a genius, not to mention the guy who convinced the team not to send Charlie to hell in the first place!) about to kill something he's got no way of being sure isn't the real Constantine. Um, no. And oh my fucking god, no one had even died in the last version of the timeline?!!

And then from that scene we go on to them imprisoning the dybbuk instead of destroying it. Even though, it's the pure evil spirit of a serial killer. And these are supposed to be the same people, just in slightly altered timelines. Yeah that makes sense. 

And did they even try to offer an explanation as to why Ray, Nate and Mick's deaths would prompt Sara to randomly turn into a Charlie's Angel? It was too cringey to watch again, but I’m pretty sure there was none.

If they wanted to do all this goofy parody stuff, why in the fucking fuckballs didn't they make those versions come from an alternate universe or different earth, or at least make it that reality broke and fundamentally altered all the characters from the start. Instead of making a big joke out of writing all their characters as one fairly small timeline alteration away from becoming lobotomized sociopaths?

I could have put up with the plot holes and inconsistencies in how time travel and paradoxes work in exchange for, you know, not totally ruining all their characters? Hmm, guess they thought it was more fun to ruin their characters. 

Not to mention, team members have died before? And the others didn't all get complete personality transplants because of it before? jesus christ.

[bruinhilda]

Well, it’s been an evening!

I stepped on a two-inch nail shortly after I got home from work.  My shoe now has a hole in the bottom.  As does my foot.

The rain quickly went from a light mist to rain to “wow, this is a bit heavy, isn’t it?” to “holy fuckballs, a barrel just blew by and lightning exploded something in the neighborhood.”

That was around about the time I realized the roof was leaking in not just the usual area, but in a lot of new ones.

Then the power went out for about 20 seconds.

Most of the indoor cats had vanished into the closet by this time.  Many of the outdoor cats had elected to come in.  Papa Cat was not a fan of this thunderstorm thing, and made sure we all knew his displeasure by hollering nonstop throughout it.  I tried to remind him that humans do not yet have control over the weather, but he wasn’t having that.

The “something exploding in the neighborhood” was my cue to get the fuck off the computer and finding something else to do away from anything that might conduct lightning through my body.  I elected to take a nap.

The storm is past.  The outdoor cats have calmed down.  The indoor cats are still in hiding.  My floor is wet.  And now my throat is getting sore, hinting that I’m going to be sniffly and snuffly this weekend.

So I think I’ve earned a nighttime cup of tea, caffeine be damned.

[ripplestitchskein]

Holee fuckballs I had no idea that Mad Sweeney was the same actor as the shitty guard on Orange is the New Black?!???? Like. I am blown away. That's some acting son.

[mrbigtroublestories]

#TiesThatBind #PartTwo

Written By @PanwerePredator and @MrBigTrouble 

*~~*~~*

Hadrian:

The sun was on a downward descent by the time I returned to consciousness. The light spilled through the curtains, down the hall, and I blinked slowly as my body registered a bevvy of minor complaints. 

One, I was still naked, but I think that was less ‘complaint’ and more ‘observation’. Two, my mouth was dryer than sandpaper. Three, my stomach was empty and demanding for that to be rectified. Four…

Shit. 

I sat up as I registered the lack of sound, movement, or general ‘life’ in the apartment other than myself. The hum of the refrigerator, the patter of footsteps above, and the sound of horns outside as cars went by… they were all filed away as part of the ambiance. But the one sound I was looking for was absent.

The werewolf was gone. 

Judging by the lingering traces of his scent, he’d left hours ago. Well before the sun reached its full height in the sky. And if I had to guess, probably moments after I lost my fight with exhaustion and slept like a log.

Shifting to the edge of the bed, I tested my wrist, turning it one way then the other, and tilting my head. My own Change had healed the worst of it, though I was still spent as a result. Not that I’d re-do anything given the chance; I never wanted to be an animal to call, and I couldn’t let that life be inflicted on anyone else that didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

Rising from the bed, I frowned as I went for the shower, cranking the heat and stepping in. That was part of the problem, I thought, frustration taking a frontrunner over hunger or anything else. The werewolf had been ludicrously uninformed about the life he led now. The dangers he faced. So many thought that becoming one of the supernatural suddenly meant you were impervious to danger, but that was bullshit. Being supernatural just meant your potential enemy list tripled. 

As I rinsed away the night before, my sense of unease only grew. Where was the relief at having saved the wolf? Where was the self-congratulations as I smiled and patted myself on the back for a job well done and a life spared? None of that seemed forthcoming, and I wasn’t sure if it was just because I was worried about a wolf so new roaming the world, or if it was something else.

Shutting off the water, I toweled off and dressed quickly, still ignoring my fridge and the rumble of my belly. I needed some sort of closure, and the only place I could start was where it began last night.

Beating feet back to that alley felt like returning to the scene of a crime, and hey, why wouldn’t it when I’d made the undead even deader? Approaching the corner, I was relieved I couldn’t see sirens, or caution tape, or hear anything from the alley that otherwise wasn’t needed for a city back street. Rounding that corner though, my steps slowed as I walked toward the dumpster. 

The shattered power pole was still there, listing slightly to one side with splinters all around it. The debris of the fight was everywhere, and dried blood, mine and the vampires, was baked into the pavement. But there was no scorch mark; no signs of ‘poof, vampire meets sunlight’ seared into the cement.

A bright red stain under the dumpster grabbed my eye, and I was down on my hands and knees, snatching it out, before I could think about it. The wood shard looked familiar, and why wouldn’t it? Last I’d seen of it, it’d been imbedded in a vampire’s chest cavity. Worse was the fact the red on the end wasn’t from being part of a bonfire - it had been removed. While blood could still stain it. 

“Shit…”

Dropping the shard, I looked around wildly, which was stupid since the sun was still up. Though not for long. Judging by the light, I had an hour, maybe two, before darkness returned. And I needed every second of them to find that wolf again, to track his scent to whatever hidey hole he’d scampered off to.

Because that vampire was still very much alive, and if he’d started the bonding to that wolf? He’d find him faster than I did once night fell.

Declan:

-I had run for what felt like forever but in all reality it hadn't even been that long. I was just going back to the place I had been hiding before. I needed to rest properly and then I would leave this place. Find another place I could stay. Or anything. I wasn't really sure what I would do or where I would go but first I needed some rest. Time to clear my mind. 

It was hours later when I stretched myself out of the piece of grass, the sun fading from the sky. I had been enjoying the warmth on my naked skin for most of the day, baking away. It  had felt so good. I had slept for most of the day but now I needed to get myself ready and find a new home, one further away from this crazy town. 

I needed to escape someone else trying to make me their slave or pet or whatever it is that they did. I needed for that to not be something I had to worry about too. It was hard enough looking over my shoulder because of that damn wolf pack, I didn't need more issues. 

So here I was, just stretching and calling the wolf forward, letting him know I was ready for him to take over when my ears started twitching, picking up something coming from close by. It wasn't the wolf pack, I would have heard them and smelled them from miles away and it couldn't be the vampire since Hadrian said he had killed it and the sun would do the rest. So I wasn't worried about that too much. I mean he took care of it last night. 

I turned around to let my wolf try and catch what it was when he suddenly burst through the trees, looking like a mad man trying to find something. What the hell? Was this dude okay? What was chasing him that made him look like that? 

I tilted my head a little, clearing my throat before speaking- You okay there? You seemed a bit…. Frazzled. -That was putting it mildly with the look on his face but I didn't want to insult the damn guy.-

Hadrian:

Holy fuckballs.

I’d run. And then run. And then run some more. Feet pounding the pavement as I reached for every lick of strength my Beasts possessed and used it to fuel me, to catch every note of scent in the air that belonged to the werewolf and follow it. I’d left the city behind in favor of trees and woods and dirt and earth, and even as my Beasts begged to be set loose, I needed the human mind to track as much as the animals. 

When the sun had fallen I’d thought myself lost and a failure. I hadn’t found him, and now… now the vampire could find him within an hour, maybe less. Some of those fanged fuckers could fly, and I hoped to God he wasn’t one of them.

Bursting through the clearing, I almost fell over myself in an effort to come to a stop, panting as I took in the wolf, his nakedness, and the smell of sunlight on his skin. 

“Heaven help me, you spent the day fucking sun baking while I ran around looking for you,” I panted, shaking my head as I stepped forward, reaching for his hand. “Scratch everything I said this morning, I was wrong.” I took a breath, swallowed, then looked into those confused eyes. “Declan, the vampire isn’t dead, he’s~”

CRACK.

I reeled. No, wait… I flew. Then I hit a tree. Branches broke as I crumpled to the dirt beneath it, groaning as my body throbbed from the hit. It took me a second to process ‘where’ I’d been hit, and when my whole right side shrieked as I moved, I had my answer. 

“Oh... fuck…”

The vampire snarled, advancing from where he’d landed. Yes, fucking /landed/. God damn flying fangers. His hands looked like claws as he seethed and growled at me, fangs bared. He looked inhuman, more animal than anything I turned into, and I felt some of my shock be smothered by adrenaline as I forced myself up.

“Declan, run.”

“But he won’t get far, not when I’m done with you!” the vampire snapped, then smirked. “Or maybe it’s you I should be considering? No normal lycanthrope could take me as you did. Even by surprise.”

He moved, and I tried to sidestep to avoid his grip, but he picked my right side, and the injury he’d just dealt me slowed me up. His hand closed around my throat as he slammed me back into the tree, breathing in the air around me.

“What… are… you…”

Declan:

-One moment we had been alone and the next Hadrian was flying through the air, hitting a tree with the vampire from last night on him and I… I was frozen on the spot. Staring at the male that had landed there. He had been flying. What the fuck? How the fuck? That cant…  no. It wasn't possible. But it had been. I had seen it with my own two eyes. 

I was pulled out of my head at Hadrian's words but I didn't run, I didn't stumble backwards. I stood there, eyes focusing on the two males. Taking in the entire scene that was going on. Trying to figure out what was going on. What I should be doing because running wasn't going to help, that much I was sure of and honestly how could I leave the man that half saved my life the night before. I couldn't. That was the simple answer. I would rather die trying to help him than become this thing’s pet. 

I still didn't move though, I stood there watching, waiting for the right moment. My claws did come out, the wolf right at the surface, scanning the air, waiting for a chance to get at the vampire. I might not know a lot but the wolf seemed to know this was a waiting game so he was at the front. He didn't want the other male hurt either, he wanted to help so that's what we would do. No matter what happened to us. What was a life anyway if you were being controlled? It wasn't worth much. 

Slowly, oh so slowly I started to crouch down, making it seem like I was giving up, like I was too scared to move, to do much. The vampire wouldn't know what I was doing. To him I was nothing but a new wolf to play with, he didn't know how strong the wolf was. He didn't know it wasn't a normal pup even if it should have been. So that would be to my advantage. I knew that I'd get hurt, probably die but in this moment that didn't matter at all. I just needed to help if I could. It was who I was. Who I'd always be.-

Hadrian: 

There was a moment of pure terror. It licked through me, stealing whatever breath I’d sucked into my lungs, whatever ideas I’d had about fighting back. It replaced them with a life of crawling, grovelling. Beaten. Broken. I panted as the fear only built, my heart pounding as I struggled in the vampire’s grip. 

Everything I’d fought to avoid was going to happen. I’d be nothing. No one. I’d ‘belong’ to an almost immortal, a servant till death.

“No…”

My Beasts roared. Their fury raced through me, pushing back the fear. A fear that came… from the vampire. Bastard. My eyes narrowed as I realized his game, that he was manipulating me, my reactions, to be afraid. Fear clouded everything; that was his tool. His weapon. For me to be paralysed with fear.

“Fuck you.”

I growled the words as my eyes Changed. Not just once, but over, and over. Every one of my Beasts flashed through me, pushing at the surface of my skin, wanting to fight, and as the vampire watched every type of eye go through my own, I reached for one that he had no power over. His animal to call was a Wolf. So I welcomed my Lion.

My hands were claws as I whipped one up, taking his momentary shock at my panwere status to rake at his face, his eye. He screamed as I landed a hit, the eye rupturing, and then Declan was there. His Wolf shone in his eyes as he leapt at the vampire from behind, taking advantage of the moment to come to my aid. And I knew he remembered… he had too. Go for the heart.

And if that didn’t work, maybe I’d rip off its fucking head. 

Declan:

-One moment I had been human with my hands in claws as I jumped for the vampire, sending my sharp talons into his back as deep as I can but I couldn't get far as he suddenly started spinning to get me off. He threw me a few feet but I landed on my paws as the wolf took over completely. I was still there, pushing to stay as he hissed and snarled at the vampire. Telling him that we wouldn't go down without a fight, a very bloody fight at that. 

I just hoped that somehow Hadrian got away, that he was able to leave. It was my fault that he was in this situation in the first place and I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to him. It would be a nightmare to me. I just couldn't live with that. If I lived after this that is. 

While the vampire was still not completely aware about what was going on, with his hand to his face where his eye should have been, I jumped forward, allowing my teeth to sink into his leg and tear at it, ripping it to shreds. The howls he gave was inhuman and if I was in my human form I would have shuddered but the wolf just kept his jaw locked as he shook his head from side to side, like he was trying to rip the leg comparably off. He wouldn't give up until he took his last breath, that much was clear. In that me and he saw eye to eye. We would make sure this creature was no more or we would die.- 

Hadrian:

Declan leapt at the fang, savaging his back with claws before lunging to secure his leg with teeth. His wolf was fearsome as it snarled, the sound reverberating down my spine to trigger my own Beasts with the need to shed blood. 

I fought the ripple of them, the need to Change, as I pushed away from the tree. Whatever damage had been done to one side of me was forgotten with the survival instinct - the adamant, shrieking need to destroy the enemy now, before he could regroup. Before he could use Declan’s wolf side to complete their bonding, and have ‘him’ attack me. Then I was really fucked.

Hands like claws, he made to swipe at the wolf and I latched on, wrenching the arm back until I heard the satisfying snap of bone. He screamed again, his good arm gouging at me as I tried to sidestep and snarled in response. He’d underestimated us, and that was going to be his downfall. 

As Declan’s teeth bit down deeper, blood staining the air with a crimson tang, his focus was pulled to the wolf, and I moved. Every Beast surged, every hateful instinct roaring as I slipped to the vampires back. My claws dug into the flesh at the curve of his shoulder from his neck, while my other hand curled fingers from above under his jaw. I bit down and ripped at the same time. 

There was screaming. A gurgling sound. Blood on my tongue. Down my throat. Everywhere. Then the sheer force of all my Beasts won out. The vampire’s head tore free. 

Declan:

-Through everything going on I still kept my teeth firmly in the vampires leg, ripping at his flesh, not tearing his leg off but demanding his attention. And it had worked. I had given Hadrian enough time to come at the vampire, to bloody him, to get the fucker that wanted to use me, to kill us if he couldn't. 

Even as that body fell to the ground, I didn't let go yet, I was still snarling at the hopefully dead body on the ground. The wolf was angry, no not just angry, it was more rage going through our body and anger. How could someone like that get us. Why would they even do that? And he was pissed because I didn't know how to protect myself in human form. But whatever. It wasn't like I even knew these things existed until yesterday. 

Teeth finally released the leg, blood dripping down my muzzle, eyes scanning around before they land on Hadrian and the condition he was in. One side of his body had immense damage caused by the fanger and I was pretty sure he needed some help or something. 

Trotting around the piece of shit lying on the ground, I move to where he was standing, barely at that, and nudged at his leg to get his attention. My eyes focusing on the shifter, taking him in. I knew in that moment that I'd shift back to human form and take him back to his place. It was the right thing to do. He had once again saved my life and I owed him big time. And I do mean big time. It was a dept I wasn't even sure I could repay.- 

Hadrian:

I dropped the head. It made a thick thud sort of sound, the blood squelching around it, a wet, slick noise as it half rolled away. It could roll itself right back to the things neck but it wasn’t getting back up. And when the sun rose… poof. All evidence he’d even been here gone.

Well, assuming I wasn’t here. I was a huge pile of evidence right now, from my broken bones and internal bleeding to my blood spattered clothes and gore smeared face. I blinked slowly, the adrenaline fading as my body offered up a bevvy of shrieks and complaints. At the nudge at my leg I glanced down. Declan looked up at me, a soft whine leaving his lips, his eyes impossibly big and bright. I stroked a bloody hand over his head then teetered. 

I dropped to land heavily on my good side, groaning before letting myself lie back. It felt marginally better to be lying down than standing up, so I’d take it. 

“I need… to shift…”

The problem with that? I was so broken the shift would be the last thing I could manage. I didn’t expect to be conscious after I changed, and the last thing I needed to be was some great beast lying out for a hunter, or just plain ignorant human, to come across. If I woke up in a zoo or animal control, I’d be pisssssssed. If I didn’t wake at all? Well, my worries would at least be over.

“Home… I need… home…”

Declan:

-I was right there next to him when he fell, pressing up against the male to keep him up. Listening to what he was saying. He needed to go home and I was going to have to take him there. It would be hard but I would figure it out one way or another. It was the least I could do for him after everything he had done for me. 

I licked at him once before I took a step back, telling the wolf that it was okay, that he needed to give my body back so that I could help the male that risked his life twice to save us. After a few moments he pulled back and the shift came upon me, changing me back into my human form. Laying naked on the grass, I took in a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself. To force myself to be strong and help him even if I was tired and wanted to just lay here for a while more.

Lifting my head, I looked at the bloody and broken male. Pushing myself up, walking over to where he was. My voice low.- Do you think you can stay human for a little longer? I am not sure I would be able to get you home if you are in animal form. Unless you want me to take you to my cave? -Yeah maybe that was a stupid idea but it was an idea and I wasn’t sure how badly he needed to shift. By the looks of it, he needed it real bad but I really wouldn’t be able to carry any of his animals. They would be dead weight, more than I would be able to manage. 

As I watched him, I placed a hand carefully on his shoulder. More to keep him steady than anything else. I just wanted him to be okay. My focus was all about the male right now.-

Hadrian:

Exhausted though my brain was, it did some pretty rough, pretty quick maths; trying to make it back to my apartment from here was a hard ‘no’. Even if I held off on the shift, the likelihood I’d collapse from my injuries was fairly high. Scratch that - guaranteed. Not exactly the burden I wanted to put on Declan after a rather hard night. If I collapsed in public the chances were someone would call an ambulance, and being stuck in a hospital with no protection was also not something I was interested in doing.

“Cave.”

With every last scrap of strength I had, and probably whatever strength I’d been planning on using over the coming days, I forced myself back up, leaning against Declan to keep from smacking back into the ground.

In the same way the wolf had trusted me to keep him alive, I now had to trust him to keep me safe. The world faded to a throbbing blur as he led me through the trees. I was only aware of his warmth at my side, the scent of him and his wolf, until the dark, musty scent of a cave took over everything else. I surrendered to my Beasts.

With Declan’s wolf so present, my own took charge, my body dropping and contorting as it Shifted into fur and fangs and claws. As my broken bonds healed, as the lacerations closed up, I was aware of only the wolves, mine and his, before I passed out into darkness.

Declan:

-We had barely made it into the cave before his change had taken over him and suddenly there was a wolf lying on the ground in the place the human had been only a few moments ago. I watched him for a few moments before I went to get the place I usually slept ready for the wolf. I knew he was out cold by the way he was breathing. So that meant I had to drag him over to the little makeshift cot and half push him onto it before throwing the little blanket over him for incase he decided to change back and was cold or whatever.

After that I sat down on the ground and watched the sleeping form. The last time I had been close to any wolf had been a very bad experience for me, one that didn’t end well at all. One that had landed me in this situation. But this was different in some way even if the wolf was still on guard. Deep down we knew that this one wouldn’t hurt us. He had gone through all the trouble to save my life, not just once but twice. So yeah I would give him the benefit of the doubt and trust in him to not kill me.

After what felt like hours of just sitting there, I felt my energy drain from me completely. The night had been a hard one and I needed a rest. And since the sun was starting to come up, I decided I could try and sleep. And honestly if something came the wolf would come out and protect me, us, anyway. I had faith in that at least. It was the one thing I had learned over the year. He protected when I couldn’t. As I layed down on the ground, I gave one last look at the sleeping wolf before I let my eyes close and the events of the last two days play through my mind as I drifted off to sleep. Once again my life has changed.-

[literateape]

Who Are These Fucking Dudes?

by Don Hall

A Supreme Court nominee is accused of attempted rape in high school. 

The obviously political ramifications of the timing of the charges notwithstanding, the almost non-stop surfacing of violent, sex-crazed dudes from every corner of society is discomfiting, to say the least. The whole “boys will be boys” defense buys into an entire polemic that masculinity is somehow rooted in the cat-calling, aggressively possessive caveman attitude exhibited by boys and men (and manboys) who somehow believe this is acceptable behavior.

Sure, I’m not throwing stones too hard here. As a young man (and well into my thirties) the idea of using my junk to shock and offend in a prankster sort of way was standard (and hysterical to me at the time.) I understand the argument that, in today’s way of thinking, intent is not important, only impact. The idea being that, if I pull out my nuts and ask “Is this your gum?” as a joke, it doesn’t matter if my intent was sexual — if you felt I was being sexual and it impacted you in that way, my intent is meaningless.

Full disclosure, I may understand the argument, but I think it’s horseshit.

Seriously, if you can’t see the difference between Al Franken making a “grab her tits” joke and a teenage Kavanaugh holding a high school girl’s mouth shut so he can stick his tiny man-root up all in her, you’re either a moron or you’re simply being intentionally obtuse. The only reason that otherwise decent men are on the ropes about #MeToo is that simple difference. That difference is about intent.

The guys who laugh at dick pics and get laughs showing off their balls? Not sexual predators.

The guys who ask you out for a drink after a seemingly benign conversation at a bar? Not sexual predators.

The guys who compliment you on your hair or clothes or weight loss? Not sexual predators.

I know these guys. I am one of these guys.

The dudes who yell across the street about a woman’s ass? Don’t know ‘em. The dudes who send unsolicited dick photos to women they barely know? As far as I know, never met one that stupid. The dudes who won’t take “no” for answer? Met a few stalky guys, a couple of guys who were inappropriately provocative with female co-workers, and guys who had just enough disdain for women to make “dumb blonde” and “PMS” jokes but none I would call rapists.

I don’t know these fucking dudes and I wonder who does?

According to hundreds of random Faceborg posts complaining about random encounters with these adolescent jackasses, I know they must be out there:

✶

✶

✶

The part of my masculinity that is often registered as toxic is that when I see this sort of behavior, my Hulk-rage starts boiling. 

SIDENOTE: Not long ago, after witnessing a self-important event coordinator dress down one of my ushers for merely doing her job and doing my best to intervene without punching him repeatedly in the kidneys, my boss came over and said, “Don. You need to drink some water or something.”

“Huh? I’m hydrated. What makes you say that?”

“You neck is bright red!”

“Oh. That’s my Irish blood coming up. The red neck thing is me doing my level best to control my temper and tone when grabbing someone by the back of the neck and smashing their face into my knee would be ever so satisfying.”

Domestic abusers? Rapists? It’s all I have in me to try and find some sense of humanity in my reaction because it is in those moments that I understand the violence of a revenge fantasy film starring Nicholas Cage or the bloodlust of Dick Cheney. In my fifties I’m working on that deescalation thing with some success.

The thing is I don’t encounter these guys most of the time if ever. I’m not trying to say that these fuckballs don’t exist just that I don’t see them out and about in action. Perhaps it’s because I no longer hang out in bars much or attend sporting events. I did, however, just finish up a summer contract house managing Millennium Park where I managed concerts, movies, and festivals for over 750,000 people and only encountered three dudes exhibiting this sort of behavior.

My wife tells me it’s because I’m always moving. That if I stood still on any random street corner long enough it would just be a matter of time before I bore witness to that which is wrong those fucking dudes.

I’ve never met an incel (at least not a card-carrying one or one who admitted it) let alone a “He Man Woman Hater.” I can’t think of a time when I was friends with a dude who thought it was anything but vile stupidity to cat-call a woman on the street or from a car. Granted, I quit theater years ago, don’t hang out much in comedy clubs and decided that the improv scene was far too much like high school so maybe I’m missing out on all the dripping toxicity of dudes who are doing everything they can to be seen as funny and cool in order to get laid.

I know, however, that they’re out there. According to statistics from reputable studies:

Sexual Assault in the United States

One in five women and one in 71 men will be raped at some point in their lives

In the U.S., one in three women and one in six men experienced some form of contact sexual violence in their lifetime

51.1% of female victims of rape reported being raped by an intimate partner and 40.8% by an acquaintance

52.4% of male victims report being raped by an acquaintance and 15.1% by a stranger

Almost half (49.5%) of multiracial women and over 45% of American Indian/Alaska Native women were subjected to some form of contact sexual violence in their lifetime

91% of victims of rape and sexual assault are female, and nine percent are male

In eight out of 10 cases of rape, the victim knew the perpetrator

Eight percent of rapes occur while the victim is at work

If nothing else, and even if you decide these stats are skewed one way or the other, it is obvious to anyone not a dimwit that there is absolutely a problem to solve.

SIDENOTE: I asked my mom who, as a very young mother without a high school diploma (my fault being born and all), had to use her looks (total babe) and smarts to make a living as a secretary and a cocktail waitress in a go-go bar and all of that nonsense, if she had ever been sexually harassed. The stories she told me of dudes chasing her around the office, pressing their clothed cocks up against her shoulder while dictating memos, grabbing her ass and jubblies (it’s my mom so I’m going with jubblies and you can stick your judgment in your cake hole…) “Holy shit!” I thought and probably said out loud. 

My wife tells me stories of a painter who just got up on top of her while she was modeling and a random dude who left a construction site to follow her and cat-call her and I’m like “WHAT?!”

Who are these fucking dudes?

Last week, I spent some time asking strangers (all men) if they were one of those fucking dudes.

50-something white man on Wabash

He seemed angry to be even asked the question “Are you one of those fucking dudes who treats women disrespectfully on the street or are you all rapey?” He wanted to know why I asked him as if I had pulled him from a line-up. Once we got past the initial “Who the fuck are you to ask me that?” we talked for about twenty-minutes about where “the line” was between admiring a woman dressed to be admired and being a rapey asshole. He referred to the women he sees downtown as “talent.” 

I asked him if he had ever been abusive or sexually suggestive to a stranger. Never abusive he said. He and his wife had some problems once. He does try to pick up women, though, and how do you indicate you want to pick her up if you can’t be suggestive?

Twenty-something black guy on State

The kid was more than willing to have the conversation as long as we could walk while we talked. While not an intel, dude was single and not dating. “It’s too much work. I was called a creep for asking a woman in a bar for her phone number. We had to watch this video about sexual harassment and did you know that they’re calling it harassment if I bump into someone’s…[and his voice got quiet like when you say “cancer”]..boob?”

This kid has become trained to fear contact with women despite any intentions he may have that are normal and, you know, not rapey.

35-year old white guy on State

This guy had never witnessed anyone cat-calling a woman, either. He found it disgusting and went on for ten minutes about being a feminist. He “believed all women” even if he thought they might be lying because that’s “the only way to deconstruct the patriarchy.”

His canned SJW responses were all I needed to hear before taking a mime pistol and shooting myself in the left eye.

I spoke to seventeen dudes. All of them fit pretty neatly in the three categories above: Kind of Creepy, Terrified of Women, and Full On Virtue Signaler. The Terrified of Women category was the winner by a nose in terms of numbers. Hardly a Gallup Poll. I once, a few years ago, went out and asked 100 random Chicagoans what they thought of Ian Belknap and not one person had heard of him. I also once went to Humboldt Park and polled 50 or so random people about whether they went to theater or not (mostly not.) These exercises demonstrate how truly tiny our circles of perception are and also that I often just have too much time on my hands but at least I wasn’t sitting in a dark room playing Fortnite.

I think there’s a high likelihood that most men are in the second category. Not rapey and not faux feminists. Just guys trying to figure out the rules — they’re only new rules in that most of us played by them but they were never really enforced for the subset of “those fucking dudes” — and hoping to have some consensual sex once in a blue moon. Like the cops, who are overwhelmingly law-abiding non-lethal keepers of the peace (check the data if you doubt me), whose integrity is stained by the 5 or 6% of them who are racist or vicious or vicious racists, the broader category of “men” can’t get away from the Weinstein’s and the Cosby’s of their gender.

Back to that whole impact vs intent thing as a closer. There is a difference between wanting better behavior from men and full-throated misandry and if you can’t bring yourself to make the distinction, your not about solving things as much as you are about the economy of prestige you get from the angry mob. And you are not helping. You’re just noisy assholes screaming while the rest of us are doing the best we can to enforce the (new) rules that should’ve been enforced all along. 

Intent is equally as important as impact. “Those fucking dudes” are malicious in intent. That matters. The other guys? The Al Franken’s and Chris Hardwick’s are imperfect but with no malice. That matters, too