#how to make a website qr code

[blackpearlblast]

a rundown on the listed e-sim platforms from this tweet from mirna el helbawi. visit esimsforgaza to learn about this effort. (they also have a tutorial on how to purchase an esim and send it to them)

update v12 (5/21/24) holafly (israel and egypt), nomad (regional middle east), simly (palestine and middle east), mogo (israel), and airalo (discover) are currently in the highest in demand. if it has been more than 3 weeks since you initially sent your esim and your esim has not been activated, you can reforward your original email with the expiration date in the subject line. you can see gothhabiba’s guide for how to tell if your esims have been activated. if your esim has expired without use, you can contact customer service to renew or replace it.

troubleshooting hint 1: if you are trying to pay through paypal, make sure you have pop-ups enabled! otherwise the payment window won't be able to appear. (this issue most frequently seems to occur with nomad)

troubleshooting hint 2: if you are trying to purchase an esim using the provider's app, it may block you from purchasing if your phone does not fit the requirements to install and use their esims. use their website in your browser instead and this problem should go away.

nomad

for the month of may, first time referrals give 25% off for a person's first purchase and 25% off the referrer's next purchase! it's a great time to use someone's referral code from the notes if you are a first time buyer.

you can use a referral code to get $3 off your first purchase and also make it so the person whose code you used can buy more esims for gaza. many people have been leaving their referral codes in the replies of this post and supposedly a referral code may eventually reach capacity so just keep trying until you find one that works! BACKPACKNOMAD is another code to get $3 off your first purchase, it's been working for some people but not others so try out a referral code instead if you can't get it to work. NOMADCNG is a code for 5% off any middle east region nomad esims posted by connecting gaza. it can be used on any purchase, not just your first but is generally going to give less off than the first-purchase only codes, so use those first. it can be used in combination with nomad points. AWESOME NEW CODE: nomad esim discount code for 75% off any plan, NOMADCS25 do not know how long it lasts but this is an amazing deal esp. since they are really low on esims right now! (nomad promo codes do not work on plans that are already on sale, unlimited plans, and plans under $5)

weekly tuesdays only code on nomad web, PST timezone! it gives 10% off plans 10gb and above. NOMADTUE

nomad also seems to be kind of sluggish sometimes when it comes to sending out emails with the codes. you can look for them manually by going to manage -> manage plans -> the plan you purchased -> installation instruction and scroll down to install esim via QR code or manual input then select QR code to find the QR code which you can screenshot and email to them. often just the act of logging back into your nomad account after purchase seems to cause the email with the code to come through though.

mogo

mogo's website is fucking annoying to navigate and i couldn't find any promo codes, but their prices are massively on sale anyway. you have to pick if you want your esim to be for iphone, ipad, or android for some reason. according to statcounter, android makes up approx. 75% of mobile markets in palestine while iphone represents approx. 25%. so i would probably recommend prioritizing donations of android esims but if you can afford multiple, try buying an iphone one too? if i can find any official direction from the connecting gaza crew on this i will update with it.

a good referral code to use for mogo is 8R29F9. the way things are worded are confusing but as far as i can tell, if you use it we both get a 10% discount on your first purchase. (the referrer gets a 10% voucher that allows them to top up in use esims, they are someone who i know has bought a lot of esims and will be able to make good use of the top-up discount vouchers!) also upon signing up it automatically generates a password for you which you can change by downloading the app. (check your email to find your account's current password)

holafly (also looking for holafly esims for egypt now)

holafly is pricier than the others and the only promo code i could find was ESIMNOW for 7% off. someone in the tags mentioned GETESIM7 as another 7% off code they had received, so if you have already used ESIMNOW or can't seem to get it to work, try GETESIM7. another 7% off code is HOLAXSUMMER7 which is valid until june 2nd. referral codes only seem to give 5% off and they don't stack. (i don't remember the source, it was on some sketchy coupon site i don't want to link to and only can recommend because i tried it myself) you can also use my referral link for 5% off if you can afford the 2% worse deal on your end, it will give me $5 credit which i can put towards buying more esims. connecting gaza has also posted the promo code HOLACNG for 5% off but since it is less than the 7% off codes and as far as i can tell does not give credit towards others to buy esims like the referral links, i would consider it lower priority for use.

simly (note: simly must be downloaded as an app to be used, the website link is to help people confirm they are downloading the right app)

i have not personally used simly so i am going to be going off of the sixth slide of mirna el helbawi's instagram guide, with some corrections from someone who has successfully purchased an esim from simly. after downloading the app and making an account, search for palestine or middle east and purchase your preferred package. the page the app takes you to after your purchase should have the QR code to send to the esimsforgaza email, it won't show up in your email receipt. someone kindly left her referral code in the tags of this post, it gives $3 off your first purchase and will give her $3 credit to put towards purchasing more esims for gaza. the code is CIWA2. (if this referral code doesn't work, try one from the notes of this post!) according to someone in the notes, ARB is a simly promo code for 25% off esims that is still working as of march 3rd.

airalo

some people have noted issues trying to sign up for airalo using the browser version of the website, it worked for me but if you are struggling you can give the mobile app a try and that should work. you can use a referral code to get $3 off your first purchase and give the code suppler a $3 credit for buying more esims. KARINA9661 is a code sourced from this post which is also a wonderful example of how using people's referral codes can really make a difference. if for some reason that referral code isn't working, you can find more in the notes of the original esim post i made here.

@/fairuzfan also has a tag of esim referral codes for various platforms!

(note: mogo and holafly both link to israel esims as there are no general regional packages for the middle east like on nomad and the esims for gaza website specifically linked to the israel package on mogo, so i linked to the equivalent on holafly.)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“That Makes Me Smart”

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

The Biden administration disappointed, frustrated and enraged in so many ways, including abetting a genocide – but one consistent bright spot over the past four years was the unseen-for-generations frontal assault on corporate power and corporate corruption.

The three words that define this battle above all others are "unfair and deceptive" – words that appear in Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act and other legislation modeled on it, like USC40 Section 41712(a), which gives the Department of Transportation the power to ban "unfair and deceptive" practices as well:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

When Congress created an agency to punish "unfair and deceptive" conduct, they were saying to the American people, "You have a right not to be cheated." While this may sound obvious, it's hardly how the world works.

To get a sense of how many ripoffs are part of our daily lives, let's take a little tour of the ways that the FTC and other agencies have used the "unfair and deceptive" standard to defend you over the past four years. Take Amazon Prime: Amazon executives emailed one another, openly admitting that in their user tests, the public was consistently fooled by Amazon's "get free shipping with Prime" dialog boxes, thinking they were signing up for free shipping and not understanding that they were actually signing up to send the company $140/year. They had tested other versions of the signup workflow that users were able to correctly interpret, but they decided to go with the confusing version because it made them more money:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2024/05/amazon-execs-may-be-personally-liable-for-tricking-users-into-prime-sign-ups/

Getting you signed up for Prime isn't just a matter of taking $140 out of your pocket once – because while Amazon has produced a greased slide that whisks you into a recurring Prime subscription, the process for canceling that recurring payment is more like a greased pole you must climb to escape the Prime pit. This is typical of many services, where signing up happens in a couple clicks, but canceling is a Kafkaesque nightmare. The FTC decided that this was an "unfair and deceptive" business practice and used its authority to create a "Click to Cancel" rule that says businesses have to make it as easy to cancel a recurring payment as it was to sign up for it:

https://www.theregister.com/2023/07/12/ftc_cancel_subscriptions/

Once businesses have you locked in, they also spy on you, ingesting masses of commercial surveillance data that you "consented" to by buying a car, or clicking to a website, or installing an app, or just physically existing in space. They use this to implement "surveillance pricing," raising prices based on their estimation of your desperation. Uber got caught doing this a decade ago, raising the price of taxi rides for users whose batteries were about to die, but these days, everyone's in on the game. For example, McDonald's has invested in a company that spies on your finances to determine when your payday is, and then raises the price of your usual breakfast sandwich by a dollar the day you get paid:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

Everything about this is "unfair and deceptive" – from switching prices the second you click into the store to the sham of consent that consists of, say, picking up your tickets to a show and being ordered to download an app that comes with 20,000 words of terms and conditions that allows the company that sends you a QR code to spy on you for the rest of your life in any way they can and sell the data to anyone who'll buy it.

As bad as it is to be trapped in an abusive relationship as a shopper, it's a million times worse to be trapped as a worker. One in 18 American workers is under a noncompete "agreement" that makes it illegal for you to change jobs and work for someone else in the same industry. The vast majority of these workers are in low-waged food-service jobs. The primary use of the American noncompete is to stop the cashier at Wendy's from getting an extra $0.25/hour by taking a job at McDonald's.

Noncompetes are shrouded in a fog of easily dispelled bossly bullshit: claims that noncompetes raise wages (empirically, this is untrue), or that they enable "IP"-intensive industries to grow by protecting their trade secrets. This claim is such bullshit: you can tell by the fact that noncompetes are banned under California's state constitution and yet the most IP-intensive industries have attracted hundreds of billions – if not trillions – in investment capital even though none of their workforce can be bound under a noncompete. The FTC's order banning noncompetes for every worker in America simply brings the labor regime that created Silicon Valley and Hollywood to the rest of the country:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Noncompetes aren't the only "unfair and deceptive" practice used against American workers. The past decade has seen the rise of private equity consolidation in several low-waged industries, like pet grooming. The new owners of every pet grooming salon within 20 miles of your house haven't just slashed workers' wages, they've also cooked up a scheme that lets them charge workers thousands of dollars if they quit these shitty jobs. This scheme is called a "training repayment agreement provision" (TRAP!): workers who are TRAPped at Petsmart are made to work doing menial jobs like sweeping up the floor for three to four weeks. Petsmart calls this "training," and values it at $5,500. If you quit your pet grooming job in the next two years, you legally owe PetSmart $5,500 to "repay" them for the training:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

Workers are also subjected to "unfair and deceptive" bossware: "AI" tools sold to bosses that claim they can sort good workers from bad, but actually serve as random-number generators that penalize workers in arbitrary, life-destroying ways:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/26/hawtch-hawtch/#you-treasure-what-you-measure

Some of the most "unfair and deceptive" conduct we endure happens in shadowy corners of industry, where obscure middlemen help consolidated industries raise prices and pick your pocket. All the meat you buy in the grocery store comes from a cartel of processing and packing companies that all subscribe to the same "price consulting" services that tells them how to coordinate across-the-board price rises (tell me again how greedflation isn't a thing?):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

It's not just food, it's all of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Take shelter: the highly consolidated landlord industry uses apps like Realpage to coordinate rental price hikes, turning the housing crisis into a housing emergency:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/24/gouging-the-all-seeing-eye/#i-spy

And of course, health is the most "unfair and deceptive" industry of all. Useless middlemen like "Pharmacy Benefit Managers" ("a spreadsheet with political power" -Matt Stoller) coordinate massive price-hikes in the drugs you need to stay alive, which is why Americans pay substantially more for medicine than anyone else in the world, even as the US government spends more than any other to fund pharma research, using public money:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

It's not just drugs: every piece of equipment – think hospital beds and nuclear medicine machines – as well as all the consumables – from bandages to saline – at your local hospital runs through a cartel of "Group Purchasing Organizations" that do for hospital equipment what PBMs do for medicine:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/27/lethal-dysfunction/#luxury-bones

For the past four years, we've lived in an America where a substantial portion of the administrative state went to war every day to stamp out unfair and deceptive practices. It's still happening: yesterday, the CFPB (which Musk has vowed to shut down) proposed a new rule that would ban the entire data brokerage industry, who nonconsensually harvest information about every American, and package it up into categories like "teenagers from red states seeking abortions" and "military service personnel with gambling habits" and "seniors with dementia" and sell this to marketers, stalkers, foreign governments and anyone else with a credit-card:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/cfpb-proposes-rule-to-stop-data-brokers-from-selling-sensitive-personal-data-to-scammers-stalkers-and-spies/

And on the same day, the FTC banned the location brokers who spy on your every movement and sell your past and present location, again, to marketers, stalkers, foreign governments and anyone with a credit card:

https://www.404media.co/ftc-bans-location-data-company-that-powers-the-surveillance-ecosystem/

These are tantalizing previews of a better life for every American, one in which the rule is, "play fair." That's not the world that Trump and his allies want to build. Their motto isn't "cheaters never prosper" – it's "caveat emptor," let the buyer beware.

Remember the 2016 debate where Clinton accused Trump of cheating on his taxes and he admitted to it, saying "That makes me smart?" Trumpism is the movement of "that makes me smart" life, where if you get scammed, that's your own damned fault. Sorry, loser, you lost.

Nowhere do you see this more than in cryptocurrencyland, so it's not a coincidence that tens – perhaps hundreds – in dark crypto money was flushed into the election, first to overpower Democratic primaries and kick out Dem legislators who'd used their power to fight the "unfair and deceptive" crowd:

https://www.politico.com/newsletters/california-playbook-pm/2024/02/13/crypto-comes-for-katie-porter-00141261

And then to fight Dems across the board (even the Dems whose primary victories were funded by dark crypto money) and elect the GOP as the party of "caveat emptor"/"that makes me smart":

https://www.coindesk.com/news-analysis/2024/12/02/crypto-cash-fueled-53-members-of-the-next-u-s-congress

Crypto epitomizes the caveat emptor economy. By design, fraudulent crypto transactions can't be reversed. If you get suckered, that's canonically a you problem. And boy oh boy, do crypto users get suckered (including and especially those who buy Trump's shitcoins):

https://www.web3isgoinggreat.com/

And for crypto users who get ripped off because they've parked their "money" in an online wallet, there's no sympathy, just "not your keys, not your coins":

https://www.ledger.com/academy/not-your-keys-not-your-coins-why-it-matters

A cornerstone of the "unfair and deceptive" world is that only suckers – that is, outsiders, marks and little people – have to endure consequences when they get rooked. When insiders get ripped off, all principle is jettisoned. So it's not surprising that when crypto insiders got taken for millions the first time they created a DAO, they tore up all the rules of the crypto world and gave themselves the mulligan that none of the rest of us are entitled to in cryptoland:

https://blog.ethereum.org/2016/07/20/hard-fork-completed

Where you find crypto, you find Elon Musk, the guy who epitomizes caveat emptor thinking. This is a guy who has lied to drivers to get them to buy Teslas by promising "full self driving in one year," every year, since 2015:

https://www.consumerreports.org/cars/autonomous-driving/timeline-of-tesla-self-driving-aspirations-a9686689375/

Musk told investors that he had a "prototype" autonomous robot that could replace their workers, then demoed a guy in a robot suit, pretending to be a robot:

https://gizmodo.com/elon-musk-unveils-his-funniest-vaporware-yet-1847523016

Then Musk did it again, two years later, demoing a remote-control robot while lying and claiming that it was autonomous:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/10/14/tesla-optimus-bots-were-controlled-by-humans-during-the-we-robot-event

This is entirely typical of the AI sector, in which "AIs" are revealed, over and over, to be low-waged workers pretending to be robots, so much so that Indian tech industry insiders joke that "AI" stands for "Absent Indians":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Musk's view is that he's not a liar, merely a teller of premature truths. Autonomous cars and robots are just around the corner (just like the chatbots that can do your job, and not merely convince your boss to fire you while failing to do your job). He's not tricking you, he's just faking it until he makes it. It's not a scam, it's inspirational. Of course, if he's wrong and you are scammed, well, that's a you problem. Caveat emptor. That makes him smart.

Musk does this all the time. Take the Twitter blue tick, originally conceived of as a way to keep Twitter users from being scammed ("unfair and deceptive") by con artists pretending to be famous people. Musk's inaugural act at Twitter was to take away blue ticks from verified users and sell them to anyone who'd pay $8/month. Almost no one coughed up for this – the main exception being scammers, who used their purchased, unverified blue ticks to steal from Twitter users ("that makes me smart").

As Twitter hemorrhaged advertising revenue and Musk became increasingly desperate to materialize an army of $8/month paid subscribers, he pulled another scam: he nonconsensually applied blue ticks to prominent accounts, in a bid to trick normies into thinking that widely read people valued blue ticks so much they were paying for them out of their own pockets:

https://www.bbc.com/news/technology-65365366

If you were tricked into buying a blue tick on this pretense, well, caveat emptor. Besides, it's not a lie, it's a premature truth. Someday all those widely read users with nonconsensual blue ticks will surely value them so highly that they do start to pay for them. And if they don't? Well, Musk got your $8: "that makes me smart."

Scammers will always tell you that they're not lying to you, merely telling premature truths. Sam Bankman-Fried's defenders will tell you that he didn't actually steal all those billions. He gambled them on a bet that (sorta-kinda) paid off. Eventually, he was able to make all his victims (sorta-kinda) whole, so it's not even a theft:

https://www.cnn.com/2024/05/08/business/ftx-bankruptcy-plan-repay-creditors/index.html

Likewise, Tether, a "stablecoin" that was unable to pass an audit for many years as it issued unbacked, unregulated securities while lying and saying that for every dollar they minted, they had a dollar in reserves. Tether now (maybe) has reserves to equal its outstanding coins, so obviously all those years where they made false claims, they weren't lying, merely telling a premature truth:

https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/cryptocriticscorner/episodes/Tether-wins–Skeptics-lose-the-end-of-an-era-e2rhf5e

If Tether had failed a margin call during those years and you'd lost everything, well, caveat emptor. The Tether insiders were always insulated from that risk, and that's all that matters: "that makes me smart."

When I think about the next four years, this is how I frame it: the victory of "that makes me smart" over "fairness and truth."

For years, progressives have pointed out the right's hypocrisy, despite that fact that Americans have been conditioned to be so cynical that even the rankest hypocrisy doesn't register. But "caveat emptor?" That isn't just someone else's bad belief or low ethics: it's the way that your life is materially, significantly worsened. The Biden administration – divided between corporate Dems and the Warren/Sanders wing that went to war on "unfair and deceptive" – was ashamed and nearly silent on its groundbreaking work fighting for fairness and honesty. That was a titanic mistake.

Americans may not care about hypocrisy, but they really care about being stolen from. No one wants to be a sucker.

[power464646]

The way people talk about non-mammalian pets on this website is crazy. You could post a video of a pet tarantula perfectly walking up and down the keys of a piano to play the right hand to the opening of Firth of Fifth by Genesis and still there'll be some jerk in the notes going like "EWW GROSS KILL IT". Ignore this person. You have to post the video anyway. When you do, that'll be our sign to send someone to meet you at the corner of Williams and First at 11 P.M., sharp. Look for a woman in a brown parka. Make sure you weren't followed, and don't bring a phone or credit card. Take a bag containing twenty thousand dollars in cash only. Help her count it, too, numbers aren't her strong suit. She actually dropped out of high school and became a junior hockey player, in fact. She'll say, "but now that you know that, I have to kill you!" Then she'll see the look on your face and passive-aggressively apologise and tell you it was only a joke. You'll say then why didn't she laugh, then, and she'll say she thought it was funnier than it actually was. Then she'll lead you to an abandoned back-alley tattoo parlour and tell you to take off your shirt. You'll explain that you're shy, but she'll insist, and promise that she won't laugh or anything. When you do take off your shirt she will chuckle slightly. She won't explain what she's tattooing into your back as she does it, but you can feel it might be a QR code. Then she'll take the money and bid you adieu, and you'll put your shirt back on and, other than the pain of having a fresh tattoo, won't think about it any further until three days later when two men knock on your door. They will look nearly identical, but they aren't actually related. "But we are married!" the taller of the two will explain. "To the job," the shorter will reply. "Precisely," the taller will answer, to which the shorter then concludes, "yes, we are precisely married, to the job". Don't underestimate these men, though. They kill people for a living. The shorter will remove your shirt and begin asking you a series of personal questions, such as whether or not you have ever seen something which had compelled you to turn to the supernatural for explanation, or whether or not you had ever felt more guilty for failure to apologise for something than you had for doing that thing in the first place. You must answer these questions truthfully and without hesitation. The taller will struggle with the QR reader on his phone, and occasionally ask your help here and there. The shorter will stall for time while the taller figures this out by very obviously improvising more questions. You must still answer quickly and honestly. At one point he will ask you how you taught a spider to play Dance on a Volcano: he is testing you. You must explain that it's playing Firth of Fifth in the video, even if it happens that you have also taught it to play Dance on a Volcano. The taller will finally get the app working and scan your back. The two will then be on their way, but ah, before they go, could they grab a bite to eat? You'll say sure, why not, and they'll find a bowl of homemade guacamole in the fridge that you were really proud of and take it, bowl and all, even though you were saving it for a party that night. The following day you will find one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash by the foot of your bed. The person who left unnecessarily rude comments on your video will never show up in your notes again. You will presume they were merely a front for organised crime and no longer need you. This is true, but built on a faulty assumption. You will find your tarantula that morning already on the piano, suddenly able to play Al Stewart's Year of the Cat.

[lib-to-conned]

Red Wave Solutions: Spread The Word

Mason Samsen wasn’t your average 20-year-old college student. His perpetually tousled hair and ink-stained fingertips were more than a badge of his role as a budding journalist; they were the marks of someone who rarely rested when there was a story to uncover. A junior at Jefferson University, Mason had quickly built a reputation as a truth-seeker on campus. His peers respected his tenacity, and some even feared his relentless pursuit of exposing wrongdoing. As an outspoken Democratic Socialist, Mason believed deeply in the power of truth to dismantle systems of inequality and oppression. For him, journalism wasn’t just a career path – it was a moral obligation.

His work spoke for itself. Within just two years, Mason had written exposés that sent shockwaves through the community of his college. The first uncovered a scandal involving a tenured professor who was not only cheating on his wife with his teaching assistant but also allegedly grading female students unfairly. Then there was the damning report on the head of the History Department, whose pattern of racially charged comments and discriminatory hiring practices for his TAs Mason meticulously documented. Both articles landed Mason in hot water with the faculty due to how much news coverage it received, but they also cemented his place as the student body’s most fearless journalist. His articles had been shared far beyond campus, with national outlets even picking up some of his stories. To Mason, this was proof that his instincts were never wrong.

So when the fliers for a company called "Red Wave Solutions" started appearing across campus, Mason’s journalist’s radar pinged instantly. He first noticed them plastered haphazardly on the corkboard outside the student union. A stark crimson logo dominated the page, paired with the tagline: "Reject Political Anxiety and Accept Conformity – Join the Movement Today!" The messaging was vague but calculated, designed to intrigue and alarm in equal measure. The company’s name struck him as odd too, as "Red Wave" sounded more like a politically charged rallying cry than a corporate entity. As such, he couldn’t help but wonder what type of services it could even offer.

Due to this, Mason tore a flier off the board and scrutinized it further. There was no detailed description of services, no list of affiliations, and no website – just a QR code and a phone number. A quick scan of the code on his phone led to a bare-bones webpage with little more than a flashy promotional video and a generic mission statement about "encouraging unity across the political divide." To Mason, it reeked of corporate jargon hiding something more insidious.

As he watched several nervous students hastily follow him and grab the fliers while looking around to make sure no one else saw them, the odd feeling Mason felt continued to gnaw at him. Why was a seemingly obscure yet political company suddenly plastering fliers all over campus? What exactly were they selling, and who had invited them here? Was this tied to the university administration, or was it the work of a private group looking to influence the student body? Mason didn’t know yet, but one thing was certain: the smell of bullshit was undeniable.

Mason’s resolve hardened as he opened a fresh document on his laptop. He would do what he always did – follow the trail, piece by piece, until he uncovered the truth. He had a gut feeling that Red Wave Solutions was up to far more nefarious things than their preachy unity message implied. As such, it was up to him to find out exactly what they were hiding and why they were targeting his campus.

Back in his dorm room, Mason leaned back in his creaky office chair, scrolling through the company’s sparse website with a growing sense of unease. The bright, polished visuals stood in stark contrast to the murkiness surrounding the company's true purpose. Stock photos of smiling queer couples holding hands and multi-racial families posing dominated the homepage. Their warm, inclusive energy clashed oddly with the undercurrent of the program’s messaging, which was as ambiguous as it was unsettling.

Mason’s sharp eyes honed in on the phrasing in the promotional text. "Are you worried about the future? Afraid of standing out? We hear you, and we can help remedy those nerves!" The implications were vague, but something about them made Mason’s skin crawl. The language was too polished, too calculated, as if crafted by a focus group determined to hit all the right notes for an audience grappling with post-election anxieties. His intuition told him this wasn’t just a therapy program – something insidious lurked beneath the cheerful exterior.

Being a gay man, Mason had learned to trust his gut when it came to exposing homophobic hostility, no matter how sugar-coated and concealed it appeared. The website’s queer-friendly imagery might have fooled someone else, but to Mason, it reeked of a ploy. As he clicked through the pages, a darker theory began to form in his mind. Could Red Wave Solutions be some kind of veiled conversion therapy operation? Maybe not in the traditional fire-and-brimstone sense, but something modern, subtle, and far more calculated – a campaign to indoctrinate or "reorient" unsuspecting young people under the guise of empathy and support.

Adding to his unease, Mason had found himself overhearing some of his friends mentioning Red Wave Solutions in the past few weeks. They’d talked about the program as a potential outlet to process their political anxieties and the stress of living in a rapidly polarizing society. Their interest frustrated Mason to no end. Couldn’t they see how suspicious it all sounded? He knew he couldn’t simply tell them to stay away without proof though, it was a common occurrence for them to accuse him of overthinking or being paranoid.

And so, Mason made a plan. If his friends were intrigued, he’d get there first. He’d scope out the company himself, ask pointed questions, and observe their methods. If his suspicions were correct, he’d blow the lid off Red Wave Solutions before any of his friends fell victim to its schemes. He wasn’t afraid to sacrifice a few hours enduring thinly-veiled conservative rhetoric if it meant protecting the people he cared about.

That resolve ultimately left him scheduling an appointment and standing outside the nondescript building listed as the company’s headquarters the very next day. The office complex was a bland, utilitarian structure – gray cement walls with windows that reflected the cloudy sky. There was no large sign or logo to announce Red Wave Solutions’ presence, only a small decal on the front door that caused the company to look as impersonal and corporate as Mason had imagined.

Taking a deep breath, Mason adjusted the front of his shirt. It wasn’t just a nervous habit though, he wanted to make sure the tiny button camera sewn into the middle of his polo was perfectly aligned. He’d spent all night setting up the camera, ensuring its placement was discreet yet functional. If something went south, he needed visual proof of whatever shady operation was running inside.

As he smoothed his shirt, Mason glanced at his reflection in the glass door. He looked composed enough, but his stomach churned. This wasn’t his first investigative dive, but something about this one felt different. Possibly dangerous even, given the type of hardcore conservatives that were most likely working on the inside to trap unsuspecting people into their web. Ever determined though, Mason shook the thought from his head and squared his shoulders. He had a job to do, after all, the truth wasn’t going to expose itself.

With one final glance at the street behind him, Mason pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The air inside the Red Wave Solutions building was cool and faintly scented with a generic, clean aroma that reminded Mason of a freshly mopped hospital floor. His eyes darted around the space as he stepped inside, taking in the minimalist yet calculated decor. The interior was almost sterile in its design: pristine white walls and floors offset by carefully placed red accents. A striking red backlight illuminated the reception desk at the center of the room, and short sections of the walls were painted in the same bold crimson. It was sleek and modern but lacked any warmth, as if it had been designed to evoke trustworthiness without inviting comfort.

Behind the desk sat a neatly dressed woman who greeted Mason with a polite but impersonal smile. She was African American, her hair pulled into a professional bun while her burgundy blouse complemented the crimson accents of the room. Mason’s journalistic instincts immediately kicked in. The choice of a minority woman as the face of this place struck him as deliberate – an intentional move to put visitors at ease and present an image of inclusivity. He wondered how many people had walked through these doors, seen her friendly face, and let their guards down.

“Welcome to Red Wave Solutions,” she said, her voice professional but warm. “Do you have an appointment with us today?”

Mason nodded, stepping closer to the desk. “Yeah, it’s Mason Samsen. My appointment’s at 2:30.”

The woman’s manicured nails clicked against her keyboard as she searched for his information in the system. Mason used the moment to glance around, noting a few chairs arranged neatly along the walls of the waiting area. They were stark white, with small red cushions placed in the center of each seat. A table held a stack of glossy pamphlets with titles like "Taking the First Step Toward Inner Peace" and "Navigating Life’s Challenges with Confidence." He resisted the urge to grab one, keeping his focus on the woman behind the desk.

“Ah, here you are,” she said after a few moments. “I just need to verify your identity. Do you have an ID with you?”

Mason froze for a fraction of a second. He hadn’t anticipated this. “Uh, yeah,” he said, fishing his driver’s license out of his wallet. “Is that really necessary though?”

The woman’s smile didn’t falter. “Unfortunately, yes. We’ve had a few incidents recently with people trying to play pranks or disrupt our sessions. Running a quick background check helps us ensure that everyone who comes in is serious about taking advantage of what we offer while also helping us easily share information with the police if necessary.”

Mason hesitated, his fingers gripping the edge of his license. Her explanation was reasonable enough on the surface, but it still felt invasive and incredibly suspicious. Still, he knew he couldn’t afford to raise any alarms this early in his investigation. With a tight smile, he handed over the ID.

“Thank you,” the woman said, sliding the card into a small scanner attached to the desk. The machine whirred softly as it processed the information. “This will just take a moment. Once it’s done, we’ll take you back to begin your consultation and help you learn how to thrive in the red wave.”

Mason forced a polite chuckle at her use of a clearly corporate-enforced tagline, but inwardly, his nerves spiked. The phrase felt even more ominous now that they held his ID, like some Orwellian euphemism. He watched as she glanced at her screen, her expression unreadable as the system ran its checks.

“Feel free to take a seat while we finish up,” she added, gesturing toward the waiting area.

Mason nodded and moved to one of the chairs, carefully positioning himself where he and his hidden camera could keep an eye on the desk. He slid his phone out of his pocket and pretended to scroll while his thoughts churned. This whole process felt wrong. What kind of therapy company needed to run background checks on its clients? Was this just about deterring pranksters, or was there something deeper at play – some sort of data collection method or pre-screening tool to help figure out how exactly to break the mental reserves of interested parties?

As he waited, Mason adjusted his polo shirt again, ensuring the hidden button camera was still perfectly aligned. Whatever was happening here, he wasn’t leaving without answers.

The seconds stretched into minutes as Mason sat in the waiting area, his foot tapping against the white tile floor. His eyes flicked between the receptionist and the clock on the wall, noting that it had been over ten minutes since his ID had been taken. The polished environment of Red Wave Solutions, with its pristine surfaces and artificial calmness, was starting to get under his skin. The longer he waited, the more his mind raced. What if they were stalling for a reason? Had their check revealed his identity as an expose-focused journalist? He needed answers, and he wasn’t about to waste more time sitting idly by and waiting for them to make the first move.

Determined to act, Mason stood and walked back to the desk, forcing a polite smile. “Hey, sorry to bother you,” he began, “but is there a bathroom I could use while I wait?”

The receptionist returned his smile with one of her own, still calm and composed. “Of course,” she said, pointing toward a hallway behind her. “Just head straight down that hall and take a right. You’ll see the sign.”

“Thanks,” Mason replied, masking his nerves as he turned away.

He followed her directions, but as he walked, he took in everything around him. The red accents continued down the hallway – with all of its short walls and door frames painted with the same deliberate splash of color. The space was oddly quiet, the faint hum of distant air conditioning the only sound accompanying his steps. His hidden camera captured everything, from the layout to the stark, almost clinical lighting.

When he reached the intersection where he was supposed to turn right toward the bathroom, he paused. To his left, the hallway stretched further into the building, its end obscured by a sharp turn. Mason hesitated, weighing his options. The bathroom was a safe choice, but his instincts pushed him in the other direction. If he wanted answers, he knew he had to take a risk.

After glancing back to ensure the receptionist couldn’t see him, Mason hastily turned left and strode deeper into the building.

The further he went, the stranger the place felt. The hallways were eerily labyrinthine, branching off into sharp angles and other hallways that made it easy to lose his bearings. Doors lined the walls, each one marked with a small, nondescript plaque bearing a room number. Curious, Mason peeked through the window of one door, only to find an empty, white-walled room with a single chair bolted to the floor. The next room was the same. And the next.

“What the hell is this place?” he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding harder with each step.

Then, a sound broke the silence – a voice, faint at first, but unmistakable.

“Help! Someone, please! Help me!”

Mason froze, his breath catching in his throat. The voice was male, clearly desperate and filled with terror.

“I changed my mind! I want to leave! Please, let me out!”

The cries sent a chill down Mason’s spine. He scanned the hallway, trying to pinpoint the source. Although he didn’t know where exactly, the man knew that the screams were coming from somewhere deeper in the building.

Without hesitation then, Mason followed the sound, his steps quickening as he navigated the twisting corridors. The voice grew louder by the minute, the man’s pleas echoing off the sterile walls. Mason’s chest tightened as he rounded another corner, finally stopping in front of a heavy door with a small rectangular window.

Inside, a young man was standing with his head pressed against the glass window. His face was pale, his eyes wide and filled with panic. When he saw Mason, he pounded on the glass.

“Please, help me!” the man begged, his voice raw. “You have to let me out! I changed my mind. I don’t want to go through with this anymore!”

Mason’s hands trembled as he reached for the door handle, only to find it locked. He looked back down the hallway, adrenaline flooding his system. The silence outside the door was deafening, as if the building itself were holding its breath.

“Hold on,” Mason said, his voice low but urgent. “I’ll get you out of here. Just give me a second.”

The man inside the room sobbed, clutching his head in anguish. “Please, hurry, I don’t feel well,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Mason scanned the door, looking for any way to unlock it. His instincts told him to move quickly – if anyone caught him here, he wouldn’t have the chance to find out what was really going on.

Mason’s heart hammered in his chest as he examined the door, searching for some way to unlock it. His fingers brushed over the control panel on the side, and he let out a small breath of relief when he saw the latch mechanism – a simple keypad. His years of investigative journalism had taught him a few tricks, and after quickly punching in a few common codes he’d used to sneak into areas in the past, the lock finally gave a faint click.

The door swung open, and the man inside nearly collapsed into Mason’s arms. His slender twinkish frame trembled, and before Mason could say a word, the man threw his arms around him, clinging tightly.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” the man cried, his voice breaking. “We need to get out of here… right fucking now!”

Mason gripped his shoulders firmly, pushing him back slightly so he could look him in the eyes. “Hey, calm down. Stop yelling,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady. “I’ll help you get out, but you have to keep quiet. We can’t get caught, okay?”

The man nodded frantically, his breathing ragged. Mason took a moment to observe him. He was young – probably a college student no older than Mason himself – with bright blonde hair that was tousled in a way that suggested he’d been consistently running his hands through it while in distress. His frail physique was only emphasized by the somewhat tight Britney Spears t-shirt he wore, providing Mason with a clear as day impression of the other man’s toned abs and flat chest. The whole look screamed twink, which instantly caused Mason to develop a pang of protectiveness for him.

“Okay, we’re getting out of here,” Mason said, his voice firm but quiet. “Stick close to me, and don’t make a sound unless I ask you something.”

The man nodded again, wiping tears from his face. Mason led him out of the room, carefully closing the door behind them. He glanced down the hallway, ensuring the coast was clear before gesturing for the man to follow him.

As they walked, Mason leaned in close. “What’s your name?”

“Cooper,” the man whispered, his voice trembling. “Cooper Evans.”

“All right, Cooper. What the hell is going on here?”

Cooper hesitated, wringing his hands as they moved down the quiet hall. “I– I came here because I was scared,” he finally said, his voice shaking. “I didn’t know what else to do. With this new administration, I was afraid of being hate-crimed or losing my rights. They said they could help me blend in.”

Mason’s brows furrowed. “Blend in? How?”

“They… they said they have this process,” Cooper explained. “They said they could transform me into a Conservative. That I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore if I just… fit in.”

Mason stopped in his tracks, turning to stare at Cooper. “Transform you? What are you talking about? How does that even work?”

“I, I don’t know!” Cooper said, his voice rising before Mason quickly shushed him. “I swear, I don’t know. They gave me this whole pitch, had me sign a contract saying I’d agree to it, and then they gave me this red pill for me to swallow. That’s it. That’s all I know!”

Mason let out a low groan, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell were you thinking saying yes to something like that?” he hissed. “I know the future’s scary right now, but why would you want to become someone with such awful values? Someone your altered self would hate if they ever met the real you?”

Cooper’s lip trembled, and tears began streaming down his face again. “Dude, I was scared, okay?” he choked out. “I didn’t know what else to do! I thought… I thought it was the only way I’d be safe.”

Mason sighed, his frustration melting into a mix of sympathy and anger. “Look, I get it. Things are bad, but you can’t just give up who you are because you’re scared. That’s exactly what people like them want. I don’t know you well, but I can already tell that you’re a great guy who deserves to be your true self…”

Cooper sniffled, nodding miserably as he endured the lecture from the other man while continuing down the hallway. Mason kept a hand on his shoulder, guiding him while keeping an ear out for any approaching footsteps. Whatever was happening here, it was worse than he’d imagined, and he was determined to not only get Cooper out of here safely, but expose this company for the disgusting things they’re attempting to do.

Mason kept a steady grip on Cooper’s shoulder, speaking softly but urgently. “Listen, Cooper, nobody can just transform like that. It’s not real. Whatever they gave you, it’s probably some kind of drug – a sedative, maybe, or something to make you more suggestible. Brainwashing, that’s got to be their angle. They’re just trying to get you weak enough so they can get in your head…”

Cooper’s watery eyes flicked toward him, searching for reassurance. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Mason replied firmly. “You’re still you. We just need to get out of here in one piece, and everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

But just as the words left Mason’s mouth, Cooper stopped dead in his tracks. A low grunt escaped him, and his hands shot to his stomach.

“Something’s wrong,” Cooper whimpered, his voice tight with discomfort.

Mason spun around, his heart lurching. “Cooper?”

Before he could get another word out, Cooper screamed – a piercing, guttural sound that echoed through the hallway. Mason’s pulse spiked, causing him to immediately clamp a hand over Cooper’s mouth.

“Shh! Stop screaming!” Mason hissed, glancing over his shoulder, expecting someone to come rushing toward them at any moment. But Cooper’s muffled cries didn’t stop. His entire body trembled, his knees buckling as he clutched his midsection.

“Damn it,” Mason muttered under his breath, scanning the hallway. He spotted a door nearby, one that oddly wasn’t locked like so many of the others but rather slightly ajar. With no other choice and not in the situation to second-guess it, he yanked it open all the way, dragging Cooper inside and shutting the door behind them.

“Okay, breathe,” Mason said, trying to keep his own voice steady. “We just need to–”

But Cooper cut him off with another scream, this one deeper and more guttural than before. Mason’s stomach churned as the sound of cracking bones filled the air. Cooper fell to his knees, his hands bracing against the cold floor as his body convulsed. “What’s happening to me?!” he roared, his voice suddenly raspier and deeper, no longer the light airy tenor Mason had heard moments ago.

“Cooper, calm down!” Mason demanded, though his own panic was building. “It’s, it’s probably the drug giving you a panic attack or something. Just hold on, we’ll–”

But Mason’s words faltered as he watched, wide-eyed, as Cooper’s body began to change. His frame, once frail and delicate, suddenly began to expand with unnatural speed. His limbs stretched, his torso elongating until he had shot up to at least 6’4”. His skinny jeans became comically short, now resembling capris, while his Britney Spears t-shirt rode up his lengthening torso, exposing a wide swath of his toned abdomen.

“What the hell…” Mason whispered, stumbling back against the wall.

Cooper’s screams wavered, cracking wildly between high-pitched cries and guttural, low groans. His hands clutched at his chest and shoulders as his body continued to shift – this time with the invasion of muscle into his lithe frame. Before his eyes, Mason watched as the other man’s lean arms buffed up, his flat chest began to thicken and broaden, and the remainder of Cooper’s entire physique began to morph from wiry club kid to college athlete.

“It hurts!” Cooper cried out, his voice so deep and gravelly it was almost unrecognizable. “What the fuck is happening to me?!”

Mason’s breath caught in his throat. “Cooper,” he said, his voice trembling. “I– I think it’s real. That pill… it’s actually transforming you.”

Cooper’s new, larger form shook with silent sobs as his head dropped forward, his blonde hair falling into his face. “But I didn’t want this!” he bellowed, his voice resonating in the small room. “I just wanted to feel safe!”

Mason stared at him, horrified and helpless, his mind racing. Whatever he had stumbled into at Red Wave Solutions was far more sinister than he could have imagined. This wasn’t just brainwashing or manipulation – this was something once thought to be scientifically impossible.

He took a shaky step forward, placing a hand on Cooper’s arm and struggling to comprehend the jock-like biceps the man now possessed. “We’re going to figure this out,” Mason said, his voice low but firm. “I don’t know how, but we will find a way to turn you back. Just… keep it together, okay?”

Cooper looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. “They changed me,” he choked out. “I barely even recognize myself…”

Mason swallowed hard, fighting back the rising tide of panic. “We’ll fix this,” he promised, though he had no idea how. “But first, we’ve got to get out of here.”

He reached for the door handle, his heart hammering. Whatever was happening inside Red Wave Solutions, Mason knew one thing for sure: he had to expose it, no matter the cost.

Mason had barely finished reassuring Cooper when the man doubled over again, this time clutching his chest with both hands. The cracking and popping sounds of shifting bone and sinew returned, louder and more unsettling than before. Mason’s stomach twisted in fear as Cooper’s body began to shake once more.

“Cooper?” Mason asked, his voice shaking as he stepped back. “What’s happening now?”

Cooper let out a low groan that turned into a guttural moan as his entire body suddenly began to swell with immense mass. In an instant, his arms ballooned with muscle. His biceps and forearms thickened rapidly, straining the sleeves of his Britney Spears shirt until they began to tear at the seams. His chest expanded, leaving his plump pecs pressed tightly against the fabric as his shoulders further broadened and filled out. His newly-jockish frame was already disappearing, undergoing an extreme metamorphosis as more layers of powerful muscle began to flood his physique. 

“Holy… shit…,” Mason muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of Cooper’s transformation.

The changes didn’t stop with his upper body, as Cooper’s thighs and calves surged with muscle, causing his jeans to pull taut until the fabric threatened to split. His abdomen, which had been toned yet flat before, rippled with abs so bulging and pronounced they looked sculpted from stone. And yet, even as Mason watched, a soft layer of fat began to spread over Cooper’s newly chiseled physique. His once-defined six-pack faded into the softer outline of a bulkier, slightly rounded stomach, giving him the appearance of a well-fed, off-season athlete… or a frat bro who spent as much time lifting weights as he did guzzling beer.

Cooper let out a long, low moan as the transformation slowed. His once frail and shaky voice was now deep and resonant, though his words came out in a stilted, almost dazed manner. “Holy shit, bro,” he said, looking down at his enormous hands and flexing them experimentally. “What… what happened to me?!”

Mason’s breath hitched as he stared at the hulking figure before him. Cooper’s face still bore a trace of his former self, but it was broader now, more rugged. His blonde hair was now down to his shoulders, styled with a natural set of curls that gave him a sort of redneck-chic style befitting of a frat bro. The sight was surreal, and Mason’s instincts screamed at him to leave.

He took a step back, glancing at the door. “Look, Cooper,” he said cautiously, his voice trembling. “I– I think you’re going to be okay still. Just… stay here. I need to figure out how to get us out of this mess.”

But the words felt hollow even as he spoke them. Every fiber of his being told him he couldn’t stay here any longer. Whatever was happening to Cooper, it was beyond anything Mason could comprehend, let alone fix.

“I’ll be right back,” Mason lied, taking another step back toward the door until his back pressed against the firm metal.

As he reached for the handle and turned it though, his heart sank. It wouldn’t budge. He yanked harder, but it quickly became clear that there was no use. The door was locked.

“No, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, his panic rising. He spun around, his eyes darting toward the small window in the door.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Two enormous security guards stood just outside, their arms crossed over their broad chests. Both men were built like linebackers, their sharp features set in stern, no-nonsense expressions. They were looking directly at Mason, their eyes unblinking, their presence menacing.

“Oh, crap,” Mason whispered, stepping away from the door.

“Dude,” Cooper said behind him, his voice booming and casual now. “Why’s the door locked? What’s goin’ on, bro?”

Mason didn’t respond. His mind raced, trying to think of a way out. Yet as he looked around, he quickly realized that not only was the room small, but it lacked any other exits or windows. The only way out of this room was through the door – and the guards who clearly weren’t going to let him leave.

Cooper took a lumbering step toward him, his movements unsteady as he adjusted to his new burly size. “Yo, Mason,” he said, his voice a strange mix of confusion and excitement. “I feel so weird, man. Like, I’m freakin’ huge now. This is nuts!”

Mason pressed himself against the far wall, his breath quick and shallow. He had come here to expose Red Wave Solutions, but now he was trapped in a nightmare with no clear escape. And to make matters worse, the transformed Cooper was now staring at him with an unsettling mix of bewilderment and enthusiasm, as if unaware of the full extent of what had just happened to him.

The guards outside shifted slightly, their eyes never leaving Mason. It was clear they were waiting for him to make a move – which left the journalist wondering if they were simply there to stop him from interfering or eventually take him somewhere worse for finding out the truth.

Mason swallowed hard, his mind racing. Whatever was happening here, he was in way over his head.

Mason barely had time to process the sight of the guards standing outside the window before the door clicked and swung open into the room. His pulse spiked, and he took a few reflexive steps back, especially as the two massive guards rushed into the room with practiced precision and alarming speed.

“Hey! Wait–” Mason shouted, but the words were cut off as one guard grabbed his left arm and the other seized his right. Their grips were like iron, pinning him in place with an effortless strength that left him completely immobilized.

“Let me go!” Mason demanded, struggling futilely against their hold.

But his cries went ignored. The guards didn’t so much as glance at him, their stony expressions remaining fixed ahead like robots as they held him firmly.

Mason’s eyes darted to Cooper, desperate for help, but the sight before him made his stomach drop further. Cooper was staring at his reflection in the mirror mounted on the far wall, his now-massive hands running over his muscular chest and arms. His face, once soft and pretty, had undergone further dramatic transformation. The delicate features had sharpened into something rugged and masculine – a stubble-covered jawline that could cut glass, a straight nose, a set of manly lips adorned with a trimmed mustache, and thick brows that framed eyes filled with a vacant yet self-satisfied glint. For a moment, the man played with his hair, enjoying running his thick, callused fingers through his long wavy strands.

“Cooper!” Mason called, hoping to snap him out of his trance.

But Cooper didn’t respond, his attention entirely consumed by his own image. He flexed, his bulging biceps straining the tattered remnants of his shirt, his lips curving into a smirk as he admired his physique.

The sound of deliberate, measured footsteps echoed through the room, drawing Mason’s attention away. His eyes widened as a figure emerged in the doorway – a handsome, middle-aged man with perfectly trimmed stubble and sharp, piercing eyes. Dressed in a tailored suit that exuded authority, the man carried himself with an unsettling confidence.

He stepped inside, surveying the room with a smile that sent chills down Mason’s spine. His gaze lingered on Cooper for a moment, his expression one of approval, before turning toward Mason.

“Well, isn’t this quite the scene,” the man said, his voice smooth and commanding. “Cooper is coming along beautifully, wouldn’t you say?”

Mason didn’t answer, his throat dry as he glared at the man.

The stranger’s attention returned to Cooper, who was now flexing in earnest, his massive arms and broad shoulders filling the small space. “You’re doing great, Cooper,” the man encouraged, his tone warm and enthusiastic. “Just look at you. All that weakness, all that self-doubt – it’s melting away, isn’t it? You’re finally becoming the straight alpha male you were always meant to be.”

“No,” Mason muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “This isn’t right. Cooper, don’t listen to him!”

But Cooper didn’t even glance at him. Instead, his expression remained precisely trained at his new reflection and hyper-masculine face as one hand moved down to paw at his immensely-sized crotch. “Yeah… yeah, bro,” Cooper said, his voice deep and almost gravelly. “I feel so… powerful.”

The man chuckled, his smile widening. “That’s it. Embrace it. Let go of that weak, pitiful version of yourself. Expel it. You don’t need it anymore.”

“Cooper, stop!” Mason shouted, straining against the guards’ hold. “This isn’t you! Don’t give into what this asshole and his fucked up company wants!”

But his words were drowned out by the older man’s encouragement. “Come on, Cooper. Show us you’re ready. Show us you’re done with that fragile little self you used to be.”

Cooper’s grin turned almost feral as he stepped back from the mirror, his massive hands now split between jerking himself off and squeezing his immense new form. He thrust his hips forward once, then again, his body trembling as he gave in to whatever compulsion was driving him.

“No!” Mason screamed, his voice cracking as he fought against the guards with renewed desperation.

Cooper bucked his hips one last time, his movements growing erratic until he froze as a torrent of cum shot out of his thick cock. Mason watched as the man’s eyes rolled back into his head, his chest heaving as a guttural groan escaped his lips.

Mason’s blood ran cold. Whatever was happening to Cooper was reaching its horrifying conclusion, and Mason had no idea how to stop it.

Cooper – or rather, the person who had once been Cooper – stirred a few minutes later, his head jerking slightly before his eyes fluttered open. Mason froze, watching in disbelief as the hulking man came to. The confusion was evident in the newly sculpted frat bro’s face as he blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings.

“Uh… what the hell is going on, broskis?” he mumbled, his deep voice carrying an unfamiliar, lazy drawl. His gaze darted from the guards restraining Mason to the middle-aged man standing with a smug expression, and finally landed on Mason himself.

As recognition failed to surface in his eyes, the now-transformed man tilted his head, his lips pulling into a cocky smirk. “Yo, wait a sec… are you, like, a homo or something? Tryna sneak a peek at my badass bod or check out my… uh…” He flexed one arm and cupped his other hand over his crotch with a crude laugh. “…my impressive package, bro?”

Mason’s mouth fell open. “Cooper, it’s me, it’s Mason! Don’t you remember anything? You came here because–”

“Shut it,” the other man interrupted before snapping his fingers at the guards holding Mason. Without hesitation, they reached up and clamped strong hands over his mouth in order to silence him. Mason struggled, muffled protests escaping as he glared daggers at the older man.

The mysterious man turned to the hulking figure, his demeanor calm and calculated. “You’re quite perceptive, Jackson. As a matter of fact, we did indeed catch Mr. Samsen here sneaking into your room while you were in the middle of your… business.”

Instantly, Jackson’s brows furrowed as his expression darkened. He clenched his fists, the sound of his knuckles cracking echoing ominously in the small room. “What the fuck, bro?” he said, his voice a mix of anger and indignation. “You some kinda creep? Lemme guess, you’re some kind of fucked up fairy jealous of what a real man looks like?”

Mason shook his head frantically, trying to plead through the guards’ hands. His muffled cries went unnoticed by Jackson, whose frustration seemed to bubble over.

“Yo, I’ll mess you up, dude,” Jackson growled, taking a menacing step forward. His massive form towered over Mason, the threat in his body language clear.

But before Jackson could act, the middle-aged man raised a hand, his commanding tone cutting through the tension. “Now, now, Jackson. There’s no need for violence.” He nodded toward one of the guards standing by the door. “Escort Jackson to the lounge, would you? He’s had an intense day coming to terms with his inner truth, so I’m sure he could use some time to relax.”

One of the guards stepped forward, placing a hand on Jackson’s broad shoulder. “C’mon, man. Let’s go.”

Jackson hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking back to Mason. But then he shrugged, his frustration melting into indifference. “Yeah, whatever. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today, bro,” he muttered, turning to follow the guard out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind them, the man shifted his attention back to Mason. His warm smile was chilling in its insincerity. “Now, Mr. Samsen,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s your turn. You’ve poked your nose into matters you shouldn’t, so now it’s time for you to not only get punished but find a way to truly contribute to our cause.”

Mason’s eyes widened as the man continued, his tone almost fatherly. “You’ve spent so much time fighting against what you perceive as wrong. But you’ll soon realize that you’ve been on the wrong side of history all along. Don’t worry though, we’ll be gentle in helping you see the truth. And once you do, you’ll become the Conservative you were always meant to be...”

To read part two, click here.

[crepesuzette2023]

Before I forget: Paul live in Paris, Dec 4, 2024

At some point, there was real life and having to take care of 1001 things in order to come here, but I can't remember. The Stadium is enormous, the view clear, the sound sublime. As the venue fills, a DJ creates a set of deep cuts and remixes from Paul, Beatles, & Wings that paints a broad but incomplete mural of the man's music. On the screens, an endless building scrolls past: a castle or a tower, inhabited by all these friends and lovers—only to culminate in the birthing of two Höfner basses from—flowerbuds? Star nurseries? I don't remember. Anyway, it's appropriately lusty Gemini symbolism. Earlier, my seat neighbor @i-am-the-oyster spots an angry skull in the QR code innocently leading to Sir Paul's website. Also with us are @packyourromanticmind, @s-l-martin a little further away, @crumblingcookies down on the floor, and next to me Mr. Suzette.

Can't Buy Me Love. We're underway. It's over almost before it begins. More more more. • Junior's Farm. My God, that figure down there is really him. These delicate wrists, bright white shirt, but also — these hands on the strings? Above all, a musician. • Letting Go. Red Lights, throbbing beat, sleazy bassline thrumming. I bet this is a personal favorite of his. • Drive My Car. The thrill of singing Beep Beep M Beep Beep Yeah in sync with thousands. • Got to Get You Into My Life. Damn, his voice his soaring. • Come On to Me. What? My fiction brain supplies so many "everyone comes on Paul, and Paul returns the favor"-scenarios. • Let Me Roll It. The first taste of actual ecstasy. Paul switches to guitar. Too far below me, a sea of people is swaying and singing. He gave me loving in the palm of my hand.

Getting Better. How dare he jump from the churning vortex of Let Me Roll It into the happy, skipping optimism of...this? Of course it works, and he sings it well. • My loudest scream of the night goes to Brother Michael in Let 'Em In. This one feels like a sibling of Getting Better—that relentless, easy rhythm, stripped of Lennon's edge. • My Valentine. Elle est ici. This one's for you, Nance. Dark, old, honest love song in black and red, with the voice just this side of breaking on this love of mine. • Still behind the piano, Sir Paul feels the need to bounce on it, and does so with Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five, no holds barred. • Since we're going insane, why fight it? Maybe I'm Amazed, absolutely a highlight so far—the piano, the shredding guitar. The screams and falsettos.

And then he's suddenly standing in front of the stage singing I've Just Seen A Face. Infuriating. • In Spite of All the Danger. This holds up, lifting the entire stadium with its gentle melody—until it's time to lose it when Paul plays George's guitar solo. McCartney—Harrison. • Love Me Do. George Martin name drop! No more audition nerves; this is a now a singalong tune. Excellent harmonica playing by Wix Wickens. • Michelle. In Paris! Makes me think of Ivan Vaughan's wife, who helped with the French. So much history in this room, in this work. The I Love You's are for everyone present. • Dance Tonight. That's right, get up and shake it! Palate cleanser.

Blackbird. I know: a forever song. The simplicity of him with a guitar. His hands. This is still that body. • Here Today. His voice is more firm singing this than it was in the past, not as close to tears—but if anything, it makes the line I Love You even better: strong, sure. Let's hear it for John. (Applause.) (Demanding gaze.) (More, louder applause.) That's right. • Now And Then. I miss John's voice. The vibes of this song are: It was beautiful, now it's over. Oof. Thank you, John, for giving us the beautiful song.

Enough of this. Sir Paul escapes behind the colorful piano. Lady Madonna time! • And right into Jet. Why not? A bit jarring, but hey. Triumphant fucking song, and just what we need now. • Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! At this point you're just fucking with us, Paul, and we let you. Disturbing to discover the lyrics to this song reside in the same brain that seems to be incapable of remembering actually crucial information with real life consequences. • Something. And like that, the heart is pierced again. It's just Paul and the ukulele at first, and thousands of voices singing for George. The man was loved. And the song is genius.

Me, before the concert: I could do without Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. Me, during the song: goes nuts. • Band on the Run is a cool song, and it makes you feel good inside. It's time we all admit this. • Ram it home Paul, we want it: Get Back. What a song to play live. Gift of the gods.

Another change of pace as Paul sings Let It Be, surrounded by glowing wish balloons and the stars of the audience phone lights. Incredibly gorgeous and cathartic. My mother's second name was Mary and she died much too young; don't expect me to be normal about this song. • Live and Let Die. Okay then. Time to just surrender to the insanity of it all. I had *heard* of the fire show, seen it on small screens. I am not prepared. Not to mention the musical...orgy. • Hey Jude. This is my chance to come down a bit. What a peaceful melody. And then he screams and hollers during the ad lib section like the One Hand Clapping sprite he is...!

Encore: I've Got A Feeling. Paul and John sound crisp together. John looks so, so beautiful. Also, Paul still has the energy to almost scream in tune at this point. • Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Reprise. Nooo, don't go! Also, Sgt. MF Pepper's exists because of this man and his bandmates. And it's just one song of the encore. Have to make choices, right. • Time to pull all the stops, and there's so much left. Helter Skelter. No, we will not take it down a notch. • Golden Slumbers. Damn you, Paul. • Carry That Weight. The first signs of the voice possibly being done for the night, but who cares when everyone sings along? • The End. The guitar solos! All this man wants to do is make music, either alone or in a good band. Both are fine with him, really.

When he's done, he's pretending to be humbled by the applause while actually soaking it up, and leaves the stage with a spring in his step, waving coquettishly at the camera that follows him for a bit. Is he kissing the camera? I forget. I think I remember the end. We see it all on the big screens: that lithe, white-haired figure, weaving past others until he's truly gone. Touch Me. Not a chance.

[churomo]

HEYAAA !! omg I lov your art sm it is so good holy shit I could just put it under a microscope and study it’s physics and atoms

ANYWYA jfjfhfjvn I would like to ask what brushes did you use to make these fanarts of yours? I know you have the sketch pen and I’ve checked your website a bit but I just wanted to know if you could send in (perchance) QR codes for your brushes!! TYSM ! Love the awesome fanart o7

(Noms on your art)

HI!! and tysm mwahmwah that means a lot! <3

anywhoo, these are all made with mainly the same three brushes! i updated my carrd recently to include the ask where i posted the qrs + an example of a piece showing how i used them, so heres the link to that

and off topic but i used to watch your animations when i was 14. funny world we live in ww your art is lovely !

[queerliblib]

Hi! I’m a member of QLL and just purchased a new Libra Color Kobo, but I’m having a hard time connecting to QLL on the device.

Instead of showing the books I already have on hold (in the Libby app), the display reads something like “Tap this screen to make it disappear” with a nearly blank screen -- for some reason, the device isn’t “reading” QLL (though the logo does show up). For reference, my library card registered to QLL is also registered to my local libraries.

I don’t have an Overdrive account since I registered with Libby in 2022 (when they phased out Overdrive in favor of Libby) so I’m not able to log into the device through Overdrive.

(I’m also having a heck of a time trying to get multiple libraries on my one card to connect, but that’s more of a device issue, I think.)

Any insight you can provide on how to connect QLL to the Kobo would be great. Love your library and the way you all provide queer-affirming books that my library often doesn't offer. Thank you!

Hi there!

We’ve got a few fellow Kobo users here at QLL, so we understand your frustration. This is a known issue and a bit of a tricky one, as Kobo doesn’t have native Libby support (something beyond our control!) and since we are technically a private library, we don’t show up in the public library search results on OverDrive’s website to connect to your OverDrive account (also beyond our control, but we’re trying to find a solution!)

It is possible to read QLL books on Kobo, though. You’ll need to log in to QLL directly on your Kobo device. You can see how to do that in Kobo’s help section under the section titled Set up OverDrive on your eReader. basically, you’ve got to:

go to settings, then ‘overdrive'

click ‘add a library’ and search for us

then you have to scan the QR code which appears

login/authenticate from the device you used to scan the code

once you do that it should give you access

Unfortunately, Kobo doesn’t support logging into multiple libraries at once (a decision that baffles us, frankly). If you’d like to switch between library accounts, you’ll need to log out of one and log into the other each time. I know it’s a pain, and I wish I had a better solution.

Hoping this helps. If you run into further issues, email librarian@queerliberationlibrary.org and we'll try to sort things out there

[neodymiumcuilz]

HELP SAVE SAMIR - Help a young man from Gaza recieve life saving treatment.

Hello everyone, I have been making many posts for Ahmed and his son Samir, and their fundraiser for a while now.

Samir is a young man from Gaza who is in a dire, serious condition. He needs to evacuate Gaza, to travel to get the medical treatment he needs. He is in unimaginable pain, and suffering beyond how anyone deserves. He needs urgent spleen removal, he has also fallen into a coma and risks his foot being amputated.

His family fear for the worst if we do not act now, donations are needed as soon as possible for travel and medical costs. They don't want to delay travel due to slow donations, and if anyone has the means to donate, that would be amazing. His family have worked very hard to raise funds and build connections with people on social media, on top of all of the daily suffering and living in the brutal conditions of the Gaza Strip.

People from Gaza, on this website aswell have been screaming, begging for the world to save them, begging for the world to care, begging for the world to see and look at their suffering, begging for action, or anything. And yet, even after witnessing the worst of the worst suffering and war crimes imaginable, hearing about it, reading about it, seeing it with our own very eyes nothing has changed. I feel like we lost our humanity, how can someone see a post from a mother begging the world to save her children and simply scroll past.

But we cannot stop trying, we cannot give up. We cannot stop posting, we cannot stop sharing, we cannot stop believing in Gaza, believing in a free Palestine, and hanging on to that small thread of humanity that still exists in this world, and hopefully the world will help, and we can make a change.

How can you help? If you could spread the word, share Samir's story, keep appealing. If you have any amount of money to spare, whether it be 5 or 100 bucks, that can help and make a change, if everyone who sees this post contributes even a small bit, I bet we can help Samir recieve treatment in no time. Please share these images with QR codes online to spread the message.

I will update this post regularly.

tagging for reach:

@palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @tortiefrancis @feluka-blog-blog @flower-tea-fairies @tsarizu-archive @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutalia @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamamita @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @camgirlsurvivalguide @baby-girlsx @nabulsi27 @thejasontoddarchives @anarchafemme @sweet-honey-bunnies @lesbiansforglados @dxppercxdxver @sheepory @elb4ckfl1po @millenniumidol @heart-forge @infectiouspiss @baweiii @butchfeygela @fox-guardian @oars @wolfythewitch @technofeudalism @pizzat-i @theomenroom @unearthprisonpanopticon @sealsdaily @ashwantsafreepalestine @ubernegro @bugmatics @kingoftheironcity @checkadii @wolf-tail @thi4f @mt-travaii @redbuddi @plasticduck @risoria @mollysunder @sister-lucifer @punkeropercyjackson @immediatebreakfast @khizuo @nevert-the-guy @ahaura @chanafehs @yourpersonaltimebomb @wolstinien @neechees @ankle-beez @webdings4 @silicacid @schroedingers-mooneater @lonniemachin @dykesbat @charlott2n @watermotif @yeetsintovoid @momorikoz @determinate-negation @girlinafairytale @yugiohz @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @painfully-unoriginal

[muzetrigger]

Nevermore Characters and their Poe Inspirations

It’s the winter solstice, so how about something special?

I think everyone knows by now that all* the characters in the Nevermore WEBTOON are based on one or more of Edgar Allan Poe’s works, as well as many of the plot points and items that appear in the webcomic too. (You can check out my post comparing “The Pit and the Pendulum” to Nevermore here: )

But if you don’t follow me here or on Bluesky (please do, I’m very lonely ;-;) you might not know that I’m a teacher! And since one of my walls is, let’s say damaged, I thought I’d cover it up while advertising an excellent webcomic and sharing some of that Poe goodness.

(Warning: Spectre Spoilers!)

Behold!

It’s not the first time I’ve had to make an “English Board” without an actual board, but it did take… an embarrassing amount of time to make considering the quality.

Why?

Because instead of using a magic wand tool to separate characters from their backgrounds, I manually scrubbed each image in Procreate. That’s right, I actually have a problem.

(The real reason is that I’m not a big fan of magic wand feathering and they’re fairly fussy about picking up details. Also, black uniforms on dark backgrounds make it harder for the magic wand to get an accurate selection. And Annabel’s hair. Why did I choose to use a shot with a bright background?)

Anyway, all the characters are from Red and Flynn’s Nevermore and all the QR codes take you to the work the corresponding character is inspired by! I used the Poe Museum’s versions of the short stories and poems, despite the fact that they recently redesigned their website and now it looks atrocious. Like my wordpress level of not very well designed, but they’re an actual museum in Virginia, and I’m a single person.

Here by the way if you want to visit :)

And since just giving you a broad look at the wall isn’t that helpful, here are all the actual “graphics”.

They’re all on Letter/A4 paper size dimensions since I had to print them out, so there are weird margins, but if you want something quick to print out, there you go!

I actually wanted to include backgrounds and borders too, but I was so tired after cleaning the character portraits that I just kind of slapped the elements onto the page. There was also a bit of a time crunch because I wanted to get this out before Season 2, and I’m not exactly a graphic designer :/

Actually, I wanted to print them and then cut out their outlines before laminating so that they retained their full silhouettes, but that kind of defeats the purpose of covering up my poor wall.

Still, the whole process has given me a lot more respect to Flynn for drawing Nevermore. It took me hours to get a single character portrait done. The thought of having to draw all those details dozens of times for a single chapter frightens me.

But I’m very excited for Season 2!

I “had to” reread the entirety of Season 1 looking for good portraits, and let me tell you, there really aren’t that many full body anterior shots in Nevermore. Or at least, a lot less than 108 chapters would suggest. Taking screenshots for this was awful too. A couple of these are actually stitched together from multiple photos.

Anything else?

Oh, I used Georgia as the font. I’m fairly certain it’s what’s used in the webcomic, but all those straight serif fonts really blend together… I thought about using two different fonts, one for the character names, and one for the work names, but again tired.

[rebirthgarments]

Mohammed Hammad increased his goal for evacuation to $25k so that he can bring his 6 younger siblings with him!

I was informed by my comrade Brenda that the first goal was originally $10k to evacuate Mohammed Hammad and his mother because since he is under 18, he can only evacuate with a parent or legal guardian. But in this case, his 6 younger siblings would have to be left behind on their own, so @fedup4palestine raised the goal to $25k so that Mohammed’s whole immediate family can all evacuate together. Since you all have been so amazing and we have raised $9k in just 24 hours, I think we can do it!

[Image description: an amazing colored pencil drawing by my 12 year old student Mos @NicoCavalu made of Mohammed Hammad laying down with his leg propped up with the metal fixator on his knee. Hand drawn block text in red, black, white and green reads “Disabled 17yo Mohammed needs medical Evacuation immediately”. Red typed text in red reads “Goal increased to $25k so that his 6 younger siblings are not left behind alone in Rafah

givebutter.com/mogaza

There is a QR code that goes to the Give Butter Link.]

Caption continues:

I’ve had some questions from people asking about my vetting process and about @fedup4palestine and if @moh.2090727 is able to access the money for sure, so here are some short answers:

I or a trusted comrade have personally vetted all of the fuhnd-raizers that are under the heading labeled “Pal-eh-stienian Fundraisers Sky of Rebirth Garments is helping with” in my AllMyLinks. Half of them we vetted through video chat, and the other half were already friends of my friends from before the “escalation”. Mohammed Hammad’s campaign was already vetted through @fedup4palestine , and over the course of the last 36 hours I have messaged with him extensively. I talk to every one of the people that I have been working on helping every day (unless they lose access to the internet).

Pretty much all of the families I am working for are more than down to be connected with anyone and answer questions, so don’t be shy, if you are not supporting fuhn-raisers because you are not fully sure about them, just DM me and I can get you directly connected with a family so you can see how real they are!

Note: I am currently not able to add on any more fuhnd-raisers for me to personally work on (until more of them have been totally met)

@fedup4palestine is a very new nonprofit, they have been too swamped with making the fuhnd-raizer pages to finish and launch their website yet. They have their nonprofit status, and they use it to create the GiveButter campaign pages. I just went through the process with my other fuhnd-raizer with Seraj to make a GiveButter, and you have to be a nonprofit in order to make any campaigns there (I ended up using my fiscal sponsor Allied Media Projects’ GiveButter in order to make the auction for Seraj, which will go live in the next couple days!). GiveButter is now the recommended alternative to GFM, since GFM keeps shutting down Pal-eh-stinian fuhnd-raizers. This does not mean you shouldn’t give to GFM’s that you know are vetted, but it means that you should also work to help folks get GiveButter campaigns as well!

Mohammed Hammad has a bank account with Bank of Pal-eh-stein , and I have confirmed with both him and @fedup4palestine that he has access to withdraw the money from his fundraising money anytime he needs. He is currently waiting to withdraw until he now has the full amount for him + his siblings’ evacuation because he doees not want to leave them behind.

[faitherr]

how did you make your pfp? it looks super cool!!

YAY THANK YOU ^_^ there's plenty of ways to make my pfp!!

to make my profile picture i used nintendo's official website mii maker! it's called mii studio ! i think there are better options to make one though which ill mention below

another online option (and the best one imo) is mii creator but as of writing this, the site is temporarily down </3

an alternative is using mii renderer in which you can scan a mii qr code, input mii's data through an amiibo, file or your PNID/NNID!

you can also take a photo of your mii through a console or take some screenshots on your device of your mii using miitomo but i decided to put some online methods because not everyone may own a console or the game :)

[thedrawingduke]

Just letting you know I love your comics and I love that you love Frankenstein and Phantom of the Opera and their many iterations, and it really shows in your work! The art style, the writing, it's all 10/10. I recommend your comic to anyone who will give me the time of day about it. ALSO I was just at my local goth bar called The Merry Shelley and I was recommending your comic to the bartenders there. Idk if you see this in Fantomestein's future, but I think it would be really cool if we were able to buy physical copies of the comic and I could donate a few to The Merry Shelley to share/promote your story, because the whole bar doubles as a "little" free library, and I'd love to share it with the patrons there, who definitely appreciate gothic stories. If you have any alternatives like a QR code I could print copies of that link to the official Fantomestein site or something, that'd be cool too! Obviously up to you and your comfort levels, but imo you definitely deserve all the readers you can get.

Wah! Thank you so much for the kind words and recommending my work to a bartender at the Merry Shelley. <3

I would LOVE to make hard copies/publish one day...it is a goal of mine, but I don't know when that day will be...I was supposed to be able to publish thru H!vew0rks at some point but they are low key falling apart right now, and no longer offer publishing assistance. With how things are going...I have concerns about the website itself and will probably have to move someday unless things improve, but that is an anxiety for another day.

I can look into a QR code--I haven't made one to my knowledge, but I hope to finish my little social media/update template thingy and might could add a QR code to that and make it a printable somewhere.

Thank you so much for asking and for the encouraging words! It really means a lot <3

[runawaymun]

Fucking unbelievable how much worse the entire experience is now that my hospital outsourced labwork to some outside company. No one likes this decision. Not the people working at the hospital. Not the patients. You used to be able to just go sit there and write your name on a clipboard managed by some old ladies and then get in within about 10-15 minutes, same day, no appointment. Now there are little machines that scan your ID instead. If you don’t make an appointment you’re free to wait, but you might not get in at all that day even if you wait for eight hours or more. The appointment maker is online through the company’s website, and doctors have to give you a QR code. This is annoying for me, a late 20-something with a smartphone. I can’t imagine how much more annoying and awful it is to older folks and folks without a smartphone.

The nurses warned me to call the company and demand a copy of my labs, because they’ve run into issues with it not being sent to them or the patient.

Oh, also the earliest appointment I could get was the end of this month. To top it off, the company name sounds like something out of black mirror. Ludicrous.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Holy shit the dems are wasting 0 time at all since they gotta start from square one, and yet they have absolutely no new plays. I’ve gotten 5 different ads on YouTube already for Kamala, and within the first ten seconds of ALL of them she explicitly uses the phrase “threat to our democracy” to describe republicans and trump. It’s almost comical.

I got an ad that was just a QR code to their BS project 2025 website with retarded static effects to make it seem scary and dystopian. It would be funny if people didn't fall for this kind of nonsense every day. But I do love how they have to go with "the guy who almost got assassinated while running for president is a threat to democracy", which very strongly hints that the shooter would have saved democracy if he'd succeeded. Interesting to see how many normies also make that connection.

[ladyamanda123]

OMG - Coding!!!!!

Okay guys I feel like the BIGGEST moron right now! How am I just making this connection NOW?!?!?

All of this crazy unhinged TTPD promo…..it’s CODING!!!!

KODING!!!!

Hidden code in the website….

The QR code thing!!!

Its screaming Kode with Klossy!!!!!

I am a Kaylor who 10000% believes Kaylor was real. But I’m also a Kaylor who desperately wants them to still be together but conceded that it could very well be a relationship in the past. Looking at things lyrically it’s easy to fit the idea that Karlie is truly the great love and great hurt of her life that she can’t get over.

I feel like this coding connection is screaming Karlie’s name at us. This album is about her! It’s about them! It’s either them getting through Hell together or it’s about Taylor going through Hell to get over her.

The line…. “I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all”

OMG!

It could be referring to the failed coming out….they almost had this beautiful open life together instead of hiding all these years

OR

It could be we almost had to this beautiful life together but you left me sitting in this restaurant with my hair pinned up!!!

I am both insanely excited and also deeply terrified for Friday!!!!!!!!