#yeah fuck it everyone thinks he's insane so yeah he can carry the bulk of the narrative

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I’ve read a lot of books featuring various ends of various worlds, but for pure chilling the more you think about it, the worse it gets nightmare value, the destruction of the dragon homeworld in the Heartstriker series might actually take the gold.  It’s a bloodless kind of end of the world, a whimper, as it were, rather than the Leviathan’s bang, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I think the worst part is that they had an hour.  From the time where they knew something was wrong to the utter, irreparable, indescribably complete obliteration of their entire world, they had one hour.  With all those seers, all that future chained down, literally a fatal surfeit of foresight--even with those incredible advantages, they had one hour, start to finish.

And their end is so complete.  There’s one second of their world left, one infinitesimal moment, between breaths, between the present being over and the future beginning--not even enough space for someone to stand.

[gardenerian]

You are such a good writer. I've really been enjoying reading these 5+1s. Here's a request if you'd like: 5 things they worry about + 1 thing they don't have to worry about.

omg! this is brilliant. thank you! i'm so glad you're enjoying them ❤️ cw for: talk of meds, food, and light non-explicit nausea in #3, exercise and health anxiety in #4, talk of frank's memorial in the +1

1.

there's too much shit in their cart.

mickey watches in quiet horror as ian picks up a bag of eight dollar granola, quirks an eyebrow at the flavor - coffee and hazelnut - and then drops it in their cart with a shrug.

between the granola, the almond butter, the olives, and all the other shit ian keeps picking up, their bill has already surpassed a hundred bucks.

they haven't even made it to the fruit yet, and mickey's starting to sweat.

and this isn't even their normal grocery run. they did that yesterday, rolling up to their usual, decently affordable place to do their weekly shop.

no, this shit is all extra. a trip to the whole foods after work, "just to see what we can find," as ian had said.

it's a far fucking cry from the stolen box of pringles and ding dongs mickey is used to. and it's a far cry from the bulk cereal and boxed mac and cheese he knows ian's used to, as well.

it's fancy, all this shit. mickey's not sure he even knows what almond butter is. and moreover, it's expensive.

he's never really had to think about money before.

no, that's not quite right. mickey, like everyone he knows, thinks about money all goddamn day. one way or another, the hole in his pocket has always made itself known. the water bill, rent, bail for his entire fucking family - there was always something.

even as he scammed his way through life, skipping out on as many payments as necessary, mickey has always been thinking about his next move for cash.

that's how it went for all of them: you need cash, you get some cash, you spend that cash, then you find another way to get more cash. he spent all their wedding money because he knew he could hustle up more.

what it really is, is that mickey has never had to think of money like this. this longterm, forward-thinking, savings account, future college fund insanity. he's never had to plan what to do with his money. he's never had enough for it to matter.

no one taught him how to prepare for this.

they're learning how to run the business on the fly, borrowing books and begging lip for advice. there's so much shit they'd never considered. apparently, it's not enough to show up and do the job you agreed to do.

they're constantly reevaluating, trying to figure out taxes, health insurance, licensing, advertising, retirement plans - not to mention dealing with a fucking ambulance.

and that's just the business. suddenly they're paying for rent, internet, gas, electricity - all things they used to split a million ways with the other gallaghers. they even applied for credit cards last month.

and now, there's eight dollar granola.

mickey rubs his hands down his face as ian studies a thing of maple syrup. he's gotta put a stop to this. they've never had money to spare before, and if they're not careful, this will all be over before they've really begun.

"we already have syrup, you know," he informs ian, who just hums absently in response.

"ian," he tries again, reaching out to grab the syrup. "we don't need this shit."

"i know," ian answers, letting mickey put the bottle back. "i'm just havin' fun looking, aren't you?"

"done a lot more than look," mickey grumbles, looking pointedly down at their cart.

"yeah, i got a little carried away," ian laughs, "but we're good for it, aren't we?"

they're good for it now. ian ripped off some shitty budgeting software so they could start keeping track of their expenses. they've got line items for fucking beer and soap now. almond butter and olives aren't part of the deal.

"we won't be good for anything if we buy a bunch of fifteen dollar syrup," mickey snaps.

"mick," ian sighs, turning to face him fully. "we're doing fine. and we're not gonna come here all time! we can splurge a little, can't we?"

"but what if - "

"if it's no good, we'll rework the budget and i'll never come back here again. but today i wanna get us some nice things."

"whatever man," mickey huffs, "you're the one always goin' on about the future and a better life and shit. just tryin' to do what you wanted."

ian shoves their cart out of the way and reaches out to run a hand down mickey's shoulder.

"exactly," he says. "i want us to save up and be ready for the future. i want us to have a good life. but i also want us to live a good life, mick. we don't have to live off ramen noodles and wonder bread forever."

mickey has spent the last two and half decades waiting for life to really start. to feel secure. to feel like there is a life to live. he's been trying to buckle down, to build up to this life ian wants them to have.

he hadn't realized, really, that it's already begun.

"alright," he sighs, "get the syrup. and i want some of that fancy ice cream we saw back there."

2.

ian leans back against the tub, sinking slightly beneath the bubbles. the steam rising from the water soothes his throbbing head, the heat easing his aching muscles.

what a fucking day.

he'd thought that moving away might remove slightly him from his siblings' respective dramas. really, it just made for a longer commute as he went to get sucked back in.

ian would never let them fend for themselves. he loves them too much to let any of them struggle alone. the problem is - they know that, too.

mickey knocks on the door as ian shuts off the faucet with his toe. he pads quietly into the bathroom - already in his pajamas - and sits on the toilet seat, handing ian a beer.

"long day?" he asks quietly.

"god" ian groans. "you got no fuckin' idea."

"you wanna tell me about it?"

"that girl debs was seeing is a real bitch," he explains, sitting up slightly. "long story short - we had to track her down, and then we had to track down all the stuff she stole from carl and lip and pawned off all over town."

"jesus."

"yeah, it was fucking insane," ian tells him. "we didn't even get everything back. lip wants to go out again tomorrow." he pauses for a moment, letting the day wash over him. "shit, i'm wiped."

mickey eyes him warily. "you know you don't have to go, right?"

"what do you mean?"

"you can tell them fuck no," he says sternly. "lip's a smart boy, he can figure this out alone for a day. not everything has to be this big gallagher family caper."

ian considers this for a moment, takes a sip of his beer. this is just the way it's always been: someone fucks up, something goes wrong, and they all figure it out together. it's what families like theirs do.

"what happened to family's family and all that?"

"yeah," mickey agrees, "family's family and you should be there for the big stuff. but they don't need ya for every little thing."

and maybe that's what ian's always been afraid of.

that they won't need him. that he'll lift right out and they'll move right along. fiona held them together for so long, they needed her for so long, but it took barely a day for them to figure it out without her.

so he grumbles when they call and he complains when he gets back home, but ian would never consider not going. as long as they reach out for him, he's going to reach back.

as if reading his mind, mickey snaps his fingers in front of ian's face. "hey," he barks, "they're not gonna forget about you if skip out on one gallagher crusade. everyone calls fiona at least once a week, right?"

and he's right; he's usually right. they don't need fiona anymore. but they still love her. they all still want her. maybe that's better anyways. as long as they keep choosing him.

"okay," ian agrees. "yeah, i'll stay home with you tomorrow."

"good," mickey purrs, eyeing ian's dissipating bubbles. "now, you got any room in there for me?"

3.

when ian swallows his meds down, mickey doesn't think much of it. it's nice, how routine it all feels: the day is winding down, they're undressed and ready for bed, and so it's time for meds.

but then, it occurs to him -

"you didn't eat much dinner," mickey notes, watching as ian screws the cap back on his bottle of lurasidone.

"i know," ian sighs. "too fuckin' tired after this day."

it had been a busy day. a full schedule of pickups, followed by franny's soccer game and dinner with the whole gallagher clan. they'd all gone out together, descending on some buffet like locusts.

and ian had only picked at his salad bar plate.

mickey almost doesn't say anything. they've reached such a peace with ian's meds. but it nags at him as ian crawls under the covers, until he can't sit on the concern any longer.

"you can't take those pills on an empty stomach, man," mickey reminds him, bracing immediately for an attitude. if there's anything ian hates, it's people telling him shit he already knows.

but the fallout doesn't come. ian's either not too bothered, or he's too tired to snap back.

"yeah," he says instead, "i know. might be feelin' a little rough in an hour or so. but i just wasn't hungry enough."

it's more than that, though. yeah, ian didn't eat enough calories before taking the antipsychotic and now it's gonna wreak havoc on his digestive system. but what's more - the pills won't even be absorbed properly. a wasted dose.

ian knows all that, though.

ian knows all that, and ian would tell him that he'd rather feel a little crappy than skip it altogether. he'd tell mickey that he'll just try to sleep through it, tell him to just get in bed and cuddle him to sleep.

comparatively, it's such a small thing. it doesn't matter, in the grand scheme of it all. but ian will be feeling bad tonight, and mickey can't stand it.

"lemme make you some toast," he offers.

"mick - "

"no, c'mon, just a couple of pieces. if you're sick tonight it won't be as bad with some bread and butter in there."

ian looks up at him, considering. "alright," he says, "if it'll make you feel better, i'll have some. thanks."

it'll always make mickey feel better to make ian feel better.

and maybe he'll always worry a little bit. he'll always watch ian, just as ian's always watching him. it feels good, to worry like this. to worry and soothe and care, and to know it's not the end of the world.

it's the kind of worry he's always wanted, worrying for his husband.

4.

"you sure you don't wanna come with me?"

mickey pokes his head out from the covers, hair wild from sleep. "yes," he grumbles, "i'm fuckin' sure. was sure when you asked me ten minutes ago, too."

ian sighs as he laces up his running shoes. every morning now, he asks mickey if he'd like to join him at the gym or for a run through the neighborhood.

and every morning, mickey says no.

mickey says fuck no, to be precise.

the morning is crisp and cool as ian starts up his pace. the sun is just rising; businesses and homes are coming to life as he passes by. mickey will be back to sleep by now.

mickey's never wanted to come on his runs before, and ian never really bothered with trying to convince him. they always had too much shit to deal with. people to scam, brothels to run.

but then they got married, and now ian wants mickey to live forever.

he's always wanted that, of course, but it never really felt like his responsibility before now. it's a job ian takes seriously. mickey is his own man, but ian wants to keep him around until they're dust. in sickness and in health almost feels like a challenge for them, and he doesn't want to tempt fate.

the garden is a big part of that. they'd never had much fresh food growing up, mickey especially, and ian knows that mickey will be more willing to change his eating habits if the food comes from ian's own hands.

if it'll make ian happy, mickey will try it.

but if mickey starts to feel judged, he'll shut down. so ian's never been able to get him down to the gym.

they've been married just over a year now, and ian just wants to stretch it out for as long as possible. he wants mickey thriving for as long as possible. he's working the fruits and veggies into their diets, eliminated (most of) the guns from their workspace, and corralled them into a safer neighborhood. all in the name of their lives together. of living together.

but mickey still won't come run with him.

ian goes for his workouts every weekday, spending an hour or so jogging or on the machines. when he comes back for a shower, mickey is already dressed and working on breakfast.

on weekends they do down to the pool together, or walk leisurely around their neighborhood. it's not rigorous, but it's better than nothing.

he knows that not everybody relaxes the same. running doesn't soothe mickey like it does ian. where ian feels freed, mickey just feels hunted.

ian doesn't feel very soothed today, though. he's on edge, thinking about mickey's health. they need to quit smoking. and when's the last time they had their blood pressure checked? what's their cholesterol like? they just got health insurance, isn't it time to start learning this stuff about themselves?

he doubles back and heads home early, unable to stand the worry any longer.

and he finds mickey ass up in the living room when he gets back.

"the fuck is this?" he breathes, blinking incredulously at the scene before him.

mickey scrambles out of downward facing dog at the sound of ian's voice. some woman keeps talking from his phone, instructing him to shift into warrior one.

"what're you doin' back here? you're usually gone for longer than this." mickey's hairline is damp with sweat; he sways a little nervously on a mat that ian's never seen before.

"since when do you do morning yoga?" ian gapes.

mickey closes out of the app on his phone and sighs. "just been tryin' it out," he shrugs. "knew you were gettin' anxious about exercising and shit. jill wouldn't shut up about this app so i downloaded it last week."

"do you like it?"

"s'alright," mickey admits. "thought i'd fuckin' hate it. i'm loose as hell though, which rules."

ian steps closer to him, taking in his flushed skin, his lightly heaving chest. "this is good, right?"

"guess so," mickey says. "you're never gonna get to run, man. and kev fit was a goddamn nightmare. but, i don't know. i guess i could find something i like."

"you don't have to run," ian promises. "we can swim more, or dance, or walk, or - "

at mickey's unimpressed look, he walks back a little. "or you can find your own thing," he offers. "i'll run and you can do whatever feels good for you."

mickey nods and ian feels the worry in his gut start to settle. they may not live forever, but they'll live so well.

"now," he asks, "just how loose are you?"

5.

mickey doesn't hate their new neighborhood.

he doesn't.

he can see why ian wanted to try it out so bad. maybe the beer costs too much and it's quiet in a way he doesn't understand, but he doesn't hate it.

he just doesn't know it.

mickey was serious when he told ian that he couldn't move here if he didn't know the escape routes. but then ian went and signed the lease before he had a good enough chance to figure it out.

so now that they're living here, mickey is fuckin' jumpy.

he peers down alleyways when they've walking around, trying to figure out how best to cut over to another street if they need to bolt. he looks over his shoulder when they're at the pool, mentally mapping out the property so he knows how they can get to the L fastest.

if they're in this place for the next year at least, he needs to know how to keep them safe here.

they're sitting on the couch after a day of work, lounging in front of the television for a bit before dinner.

well, ian's watching the tv.

mickey is staring at the window, wondering if the lease would allow him to install an escape ladder. if something goes down, there's no way he's waiting for an elevator.

"relax," ian murmurs, trying to pull mickey close.

"can't fuckin' relax," he huffs, and ian sits up at his tone.

"what d'you mean?"

"i don't get this place," mickey snaps, "i can't relax if i don't get it."

to his credit, ian doesn't argue. he takes mickey's hand, rubbing his thumb over his skin.

"you really don't feel safe here? even though there was always danger for us over on the southside?"

"at least there i knew what the danger was," mickey tells him. "i knew how to handle it. plus, terry's dead, so..."

"i didn't think the danger there was physical, mick," ian admits. "just thought we could use a fresh start. but, like i said, if you wanna go - "

"we don't gotta go," mickey sighs. "i just gotta learn."

ian nods, considers.

and he wakes mickey up so fucking early the next morning. "come on," he says, shaking mickey lightly, "we gotta go out."

they wander around the neighborhood, scoping out L stops and the major through streets. mickey paces around in front of the closest hospital, looking up stats and ER wait times. he finds a spot that sells decent pocket knives.

maybe he finds a bar or two to check out.

when they get back to the apartment, ian walks him around the fence that borders the perimeter of the complex. it's sturdy enough. they check out the fire escapes, plan their own route from the apartment.

he might always need to double check the locks before they go to bed. he's always going to want to know how to get ian away, how to duck and flee and fight back if he has to.

he knows they're safe. but he wants to keep them safe.

when ian comes home with their own killing bat and stashes it in the closet, he's reminded that they're on the same team.

+1

they come back to a quiet apartment after frank's memorial.

it was a hectic afternoon, all booze and grudges and laughter and memories, but they hadn't said a word since leaving the alibi to go home.

mickey unties his laces while ian shrugs out of his jacket. one of the sleeves gets stuck as he pulls it down, and mickey silently moves to help him.

he looks at ian: his tired eyes, his drawn lips, his creased forehead. and ian looks back. mickey wonders what he sees.

he tries to speak, to ask if ian's doing alright, but the quiet dominates. instead, he leads his husband over to their new couch.

they stretch out together, ian under mickey's arm.

and there are many things they could say tonight.

mickey could tell ian that he knows how this feels, to realize the loss of man you resented, hated even. a man that was indifferent to you at best, and despised you at worst. a man who let you down at every turn.

ian could tell mickey that he's tired. that he's worried about lip and liam and everyone else. that he didn't want to leave fiona's arms today. he could tell mickey that he's confused, that he's not sure how he feels. he could tell mickey that he's scared about what happens next. he's scared of what he might feel tomorrow.

mickey could say that this is all normal, that it's okay, that it's going to be okay.

and ian could say he loves mickey, god, he loves him. he could thank mickey for being there today, for holding him steady while his siblings reminisced in a way ian never could.

they could talk all night, give each other promises and reassurances. but they don't. they already know, anyways.

they lie quietly as the room gets darker, and then once the sun is set, they move to their bedroom and hold each other there.

they'll say everything they need to say.

but there's always tomorrow for that.

[chalmogsico-college]

The witch Mint, the wizard Tortoise, and Luara who hadn't found her style quite yet, carefully made their way through the dark pine forest just outside of the school grounds. The perpetual frost that clung to the cold soil crinkled under foot as a sharp wind rattled the branches above them. The three mages were warm in their enchanted robes even as their breath fogged the air infront of them.

"I'm sure he's fine," Mint said, his arms crossed tight across his chest and his voice shaking just so slightly, "Hell, he was probably just running late. I bet he's already at the class room and we're going to be in trouble for not being there."

"No way," Luara replied, as she pushed onward towards the small cabin they knew was somewhere around here, "Professor Van Shamanov is never late, and you know how weird hes been acting over the last few weeks,"

"He's been acting weird because you keep trying to talk him into summoning a new familiar," Tortoise rolled their eyes, "Let the old bastard grieve,"

"Grieving is one thing, but his familiar has been dead for like a hundred years? He needs to move on, and like, its obvious he's capital L Lonely," Luara turns on her heel to follow a different path through the woods, hopeful that This would be the right one. She doesn't worry about getting lost, worst case scenario Mint's insane sense of direction would save them.

"Yeah, I'm going to side with Luara on this one, Tort," Mint nodded as Tortoise gasped in mock offense, "You heard what Headmistress said, the man's getting to the edge of what The Viper will allow. He shouldn't be all alone in the end, and you know he won't just make a friend or something. Too much of a loner,"

"Nope! He won't make new friends because his trio is broken," Luara said,

"And how would you know that?" Tortoise quirked a brow, "Been snooping on our favorite GILF?"

Luara stopped and turned to glare at them, and to their credit, Tortoise managed to not flinch or look away for an entire ten seconds, "He isn't a GILF because that would imply one of us wants to fuck him," Tortoise intoned like a scolded child as they dropped their gaze.

"Good neither." Luara turned to set back on their way as Mint snickered.

Eventually they did find their way to the rotting cabin, a full two hours after class was supposed to have started. Luara took the old brass knocker in hand and thunked it down hard against its strike plate three times.

A moment passed with no response.

Luara raised her hand to knock again as the door swung open on screeching hinges.

Professor Van Shamanov's impressive bulk filled the doorway as he stooped down to glare at his visitors from below the head jamb.

His eyes softened as he saw his startled students, bending to step out of his home and closing the door behind himself as he spoke, "Hello," his voice was rough with too many years spent in fire warmed rooms, "I suppose I'm a bit late for class aren't I?" He untied his robe from around his waist to put it on properly as he started back towards the college.

"Yes sir," Luara never thought of herself as short until she was having to jog to keep pace with their frankly giant teacher's strides, "We were worried about you, its not like you to be late,"

"Yes, I know I've been out of it lately," He nods before changing the topic, "Did you three complete your assignment? Gathered all of your components for today?" he holds out a hand and whistls to call his staff to him, the gnarled thing shot out of the woods like a torpedo but he caught it with practiced ease before it could splinter itself against the trunks of one of the trees, "And are you positive the components you chose are the ones you want to use? The difference could very well change the course of you lives."

Mint fussed with the bundle in his pocket before nodding. Tortoise pulled theirs from under their hat and smiled as they held it up proudly. Luara pulled two from her coat, one wrapped in the yellow she preferred for her spell work, one in the soft lavender Van Shamanov did.

"Yeah, and I brought one for you two," Luara chirped as non chalantly as she could.

To all three students surprise the professor actually held out a hand for it, "I'm curious what you think I'd put in that circle," he huffed good naturedly.

Luara handed it over and giddily tossed a smirk over her shoulder at the others as Van Shamanov undid the bindings to open it up.

A moment later she crashed into him as he stopped dead in his tracks to turn towards her. Luara staggered a step back, "Everything okay professor?" She asked nervously.

"Who told you? I assume Katy, but Headmistress might have known as well," his gaze was focused on the items in his palm, a dried orchid bloom, a nickel ring, and a wishbone.

"Dean Deane ," Luara said with an averted gaze, it wasn't like the professor to show such open anger, "She thinks you need to summon a new familiar, and that if you had the same components you did for your first it might be easier for you,"

"Please do not snoop like this again." Van Shamanov said firmly before turning back on his path, "We will be quiet until we get to class," he commands.

---

The other two trios that made up their summoning 833 class perked up as Van Shamanov entered.

"My apologies for being late. Is everyone ready to begin?" He pulled a tarp from his desk drawer and tossed it into the air. It straightened itself out and settled ready for use in the clear spot in the center of the room.

He waits for the murmurs of agreement to die down before starting on his spiel, "I trust that every last one of you has put the necessary time and thought into what will be happening today. A familiar is a life partner, they will be at your side through thick and thin and will be entirely reliant on you for the magical energy that sustains their like. They will aid you in every way they can and do whatever it takes to help you as long as you return that favor. They are powerful and temperamental creatures of contract, harming or betraying them will be the last thing you do. If any one of you has any hesitations about this, any second thoughts, anything other than Full confidence in what you are about to do, what components you have chosen, or what you will say to them once they are listening, leave. You are not ready yet, and I say that without judgment, I'd rather see you leave today than with a disloyal familiar tomorrow."

He stood infront of his class, head held high as he finished his final warning and reminder and waited to see if any of his students would flinch. When he was met with only eager eyes and nervous smiles he grinned from beneath his beard, "Very good," he turned to who he has decided will go first, "Tortoise, you're up," he finishes firmly as he steps back towards his desk

"Wait, Why?" Tortoise hesitated to get out of their seat.

"Because I'm upset with Luara and I know she wants to go first. By asking you to go first I am acknowledging that as directly as I am ethically allowed to." He takes his seat at his desk as Luara pouts.

"Why not Mint?" Tortoise looked to his friend who blanched at the suggestion, "Never mind, I forgot he was a coward," they sighed and pulled their bundle of components and their wand from beneath their hat as they stood to go to the edge of the circle.

The bundle was dropped in the center of the interlaced runes. The room was near silent beside the soft crackle of the torches. With everyone's attention on them Tortoise knelt in one of the smaller warded circles that surrounded the larger summoning circle.

Their instincts told them to just start pouring magic into it, a show of power to attract an equally powerful familiar, but Professor Van Shamanov had warned them against doing that. Power and Impulsiveness were not a good mix. Besides, they were a wizard, without structure their magic would fizzle and drain too quickly for them to really get anything going.

So, they took a deep breath and reached out to the warding line, pouring magic into it to set it glowing and active. Familiars didn't tend to turn violent with their summoners even if they declined the offer, but it never hurt to be cautious. Then they found the connecting line, the one that wrapped around and around and around the circle, that conected it to the other they'd be reaching into to try and coax a familiar across the boundary from one universe to another. Finally, they found the call line and pushed a surge of power through it, along with the promise of their favorite dice set, a bell they found in the sand outside their childhood home, and a bracelet their little brother had made for them before he passed away.

Speaking the meaning of the offerings was not a necessity, but Tortoise always struggled with the ephemeral and passing concepts along a line like this was definitely more a witch's skill than a wizard's.

"I offer you a dice set with the blessing of The Raven, she's my patron and she could be yours as well. A bell I found when I was young, I carried it with me on a chain around my neck for many years, it doesn't ring anymore but it holds more memories than I could speak, and a gift from my little brother, he didn't know about magic, but he told me that it would protect me. And well… I haven't died yet? So, I assume it works," they take a breath to find their center, "I am called Tortoise and I ask for…" They paused, this was the part that even with the years they had had to think about it, he could never decide on, "I ask for a friend. Someone who's sturdy and who I can rely on."

A hushed moment passed as the candles flickered and the smell of ozone filled the room. At first a fine mist formed within the summoning circle, it glittered like a frozen fog as it passed from its world and into ours, though soon it was thickening around the offered items and taking a solid form.

Tortoise couldn't help but choke out a laugh as a galapagos tortoise took shape before him. Its dull grey shell alone was bigger around than the circle Tortoise knelt in,

"What am I called?" the tortoise asked with a smooth water thin voice,

"Wizard," Tortoise responded with the name that formed heavy in their mind as soon as the tortoise had taken shap. They grinned and stood and let the magic fade from the circle, to set Wizard free of the bindings on it that trapped her within it.

"I look forward to being your friend, Tortoise," Wizard said as she made her way out of the circle with the slow elegant confidence only a fey shaped like a tortoise could muster.

The rest of the class clapped and jeered, Mint shook their shoulder as they took their seat, and Luara clapped and half jumped out of her seat to take her turn before Professor Van Shamanov could call on someone elsee.

Tortoise couldn't stop smiling after Wizard got comfortable next to them, nor could they focus on their friend's turn. They had a familiar and they looked forward to being her friend.

[acatnamedlulu]

My Thoughts on Channel Awesome- Part 1: The Walkers

So, full disclosure, this is going to get dramatic. This isn’t going to be an “objective look” on the whole controversy surrounding Channel Awesome. This is going to be a biased, unfiltered rant. And it’s gonna get loooooooooong. I’ll put a TL;DR at the end of this, and I’ll try and keep the deep anger and frustration to a minimum to prevent any rambling tangents or “CAPZLOCK YELLING BCUZ I AM ANGER, RRAAAAGH!” 

 Ok, I’m sure many of you already know by now the recent shitstorm of events surrounding Channel Awesome over the past couple weeks, but for those of you unaware, how about a little context:

A few weeks ago (at the time of this posting), several former producers/content creators of Channel Awesome compiled a 70+ page google document titled “Not So Awesome”, each detailing their own shitty experiences working at Channel Awesome. Many of these allegations range from minor jabs, to full legitimate complaints regarding Doug and Rob Walker and especially Channel Awesome CEO Mike Michaud’s behavior. So while maybe one or two points brought up in the document could come off as petty, or just throwing shade, I don’t think that’s a reason to discredit the entire thing.This is nearly a dozen or so ex-producers affiliated with the “TGWTG” website as early as 2008, all with their own experiences and grievances. And even though everyone has a different story to tell, they all seem to be tied together by the same goddamn themes: Not just about the shitty behavior/poor business etiquette of Mike Michaud, but also poor behavior by the Walkers. And although Michaud is absolutely the worst out of all the people being named, I wanna talk about Doug Walker first. And by extent Rob Walker. Although, Rob is more of an issue when it comes to the business end of Channel Awesome as opposed to the actual entertainment, so maybe I’ll talk about him more when I go into a rant about Michaud. Granted, I have a feeling that my opinions on the Walkers are going to be met with a more negative response, and believe me, I completely understand why, but just... just here me out. More bullshit context and backstory, oh happy fucking day!

Alright, so when I was a dumb, hormonal young teen exploring her “edgy” side, I came across the Nostalgia Critic circa 2009-10ish? And after finding the character’s harsh judgement, foul colorful language, and humorous approach to critiquing to be right up my alley, I became an extremely loyal fan of TGWTG. Even after the NC reboot in 2013, I still stuck around and tuned in every week. For as much as I hated some of those goddamn skits, and clipless reviews, I still wanted to hear Doug’s opinion on a movie. He helped me understand film on a critical level that I didn’t think I could reach. And while I don’t consider myself a “critic” in any sense of the word, it was cool to have someone help guide me through an entire medium and look at it in a meaningful and thoughtful way. I eventually started watching Doug and Rob out of character, and both of them seemed like passionate, humble people who enjoy what they do. Watching the NC behind the scenes were sometimes more fun than watching an episode because Doug Walker truly looks like a man who’s dedicated to his work. But as I say this now, this also seems to be one of his biggest flaws. I know this is already longer than it has any business being, but the reason I’m going on this lengthy diatribe, is because I need you guys to understand where I’m coming from, and why I have such a strong stance on this. Which is why I’ll finally get to my fucking point: 

I think Doug Walker needs to be held more accountable for his actions. Or at least his actions need to be taken more seriously/into consideration.

As stupid as this sounds, this has been bugging me since the day the “Not so Awesome” google document has been released. Not so much the contents of the document itself, but rather, some of the reactions around it. The general consensus is that Mike Michaud is a terrible person, and something absolutely needs to be done about him... which is absolutely true. But what bothered me is people’s quick need to, maybe not justify, but brush over the shit that Doug has caused too. One of the biggest issues that many of the producers discuss in the document is the absolute production hell of the CA anniversary movies.

From “Kickassia” all the way up to “To Boldly Flee”, it just baffles me how incompetent and incapable Doug Walker is, both at making a film, and caring for his crew at even the bare minimum. Going back and watching TBF, you don’t even have to read the full extension of what it was like working on the set, because you can practically see it on the actors’ faces! You can just feel the exhaustion of everybody involved except Doug, but that’s because the man was so severely wrapped up in this self-serving ego project, that everyone else gets stepped on as a result. Remember what the stupid plot of TBF was anyway? The Nostalgia Critic brings everyone from CA into space to fight an anomaly called a “plot hole”, only for the NC to make his big damn sacrifice and die as the noble hero, killing off the character for good... until the reboot in 2013. With none of the other producers being notified of this until they received their scripts just a few weeks before filming.Yeah, it’s kinda fucking heartbreaking to know that other contributors and producers were treated as such an afterthought, that they were told this information in this short amount of time, in a movie that they were starring in. 

Several people have pointed out the lack of basic necessities needed on a film set such as catering and water. Guys, this isn’t a group of kids dicking around with a camera and a computer for a few hours and making a home movie. This was an actual production supervised by grown adults who needed to be told during filming that “people need food and water”. Across the course of several films. One of which was filmed in the Nevada desert. How difficult would it have really been to stop off at a fucking Walmart, gather up some coolers and ice bags, some of those 24 packs of water in bulk and keep it at a safe location on the damn set? This isn’t something that requires a goddamn film degree to understand, it’s common fucking sense. It’s just baffling to me that these painstaking efforts from the producers were just “voluntary” positions, too. The document itself goes into much more detail of how that shit works, so I’ll be posting it at the end of this rant, you’re welcome. 

And this is where I draw the line of giving Doug a pass. You can’t convince me that this level of negligence is just some kind of mistake that can be easily forgiven. I can’t believe that people can defend Doug on the grounds of “well, he’s just the pawn in this” or “he was just being naive and selfish”. No, this type of naivete and lack of basic human decency has caused people physical harm. Several actors sustained injuries throughout the production of the anniversary films. This usually ended with both Doug and Rob shrugging some of these off, while others had to sign contracts in order for CA to avoid a lawsuit. That is fucking insane!

A couple producers in the document recall how Doug was more involved with the business aspect of CA. He was more than just a puppet for Mike Michaud. Remember, the anniversary movies were written by him and Rob. And while Michaud was most likely the one who had the final say of what went on, Doug was the overseer of these projects. These were his creations, and he should have taken full responsibility for what was going on. And for him to have such a cynical and uncaring approach to the treatment of both the characters within the film, and the producers portraying them is sickening. This man has put on the persona of being this nice, approachable, easy to work/converse with person for years, and to hear how egotistical and negligent he truly is. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there was always something a bit self-centered about Doug, but knowing what I know now... like, it’s hard to explain why I feel so guilty about supporting Doug for as long as I did. I know we all can say “oh, well, it’s not like we knew”, but see, the thing is, I kind of did. The incidents with Obscurus Lupa weren’t completely unknown beforehand. Since like, 2015, people have been bringing this shit up, and I willingly chose to ignore it because I was such a huge NC fan. I just blindly kept watching the show and pretending CA was this cool, friendly place and nothing was wrong. Yeah, I’m not gonna act like I’m such a good person for bashing Doug, and I know that I shouldn’t have had such blind support. But the good news is, I don’t now.  I know better, and I hope we all can move on from this, and learn. 

Ok, so going back and reading this overly dramatic tripe, I realize I may have gone off the rails at some points. So before this turns into an “amateur hour smear campaign”, I think I’m going to split this up into two parts. I already said all I want to say about Doug and Rob. But I still have issues with Mike Michaud that are probably the same opinions everyone and their mother has expressed on this insane human being. But I still wanna get some stuff off my chest. Anyway, this is now Part 1 of the “Lunatic ravings of a disgruntled former fangirl” saga, maybe some of you would like to join me for My Thoughts on Channel Awesome Part 2: Electric Boogaloo. 

and now for the TL;DR

I think Doug Walker is an inept, egotistical man who has hurt people both emotionally, and sometimes physically to get what he wants. And people shouldn’t excuse his actions just because he doesn’t run the CA site in the way Mike Michaud does. If he’s going to go through the trouble of making a fucking movie, especially one that’s nearly four hours long, he should make sure the crew is at least hydrated and not exhausted all the goddamn time. Doug is a grown ass man, and he should carry these responsibilities like an adult. Maybe then, the CA anniversary movies would be at least a little less cringey to watch. Rant on Michaud coming soon. Peace out, dickholes. 

The “Not So Awesome” document

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WZFkR__B3Mk9EYQglvislMUx9HWvWhOaBP820UBa4dA/preview#heading=h.smmxroimnosh

[racingtoaredlight]

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 10 Extravapalooza

This week’s NFL slate features 5 early games and 6 late games, and allow me to add my voice to the chorus of those asking “Why can’t it be like this EVERY week?” Is it really THAT necessary to try to herd viewers to whatever game Romo or Aikman are calling? Honestly, I hope this is one of the first issues tackled by the incoming Biden administration. If nothing else, a more even game dispersal would make for a more visually symmetrical Extravapalooza, which is a good enough reason for change in and of itself, if you ask me.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Houston Texans at Cleveland Browns (-4)

Much like Cleveland’s last home game (a 16-6 Week 8 loss to the Raiders), this game is going to be played in extremely shitty conditions, with strong winds and rain expected. The Browns were TERRIBLE offensively in that Raiders game, but this week they’re getting both studly RB Nick Chubb and G Wyatt Teller back, which should be huge for their run game. Facing the Texans’ worst-in-the-league rush defense won’t hurt either. The wind is likely to rob us of the majesty provided by DeShaun Watson-to-Will Fuller bombs, which is a real bummer both for us as viewers and for the Texans as a football team attempting to win games.

Washington Football Team at Detroit Lions (-3)

The Football Team has a pretty good pass defense as it is, and this week they get a somewhat scuffling Matthew Stafford leading a Kenny Golladay-less Lions offense. If the Detroit braintrust were smart, they’d run the ball a bunch and D’Andre Swift would get the bulk of these carries. The Detroit braintrust is not smart. Alex Smith is starting this game for Washington and I hope he makes it through without getting his leg pulverized into ham salad.

Jacksonville Jaguars at Green Bay Packers (-13.5)

Here we have another game expected to impacted by high winds and precipitation. Fun! I’m putting my faith in Mother Nature and Jacksonville’s very decent run game conspiring to keep this one within 2 TDs. The fact that Green Bay’s best defensive player, CB Jaire Alexander, is unlikely to play certainly helps.

Philadelphia Eagles (-4) at New York Giants

The Eagles are getting RB Miles Sanders, DT Malik Jackson and LT Jason Peters back from injury for this one, and they might also get RT Lane Johnson back. This is after getting good-looking rookie WR Jalen Reagor and TE Dallas Goedert back recently. Philadelphia is getting healthy, and it really seems like they should pull away from their truly horrific division mates as the season winds down.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-6) at Carolina Panthers

Man, Tampa Bay got their asses WHOOPED by New Orleans last week. Does that mean they were extra motivated in practice this week and they’ll be super fired up to redeem themselves with a big win on Sunday, or was their performance an on-field manifestation of a locker room beset by strife and disharmony beginning a downward spiral that will last the rest of the season and cause everyone involved in the team’s various splashy roster moves to regret their choices? It’s probably the former, but the latter would be immensely entertaining for me, personally. 

LATE GAMES

Buffalo Bills at Arizona Cardinals (-2.5)

I don’t want to say that Arizona’s defense is good, because they really aren’t, BUT they do have a bunch of ball-hawking, risk-taking guys in their secondary that are likely salivating at the thought of snagging one of Josh Allen’s patented “Fuck it, I’m goin’ deep!” attempts. I’d like the Bills’ chances a whole lot more if their defense was playing anywhere near the level they were at the previous couple of seasons, but for whatever reason they’ve been thoroughly average at best here in 2020. This game has so many wildly entertaining ingredients that I can’t imagine it being a dud regardless of which way it goes.

Denver Broncos at Las Vegas Raiders (-3.5)

The Broncos have been plagued by slow starts this season, and have found themselves down double-digits at halftime in 5 of their last 7 games. The Raiders are seemingly built explicitly to play with a lead, so if it happens here they should be able to grind the injury-riddled Denver defense into dust with RB Josh Jacobs as the game clock, as well as the life of anyone watching, dispassionately bleeds away.

Seattle Seahawks at Los Angeles Rams (-2.5)

The Rams are 5-3, but their wins have come against the 4 NFC East teams and the Bears. They are true bumslayers. On top of that, it genuinely appears that Jared Goff cannot make any decisions on the field without Sean McVay barking them into his helmet, which is truly hilarious. Fortunately for Goff, McVay, and the Rams, this week they get to run it up against a Seattle team missing the top 3 CBs from its already cataclysmically shitty defense. Russell Wilson, D.K, Metcalf, and Tyler Lockett are great, but the L.A. defense is no joke and I think they’ll be able to prevent Russ from cooking enough to feed everyone. That analogy doesn’t even make sense, let’s just move on.

Los Angeles Chargers at Miami Dolphins (-1.5)

Oh hell yeah, we’ve got ourselves quite the sexy young QB matchup here. The Fins are smoking hot right now, having won 4 in a row and 5 of their last 6, and it’s long past time for me to move them from  “Frisky” to “Actually Good” in my personal Power Rankings. The Chargers will have G Trai Turner on the field for the first time since Week 2, and T Bryan Bulaga appears to be good to go after leaving last week’s game with an injury. This will be very helpful for QB Justin Herbert, imo, especially against Miami’s 8th-ranked pass defense (according to Football Outsiders). Common sense says that Miami should be the pick, but my desire to see Herbert actually WIN one of the rollercoaster games his team constantly finds themselves in has commandeered this selection. This game will be a good place to park your eyeballs.

San Francisco 49ers at New Orleans Saints (-9.5)

I’m trying not to overreact to a single game, but I can’t get past how thoroughly the Saints wrecked the Buccaneers last week. In particular, their defense was GREAT. If they’re gonna start locking teams up anywhere near that completely on a consistent basis, all of a sudden they’re firmly in the mix to win it all. I think they keep things rolling defensively against a Niners offense missing its top 2 RBs, its All-World TE, and its #1 WR, all with a backup QB at the helm.

Cincinnati Bengals at Pittsburgh Steelers (-7)

I’m picking the Bengals based on nothing more than the Steelers’ insistence on keeping practically every game close. For as good as Pittsburgh is, the only blowout win they have this season is a 38-7 beatdown of the Browns. They’ve allowed teams like the Giants, Broncos, and most recently the Garrett Gilbert-led Cowboys to hang around for a full 60 minutes, so I don’t see why my man Joe Burrow can’t keep his squad in it til the end.

SNF: Baltimore Ravens (-7) at New England Patriots

I have visions of Baltimore racing out to a lead early and Cam Newton and the Pats offense trying to play catch-up against a good defense for the bulk of the game. It’s not a pleasant thing to think about and I don’t enjoy it. I think that’s what’s gonna happen, though. New England hilariously has 17 players listed as Questionable headed into this one. We might get N’Keal Harry back, though!!!

MNF: Minnesota Vikings (-3) at Chicago Bears

Man, this is a tough one. One one hand, inexplicably getting trounced by a team that’s lost 3 in a row and will be without its starting RB and possibly its #1 WR would be an extremely Vikings thing to do. On the other hand, the Bears are currently being quarterbacked by a man whose play drove Troy Aikman to the brink of homicidal insanity a week ago. I guess I’ll go with the team who can complete forward passes at a reasonable clip, but I don’t feel that great about it. A fun wrinkle to this game is that due to the aforementioned absence of Chicago’s primary ball-carrier, Cordarrelle Patterson is expected to get extended work out of the backfield as a runner. This may really only be exciting for myself and Soused, as we’re longtime Cordarrelle fanboys. WE WILL BE VINDICATED.

Last Week’s Record: 4-9 (Shit!)

Season Record: 58-63-4

[fapangel]

199 chars, I got cites. I'll stick to actions and militia/cult behavior. The sniper attack on power station citation is you missing my point. Antifa has no weapon stockpiles or military training. The groups law enforcement see as a threat are the militias: "Law Enforcement Assessment of the Violent Extremist Threat". PBS: "armed militia groups surging across nation" Cult stuff: Business Insider:"right-wing-militias-recruit-young-soldiers-on-4chan-2017-5" psychologytoday:"the mind the militias".

Firstoff, pastebin.com is definitely the go-to for things like this -there’s no way anyone can make a cohesive argument in that tiny askbox. Just say “pastebin: and it’ll get you past that “no URLs”filter tumblr imposes. But I can answer these points/sources here: 

Have you heard of the John Brown club? They’rean antifa group - the usual insane anarchists - and they’re showingup at protests carrying loaded weapons. The Phoenix group inthat article made a video of themselves doingrange practice. I believe that qualifies as training, youknow, with those weapons you say they don’t have.What fucking training do you think the right-wingmilitias have besides target shooting and playing paintball in thewoods? In other words, exactly what these people are doing? 

And what the fuck do you mean stockpiles? Bro,I don’t know if you’re aware, but we live in America - you know,that free country? If you want a gun, are over 21,and don’t have a felony conviction on your record, you can walkinto any store, do 5 minutes of paperwork, wait for them to call theFBI background-check database and walk out with a new long gun. It’sthat fuckin simple. And they’re not that expensive either, you canget a decentAR-15 pattern rifle for under $500, easily. Same for ammo -you can easily buy bulk, online. The only state where both of thoseare harder is California, and I imagine that suits the huge mobs ofclub-armed antifa cunts just fine, because semi-auto firearms with large reloadable magazines are the best way to counter thugs that badly outnumber you. Stockpiles? That crazy fuck that shot the hell out of a US Representative and two Capitol police officers was using an SKS, a fucking WWII era Soviet rifle that loads from the top with fucking stripper clips. And look how much damage he did - it’s only pure dumb luck that nobody was killed or mortally wounded. 

... stockpiles?  Just how much do you know about guns? Here’s what I found in literally five goddamned seconds on ammoseek.com - you got $290, a credit card, and a shipping address? There you go, a thousand goddamned rounds of .223 Remington. Want two thousand? Three? Change the number in the “quantity” box.

Stockpiles? 

Anyway, I’m not surprised that PBS and pals are back at their fake news, doing their damnedest to gin up right-wing militias as the real threat even as they reply to attack after violent attack by radical Islamists with hey - not all Muslims! Yes, that is the trend; witness this Atlantic article trying to justify it.  But that’s beside the point. For starters, if you haven’t read my 6,500 word post on left wing vs right wing violence and violent rhetoric, I go into some depth with the whole militia thing there. For all their LARPing in the woods, swaggering and shit-talking, there hasn’t been any significant violence committed by right-wing militias since... forever, considering that Timothy McVeigh was never really part of one - and his attack was twenty-two years ago. Moreover, I cover how his attack - and the attention it drew to the militia movement - sent anywhere from “2/3rds” to “80%” (according to two different militia-affiliated folks being interviewed) scrambling away from them at high speed. Protip - actual terrorist organizations tend to attract attention when they manage huge, spectacular attacks - you know, like how Black Lives Matter is still going strong after multiple ambush attacks on cops? Gee. 

And that brings us to the essential point -  if these militias are really dangerous, and not just a bunch of shit-talking LARPers playing soldier in the woods - then where’s the violence? Again, as I document in that post, the only “cells” they find are a few shitheads talking shit in a bar too close to an FBI informant that eggs them on - one of them even gave them free automatic rifles to shoot, to get them all excited. 

As for this study, it’s a start, but this paper freely and breezily equates “anti-government extremism” with “right-wing extremism,” and that’s a false equivalency - because Antifa are anarcho-communists. Just read their handy-dandy guide to setting up an antifa group, where they call the state their enemy multiple times - as well as cops. Shit, they have a whole section on “state repression.” Also note the bit under “political orientation,” where they openly state - in case there was any doubt - that the majority of their membership in the US are anarchists. In case you weren’t aware, anarchists are, by definition, anti-government extremists. The list on page 4 covers “anti-capitalist violent extremism,” but considering that antifa are anarchists and anti-capitalists - where do they fall in the reporting? Did every agency report them the same? In light of antifa’s own literature (again, that guide) advocating strongly that they not even name their groups and keep their identities secret as long as possible, how accurate is each agencies accounting? Hell, where do right-wing terrorist groups fall on this scale, considering there’s several anti-immigration militias that focus on finding and reporting illegal immigrants? Doesn’t that qualify as racist? Or are they anti-government, considering that anti-government sentiments tend to run pretty strong in groups like that, especially with a black Democrat in office who personally did as much as he could to hamper border control efforts?

Shit, by their own admission on page 4, they defined “Al-Qaeda inspired violent extremism” as “violent extremism inspired by the radical Islamist ideas advocated by al-Qaeda and other like-minded extremist groups,” and every other category with one general example; “violent extremism motivated by any other political, social, or religious concerns, including, but not limited to, anti-government, racist, radical, environmentalist, or anti-capitalist views. Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh, the Unabomber (Ted Kaczynski,) and the Sikh temple shooter, Wade Michael Page, are examples of ‘other violent extremists.” So they only define one category well, loosely define the others, and then they start standing around characterizing the results with terminology (right wing, left wing) they didn’t even use in the fucking survey? When all those other categories were lumped together into “other violent extremism” in other categories? 

And then there’s other data-sets - one just adds up every every crime committed by “groups or individuals with far-right associations,” (which would include every skinhead robbing a gas station, which they do a lot, because skinheads are dime-store hoods almost by definition,) and the well defined report - focusing on premeditated plots by individuals or groups that rise to the level of attempted or actual domestic terrorism,” has a whopping total of... 34 incidents listed in 14 years, and is published by the Anti-Defamation League, which is a fucking activist group, not academics, or law enforcement. Wew lad. The Global Terrorism database is better - more data, and a good definition of qualifying incidents - but it’s only being compared to Islamic extremist terrorist attacks in the US, not left wing domestic terrorism, which is what we’re discussing here. 

Bruh, this is some pretty rough shit, here - all twelve pages of it. Especially that bit at the end where they make a claim about how law enforcement agencies see “right wing terrorism” (a phrase used nowhere in their survey to said law enforcement agencies) as a bigger threat in the city than in rural areas. Yeah, dense urban areas, which overwhelmingly vote Democrat, as anyone who’s seen a county-by-county electoral map can tell you, are the hotbeds of right-wing militias? 

Bruh. Bruh. 

But, listen, you’re actually doing your fucking homework here, which is more than most assholes can say, so lemme help you. The FBI is a great resource here - not only do they publicly publish huge annual reports on all sorts of categories of violence, (law enforcement officers killed and assaulted, general crime stats, hate crime stats, etc,) but they watch fucking everyone. There is no group too big or too small for them to not worry about - they’re basically a domestic surveillance agency. That’s why you have agents going out of their way to hand out automatic rifles to a trio of knuckle-dragging rednecks to egg them on till they can arrest them - these guys have time and resources to spare, apparently. They watch everyone - and they cover them, too, with published reports. I’ve read their reports on motorcycle gangs, and in researching that big post on violence, I found (and used) their public information on the “Sovereign Citizen” movement, which is definitely right-wing. While we’re at it, here’s their page on anarchist extremism. Note that page is out of date, though: 

For today’s generation of American anarchist extremists, the rioting that disrupted the 1999 World Trade Organization meetings in Seattle is the standard by which they measure “success”—it resulted in millions of dollars in property damage and economic loss and injuries to hundreds of law enforcement officers and bystanders. But fortunately, they haven’t been able to duplicate what happened in Seattle… 

LOL HAMBURG. But you get my point - the FBI watches everyone, even esoteric groups like anti/pro abortion “activists” that get a little out of hand. So the FBI is an excellent primary source to go to - certainly better than another PBS hit piece which is also regurgitating data from the “Anti-Defamation League” and making claims of “thousands” of people flooding to the Sovereign Citizen movement, without citing any source at all. Especially when they started in on how dangerous sovereign citizens are! As I noted in my big effortpost (see that for the links,) Sovereign Citizens managed to kill six police officers since the year 2000 - but twenty officers have been ambushed and murdered in 2016 alone, with multiple attacks committed by black people acting on black separatist/revolutionary rhetoric, including the Dallas shooting (killing five and wounding nine) and the Baton Rouge shooting nobody seems to have heard about (killing three and wounding three.) The latest ambush murder of a police officer in New York was similarly motivated - I haven’t even counted the ambush killings of cops in 2017 yet. But yeah, man, the fuckin right wing millitias are the real threat! Hooooo boy, how fucking hard can they shill? 

Anyway, here’s the FBI’s resources page, complete with all their copious reports in .pdf format, including several on terrorism related topics. I’ll bet $5 you can make a better argument than fuckin PBS with just what you find here. I’d also track down the sources cited in that 12 page “paper” you linked and read them yourself, see what you can get out of them. That should be a good start, at least. 

[avecorviidae]

Fic: Aubade - Chapter Seven

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Rating: M Relationship(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou Word Count: 4004

Ao3 Link

As with most things, they clearly haven’t thought this through.

Still, even when they’re folded up and empty, cardboard boxes are clunky and difficult to carry on buses and Ritsu is dreading carrying them back when they’re full, so when they leave the apartment at some point in the early afternoon to pack up Ritsu’s dorm room, they only bother taking the two boxes Shou had found tucked between a shelf and a wall in one of the hallway closets. Somehow, they mutually assume that this will be fine.

And the thing is, while they’re actually packing, it is fine. Ritsu had never really bothered to unpack most of his clothes in the past year, half out of pure laziness and half out of a reluctance to properly make himself at home in the dingy yellowish dorms, so they’d all still been sitting in a duffel bag in his closet that they’d stopped to grab last night. Probably the biggest bulk of space in the boxes ends up being taken up by his rented textbooks, which are the most expensive items he possesses and are as such stored safely under his mattress. He likes to think that at the very least, he’s sleeping on top of a small fortune that he can pawn off on the black market for drug money when his life inevitably spirals out of control.

For someone who doesn’t really have that much stuff, Ritsu learns that he apparently has a lot of stuff, as Matsuo keeps drifting in and out of the room with new things that Ritsu half-remembers buying in his frantic fit of oh-god-why-are-these-people-content-to-live-in-filth that had embodied his first week in the dorms, before he’d brought everyone’s standard of living up drastically with things like dish soap and bleach spray.

More than half of the stuff that Matsuo brings in Ritsu tells him to keep, because his former roommates are dysfunctional wrecks of human beings who don’t really understand that every house should probably have its own mop bucket, and Ritsu will be buying one of his own, thanks anyways, dude, but he and Shou end up being quite proud of how economically they pack the stuff that they do take. They close up the boxes with the roll of packing tape they’d dug out of one of Ritsu’s desk drawers, feeling perfectly satisfied with themselves, and Ritsu wonders why on earth freshmen tend to show up with an entire moving truck’s worth of boxes shoved into the backs of their parents’ cars.

And then Shou tries to pick up one of the boxes.

Again, they clearly didn’t think this through.

They, much like their two boxes that they have chocked full of Ritsu’s shit, are absolutely fucking dense.

Ritsu watches with a vague sense of horror as Shou manages to wedge his fingers under the box and slowly but surely stagger to his feet, veering precariously from side to side like a thin tree in a strong breeze. There is a part of him, small but there nonetheless, that really wants to give Shou a gentle push to see if it’ll tip him over.

The rational human being part finally kicks in and he grabs the other side of the box, and although their combined strengths are still somehow meager in comparison to the Heaviest Box Ever Packed, it’s enough to steadily lower it onto the floor, and they manage to set it down with minimal trouble and only a couple of fingers crushed underneath it.

For a few moments, they both just stand on either side of the thing, Shou’s hands on his hips and Ritsu’s crossed over his chest.

“Well,” Shou says tonelessly.

“Well,” Ritsu echoes, equally so.

“We’re dumb, huh,” Shou says, eyes wide and distant in surprise as if he’s just now realized this. Ritsu nods.

-

“Ritsu,” Shou hisses half an hour later, “we’re really dumb.”

Ritsu is back on the floor, cross-legged with his chin in his hands, trying to work through a plan, so he barely spares this comment a second thought.

“Yeah,” he replies absently, considering the logistics of taking one of those rolling box-carrying things that come in moving trucks on a bus. Of course, even if they did get it on the bus by some miracle of physics, they’d still have to return it eventually, which would be a real bore, and jeez, all of this sort of thing had been way easier when they’d had Reigen to drive them around in his janky used car.

He blinks back into focus to find himself staring straight at Shou’s knees. He follows them upwards to find Shou looking down at him with an expression like he’s had a religious sort of revelation. With an oddly apt sense of comedic timing, one of the boxes floats into view behind him, surrounded by an orange-pink haze.

“Ah,” Ritsu says serenely. “We’re fucking dumb.”

-

Shou taps him on the shoulder about halfway through the bus ride home, snapping Ritsu violently out of his thoughts. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s got on a concerned frown and his eyes are questioning, so Ritsu’s guessing some of his thoughts must’ve seeped into his expression.

Shit. He hadn’t even realized he’d zoned out. Maybe moving vehicles just make me weird, he thinks, somewhat absently.

“I’m just…” he sighs, then trails off, waving his hands vaguely at the boxes on the seats across from them. Thankfully, the bus is mostly devoid of people, so they’d only received a few mildly horrified stares when they’d floated onto the bus behind the two of them.

“It’s weird,” he says finally. “That my entire life fits into two boxes and a duffel bag. That’s it, that’s everything. It just doesn’t sit right with me, that I can pick up everything that’s been mine the last year and just go.” It makes even less sense out loud than it did in his head and he feels kind of stupid for trying to articulate it, but it’s as close as he thinks he’s going to get and, well, if anyone’s going to understand what he’s trying to say, it’s Shou.

Shou squints over at the boxes for a few moments, before turning and nudging one with the toe of his shoe. “Well,” he says, tone considering, “not unless you’re gonna try and fit me in one of those boxes.” He blinks, then adds, “Or your brother. Or Pops. Or the microwave in the apartment, actually, because if we ever move out I’m stealing it.”

Ritsu sighs, but there’s no heat in it. They’re already pressed pretty close in the bus seats, touching more or less from thighs to shoulders, but he finds himself leaning a little closer anyways, feeling weirdly light in the chest when Shou’s head drops onto his shoulder and stays there for the rest of the ride.

-

Being in the apartment is weird. It feels like looking at a puzzle that’s missing every third piece, or an optical illusion where it all seems to work out logically until suddenly there’s a crucial gap and then it all falls apart. Objectively, they have most of the pieces required to make this apartment a lived-in place, but there’s something missing from everything, just one little crucial piece that should tie it together. They’ve got a stovetop and a fridge and drawers and cabinets in the kitchen, and a thousand little knick-knacks from the dorm, but they’ve got no pots or pans or spoons or spatulas, nothing that’d actually make it usable. They’ve got closets and clothes, but no hangers, so they’re both still living out of their suitcases. They need shelves for books, bags for the trash, plates and cutlery for the food.

It’s kind of driving Ritsu fucking insane.

-

It goes down kind of like this:

On day two, after they’ve recovered Ritsu’s stuff from the dorm, they stock up on basic necessities at a tiny, on-the-go sort of grocery store that they find just down the street. Paper plates, plastic cutlery and cups for now, until they can go on a big shopping trip. Milk, eggs, snack foods, that sort of thing. They realize as soon as they get home that they’ve forgotten bread, but Shou’s trying to figure out how the fuck getting new internet works and Ritsu’s preoccupied with a mysterious stain on the bathroom wall, so neither of them can really be bothered to go back and get it.

On day three, Ritsu finds Shou attempting to construct a sandwich by precariously stacking up Decidedly Not Sandwich Ingredients. He notices Ritsu leaning in the doorway and freezes, one hand still halfway between the bag of doritos and the abomination on the countertop, looking for all the world like a raccoon that just got caught pilfering a trash can. Ritsu leaves the room, takes three deep breaths, then takes Shou’s wallet and goes to buy bread.

On day four, he wakes up at around five in the morning to the sound of unfamiliar traffic outside of his window, which is getting really fucking annoying. He gently advises his mind to get the fuck over it already because they live here now, you’re gonna have to get used to that, and then decides he’ll just get some water or something and then try to go back to sleep.

In the kitchen, Shou is committing a war crime.

More specifically, he’s got a box of cereal Ritsu doesn’t remember buying in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other, and appears to be trying to pour cereal into his mouth, hold it there, then tilt his head back far enough to pour milk in afterwards.

Shou spots Ritsu mid-milk pour and spends a good few minutes almost choking to death, though somewhat impressively, manages not to spill the milk at all. As soon as he’s breathing again, Ritsu points one finger directly at Shou’s nose and says, “You. Me. IKEA. Today.”

He goes back to bed.

-

They realize that this could get somewhat complicated without a car.

See, when Ritsu’s parents had ever bought anything big from IKEA, the type that came folded up in big boxes in the terrifying warehouse before the checkout, it’d ended up in the trunk of the car, or strapped precariously to the top of the car, or crushing him and Mob in the back of the car. Point being, the car had been a constant. He and Shou are decidedly carless, and their internet isn’t set up yet, so they can’t just order stuff online. Ritsu morally objects to managing an entire furniture order on a tiny phone screen, no matter how good Shou’s data plan is.

They employ their usual solution to problems.

-

TO: DAD Dad we need help being functioning adults

FROM: DAD Who’s in hospital?

TO: DAD ………….No one??? I think????? we need to get big things from IKEA

FROM: DAD ...I see. You know they deliver, right? Like, you go to the store, tell them what you want, and then they take it in a big ol’ truck to your place. It’s on their website and everything. I swear you used to be the one with common sense.

TO: DAD I gave it to one of my professors in exchange for an A on a paper Also no internet yet

FROM: DAD Fair. Good luck, kid. Try not to kill each other when it turns out you don’t actually know how to use a screwdriver.

-

IKEA appears over the horizon like a great blue leviathan, immediately compelling the two of them into awed silence as they stare at it through the bus window.

While Ritsu’s content to look out of the window for a while, he’s inevitably drawn back to Shou, whose gaze seems to be transfixed on IKEA with just a tad too much genuine trepidation. It’s almost as if…

There’s no fucking way.

“Shou,” he begins hesitantly, “have you ever actually… been inside of an IKEA?”

Shou whips around to glare at him, a furious pink flush rising on his cheeks. You’d think someone who acts as cool as him wouldn’t be so easy to tease, he thinks with a grin, and yet.

“Shut up,” Shou hisses, trying to elbow Ritsu in the ribs, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile he’s trying to suppress. “Do you not remember who my dad was? He wouldn’t buy furniture from anywhere within like, a five mile radius of a place like this, he was afraid he might accidentally touch a commoner or something.”

Ritsu ignores this entirely, instead leaning close to Shou and plastering on a Teru-worthy smirk. “Well,” he says, pitching his voice embarrassingly low and doing a godawful impression of a seductive lilt, “I’m honoured to be your first, Mister Suzuki.”

It’s the kind of dumb shit Shou pulls on him all the time, so it’s incredibly gratifying when Shou immediately starts spluttering, possibly choking on his own spit, then doubling over and wheezing “I hate you,” in between hacked laughs. When Shou finally looks up, his face is bright red and there are tear tracks on his face, his grin twitching like it’s threatening to break out into another giggling fit. “Fuck you,” he says, whacking Ritsu halfheartedly in the chest, “take me out to dinner first. Buy me IKEA meatballs, asshole.”

-

As soon as they walk inside and go up the escalator into the showroom, Shou’s enraptured. Ritsu can’t blame him. Reigen had once said that IKEA contained the organized, smooth Swedish aesthetic that all Hot Messes secretly aspire to, and honestly? Ritsu is feeling it already.

Shou perches on the edge of some sleek black pleather sofa, squinting around with an indeterminable expression. After some time, he declares, “We live here now.” “They will probably try to kick us out when the store closes, you realize,” Ritsu tries to reason.

“Try,” Shou echoes, nodding agreeably.

-

When you’re a kid, you’re more likely to accept weird stuff that happens to you. Ritsu doesn’t just say this because he grew up with a brother possessed of terrifyingly powerful psychic abilities; he’s pretty sure it’s universally true. The unnatural qualities of the world seem a whole lot less noticeable when you're a little kid and the boundaries of your natural world aren’t clearly defined.

Case in point: Ritsu is just now coming to realize that IKEA is a sentient building with labyrinthine qualities.

They spend their first little while in the showroom sitting on every soft surface and staring at lamps that look like bizarre enemies from some futuristic sci-fi video game. Ritsu tries to ignore the niggling feeling that the building looked too small from the outside to have this many turns in it. Instead, he picks up one of the massive blue crinkly bags and hands it to Shou, who holds it up and says, “Hideous. Absolutely awful. I love it.” “Wow, thanks Hanazawa.”

In one of the rooms clearly designed for pre-teens, they find a bunk bed decked out in fairy lights and Shou plops down on it immediately to take selfies in the lighting. Ritsu takes the opportunity to text Teru to have a very serious conversation about comfort versus style, the subject of the argument being an armchair in a truly unsettling shade of green that sits in the corner of Mob and Teru’s living room which also, apparently, can be found in an IKEA showroom.

“It was really soft, though,” Shou points out, chin resting on Ritsu’s shoulder so he can read off of his phone. “That’s not the point,” he replies, betrayed in the deepest sense.

At one point Shou physically clambers into a bed, kicking off his shoes and crawling under the covers. He pulls the quilt up over his nose when Ritsu tries to drag him out, but he can still see the grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re gonna get us kicked out,” he says tiredly. At almost the same exact time, he looks across the showroom and sees a woman in an IKEA shirt stretched out on one of the couches, pillow over her face and fast asleep.

Ritsu toes off his shoes and climbs in next to Shou.

The bathrooms are Ritsu’s personal favourite, usually dark and aggressively sleek, the perfect style for his residual emo soul. He’s been taking pictures of the tags of stuff they’re actually going to buy, so he doesn’t quite notice where Shou’s wandered off to until he turns around from a bathroom sink and spots him in a shower stall, calling him over with a wave of his hand. Ritsu steps inside, ducking his head under the bar for the shower curtain and noting with some interest the glossy black tiles that cover the walls.

He almost startles when Shou reaches over and pulls the shower curtain closed with a flourish, leaving them enclosed in the shower stall, somehow still mysteriously lit by no lamp that Ritsu can see. He shoots Shou a questioning look, only to snort when Shou leans back against the shower wall, a hand over his heart and eyelashes fluttering.

“Why, Mister Kageyama,” he says, all false coquettishness, “Cornering a young girl like me alone in a place like this? How scandalous.” Payback for the bus, he thinks as it suddenly clicks into place. He considers giving Shou the reaction he wants, a laugh and a shove on the shoulder and possibly a comment about exactly how classy making out in an IKEA shower stall is, but the reaction he’d gotten earlier was too good to resist playing along with the joke.

He shamelessly uses his height advantage when he steps into Shou’s space, one leg between Shou’s and a hand propped casually on the wall beside his head. He leans down so that their noses are almost touching, and says low, “Well with you standing here all gorgeous like this, how could I resist?”

It’s pathetic joke flirting, some cheesy disaster line out of every old black and white movie he’s ever watched with his mother, so he doesn’t quite expect it when Shou seems to freeze, eyes wide and locked onto Ritsu’s. It’s only for a few seconds, a barely noticeable pause before Shou’s howling with laughter as he pushes past him out of the shower, but Ritsu gets caught on it, on the hitch he thought he’d heard in Shou’s breath, on the way he feels oddly wired, like his skin is buzzing from the proximity, and what the fuck had just happened?

Still, he shrugs it off as probably nothing and steps out into the bathroom after Shou. He seems to have shaken the… whatever it was off pretty quickly as well, because he turns to Ritsu with a grin and says, “Can we go back and look at those weird round chairs again?” To which Ritsu shrugs and nods, and leads them out of the bathroom–

And into a completely unfamiliar part of the showroom.

Ritsu looks behind him and squints. See, as far as he’d been able to see, that bathroom had only had one entrance and exit, that being the one he had just come out of. And logically following, the one he had originally come through to get there in the first place. So how in the everloving hell had they just walked out into new and strange territory? “Oh, this place is so fucking with us,” Shou whispers next to him, like he’s afraid that IKEA will hear him and get angry. Ritsu, irrationally sharing that fear, just nods.

-

A couple of hours in, they have a shopping cart carrying two blue IKEA bags filled with Household Necessities, probably more spoons than are strictly necessary in a cutlery set, and a toilet roll holder inexplicably called GRUNDTAL, because the Swedish are conspiring against him.

They are also both starving to death, and Ritsu hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the supposed restaurant since they arrived. Eventually they drift over to one of the huge “YOU ARE HERE” maps, which Ritsu swears changes in basic layout each time he looks at one, and heave a collective sigh when it tells them that the café is pretty much on the other side of the building. Ritsu looks from the room around him to the map a few times, trying to orient himself, but finds that it’s all for nought because Shou has already chosen a random direction and started walking.

Now, Ritsu has learned to expect that every time they turn a corner, they will encounter a room they’ve never been in before. It’s happened on literally every single turn they’ve taken since they arrived in the showroom.

He’s not exactly prepared to follow Shou around a corner and find himself face to face with the supposedly-miles-away café. He and Shou exchange a look, and Shou silently mouths “it knows” with wide eyes. Ritsu is inclined to agree, and so chooses not to ask any more questions. He’s just happy to have food.

Partially for the sake of the joke and partially for propriety, Ritsu does end up buying Shou’s meatballs, which he devours with vigor. Ritsu has a weird sandwich… thing, which isn’t bad, but tastes distinctly and weirdly European. Over a piece of some chocolate dessert cake, Shou says, “So what now? Do we have everything?”

Ritsu does a halfhearted rummage through the bags at their feet, and scrolls through the pictures of tags on his phone. Floor lamps, shelves, dressers, cutlery, plates, chairs, he mentally counts off, though he’s been doing it all day in his head. He’s pretty sure they’ve got everything and more, including all of the extra whatsits that Shou had thrown in the bags along the way. “Yep. The website says that we should flag down an employee and ask them to draw up an order, or something, that we can take down to the checkouts. That way we’ll be buying the big furniture and the delivery costs, and I think we can arrange the delivery dates and times down there.”

He frowns at the thought of going over and asking one of the employees. It’s not that he can’t, or that he won’t, but for whatever reason he feels like he’s going to make an idiot of himself by asking. Which is silly, because he’d gotten through their apartment hunt with the landlords no problem, but then he’d rehearsed for that and there was protocol and social etiquette, and he’s not sure what the procedure is for this, or if it’s even actually a thing or just something that they don’t even offer anymore and they just haven’t taken it off their website, or–

“Okay, cool,” Shou says around a mouthful of cake, inadvertently interrupting his train of thought. “Gimme your phone?”

Ritsu hands it over without thinking, and blinks when Shou is gone, halfway across the room before he can process the movement and chatting animatedly with someone in an IKEA shirt. He watches for about ten minutes as Shou scrolls through pictures on his phone, waiting for the IKEA guy to copy it onto some tablet he’s holding. The two of them walk out of view for a few minutes, and Ritsu can’t quite help the small smile on his face when Shou starts walking back towards their table, a small packet of paper held triumphantly above his head.

He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. That’s the worst of it done with, then.

-

That was in no way the worst of it. The path downstairs to the checkouts was a disaster zone full of shiny things for Shou to touch and buy, and Ritsu ends up following closely behind Shou’s heels, putting the infinite number of colourful ice cube trays and bright orange photo frames carefully back into their rightful spots.

Somehow, when they get home and start unpacking their bags, Ritsu still finds no less than three sets of one hundred tiny candles. Asshole pyromaniac.

[racingtoaredlight]

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 7 Extravapalooza

With the way the COVID-19 situation in America (and lots of other places around the world) is rapidly heading in the wrong direction, I’m beginning to genuinely wonder if the NFL is going to have to pause the season for a few weeks as some states potentially decide that the gatherings that come with staging a football game are less than necessary. 

Once the league decided to start the season as scheduled, I figured there was no way they’d stop the train once it began lurching forward, even if some unlucky teams were forced to start someone like Brian Hoyer at QB instead of their normal guy. Ahem. But, I also didn’t think things would deteriorate virus-spread wise quite to this degree. I was really giving us as a society way too much credit, it would appear. Given the resistance to the first round of shutdown measures, I think there’s a real possibility that shit could hit the fan in a way few of us have seen before if another batch were implemented, but it seems like the only option going forward for some places if they don’t get their shit together. Our choices in the very near future appear to be: court massive civil unrest spurred on by the very worst among us, or do nothing and let many of those same people carry disease to every corner of the country as hospitals become overwhelmed and people die alone and miserable. Hooray for letting the dumbest assholes dictate the courses of everyone else’s lives. 

Now for some football picks!!!

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Detroit Lions at Atlanta Falcons (-2)

Ah, a team who recently fired their terrible head coach against a team who desperately needs to. I’m glad it finally appears to be dawning on Detroit’s offensive braintrust that D’Andre Swift is the best RB on the team and thus should get the bulk of the touches. You could even say he deserves the LION’S SHARE. Sorry. 

I was ready to declare Matt Ryan officially washed heading into last week’s games, but then he went out and threw for 371 and 4 TDs against the (admittedly trash-ass) Vikings defense, and now I just don’t know. Does having Julio Jones in the lineup really make that much of a difference for him? Maybe! This game should be enjoyable slop and I don’t have any strong leanings one way or another. I’ll pick the Falcons just because a Lions loss gets them one step closer to freedom from their dipshit Goomba-from-Mario-Bros-lookin’ motherfucker of a head coach.

Cleveland Browns (-3.5) at Cincinnati Bengals

I like to make fun of the Browns just like everyone else, but I’d prefer to see less digital ink spilled on QB Baker Mayfield’s crappy play and more celebration of DE Myles Garrett instead. Garrett is AWESOME. Through 6 games he has 7 sacks (2nd in the NFL) and 3 forced fumbles (also 2nd in the league), and those numbers don’t fully capture how disruptive and nightmarish he is for opposing offenses most weeks. Sure, he maybe tried to kill a guy with his helmet last year, but c’mon. That was just a harmless little goof. No reason to hold it against him, in my opinion. Like, have you seen what Mason Rudolph looks like? He had it coming.

I feel bad every time I pick against Joe Burrow because I want he and I to be friends, but *points to previous paragraph about how Myles Garrett swallows planets whole*.

Pittsburgh Steelers at Tennessee Titans (-1.5)

Last week I wrote a whole big thing (with stats to back it up!) in the Titans blurb about how Derrick Henry wasn’t playing well and was potentially wearing down, and then he proceeded to rush for over 200 yards and 2 TDs, including an unreal 94-yarder. I concede that I may have been misguided, and that attempting to use research is for lameass nerds. That said, I HIGHLY doubt he’ll have a huge day against the Steelers defense, but the combo of Henry and the Ryan Tannehill-led passing game should be able to put up enough points to win. 

These teams are both very good and very evenly matched, but I don’t want to pick Pittsburgh because I actively dislike them. You won’t find that kind of analysis on Football Outsiders, friends.

Carolina Panthers at New Orleans Saints (-7)

New Orleans will be without WRs Michael Thomas and Emmanuel Sanders for this one, and I think QB Drew Brees is too far over-the-hill to make chicken salad out of the chicken shit that remains in their group of pass catchers. RB Alvin Kamara is great, but he can’t do it by himself. Oh, and speaking of Michael Thomas, a report came out yesterday that the Saints are open to dealing him. This report came from Mike Florio, so grain of salt and all, but it did lead to me reading a rumor that Thomas’ teammates hate him and secretly call him “Can’t Stand Mike,” a play on his “Can’t Guard Mike” Twitter handle. I found this hilarious and very much want it to be true.

Let’s raise a glass to Panthers backup RB and fantasy football savior Mike Davis, as his gravy train likely comes to a halt after today with the impending return of Christian McCaffery. The New Orleans rush defense is very good, so I don’t see him going out in a blaze of glory, but his out-of-nowhere statistical bonanza deserves to be celebrated.

Buffalo Bills (-10) at New York Jets

LOL Jets Head Coach Adam Gase still hasn’t been fired despite losing 24-0 to Miami last week. What’s it gonna take, I wonder? A second consecutive shutout may do it, but the Bills defense has been terrible, so it’ll take a real commitment to ineptitude for the Jets to put up their second squadoosh in a row. NY QB Sam Darnold is returning to the lineup, but he’s going to be without his best weapon, WR Jamison Crowder. I honestly feel terrible for poor Sam, as he was drafted into the worst situation I can remember. At least David Carr was hit enough that he likely doesn’t remember ALL of the bad stuff. 

Nearly all of the Bills’ TEs are in the COVID-19 protocol, so I’m not sure how they’re gonna address that. BRING BACK JAY RIEMERSMA!

Dallas Cowboys at Washington Football Team (-1)

The Cowboys being underdogs against Washington is hilarious, even more so because it’s justified. I thought QB Andy Dalton would do a decent job leading the Cowboys offense last week against Arizona, and I was very, very wrong. I still think he can get his shit together somewhat, but the ceiling for this team has been lowered to “Darren Sproles might have to duck a bit” height. I can only condone watching this game for schadenfreude purposes, but even that’s stretching it. Any more than a quarter is just straight-up masochism.

Green Bay Packers (-3.5) at Houston Texans

I’m simultaneously excited to watch this game and struggling to come up with anything novel to say about it. I’m interested to see how Green Bay deploys their awesome CB Jaire Alexander, as whichever Texans WR avoids him is likely to be peppered with targets. Shoutout to Will Fuller’s hamstrings for holding up so far and allowing him to kick ass. 

As of right now it looks like Green Bay will be without studly RB Aaron Jones and sexy touchdown beast TE Robert Tonyan, which isn’t great. But, if there’s one opponent where you should still be ok using a backup RB, it’s the Houston Texans and their atrocious rush defense. Wait, why am I picking Houston? Whatever, fuck it, the heart wants what the heart wants.

LATE GAMES

Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A couple of days ago, it looked like the entire Las Vegas offensive line might miss this game due to being placed on the COVID-19/Reserve list. As of this writing, all those beefy boys are cleared to play, which is good news since they’re going against Tampa Bay’s top-shelf defense (ranked #1 in defensive DVOA). Even with their full compliment of offensive personnel, I still predict many hilarious angry and frustrated faces from Jon Gruden.

Tampa Bay has decided to sign WR Antonio Brown, despite already having two Pro Bowl-caliber receivers in Mike Evans and Chris Godwin. It’s pretty clear this signing was done entirely because QB Tom Brady wanted it, as Brady has been pushing for his team to sign Brown going back to last year in New England. It’s so weird, Tom Brady doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would advocate for an emotionally unstable and supremely narcissistic accused rapist who’s left multiple organizations in disarray upon his unceremonious departure.  

Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Denver Broncos

Fuck yeah, our first potential snow game of the year! The gametime forecast as of right now calls for 5-degree windchill temps with a 35-40 percent chance of flakes throughout. That sounds horrible to play in, but glorious to watch. If we don’t get at least one shot of steam rising off of an offensive lineman’s head I’m gonna be pissed. I’m curious to see what Kansas City does with newly acquired RB Le’Veon Bell in this game. He’s definitely played in more winter-weather games than my boy Clyde Edwards-Helaire, so do they give him more carries this week than they would normally? I hope not, but I can definitely see the argument for it.

San Francisco 49ers at New England Patriots (-3)

I’m a little shaken (relatively, I’m not a complete lunatic) by how shitty New England, and Cam Newton in particular, looked against Denver last week. The lack of practice time due to multiple COVID-related outbreaks is a valid reason for it, but still. I think the Niners are the much better team when healthy, but they’re gonna be missing their best RB Raheem Mostert for this game (and the next few), which does impede their power-run game somewhat. Backup Jerick McKinnon is still very good, he just has a different, less-demoralizing style. Handsome Jimmy will have to make some plays, and I think he can do just enough. The overall talent gap will be too much for NE to overcome, I fear.

Jacksonville Jaguars at Los Angeles Chargers (-7.5)

The Jags have lost five straight games coming into this one, while the Chargers have dropped four in a row. Something’s gotta give! I will say that the Jacksonville losses seem more depressing (3 of them were by double-digits), while even though L.A. is losing, they at least feel exciting. A shiny rookie QB who looks decent will do that, I guess. Still, I’m riding with my man Minshew to cover one last time here. If he fails, well, I think it’ll be time for us to go our separate ways. “Separate Ways” by Journey is also what plays in Gardiner Minshew’s helmet speaker instead of play calls, coincidentally. 

SNF: Seattle Seahawks (-3.5) at Arizona Cardinals

Seattle’s already abysmal secondary is going to be down Pro Bowl safety Jamal Adams for this one, so Cards QB Kyler Murray should be able to sling it around with relative ease. His best weapon, WR Deandre Hopkins is Questionable with a lingering ankle injury, but he’s been playing through it so far and it hasn’t seemed to slow him much. I think this is the week the magic runs out for the Seahawks, and they take their first L of the season. Russell Wilson can’t bail them out EVERY time. Probably. This game is likely to be the stylistic opposite of the Monday nighter, because...

MNF: Chicago Bears at Los Angeles Rams (-6)

...all signs point to this being a butt-ugly game. I like good defense, don’t get me wrong, but nobody should purposely watch Nick Foles and Jared Goff play QB against competent defenses. I suppose I can see some entertainment value in getting to see both Aaron Donald and Khalil Mack torment quarterbacks in the same game, but I think I’m gonna pass for the same reason that I don’t really like to watch animals get eaten in nature shows. I get that it’s the way things are meant to happen, but damn. I’m a real wimp, by the way.

Last Week’s Record: 7-7

Season Record: 44-38-4