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soon-palestine · 19 days

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The Palestine exception at CBC After October 7, I dreaded going into work: every shift, the impact of the biases went into overdrive. Even at this early stage, Israeli officials were making genocidal statements that were ignored in our coverage. On October 9, Defence Minister Yoav Gallant said, “I have ordered a complete siege on the Gaza Strip. There will be no electricity, no food, no fuel; everything is closed. We are fighting human animals and we act accordingly.” Even after this comment, my executive producer was still quibbling over uses in our scripts of the word “besieged” or references to the “plight of Palestinians.”

[..]

On October 20, I suggested having Hammam Farah, a Palestinian-Canadian psychotherapist, back on the network. In an earlier interview he had told us that his family were sheltering in Saint Porphyrius Greek Orthodox church in Gaza City. The following week, I learned from social media that his step-cousin had been killed in an Israeli airstrike on the 12th-century building. My executive producer responded to my pitch via instant message: “Yeah, if he’s willing. We also may have to potentially say we can’t verify these things though—unless we can.” I was stunned. Never in my nearly 6 years at CBC had I ever been expected to verify the death of someone close to a guest, or to put a disclaimer in an interview that we couldn’t fact-check such claims. That’s not a standard that producers had been expected to uphold—except, apparently, for Palestinians.

[..]

In early November, I was asked to oversee production of an interview with a former US official now working for the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, a pro-Israel think tank. During the interview, he was allowed to repeat a number of verifiably false claims live on air—including that Hamas fighters had decapitated babies on October 7 and that Gazan civilians could avoid being bombed if only they listened to the Israeli military and headed south. This was after civilian convoys fleeing southward via “safe routes” had been bombed by the Israeli military before the eyes of the world. As soon as I heard this second falsehood, I messaged my team suggesting that the host push back—but received no response. Afterwards, the host said she had let the comment slide because time was limited, even though she could have taken the time from a less consequential story later on in the program. The majority of Palestinian guests I spoke to during the first six weeks of Israel’s assault on Gaza all said the same thing: they wanted to do live interviews to avoid the risk of their words being edited or their interview not being aired. These were well-founded concerns. Never before in my career had so many interviews been cancelled due to fear of what guests might say. Nor had there ever been direction from senior colleagues to push a certain group of people to do pre-taped interviews. (CBC told The Breach it “categorically rejects” the claim that interviews were “routinely cancelled”.)

[]

Editing out ‘genocide’ Most shows on the network seemed to avoid airing any mention of “genocide” in the context of Gaza. On November 10, my senior producer pushed to cancel an interview I had set up with a Palestinian-Canadian entrepreneur, Khaled Al Sabawi. According to his “pre-interview”—a conversation that typically happens before the broadcastable interview—50 of his relatives had been killed by Israeli soldiers. The part of the transcript that concerned the senior producer was Al Sabawi’s claim that Netanyahu’s government had “publicly disclosed its intent to commit genocide.” He also took issue with the guest’s references to a “documented history of racism” and “apartheid” under Israeli occupation, as well as his suggestion that the Canadian government was complicit in the murder of Gazan civilians.

The senior producer raised his concerns via email to the executive producer, who then cc’ed one of the higher-up managers. The executive producer replied that it “sound[ed] like [his statement was] beyond opinion and factually incorrect.” The executive manager’s higher up chimed in, saying she thought the interview would be “too risky as a pre-tape or live [interview].”

Despite the guest’s position aligning with many UN experts and Western human rights organizations, the interview was cancelled. (CBC told The Breach “the guest turned down our offer of a pre-taped interview,” but Al Sabawi had said to the producers from the start that he would only do a live interview.) Never in my nearly 6 years at CBC had I ever been expected to verify the death of someone close to a guest. That’s not a standard that producers had been expected to uphold—except, apparently, for Palestinians.

In another instance, a Palestinian-Canadian guest named Samah Al Sabbagh, whose elderly father was then trapped in Gaza, had part of her pre-taped interview edited out before it went to air. She had used the word “genocide” and talked about the deliberate starvation of Palestinians in Gaza. The senior producer told me the edit was because of time constraints. But that producer and the host were overheard agreeing that the guest’s unedited words were too controversial. (CBC told The Breach it “has not ‘cancelled’ interviews with Palestinians because they reference genocide and apartheid.”) By November 2023, it was getting harder to ignore the brazen rhetoric coming from senior Israeli officials and the rate of civilian death, which had few precedents in the 21st century. But you wouldn’t have heard about these things on our shows, despite a number of producers’ best efforts. (By early 2024, the International Court of Justice’s hearings—and later its ruling that Israel refrain from actions that could “plausibly constitute” genocide—forcibly changed the discussion, and the word “genocide” finally made some appearances on CBC.)

But back in late October, I booked an interview with Adel Iskandar, Associate Professor of Global Communication at Simon Fraser University, to talk about language and propaganda from Israeli and Hamas officials. The host filling in that day was afraid of complaints, was concerned about the guest wanting to be interviewed live, and judged him to be biased. Yet again an interview was cancelled.

A secret blacklist? One Saturday in mid-October, I arrived at work shortly after the airing of an interview with the prominent Palestinian-Canadian lawyer and former spokesperson for the Palestine Liberation Organization, Diana Buttu. There had been a commotion, I was told. A producer from The National—the CBC’s flagship nightly news and current affairs program—had apparently stormed into the newsroom during the interview saying that Buttu was on a list of banned Palestinian guests and that we weren’t supposed to book her. I heard from multiple colleagues that the alleged list of banned Palestinian guests wasn’t official. Rather, a number of pro-Israel producers were rumoured to have drawn up their own list of guests to avoid. Later, I was told by the producer of the interview that, after the broadcast, Buttu’s details had mysteriously vanished from a shared CBC database. By then, I had also discovered that the name and contact details for the Palestinian Ambassador Mona Abuamara, who had previously been interviewed, had likewise been removed. It didn’t seem coincidental that both guests were articulate defenders of Palestinian rights. While producers distressed by the CBC’s coverage of Gaza were speaking in whispers, pro-Israeli colleagues felt comfortable making dehumanizing comments about Palestinians in the newsroom. In one case, I heard an associate producer speak disparagingly about a guest’s decision to wear a keffiyeh for an interview before commenting that “[the host] knows how to handle these people.” This guest had dozens of family members killed by the Israeli military in Gaza. It seemed the only Palestinian guest CBC was interested in interviewing was the sad, docile Palestinian who talked about their suffering without offering any analysis or solutions to end it. What they did not want was an angry Palestinian full of righteous indignation towards governments complicit in their family’s displacement and murder. At this stage, I was starting to feel nauseous at work. And then one Saturday night, that sickness turned into anger. I had been asked to finish production on a pre-taped interview with a “constructive dialogue” researcher on incidents of campus hostilities over the war and how to bring people together—the sort of interview CBC loves, as it’s a way to be seen covering the story without actually talking about what’s happening in Gaza. I carried out the task in good faith, writing an introduction leading with an example of antisemitism and then another of anti-Palestinian hate, taking care to be “balanced” in my approach. But my senior producer proceeded to remove the example of anti-Palestinian hate, replacing it with a wishy-washing “both sides” example, while leaving the specific serious incident of antisemitism intact. He also edited my wording to suggest that pro-Palestinian protesters on Canadian campuses were on the “side” of Hamas. I overheard the host thank the senior producer for the edits, on the basis that incidents of antisemitism were supposedly worse. While the introduction of these biases into my script was relatively minor compared to some other double standards I witnessed, it was a tipping point. I challenged the senior on why he had made my script journalistically worse. He made up a bad excuse. I told him I couldn’t do this anymore and walked out of the newsroom, crying.

Truth-telling about CBC That evening at home, the nausea and the anger dissolved, and for the first time in six weeks I felt a sense of peace. I knew it was untenable to stay at CBC. At a team meeting the following week, in mid-November, I said the things I had wanted to say since the start of Israel’s assault on Gaza. I prefaced the conversation by saying how much I loved my team and considered some coworkers friends. I said the problems weren’t unique to our team but across the CBC. But the frequency of Palestinian guests getting cancelled, the pressure to pre-tape this one particular group, in addition to the unprecedented level of scrutiny being placed on them, demonstrated a pattern of double standards. I said there seemed to be an unspoken rule around words like “genocide.” I pointed out that Arab and Muslim coworkers, especially those who were precariously employed, were scared of raising concerns, and that I and others had heard dehumanizing comments about Palestinians in the newsroom. (The CBC told The Breach that there “have been no specific reports of anti-Palestinian and Islamophobic comments in the newsroom for managers to respond to or follow up”.)

I said that two decades since the US-led invasion of Iraq, it was widely-acknowledged that the media had failed to do their jobs to interrogate the lies used to justify a war and occupation that killed one million Iraqis—and that as journalists we had a special responsibility to tell the truth, even if it was uncomfortable. A couple of coworkers raised similar concerns. Others rolled their eyes. (CBC told The Breach that it doesn’t recall there was anyone else who raised concerns in the meeting, but audio recordings show otherwise.) The question of why there was nervousness around this issue came up. I said one reason why we were adverse to allowing Palestinian guests to use the “G-word” was because of the complaint campaigns of right-wing lobby groups like HonestReporting Canada. Indeed, in just 6 weeks, there were already 19 separate instances of HonestReporting going after CBC journalists, including a host on our team. HonestReporting had also claimed responsibility for the firing at two other outlets of two Palestinian journalists, one of whom was on maternity leave at the time. All this had a chilling effect. Hosts and senior colleagues would frequently cite the threat of complaints as a reason not to cover Israel-Palestine. During my time there, a senior writer was even called into management meetings to discuss her supposed biases after a HonestReporting campaign targeted her. Her contract was cut short.

This policing of media workers’ output reinforced existing institutional tendencies that ensured CBC rarely deviated from the narrow spectrum of “legitimate” opinions represented by Canada’s existing political class. Certain CBC shows seemed to be more biased than others. The National was particularly bad: the network’s prime time show featured 42 per cent more Israeli voices than Palestinian in its first month of coverage after the Oct. 7 Hamas attack, according to a survey by The Breach. Although some podcasts and radio programs seemed to cover the war on Gaza in a more nuanced way, the problem of anti-Palestinian bias in language was pervasive across all platforms. According to an investigation in The Breach, CBC even admitted to this disparity, arguing that only the killing of Israelis merited the term “murderous” or “brutal” since the killing of Palestinians happens “remotely.” Images of children being flattened to death in between floors of an apartment building and reports of premature babies left to starve in incubators suggested otherwise.

It seemed the only Palestinian guest CBC was interested in interviewing was the sad, docile Palestinian who talked about their suffering without offering any analysis or solutions to end it.

I spoke to many like-minded colleagues to see if there was any action we could all take to push back on the tenor of our coverage, but understandably others were reluctant to act—even collectively—out of fear doing so would endanger their jobs. Some of those colleagues would have loved to have walked out, but financial responsibilities stopped them. There had been previous attempts at CBC to improve the public broadcaster’s coverage of Israel-Palestine. In 2021, hundreds of Canadian journalists signed an open letter calling out biases in the mainstream media’s treatment of the subject. A number of CBC workers who signed the letter were hauled into meetings and told they either weren’t allowed to cover the subject or would have any future work on the issue vetted. A work friend later regretted signing the letter because she got the sense that she had been branded as biased, leading to her pitches on Palestine being more readily dismissed.

Smeared as antisemitic In mid-November, after laying out my concerns to my colleagues, the regular weekly pitch meeting took place. It was then that I pitched the two genocide scholars, before having to attend that virtual meeting with my executive producer—where he suggested I go on mental health leave—and yet another meeting with two managers who raised concerns over my pitch the next day. But the most unpleasant meeting with management was about to come. A week later, I was accused of antisemitism on the basis of something I didn’t even say. According to a manager, someone had accused me of claiming that “the elephant in the room [was] the rich Jewish lobby.” (CBC told The Breach that “employees expressed concerns” that what she said was “discriminatory”.) The accusation was deeply painful because of my Jewish heritage and how my dad’s life—and, as a consequence, my own—was profoundly damaged by antisemitism. But I also knew I could prove that it was baseless: I had recorded what I said, anxious that someone might twist my words to use them against me. What I had actually said, verbatim, was this: “I just want to address the elephant in the room. The reason why we’re scared to allow Palestinian guests on to use the word ‘genocide’ is because there’s a very, very well funded [sic], there’s lots of Israel lobbies, and every time we do this sort of interview, they will complain, and it’s a headache. That’s why we’re not doing it. But that’s not a good reason not to have these conversations.” I stand by my statement. HonestReporting Canada is billionaire-funded. In December 2023, HonestReporting bragged about having “mobilized Canadians to send 50,000 letters to news outlets.” The group has also published a litany of attacks on journalists at CBC and other publications who’ve done accurate reporting on Palestine, and created email templates to make it easier for their followers to complain to publications about specific reporters. Other, similar pro-Israel groups like the Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting in America (CAMERA) and the Canary Mission employ similar tactics to try to silence journalists, academics, and activists who tell the truth about Israel-Palestine. I told the manager it was telling that instead of following up on the racist comment I had heard from colleagues about Palestinians, I was the one being accused of antisemitism and discrimination—on the basis of words I hadn’t even uttered.

The banality of whitewashing war crimes When I handed in my resignation notice on November 30, I felt relieved that I was no longer complicit in the manufacturing of consent for a genocidal war of revenge. Despite my experience, I still believe in the importance of the national broadcaster to act in the public interest by reporting independently of both government and corporate interests, presenting the truth and offering a diverse range of perspectives. However, I believe that CBC has not been fulfilling these duties when it comes to its coverage of Israel-Palestine. I believe that in the future, historians will examine the many ways that CBC, and the rest of mainstream media, have all failed to report truthfully on this unfolding genocide—and in doing so likely accelerated their delegitimization as trusted news sources. Before resigning, I raised the issue of double standards with various levels of the CBC hierarchy. While some members of management pledged to take my concerns seriously, the overall response left me disappointed with the state of the public broadcaster. After my appeal to my coworkers in mid-November, I had a phone conversation with a sympathetic senior producer. He said he didn’t think my words at the meeting would interfere with my chances of getting the permanent staff job I had long dreamed of. Despite this assurance, I was certain that I wouldn’t get it now: I knew I’d crossed the line for saying out loud what many at CBC were thinking but couldn’t say openly. Indeed, I wouldn’t have spoken out if I hadn’t already decided to resign. As a kid, I had fantasies of shooting Hitler dead to stop the Holocaust. I couldn’t fathom how most Germans went along with it. Then, in my 20s, I was gifted a copy of Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann In Jerusalem: A Report On The Banality Of Evil by anti-Zionist Israeli friends. I’ve been thinking a lot about that piece of reportage when trying to make sense of the liberal media’s complicity in obfuscating the reality of what’s happening in the Holy Land. As Arendt theorized, those who go along with genocides aren’t innately evil; they’re often just boring careerists. To be sure, while there are a number of senior CBC journalists who are clearly committed to defending Israel no matter its actions, many journalists just follow the path of least resistance. The fact that permanent, full-time CBC jobs are in such short supply, combined with threats of looming cuts, only reinforces this problem. I still hear from former colleagues that pitch meetings are uphill battles. Some shows are barely covering Gaza anymore. Being a journalist is a huge privilege and responsibility, especially in a time of war. You’re curating the news for the audience; deciding which facts to include and which to omit; choosing whose perspectives to present and whose to ignore. I believe that a good journalist should be able to turn their critical eye, not just on the news, but on their own reporting of the news. If you’re unable to do this, you shouldn’t be in the profession. I purposefully haven’t given away identifiable information about my former colleagues. Ultimately, this isn’t about them or me: it’s part of a much wider issue in newsrooms across the country and the Western world—and I believe it’s a moral duty to shed a light on it. If I didn’t, I’d never forgive myself. Just as I’m not naming my colleagues, I’m writing this using a pseudonym. Although the spectrum of acceptable discourse continues to shift, the career consequences for whistleblowers on this issue remains formidable. I encourage fellow journalists who refuse to participate in the whitewashing of war crimes, especially those with the security of staff jobs, to speak to like-minded coworkers about taking collective action; to approach your union steward and representative; and to document instances of double standards in your newsrooms and share them with other media workers. It was scary, but I have no regrets about speaking out. My only regret is that I didn’t write this sooner.

#palestine #gaza #free palestine

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zebulontheplanet · 4 months

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Worst thing about experiencing catatonia and late regression? Almost no one can relate. Can count the people I know who experience something similar to me or worse then me on one hand.

It’s really lonely. Can’t talk about it. When talk about it have to remind people that it’s rare and really complex. It’s more than just freezing sometimes and regressing in some simple skills. It’s regressing in everything, it’s slowly losing your speech, it’s your support needs changing and continuing to need more support, it’s so much.

Not fake claiming. But when I hear “I think I experience that” I have to question the person because burnout can look really similar. Executive functioning can look really similar to freezing and catatonia like symptoms. Catatonia not common. It’s pretty rare. People have to realize that.

Catatonia isn’t even my big symptom, yes it’s still a very big symptom for me and it’s a big struggle, but it’s everything that comes with it, the needing for prompting, the degradation in social skills, masking skills, self care, the self isolation. So much more.

I struggle to start and complete tasks, I struggle to talk, to not be in a constant state of feeling like I’m going through quicksand. To do anything. To even write this fucking post.

It’s hard, it’s isolating, it’s ridiculous. I just wish I had more people to talk to, to relate to, to understand me. I wish I had seniors to tell me how it gets, to tell me how it progresses or doesn’t progress, to guide me. Don’t have that. It’s lonely.

#zebrambles #autism #actually autism #actually autistic #autism regression #autism catatonia #kinda a vent #vent #kinda venty #tw vent

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oneatlatime · 5 months

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Lake Laogai

This Lake had better have Appa in it. With little water wings on.

Skipping the commentary as usual.

The Previously On section suggests that a whole lot of plot threads are about to crash into each other. Strap in folks.

Lefty Sokka!

Beat up Sokka quota fulfilled by his sister's critique of his art skills. It's not like he had paper to practice with at the South Pole.

Sometimes I forget that Aang is 12, then he does something like attempt to rescue his pet from a nefarious city-wide conspiracy of silence with lost cat posters.

"Good tea is its own reward." That means no, he isn't paid enough.

Remember what I said in my last post about Iroh bringing too much attention to himself?

"senior executive assistant manager" someone on the writing team has worked retail I see. Nothing like meaningless promotions with no raise attached! It's right up there with employee pizza party.

I have to pause here and point something out. This whole scene with Iroh? This is an adult fantasy. I don't mean dirty, I mean this whole scene was put in specifically to appeal to the adults who got roped in to watching this kids' show by their children. A rich man walks through the door of your shitty retail job, immediately spots your natural greatness, and offers you a much better paying job with unlimited creative freedom and a better house to go with it? Find me a burnt out retail worker who hasn't conjured up this fantasy five times a shift.

And so the plots come crashing back together. This won't end badly.

"patience really pays off" I checked. He waited literally three seconds.

Shout out to Toph in the background playing catch with a ball she can't see. Casual flex of epic proportions.

Remind me never to go to Lake Laogai. Sounds like it's lousy with Ju Dees.

So the Ju Dees don't know about each other? Because she seems honestly confused. Does Ju Dee think she's the only Ju Dee? What happens if two Ju Dees run into each other in the street?

Posters are illegal but I haven't heard a peep about recarving a bunch of fields into a zoo.

This is maybe the second time Aang's blown up over Appa. Frankly he deserves more blow ups about the whole situation.

I don't think knocking down walls will help find Appa, but I applaud Toph's spirit.

They took out a whole wall and then exit by the door anyways. That's funny.

I really hate this guy, but I have to admit that he may be the first truly competent villain of the series.

'The Jasmine Dragon' also lets anyone with half a brain know that you're Fire Nation. Try the Jasmine Badgermole instead.

Zuko really can't catch a break, huh? He wasn't happy being a tea server, but at least he was resting. But every time he gets five minutes to himself, the main plot reappears to drag him back into the action, whether he wants to or not. Although he hasn't figured out that he doesn't want to be dragged back yet.

Every line of dialogue in this scene is a good point. Zuko's right, Iroh's right. The Zuko's right again, then Iroh's right again.

YES YES YES GET HIS ASS

That was satisfying!

I'm not understanding why Sokka is the voice of reason here. Is he incapable of holding a grudge? He's the one that had all the animosity with Jet to begin with. Shouldn't it be Aang who wants to hear him out?

Toph is a living lie detector now? I can't think of an example off the top of my head, but I'm sure that could have come in handy previously. Any other incredibly useful skills we should know about?

Jet is oddly defensive for someone who claims to know he did wrong.

Ever get so excited that your spine malfunctions?

Sokka just has a metre long map in his pocket. Good friend to have in a pinch.

Avatar first! Katara is rude to an old person!

I'm going to have fun with Toph's new ability.

Toph, you have never been more right. It is the worst city ever. You are really shining this episode.

I know this is a serious scene, but I need to point out that Jet's guyliner is on point.

This shot is jarringly out of place. I think it's because it both black and white, and live action. Those have to be real clouds.

So the Blue Spirit can talk after all. Careful, your Zuko is showing.

Wow Zuko is good at sewing. And fast too.

Sokka is having far too much fun with this whole 'prompt Jet's memory' thing. Maybe he does have a bit of a grudge after all.

Katara can reverse brainwashing now too? Everyone's levelling up this episode.

This scene with the planks is a very cool and disorienting visual.

Didn't have 'the gaang breaks into a brainwashing facility' on my ATLA bingo card.

Pretty.

OMIGOD IT'S AP- did Zuko just break the fourth wall?

Everyone always forgets to look up.

So this fight is going to be Toph v. all of the Dai Li while everyone else tries not to get in Toph's way.

That's a boat.

Toph could probably take all these guys out faster if she wasn't having to constantly break off to save everyone else from them.

The Dai Li prancing up walls is a really cool visual. It's very Ty Lee of them.

I love watching her work.

Why don't you let Long Feng escape? He's no longer threatening you, and you're down there to rescue Appa. Just let him go.

The security on Lake Laogai is a joke.

Big words from someone who also had no plan whatsoever at the North Pole.

Zuko knows that Iroh's right. He knows, and that's important. I don't think Iroh is saying anything that Zuko hasn't thought and then hurriedly pretended to have never thought about before. It's why he says 'stop it' rather than being completely confused as to what Iroh is referring to.

Poor Appa's like 'can you have a crisis of self after you free me please?'

'You've chosen your own demise." No. You chose it for him. That's some top tier deflection/victim blaming right there.

Longshot can talk!

That's one hell of a set up and pay off re: Toph's lie detecting abilities.

Poor Jet. A double tragedy: to be likeable only when you're brainwashed, and to dedicate your life to wiping out the Fire Nation yet being killed by the Earth Kingdom.

Hi Appa. It's about time buddy.

Shockingly in character for Appa's first actions to be to single handedly save the Gaang from a threat.

You skip that bastard like a stone.

Everyone go and listen to the sound Appa makes when he spits out Long Feng's shoe. It's delightful.

I am framing this.

And this too.

I can tell there's some shmymbolism here, but it's gone right over my head.

Final Thoughts

Appa is back. The Gaang has Appa back. I have Appa back. Ok. I can relax now. With any luck, this means we can leave Ba Sing Se.

This episode felt like City of Walls and Secrets, Part 2. I think it was a good decision to have a couple of episodes between the two, but I think there would be some tonal whiplash if you binged this section of season 2. Which wouldn't have been a problem for a show designed to air once a week, so it's a moot point.

So Zuko freed Appa from his chains, and presumably pointed him in the direction of a door or something. Or maybe not; Appa has a ridiculously hard head, he could have busted his way out. Either way, Zuko broke the chains. Thanks Zuko!

In season 1, Zuko finds the Avatar the world had lost. In season 2, Zuko finds the Sky Bison the Avatar had lost. So in season 3, Zuko will find something Appa has lost. I wonder what that will be?

Jet being killed by the Earth Kingdom is so deliciously ironic, and tragic, yet very in character for the Earth Kingdom's approach to this war. It's also literally this:

Smellerbee and Longshot have really gotten the short end of the stick over and over this season. They were the only ones to decide to stick with Jet. Presumably they were the only ones who believed that he had had a legitimate change of heart. And they were kind of wrong. They get to Ba Sing Se only for Jet to immediately backslide way past even where he was at his worst in Season 1. He completely discounts and dismisses their legitimate concerns for his methods and his overall health. Then Jet gets arrested and disappears for two (?) weeks. So what do they do now? Get jobs? Steal so they don't starve? Then suddenly Jet's back but he doesn't even remember them. Then suddenly Jet's dead. The whole point of coming to Ba Sing Se just died, in a way that shows very clearly that their desire to help with the war is not welcome at all in the city. So what now? Do they leave and try to fight in the war from outside the walls? Do they settle down and try to forget about the war? Things did spiral completely out of Jet's control once the Dai Li got involved, but you have to admit that he's left his only remaining friends up a creek.

Sokka had some good jokes but was oddly ok with this episode's events. Toph had some great lines and got to shine with a new skill that any writer with half a brain will bring back in future episodes. She felt like the audience substitute this episode, which is usually Sokka's role. Toph was episode MVP for sure. Poor Aang took a bit of a back seat this episode. Zuko finally hit the crisis point, and may well have made his first indisputably correct decision of the series. But, as previous episodes have gone out of their way to show me that Zuko being good always goes badly for Zuko, I'm sure freeing Appa will somehow come back to bite him.

Iroh's question of "who are you? And what do you want?" was Zuko's entire character arc this season. He took a shot at answering the "who are you?" portion in Zuko Alone, and sort of halfway got there before messing up at the end of the episode. As for the "what do you want?" Zuko will tell you (often and repeatedly) that he wants his honour back. But I think he just wants to go home. The thing is, I strongly suspect that the home Zuko wants to return to hasn't existed since his mother left, if it ever existed at all. Which means that while "who are you?" has an answer Zuko can work towards, "what do you want?" has an answer that is kind of impossible. So Zuko is going to have to learn to want something new.

RIP Jet. Your life was fucked to Hell long before you were old enough to try and salvage it. You'll probably be missed by more people than you strictly deserve. War sucks, amirite?

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #lake laogai

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eretzyisrael · 1 day

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by David M. Litman

Error #1: “Israeli air strikes on a camp sheltering displaced civilians…”

The Facts: In just the first nine words of the statement, the “experts” got two major facts objectively wrong.

First, there was one strike, not strikes plural, though according to the Israeli military the strike did involve two weapons.

The tragic deaths at Tel as-Sultan—180 meters away from the location of the strike—appear to have occurred due to unforeseen circumstances.

As the investigations continue, the most likely explanation emerging is that the strike ignited a nearby, unknown weapons cache, which set alight some of the shelters. The IDF has since shown aerial footage showing a rocket launcher located between the building struck and the shelters. Footage purportedly from the scene also supports this theory, showing what appear to be secondary explosions after the strike.

Error #2: “Reports emerging from the ground indicate that the strikes were indiscriminate and disproportionate…”

The Facts: Far from being indiscriminate, the strikes successfully targeted two senior Hamas terrorists, Yassin Rabia and Khaled Nagar. Far from being indiscriminate, “The strike was based on precise intelligence that indicated that these terrorists, who were responsible for orchestrating and executing terror attacks against Israelis, [and who] were meeting inside the specific structure” targeted. Furthermore, the precision munitions used were literally the “smallest the military’s jets can use” according to the IDF.

The claim about the strike being “disproportionate” is likewise contradicted by the evidence. Prior to the strike, the IDF surveilled the building and its surroundings and determined there was no significant civilian presence in the anticipated area of effect. The “experts” instead appear to be using an erroneous interpretation of the legal concept they claim to be experts on.

Proportionality is not a rule focused on the results of a strike, but rather on the decision-making before the strike is launched. The question is whether the anticipated civilian harm is disproportionate to the concrete military advantage to be gained. As explained by Lt. Col. Geoffrey Corn (ret.):

“In the context of hostilities, this is often translated into the ‘reasonable commander’ test: was the attack decision one that another reasonable commander, facing the same situation and with the same information available, would have also made? If so, the attack was lawful, even if the result turned out to contradict the expectation at the time it was launched. If not, the attack was unlawful. This is why the instinct to rely on ‘effects-based’ condemnations—to condemn an attack as a war crime based only on the civilian harm inflicted by the attack—is legally invalid.”

Error #3: “These barbaric attacks are a flagrant violation of international law.”

The Facts: See Errors 1 and 2. The authors are declaring a “violation of international law” based on inaccurate factual claims and erroneous interpretations of the law. It is worth pointing out, too, that these U.N. actors declared there was a violation based only on “reports,” without having engaged in any actual investigation or legal analysis. Worse, the authors omit entirely the legal responsibility of Hamas, which had embedded military targets in a civilian area near the shelters.

#experts #errors #un experts #tel as-sultan

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ukrfeminism · 2 years

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2 minute read

Men who are younger than 30 feel more “threatened” by progress on women’s rights, according to a major new study.

Researchers, who polled almost 32,500 people across 27 EU countries, noted while gender equality has increased in Western democracies in recent times, this has been coupled with a rise in “modern sexism” which is “working against women’s rights”.

The report, conducted at the University of Gothenburg, discovered younger men were more likely than older men to agree with the statement “promoting women’s and girls” rights has gone too far as it “threatens” the “opportunities” available for men and boys.

Gefjon Off, one of the report’s authors, noted the findings demonstrate young men aged between 18 and 29 “most often agree with this statement”.

Ms Off, a political science doctoral student, added: “The older the men are, the less they agree with this statement. Some women agree with the statement, but to a far lesser extent than men of all ages.

“The results contradict previous research claiming that the older generation are the ones who are the most conservative and opposed to advances in women’s rights”.

She argued people think greater gender equality just advantages women - rather than seeing the “benefits” for wider society.

“Some research suggests that this feeling of injustice can even motivate citizens to vote for right-wing radical parties who are against feminism and sexual freedom,” Ms Off added.

“Possibly, young men who believe that women are outcompeting them in the labour market experience advances in women’s rights as unjust and a threat.

“We need to get better at communicating the benefits of gender equality. Fathers get to spend more time with their children and the burden of being the family’s breadwinner is lightened when mothers in families also advance in their careers”.

Rising levels of unemployment may provide an explanation of why younger men are more likely to be sexist, the study suggested.

Researchers said: "The proportion is highest in regions where unemployment has risen the most in recent years, and where citizens have a widespread distrust of social institutions for example, due to widespread corruption.”

Slovakia was found to be the EU country where the “highest proportion of young men are opposed to advances in women’s rights”, researchers added, saying in some parts of the country, unemployment has surged by 1.1 per cent in the past two years.

Nicholas Charron, a professor in political science involved in the study, said: “More than other EU citizens, Slovaks think that their own country’s public institutions are not impartial, that is, that their social institutions favour certain groups of people”.

He added: “The gap between young women’s and young men’s views on advancing women’s rights is great in Sweden, among the top 10 in the EU according to our measurements”.

Researchers discovered this also plays out in reverse contexts, noting in areas like Northern Italy where unemployment has decreased and people have greater trust in social institutions, young men are less opposed to women’s rights progressing.

In the UK, gender inequality persists, with women heading only five per cent of the top 350 companies. While women make up less than a third of the top jobs in the UK, according to a recent report by the Fawcett Society, the UK’s leading gender equality charity, which also discovered women of colour are under-represented at the highest levels in a vast range of sectors.

Women are wholly absent from senior roles such as Supreme Court justices, FTSE 100 chief executives, metro mayors, and police and crime commissioners, researchers found.

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justinspoliticalcorner · 1 month

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Dharna Noor at The Guardian:

Climate experts fear Donald Trump will follow a blueprint created by his allies to gut the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (Noaa), disbanding its work on climate science and tailoring its operations to business interests.

Joe Biden’s presidency has increased the profile of the science-based federal agency but its future has been put in doubt if Trump wins a second term and at a time when climate impacts continue to worsen. The plan to “break up Noaa is laid out in the Project 2025 document written by more than 350 rightwingers and helmed by the Heritage Foundation. Called the Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise, it is meant to guide the first 180 days of presidency for an incoming Republican president. The document bears the fingerprints of Trump allies, including Johnny McEntee, who was one of Trump’s closest aides and is a senior adviser to Project 2025. “The National Oceanographic [sic] and Atmospheric Administration (Noaa) should be dismantled and many of its functions eliminated, sent to other agencies, privatized, or placed under the control of states and territories,” the proposal says.

That’s a sign that the far right has “no interest in climate truth”, said Chris Gloninger, who last year left his job as a meteorologist in Iowa after receiving death threats over his spotlighting of global warming. The guidebook chapter detailing the strategy, which was recently spotlighted by E&E News, describes Noaa as a “colossal operation that has become one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry and, as such, is harmful to future US prosperity”. It was written by Thomas Gilman, a former Chrysler executive who during Trump’s presidency was chief financial officer for Noaa’s parent body, the commerce department. Gilman writes that one of Noaa’s six main offices, the Office of Oceanic and Atmospheric Research, should be “disbanded” because it issues “theoretical” science and is “the source of much of Noaa’s climate alarmism”. Though he admits it serves “important public safety and business functions as well as academic functions”, Gilman says data from the National Hurricane Center must be “presented neutrally, without adjustments intended to support any one side in the climate debate”.

[...] Noaa also houses the National Weather Service (NWS), which provides weather and climate forecasts and warnings. Gilman calls for the service to “fully commercialize its forecasting operations”. He goes on to say that Americans are already reliant on private weather forecasters, specifically naming AccuWeather and citing a PR release issued by the company to claim that “studies have found that the forecasts and warnings provided by the private companies are more reliable” than the public sector’s. (The mention is noteworthy as Trump once tapped the former CEO of AccuWeather to lead Noaa, though his nomination was soon withdrawn.)

The claims come amid years of attempts from US conservatives to help private companies enter the forecasting arena – proposals that are “nonsense”, said Rosenberg. Right now, all people can access high-quality forecasts for free through the NWS. But if forecasts were conducted only by private companies that have a profit motive, crucial programming might no longer be available to those in whom business executives don’t see value, said Rosenberg. [...] Fully privatizing forecasting could also threaten the accuracy of forecasts, said Gloninger, who pointed to AccuWeather’s well-known 30- and 60-day forecasts as one example. Analysts have found that these forecasts are only right about half the time, since peer-reviewed research has found that there is an eight- to 10-day limit on the accuracy of forecasts.

The Trump Administration is delivering a big gift to climate crisis denialism as part of Project 2025 by proposing the dismantling and privatizing the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) and National Weather Service (NWS) in his potential 2nd term.

This should frighten people to vote Democratic up and down the ballot if you want the NOAA and NWS to stay intact.

#Project 2025 #Climate Change #Climate Crisis #Weather #AccuWeather #National Weather Service #NOAA #NWS #John McEntee #The Heritage Foundation #Donald Trump #Climate Change Denialism #Office of Oceanic and Atmospheric Research #National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration #Climate Crisis Denial

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on-partiality · 6 months

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December 19th, 1777, the day George Washington marched his troops into Valley Forge!

Hello everyone! Today's the day George Washington and his army moved to the Valley Forge Encampment for the winter (except today may not be the day because while most sources claim it was the 19th a select few say it was the 18th also I live in the Southern Hemisphere and I'm not entirely sure what day it is for you North-folk). Also sorry for any bad quality, I'm writing this at 1:12 AM on a Wednesday and I have not slept since Sunday.

Anyway about Valley Forge:

George Washington and his soldiers moved into the Valley Forge encampment on the 19th of December, 1777. George Washington chose to stay at the Valley Forge for multiple reasons, number 1 being that it wasn't too far from the capital of Philadelphia, which at the time was being occupied by the British, and the Continentals had to make sure that they kept an eye on the redcoats because if they didn't then the redcoats could attack American citizens or take over random people's houses, something that they did rather frequently (think the Quartering Act), and the army wouldn't be there to fight back or wouldn't know that they were occupying a certain house. Also, they needed to know where the redcoats were in case they moved, because if they moved, they might be going off to battle and trying to do a surprise attack on the Continentals. Knowing where the British were made it so that surprise attacks couldn't be used against the Americans. + Valley Forge wasn't too close to the Philadelphia countryside, so the Army wouldn't bother the local farmers with the noise of thousands of soldiers training every day. And the Valley Forge was on high ground and surrounded by hills, so it'd be hard for the British to get to them.

About 11,000 soldiers and a few hundred of their wives, children, and friends made it to the Valley Forge, and if you're particularly observant, you may have noticed that in the image above, the soldiers aren't wearing any one uniform. This is because the Continental Army at this time was comprised of mainly little militia groups with their own distinct uniforms. Anyway, Valley Forge wasn't unenjoyable because of bad weather, but rather bad weather combined with a severe lack of supplies like shoes, shirts (really any clothing item), and food and drink. Washington estimated that nearly a third of his men didn't have shoes during the journey to Valley Forge, and quite a few of them didn't have a frock coat to protect them from the winter wind and rain. When they arrived at the camp, Washington gave orders to all of his men to build their own wooden huts and find some straw to use as bedding, as they didn't have enough blankets for everyone. Then Washington was informed by another senior officer that they had 25 barrels of flour and a little salt pork, and they were meant to somehow use that to feed the whole army. Washington wrote to Henry Laurens, the president of Congress at the time, about this issue. Washington and his aides-de-camp stayed in a two-story house made of stone, and Washington spent much of his time writing to Congress, asking for more supplies and defending himself against Congress' claims that he wasn't a good military leader and that he wanted total power, and he complained about the Conway Cabal (a group of three men who Congress decided to give as much power as the Commander-in-Chief). But outside of Washington's personal struggles, the Valley Forge encampment was all about training. When the Continentals were there, they trained for battle constantly and learned how to use bayonets properly, fight in a disciplined way, march in a near perfect straight line and execute commands quickly on the battle field.

Many generals helped George Washington during his struggle, both to show his competence and with his men. Lafayette got officers from Europe (mainly France and Poland) to help with the war; Henry Knox helped build defensive walls on the Valley Forge's hills to help the Continentals protect themselves against the British; Nathanael Greene and Anthony Wayne searched for farm animals from the country side; and probably most famously, Baron Frederich von Steuben taught the Americans all about fighting and took care of all of the training in fact he added some of his lessons into the Army's blue book and it was the official US military training manual for decades. Even Martha Washington helped by managing Washington's household, helping him with his letters to Congress, and bringing some cheer to the camp by entertaining the guests. By the spring of 1777, life at Valley Forge wasn't half bad. Washington figured out a way he could get enough supplies into camp, and everyone happily celebrated when they heard that France was officially their ally in the war. In June 1778 the Continentals happily marched out of the Valley Forge with heaps of new knowledge that they'd use to help them on the battlefield and eventually beat the British with.

#amrev #american revolution #american revolutionary war #american history #history #revolutionary war #valley forge #george washington #on this date #on this day #18th century #18th century america #revwar #military history

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meet-me-backstage · 1 year

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🜸

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🎸 Virgin!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🎸 You play at the Hideout with your band, Stake For My Valentine, every night - you're considered the metal queen of the bar and your band are the rulers of the roost, famously loved by the Hideout's local drunks. However, when a band named Corroded Coffin land their first gig there, the sparse crowd warm quickly to the unique and awkward charm of the leading metal head, Eddie Munson.

However, you don't warm to him so easily - in fact, you don't warm to him at all. Eddie, on the other hand, worships the ground you walk on and doesn't hesitate to make it known, leading to a cold rejection from you.

Band rivalry occurs - you vs. Eddie, Stake For My Valentine vs Corroded Coffin.

You hate each other... but one night everything changes when a plan is created and executed by yours and Eddie's bandmates with the intention of bringing you two together and harmony between the bands.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊-𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🎸 bad language, angst, mention and consumption of drugs, mention and consumption of alcohol, sexual innuendos, mention of blood, Eddie wearing eyeliner bcuz damn😍, some typical bar fight drunkard violence and SMUT so you must be 18+ to read‼️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 🎸 6.2K words (grab a drink and a snack, it’s a helluva ride)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 🎸 bad language, a sexual innuendo oop, mention of smut, alcohol and mention of it, mention of drugs.

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 <𝟑

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 ⎈ 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ⎈ 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓

‘I’ve got it on my mind to change my ways-’

Sweat dripped in several trails from your forehead down to your chin, it fell in droplets onto the black cracked wooden planks that formed a raised platform - a stage.

A stage you felt at home on, like it belonged to you. Years worth of your blood, sweat and tears had seeped into it - literally, you’d claimed it as yours the moment the first drop of your sweat collided with it, like a scent that would deter others of the thought of taking it from you.

You'd claimed it, The Hideout, two years ago, nearing the beginning of your senior year at Hawkins High. The run-down, isolated bar was like the Rainbow In The Dark to your Dio, the Spiral Architect to your Black Sabbath, the bats head to your Ozzy - it was a place that very quickly became home to you, Elektra, Cherie and Alyssa… the girls that played alongside you every night.

You met them at school - Elektra and Cherie first in Mrs Click's class, they both sat in front of you, next to each other. It was fate, the three of you sitting so close - or maybe it was just the fact that you were all left out. Alyssa was in the year below, Elektra’s little sister, who would sit join you in the cafeteria on your assigned table. A table that everyone else steered clear from.

All through middle and almost four years of high school you hadn’t found your people - the ones who could just catch a glimpse of you and know what you were thinking, feeling, whether you were down in the dumps or on cloud nine. You’d had a pretty shitty and tough experience throughout your time at school, you’d spent a lot of time being picked on by the likes of the popular crowd. You gradually learnt to enjoy your own company at school and developed a ‘fuck them all, they’re all the same anyway’ mindset… until you met the future members of your band.

You just knew that Elektra, Cherie and Alyssa were your people, and it wasn’t just because they had a similar style to yours, wore their hair messy, their dark clothes often crinkled, ripped or untucked, exuding an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude towards school. It was from the moment that the grade A asshole of the class, Derek Hagan, told them to ‘shut up’ upon hearing them whisper about the new Iron Maiden album, ‘Live After Death’. Elektra and Cherie turned around, synchronised, and shot a cold stare and a flip of the bird his way before Cherie uttered with attitude, ‘why don’t you shut the fuck up, Hagan?’ - you were sold.

And after countless heated conversations full of passion for your deep love for music, specifically metal music, and how playing it felt like an escape from the dull town full of people who misunderstood you and treated you like crap for it… the band was formed.

⎈ 🎸⎈

‘We’ll make them worship us - they’ll be down on their knees begging more and more for our kinda music,’ you state confidently, enthusiastically with your hands balled into fists and slamming them down onto the cafeteria table, alerting everyone casually eating their lunch.

While they all glared, your three dear metal heads sat with you are mesmerised, they have a gleam in their eye and are entirely inspired by you, ‘We’re in!’ They squeal in unison before reaching their hands out for you to shake.

⎈ 🎸⎈

The sweat that hadn’t soaked into the stage fell onto the microphone you held with a tight grip, making your hand even more clammy.

You soaked the feeling of being on your stage up, the final moments - when everybody is on autopilot, limbs numb from moving wildly to the music, mouths tired from screaming.

‘But I don’t think I can be anything other than me.’

Your eyes scan the crowd of about twenty people as you sang your final line in a low drawl.

Here tonight were the usual locals that came for the Hideout itself rather than your show and hung around the bar. About fifteen were stood directly in front of you and your undivided attention was focused on them.

You slowly bent over to be level with the eyes of your small, but devoted audience that you’d built through hard graft, gigs that you put your all into every night without fail. Bending your knees, focusing for a moment on controlling them and not letting them shake from tiredness or adrenaline, your eyelids fluttered open to be met with an unfamiliar pair of brown eyes.

Usually you recognised everybody here. Keith, the Hideout’s owner, Rodrick, Keith’s son who had been obsessed with the idea of getting into your pants since the very first time you walked into the bar - Troy, Lisa, Joan, Paul, Victoria… that one drunkard who tends to throw dollar bills at the stage, the few creeps who would eye you down from the bar.

You’d had at least one interaction, good or bad, with everyone here.

So a new-comer easily stood out to you, instantly making you intrigued as to who this person was.

As far as you can tell under the dim, flickering light of the bar, it’s a man with a sort of… boyish look, a brunette with long curly hair. Even with the weak light shining over him, he had a twinkle in his doe-like eyes that only seemed to gleam brighter when he noticed you were looking at him too - in fact, his jaw practically dropped down to the floor.

You continued to stare at him with half-lidded eyes through the few people who stood in front of him, like you were a missile and he was your assigned target.

He was frozen while everyone else threw their arms and heads around frantically to the rhythm of Alyssa on the drums, the groove of Cherie on the bass and the melody of Elektra on rhythm guitar being played in unison behind you.

You shot the gazing newbie a side-smirk.

He’s probably creaming his pants right now, you think. Arrogant, you know, but you were perfectly aware of the power you beheld as the lead singer and guitarist of Stake For My Valentine. That fact alone acted as a gravitational pull in a place like the Hideout - because nowhere else were you so carefree and wild… a free spirit - just… yourself.

You stood out like you did at school, out and about in Hawkins. But here, at this dingy bar - it was so different, everyone stared in awe rather than in judgement. The people in here wanted you, your presence, your music… having that knowledge, it made you feel like an iconic figure in this little bar - like the metal queen of the Hideout, and you loved it.

The thought alone suddenly sent a final boost of adrenaline through every vein in your exhausted body, your aching neck because of the strain of your personalised guitar strap with a lightning bolt patch sewed onto it, digging into it. You swiftly and messily twirl, banging your head wildly and stomping your boot-clad feet as your hand flies to the neck of your beloved beauty of an electric guitar. You took a deep breath, about to shred an epic, improvised guitar solo as if you hadn’t been teasing a stranger with your eyes mere seconds ago.

You thrust your hips against the guitar you’d dedicated years of your life too. You’d been a little metal star with a guitar by your side ever since your fourth birthday.

Your fingers learnt to move faster and faster to the point where they now moved as speedily as the speed of lightning. You played full of passion with your bottom lip tucked behind your teeth, face scrunched up and hips pushed forward while the guitar unleashed angelic and harmonious screeches that, if it were possible, would pierce a hole through the Hideout’s roof, reaching the sky.

The notes flew out of you in a rapid flow - it was a feeling that you couldn’t get enough of and didn’t ever want to end, but you guessed that you had to round the gig off in a matter of a few minutes as you could see Keith beside the stage through your peripheral vision. He usually tapped on his watch with a finger, gesturing for us to round up for the night. Tonight you were entirely too lost in the music, it was as if you were a puppet controlled by strings, the master being your guitar.

Keith was shaking his head, becoming frustrated with you - you could just feel it, but the feeling of euphoria from your solo was so much stronger.

You smile with closed eyes, appearing to be under a powerful spell difficult to be pulled out of.

“Time to round up - Vampire Slayer! Time is up!” Keith shouts over the amp plugged to your guitar, but his voice is still muffled - only you could hear it and decide if you were going to listen to him or not.

You could also feel Elektra, Alyssa and Cherie’s eyes bore into the back of your head, frustrated, but trying to keep cool in front of the small crowd watching your fingers in a hypnotised gaze.

“Vampire Slayer!” Keith shouts again.

I suppose I should round this up. Finally, a more responsible thought manages to creep into your brain in the mix of thoughts of all things metal music and guitars and - holy shit, this is the best solo I’ve played in ages!

You didn’t want to get on Keith’s bad side, especially when Stake For My Valentine’s nightly gig slot was entirely in his hands and he could take it away from you whenever he wished. You swallowed a sudden unsettled feeling towards the ‘backstage’ discussion you usually had with him every night and rounded off your solo on a gentle and drawn out high note that faded into the electrical sound of the metal strings vibrating and the amp, to complete silence.

There were some blank faces, mouths formed in an ‘O’ shape - I guess I’ve never played that hard before in front of them. You clear you throat, easing your aching lungs before stepping towards the mic and speaking in a breathy voice, “Stake - For My Valentine - see you tomorrow, lovers.” You then swing your guitar by its strap over your shoulder to rest against your back, a trick you learnt at home after many failed attempts and breakdowns after almost damaging your baby.

Then you, Elektra, Alyssa and Cherie all share fleeting glances before starting to walk your way towards the three steps at the side of the stage. You are stopped in your tracks, your head quickly turns to face the audience again at sudden sounds of messy thudding and continuous squeaks of sneakers colliding against the floor.

You squint your eyes, focusing on some movement towards the back of the sparse crowd. You notice the curly-haired, twinkly doe-eyed brunette from before jumping up and down with three other newbies - friends of his, you assume.

“Most - metal - ever!” They chant with uncontrolled excitement, an outburst, completely making up for how silent they’d been during the gig.

Was this their first gig ever? The question crossed your mind as you stared, still entirely focused on them while the rest of the crowd’s cheers were muffled to you.

The twinkly doe-eyed newbie, once him and his friend’s spurt of enthusiasm had died down, turned his head, catching eyes with you again before seemingly panicking at your returned gaze and erratically turning back to the other newbies, who you now noticed, were all wearing the exact same shirt as him with a devil and horns on it - you were too far away to read the writing on them.

When you noticed that his friends were pointing at you with over-exaggerated looks on their faces you broke your gaze away from that area and shot a charming smile at the familiar faces before resuming your way off of the platform, down the steps.

“What was that?” You hear in a weak whisper behind you, it was Elektra, she’d caught up with you, her front brushing your back every few moments as you both walked.

You shrug your shoulders, a trace of a smug smile starting to form on your lips, “Just some new-comers - I’m pretty sure they’ve never been to a gig before, judging by their starstruck faces - how lame is-.”

“What are you talking about?” She asks, tired and frustrated, her whole body probably aching from playing guitar too.

You look over your shoulder at her as you walk, “What are you talking about?”

Elektra shrugs casually for a moment before moving even closer, her lips by your ear, “Oh - I don’t know, maybe the part where you and your guitar should’ve gotten a room?”

“What can I say? Pink Special and I have more than a decades’ worth of chemistry - the tension got pretty intense - don’t know what came over me,” you joke, giggling breathlessly.

Cherie overhears yours and Elektra’s back and forth… being not only the bassist of the group, but also the excitable ‘loose cannon’ who just about defended you in every band discussion, about lyrics, keys, solos - everything. She planted her hands abruptly on yours and Elektra’s shoulders, startling you both, “Rock on, Vamp - you really did slay the audience tonight!”

You glance Elektra’s way, giving her a smug smile with a tilt of your head as if to say ‘I told you so’.

Elektra playfully glared at you in response before turning her attention to Cherie, “While it was metal, I admit - it could also jeopardise our deal with - Keith.”

Keith's features were strained, serious, making his wrinkles more prominent than usual. His demeanour was unlike his usual easy-going one.

You shrug it off and smile, “Hi Keith.”

He doesn’t mirror the smile the you’d given him, choosing to remain cold - a side of him you’d never seen before, and you’d crossed a line or two in the years that you’d been playing at the Hideout.

“Backstage - now. I want to have a word with you,” he states before looking over your shoulder between Elektra, Cherie and Alyssa with a raised brow, “All of you.”

His stare lingers on you before turning his back on you, walking towards the bar, probably to grab a drink to psyche himself up for whatever he had to say.

“Told you,” Elektra mumbles under her breath.

“Way to go Vamp - you really did it this time,” Alissa pipes up, rolling her eyes.

With a now clear path to the private room dedicated to Stake For My Valentine, you walk, hearing them continue to grumble about your epic guitar solo’s potential consequences.

‘What if we get kicked off? No other venues would ever book us - we’re so screwed.’

You turn smoothly on your heel right in front of the door labelled ‘S.F.M.V’ with red tape, ignoring the ache of every bone in your body. You moved so quickly that the girls behind you almost collided with your chest, creating an almost fallen domino effect.

They back themselves up slightly, gathering their balance and blinking at you.

“Hang on a second - we haven’t even heard what Keith has to say yet so please, will you just - chill out a little bit - jeez,” you state coolly while their blank stares turn more into disbelief at how calm you were in the given situation, “C’mon, let’s sit down, have a drink - maybe smoke a joint… we played a great goddamn gig, we deserve it,” you add with a cheeky grin before grunting as you push yourself against the old door, giving it a nudge to get it open.

The room was messy, mainly because most of the time that you spent in here was when you were exhausted from playing a show, drunk or hungover after having shot after shot with Rodrick or high and sleeping. There were empty beer cans, clothes, paper, more cans and guitar plectrums scattered on the floor - stains from constant spillage of drink on the bohemian-style rug in the centre of the room, there was even a burn mark on it from a previous after-show shindig.

Despite its messiness and complete lack of organisation, it felt like your forever home. It was a safe space for you and your friends, a place you could go to escape from things when it would all get too much outside of the Hideout, at home mainly because your parents gave you a lot of slack for dropping out of senior year just months before graduation and dedicating your life to music, they also didn’t exactly approve of your choice to play there every night but hey-ho - it was your life, not theirs.

You threw yourself onto the scratched and torn brown leather couch once you’d set your shell pink and crimson Fender Stratocaster electric guitar with a beautiful maple wood wood neck against the wall. The guitar’s pastel pink part of it’s body had been personalised by you with a few doodles of broken hearts in red pen, you also wrote ‘GIRLS BITE BACK’ in the same red ink by the hearts. You named your guitar the Pink Special when you were only ten and the name just stuck.

You immediately feel the effect of wildly throwing yourself around on stage for an hour and thirty minutes, and melt into the couch.

The others join you, but sit closer to each other than to you.

You blew quiet raspberries and picked up a few unopened cans of beer, passing them along to Elektra, who passed on to Alyssa, to Cherie - the cycle continued until you had your own beer, casually taking a sip of it every so often.

“I guess this isn’t as bad as the times Keith caught you fucking Rodrick in here,” Elektra says with a snort.

You gasp, reaching for a pillow, threatening to chuck it at her, “Hey - that was a one time-!”

All of them raise their brows at you at the word ‘one’ leaving your mouth, knowing it was a blatant lie.

“Two time - thing. ‘S never gonna happen again”

You could tell that they still didn’t believe you. The truth was, you and Rodrick got extremely drunk one night last month. All you can remember was gazing him down during a gig like you did the doe-eyed newbie tonight - Rodrick also melted under your stare. You’d always innocently flirted, ever since your very first gig at the Hideout, the night you met. It was playful, a joke - and yeah, he was kinda cute, a goofy metal head with floppy brown hair and dark brown eyes often outlined with black eyeliner who could also play the drums, but that wasn’t the point - you’d had one too many tequila shots.

You remember making out with him and then boom - after that, your mind was completely blank. You woke up half-naked in the arms of a totally naked Rodrick - together you picked up the missing pieces of the night before and came to the conclusion that you had gotten off on his fingers and thigh. The conversation had got him going and you ended up on your knees, sucking him off - the first time you’d ever done that to anyone and Keith walked in on you doing it to his son… to say it was awkward would be the biggest understatement and Keith told you that if he ever saw you and Rodrick doing anything like that again, Stake For My Valentine would never play at the Hideout again.

You ended up having sex with Rodrick a week later - it was your first time… ever. You couldn’t ignore the excitement that rushed through you whenever he was around after that morning, how Keith had forbidden you from doing anything further. It was a temptation you couldn’t ignore and neither could he, you both gave in and it just - happened, in this room. For something you spent so much time excited to experience, it was pretty underwhelming - nor terrible, nor mind blowing, more a learning experience.

Keith hadn’t walked in on you two but he found out about it when overhearing a hysterical conversation between you and Cherie about the room being like yours and Rodrick’s ‘not-so-secret sex dungeon’. He then swore that he’d ban you from even taking one step into the Hideout.

So far you hadn’t broken his rule of not sleeping with Rodrick again, you hadn’t even had the urge to and it happened three weeks ago.

I don’t think I can even want anyone, let alone love anyone like I love my Pink Special, you think, ignoring the playful glances of the girls sat on the couch with you, staring at your guitar instead.

The click and twist of the door knob alerted you - now you were panicking, maybe you had messed up your deal with Keith one too many times, maybe tonight was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Keith peeked his head through the door wearily, he was probably scarred, always cautious to take a look into this room. He examined the room for a few seconds before letting himself in and standing opposite you.

Seconds passed and you, along with your band-mates, stared up at him with pleading eyes, making him sigh.

“Listen - y’know how much I adore you four,” he starts, his voice trailing off at the end - this doesn’t sound promising, your heart starts to feel heavy, “I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over the last few years. Hell, the moment I took you in you became - the nieces or - god-daughters I never had.” Where is this going? “One of my favorite - attributes o’ yours is your attitude, I love your attitude,” his eyes land directly on you, “But not when it’s aimed at my bar - you disrespect my bar, you’re disrespecting me, the very person who provided you with a place to share your music - showed you nothing but respect and gave ya very few rules to go by,” his voice picks up, his slight southern drawl becoming clearer as he struggles to contain his frustration. He visibly deflates with drawn out exhale, “I’m so close to chucking you all out permanently.”

You fiddle with your fingers, twirl your hair around your fingers as a coping mechanism to try and soothe your rapid heartbeat, but all you can muster up the courage to say is, “N-no - you’ve gotta give us another chance - please.”

Keith breathily chuckles in disbelief before gesturing to Elektra, Alyssa and Cherie, “These girls? No, they don’t need me to give them another chance, they’re just as disappointed as I am with ya,” his arm falls to his side with a slap, “You’ve crossed every goddamn line - acting like ya own the place, gettin’ it on with my boy on public property - in my family business’ property that’s been kept alive for generations… I’d been keepin’ it goin’ by the skin of my damn teeth for years until you came along and brought the spark back with music, more customers - and now? All you bring is trouble.”

The air became more thick as each word spat from Keith’s lips while you sat in a wallow of guilt, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you realised how much you’d taken his kindness and leniency for granted. You sniffle quietly, “I’m - s-sorry, Keith - girls - for being a… self righteous asshole, I’ll do anything and I swear I’ll listen, just please don’t make us walk, K - I - we need this place - and you, most importantly, acting as our - loopy, but responsible mentor - did I already say please?”

You didn’t care how desperate you sounded right now, all that mattered was any positive sign from Keith that you could stay. Instead he just stared at the floor, scratching his bald head as he contemplated with himself. Your legs restless, bouncing up and down quickly, watching his every move for just about anything from him.

“You four have got me wrapped around your little fingers,” he sighs, after what felt like an eternity.

“Yes!” You all say in unison, raising your fists in the air.

“Hang on a minute - hang on - a - damn minute,” Keith speaks over your celebrating, your arms immediately fall onto your lap, “I mean it when I say that you’re treadin’ on real thin ice now, Vamp.”

You nod with a gulp.

“So - we’re still booked to play every night?” Elektra asks, hopefully staring up at Keith, holding her own hands.

Keith sheepishly glanced at the floor, making you furrow your brows at him, “what?” You blurt.

“Alright - I’m just gonna say it, I think ya need to calm down a little - and that maybe a gig every night is gettin’ too much for ya,” he confesses, bringing his hand to his chin - you could tell that he was still itching to say something, but you were finding it difficult to withhold your frustration.

Patience was never your strong point. You were on the edge of the couch, “Spit it out, Keith - please, for the love of Ozzy Osbourne.”

He tilts his head with a deadpan expression, “I’m thinking of letting another band have a chance.”

Your mouth drops and a strained, sarcastic laugh comes out, “Nice one, Keith - you really had us fooled.”

“I’m being deadly serious, Vamp - and I’m not saying that our deal is off, you’re gonna have gigs to play, just - not every night.”

“Nope - no wa-,” you begin to argue, but feel Elektra nudge your side harshly with her shoulder, “Ow what the hell was that for?!”

“I’ll do anything, I swear - I’ll listen,” she mimics your voice, reminding you of the words you uttered just minutes ago.

You visibly deflate, hunching your back and leaning forward before inhaling slowly, lifting yourself again.

Upon your very brief self reflection, you bite your lips together to soothe the hit to your chest, “Fine,” you rub your temples with your fingers, “Have you - got a band in mind, since you’re already so, y’know, insistent?”

Keith purses his lips, “Actually, there is - Rodrick scoped ‘em out tonight and introduced me,” So that’s why it took him so long after sending you here ‘to have a word’. “They seem aight - very eager for a gig - reminded me of you four when you first stumbled in ‘ere like a bunch o’ strays lookin’ for a home. I hope you can be friends, after all - if they do well, I’ll probably book ‘em again, meanin’ you’ll be sharin’ this very room with ‘em.”

You kept your mouth shut while the others are visibly intrigued - you are intrigued, but do your best to hide it.

“What are they called?” Elektra asks, she often spoke for the band in a more… responsible kind of way, like the mom of the band.

Keith hums, gravelly and low as he tries to recall it, “It’s an - interesting name. Ah - Corrosive - no - Corroded Coffin.”

Lame. Our name has a better ring to it, you think, unable to stop your competitive brain. It was something you gained from trying to win over your parents while your sister was so perfect that she didn’t even need to beg for their praise.

“Anyway - I’ve got some late errands to run. I’m pretty sure Rodrick is still chattin’ to ‘em, why don’t you go say hi?” Keith takes a glance at his watch before nodding at you with a stern eyes, “Remember - thin ice, break it? You’re out.”

You begrudgingly nod before bringing your hand up and saluting him, “Yes captain.”

Keith left you four alone with a chuckle.

You, Elektra, Alyssa and Cherie all turned to stare at each other with wide eyes - hearts still pounding, but overall you felt relief. For a moment you really thought that you were outta there for life.

After a minute of silence, Cherie jumped onto her feet and reached her hands out towards the three of you that remained on the couch, “C’mon - let’s meet Corroded Coffin!”

You blinked at her, your lips pressed together in a thin line before shaking your head, “Fuck no.”

“Oh - don’t be like that Vamp, don’t act like you’re not at least a little intrigued,” Cherie lights up, grabbing for your hands and giggling like a school girl as she pulls you up onto your jelly legs, “Treat it like - scoping out the competition!”

It was like a lightbulb had been switched on in your head. She’s right! You smiled cheekily at your scheming mind and nodded, “I guess it’s our duty to welcome them - huh.”

Cherie smirks, reading your mind. She links arms with you and pulls you towards the door - you could hear loud muffled voices behind it, people who had, had one too many tonight.

You take a deep breath and link your arm tight with Cherie’s, making her side move to be flush with yours. Then you look over your shoulder to see Elektra and Alyssa behind you, “Let’s do this,” you say as you exhale and all three of your bandmates nod.

As you nudged the creaky door open, silent thanking the metal gods that it didn’t attract any attention due to the blare of music coming from a stereo as old as the bar itself, everyone seemed to be distracted by their drinks or friends anyway.

You, Elektra, Alyssa and Cherie all slowly peeked past the door in a vertical line, you at the top. You examine the room with squinted eyes, you figured to look for Rodrick first, that seemed like a pretty good place to start to find this new band - Corroded Coffin.

You spotted Rodrick eventually, he was in a booth looking hot as ever with his spiky brown hair… he had a pint of beer in hand and was not alone. He was in the midst of a conversation with three boys, but the bar was too smokey to catch a clear glimpse of them, you could just about make out their figures.

“Psst - is that them?” Cherie whispers up at you, making you look down at her.

“There’s only one way to find out,” you state, raising your brows with a mischievous grin before pushing the door open forcefully, making it knock into the wall and bounce back.

You walk ahead while your band walk in toe, forming a diamond from a bird’s eye view. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, a couple waving and calling out for your attention, but it’s already occupied as you’d set your target on that booth.

As you got closer, the smoke began to vanish and you could see that the boys sitting with Rodrick were the same ones you’d seen before, the newbies wearing the matching shirts - minus one… the one you’d given the eye during your gig, the twinkly doe-eyed brunette.

For a fraction of a second, you wondered where he was, but shook off the thought once you reached the end of the table, immediately catching the attention of the three young boys. Their eyes were wide with fear at the sight of you alone, but as Elektra, Cherie and Alyssa caught up and stood with you, they were practically shaking, “Well well well, what do we have here? Isn’t it bed time for you kiddos?” You cockily laugh, leaning over the table.

Their mouths part and their eyes flicker, hypnotised by the skull and crossbones necklace dangling from your neck. One of them attempts to answer but a bunch of stuttered letters and half words come out instead.

“I’m kidding - aren’t you going to introduce me, Roddie?” A smirk tugs at your lips and your gaze moves to Rodrick, who is staring back at you, mesmerised, but also a little agitated at your use of the nickname he despised. The boys seemed to be desperately seeking an escape plan from Rodrick, they all turned to him too.

Rodrick set his beer down onto the table, making some of it spill out from how lazily he’d placed it, “Gareth, Jeff and er - sorry, what’s your name again?” Rodrick gestures to each boy until reaching the final one sat at the table, he points at the final boy with a puzzled look.

The boy looked at his friends, taking a deep breath, “T-Travis.”

Rodrick hits the table excitedly, making all of the boys straighten their backs suddenly, “Travis - I knew it,” he sighs, rubbing his chin with the same hand he used to hit the table with. You became distracted by his fingers, tanned arms and then up to his brown eyes that were outlined by eyeliner, a skill you taught him. He seemed to smile more when he noticed the way you were staring, “And er - this is Vamp,” Rodrick shoots you a wink, which makes you smile flirtatiously and playfully twirl a finger in your hair. He blinks at you, distracted until Elektra clears her throat, knocking him out of his trace, “Um - and this is Elektra - Cherie - Alyssa.”

“Vamp?” Gareth asks suddenly, he furrows his brows and you nod in response, “Is that - your real name?”

“It is.” You abandoned your real name the moment you dropped out of high school, but they didn’t need to know that.

Rodrick chuckles, an unusual laugh that was pretty funny in itself, it sorta sounds like a drunk Donkey, “Vamp the fair, but metal Queen of the Hideout.”

Gareth, Travis and Jeff all stare up at you like you are an illusion, like they couldn’t believe you were stood in front of them. You almost felt like you were actually royalty. Gareth gestured to his friends, all of their cheeks are tinted pink, “We t-thought yo-u w-ere badass tonight, Vam-.”

“Hey, buttheads - I just had the most - profound whizz of my life - I’ve got it all figured out. We’ll start with Victorious Spear to rev the crowd up, y’know, head-banging - the lot-,” it was him, twinkly doe eyes. He walked towards the table you were stood at with a skip in his step, so excited that he’d paid no attention to his surroundings, including you and your band - you were watching him with an amused look as he stood next to you, rambling while expressing himself with dramatic hand gestures. Gareth, who seemed to speak for the other two a whole lot, raised his brows at the rambler and tilted his head, subtly hinting at your presence, “and - we’ll end - on - um,” the long curly-haired brunette’s voice began to slow down and trail off into silence as soon as he realised that you were stood next to him.

His head whips in your direction, his breath hitching immediately at the sight of you. His pink lips quivered and suddenly his expressive mannerisms disappeared, he was as stiff as a plank of wood.

You stared into his eyes, they are twinkly and round, just like you’d spotted from the stage earlier. Then your eyes quickly examine the rest of his features, his big nose, lips, the spots on his chin - he seemed familiar, but you couldn’t pin point exactly why. You shake it off, straightening your back, the platforms of your boots making you as tall as him, “You’re Corroded Coffin?” You ask with an amused smile.

Has he ever even spoken to a girl before? They’re practically babies - what kind of charm are they gonna have on stage?

He seemed to be at boiling point alone at being stood next to you, practically melting in response to being acknowledged by you - he couldn’t believe his eyes and he was not being subtle about it. It did wonders for your ego. “Y-yeah - er - I’m Corr-oded Coffin,” He stutters in a high pitched tone, you squint your eyes at him, your smile growing as you glance at Cherie and the other girls, who are trying to hold in a laugh. His cheeks turn so pink that you can still see it in the darkness of the room, “I mean - I’m Eddie - Munson and my band is Corroded Coffin,” he nods at his friends, “Gareth - Jeff and Tra-.”

“I know, I’ve already had the pleasure of being introduced to ‘em,” You maintain eye contact with him for a moment, the same flirtatious look you gave him while you were on stage, “Vamp,” you smoothly drawl before gesturing to your friends, “Elektra, Alyssa and Cherie - Stake For My Valentine.”

Eddie nods quickly, “Y-yeah, I know,” his fingers delve into the mane that was his hair and scratched the back of his neck, scrunching his face up at the same time, an excuse not to make eye contact with you, “I - er - don’t know whether to bow or - roll out a carpet.”

You nibble at your bottom lip still staring at him intensely, playfully smirking too, “A bow would suffice.”

“As you wish, m’lady - didn’t have a carpet on me to roll out anyway so-,” He brings a hand to his stomach and bows, his hair falling over his face and shoulders. He chuckles breathlessly, his chest heaving as he stands up straight again - you could see it because his t-shirt wasn’t exactly… loose.

Hellfire Club. That name seemed familiar too.

“We’ve got a er - a gig, here - Tuesday,” Eddie states, still scratching his neck, unable to make eye contact with you. He’s kinda patheti-. “You should come,” he blurts, lifting his gaze from the floor to you, and then to your friends, “Y-you all should come, I mean.”

He’d surprised you with his sudden charm. You blinked at the brunette with a blank face as he stared back at you again with hopeful eyes while your band giggled behind you.

You heard a cough coming from the table - it was Rodrick, he was staring between you and Eddie with an irritated look, tightly holding onto his beer. When he noticed he’d caught your attention, his eyes bore into yours and he wavers slightly in his seat, shaking his head.

You knew what you were doing, a mischievous grin pulled at your lips as you looked at Rodrick, it only grew wider as you focused your attention back on Eddie, who was sheepishly looking between you and Rodrick.

Everyone else excluding you, Eddie and Rodrick, were staring between you all, invested in the entire interaction. The other boys from Corroded Coffin and girls from Stake For My Valentine were watching with open mouths, giving you three knowing looks.

“We’ll be there,” you blurt with the same cheeky grin. You could feel everyone’s eyes only on you now. Rodrick even slammed his drink down onto the table.

Eddie, on the other hand, was writhing with excitement, he jumped on the spot, his hair bouncing off of his shoulders until he stumbled, realising just how much he’d overreacted to your acceptance of his invitation. He fiddled with the sleeves of his leather jacket awkwardly, then swooped his hair away from his eyes, grinning widely at you for a while, “Metal.”

“Eddie,” Jeff interrupts, raising his brows at the man stood in front of you, who was still staring, “Eddie!”

“Jesus H. Christy - what?” Eddie asked, startled by his friend’s outburst.

You bit both your lips together, snorting a little laugh.

“You’ve got to drive us back? We’ve got our campaign, remember?” Jeff asks, ending his questions sarcastically. You put two and two together - campaign meaning ‘Hellfire Club’. You watch them closely, entertained by their subtle bickering.

Eddie’s nose twitched, glaring at Jeff, “Oh - right, yeah - we’d better er - get going then,” he now scratched his nose, clearly disappointed that he had to go. His eyes flickering over your outfit before looking into your eyes timidly, “See you.”

You nod, flashing him your most charming grin before nodding at his friends, who had slid themselves out of the booth and were practically dragging Eddie with them to the entrance and exit door of the Hideout.

The boys left one by one and when it was Eddie’s turn to leave he hesitated, looking your way once more. He blinked, his bottom lip parting from his top one when he noticed that you were still watching him.

You lifted your hand to wave, wiggling your fingers at the same time, making him smile toothily and blush for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

Your heartbeat seemed to pick up and once he disappeared through the door you were left with nothing but adrenaline pumping through your veins - your entire body was a furnace and all the ache you felt before from performing vanished entirely. You were pumped up enough to play a thousand times more - you couldn’t wait until Tuesday.

A little competition never hurt anybody.

You smirk. You’re going down, Eddie Munson.

⇝ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐞 ;)

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ’𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝑩𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑳𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑺

@pexsistolss @big-ope-vibes @majesticjellyfishzombie @lexi--a @b-ritney @joyfulcandyrunaway @sidthedollface2

𝑬𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝑴𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏

@introvertedmouse @munsonology @fastnights @eddiesluvt @kathieycarrerarosshley @marjoriea13 @lolalanaie

🜸

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tailschannel · 1 year

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SEGA president claims Sonic Frontiers sold 3.5 million units worldwide, becoming best-selling 3D title in franchise history

The hedgehog's latest title, Sonic Frontiers, apparently cleared another major milestone, if the words of the publisher's co-chief operating officer were anything to go by.

In a joint press conference with Rovio Entertainment last Tuesday, SEGASammy transmedia president Shuji Utsumi claimed that the open-zone game sold a worldwide total of 3.5 million copies.

If officialized by SEGA, it is widely expected that Frontiers will surpass Sonic Heroes to become the best-selling 3D-based title in the franchise's history, according to the last officially-disclosed sales data after 2007.

vimeo

Even though the sales figure was said by a senior executive at SEGA, the number has yet to be corroborated by the parent company. In late April, SEGA Sammy Holdings officially disclosed to investors that the open-zone game distributed over 3.2 million copies, which contributed to a record-high of 8.1 million full game units sold for the Blue Blur.

The news came at a time when the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise enjoyed renewed success through its vast transmedia portfolio. At the press conference, held at Rovio's home turf in Helsinki, Finland, Utsumi touted Sonic's continued presence through merchandising, animation, and community building; and mused similar, potential developments with Rovio's Angry Birds property.

Tails' Channel reached out to SEGA Sammy Holdings for additional comment.

#SONIC SWEEP #sonic the hedgehog #sonic frontiers #sega #sonic #sonic news

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vague-humanoid · 23 days

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@chrisdornerfanclub

Over the last week, top NYPD officials have flooded the local and national TV airwaves to back up Mayor Eric Adams's claims that "outside agitators" infiltrated college campuses in their quest to "radicalize young people." The officers wielded props like bike chains and academic textbooks on terrorism, and made outlandish claims in their official capacities as senior ranking members of the country's largest police department. NYPD Chief of Department John Chell ended the week with an attack on a City Councilmember who dared to challenge the police department's narrative on student protests. Chell also appeared on Newsmax and proclaimed that a shadowy entity, "probably bigger than New York City" is behind the student protests that have sprung up at campuses across the city.

These officers are doing all of this with the explicit blessing of Mayor Adams. Why does the mayor, a former NYPD captain himself, tolerate these kinds of freewheeling, incendiary comments from his police executives?

The answer may have to do with Adams's own career at the NYPD, during which he was disciplined for making his own bombastic comments on TV. In his 22 years at the department, Adams was found guilty of a single disciplinary charge, for speaking in his capacity as an NYPD officer without getting the department's permission. He retired in 2006, shortly after the verdict was issued.

Adams's NYPD disciplinary records related to the charge, obtained by Hell Gate and published here for the first time, feel quaint compared to the present day status quo. Captain Adams mildly criticized the mayor and the police commissioner when he was off-duty. But here in these documents, Adams is proclaiming on television that he was "in charge," that he knew better than City Hall, and that he shouldn't be punished for saying so, even if it all wasn't, strictly speaking, true.

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probablyasocialecologist · 7 months

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One of the UK's most senior generals was warned in writing in 2011 that SAS soldiers were claiming to have executed handcuffed detainees in Afghanistan.

BBC Panorama can reveal that Gen Gwyn Jenkins, who is now the second most senior officer in the British armed forces, received accounts of conversations in which members of the SAS described extrajudicial killings.

But instead of referring the evidence to military police, Gen Jenkins placed it in a classified dossier and locked it in a safe.

The failure to refer the evidence to military police has previously been disclosed in court, but the identities of the officers involved were withheld from the public by the Ministry of Defence.

Gen Jenkins - who was at the time a colonel in the senior ranks of special forces - created the classified dossier in April 2011 after first briefing his direct superior, then-head of special forces Gen Jonathan Page, on the nature of the evidence.

Under British law, commanding officers are legally obliged to inform the military police if they are made aware of any evidence that a war crime may have been committed.

But the dossier containing the testimony remained locked in the safe for four years, known only to a handful of officers, as Gen Jenkins rose through the ranks of the armed forces, until a separate special forces whistleblower informed the Royal Military Police of its existence.

#uk #british army #afghanistan #war crimes

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yeonjuns-beanie · 2 years

Text

Trick Or Treat

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

a/n: I know I have not posted anything since May lol. But that is beside the point. I have a lot of new ideas floating in and I can’t wait to execute them! Most of them are Stranger Things. I hope you enjoy it! :) -Dionysus

Summary: What if you got invited to Jason Carver’s Halloween party and see Eddie “the freak” Munson stops you. You know there is a spark between you too, but what if something happens right before you leave. How will Eddie handle it?

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, L- bombs, unprotected sex (use protection kids), nothing too crazy

You hate high school. But let’s be honest, who actually enjoys these four years of absolute bullshit. You didn’t fit into any crowd. Didn’t do sports, wasn’t popular, didn’t like to kiss ass. You didn’t take any bullshit from anybody. You seem to grab attention for some odd reason. Maybe it was because of your hair that was unruly, but it fit your look. Maybe it was because of the way you dressed. Leather, tight jeans, band tees, jeans that look like you got them from your father, platform boots, or as many people called them “KISS boots”. You liked attention, but only from certain people. People like you.

The bell of your 3rd period class rang, signaling that it was time for lunch. As you made your way to the lunchroom, you felt a tap on your shoulder. As you turned to see who it was you could not be more disappointed.

“What could you possibly want from me, Jason?” you asked.

“I like you and I want you to come to my party that I’m having tonight” he said.

“No you don’t, Jason. I know you only want to use me as a laughing stock for your stupid fucking friends. You don’t like me and you know it.” you said.

“ That’s what I like about you. You’re so feisty. And I don’t take no for an answer,” he said and tried to corner you into a locker.

“Fuck off, Jason,” you said as you shoved him off of you.

To your surprise, Eddie Munson was trailing behind you and heard the whole altercation. He was impressed with how sharp you were with your tongue. Nobody ever talks like that to Jason Carver. Everyone was afraid of him. Eddie had always liked you. Considering you’re almost done with high school and he is in his third senior year, he has gotten to like you from afar, but never personally gotten to know you.

You two had English together. You guys were both the “weirdos” who sat in the back of the class. You had occasionally exchanged glances or test answers, but nothing more than that.

You knew Mike as you too had closely fought monsters together only a couple months prior. Mike always wanted you to sit with him at lunch with his friends, but it is kind of hard when everyone else is younger, besides Eddie.

You decide to say fuck it and go sit with him to try and avoid Jason coming up and talking to you even more. As you find Mike in the sea of children, you spot him talking to Eddie. Once you move closer to the table, you throw your bag down and take your seat.

“You will never fucking believe what just happened to me,” you said.

“Did you fail another test?” Gareth asked.

“Are you still a virgin?” you quipped. This caused the table to erupt in laughter. You even made Eddie smile which made you feel a certain way.

“Anyways, Jason berated me in the hallway claiming that he liked me, which has to be the most bullshit thing I have ever heard. He invited me to his party tonight and I’m probably going to go. It’s Halloween night and I have nothing to do so why not,” you said.

Eddie was kind of tense when you said you were going. He knew you were pretty and had such confidence in you. He wanted you.

“What are you going as?” Mike asked you.

“I have been itching to do a devil. It’s quite scandalous and I will never ever do this again. Halloween is my excuse to dress up like a slut and face no repercussions,” you said.

Lunch had ended and you grabbed your things. Suddenly, you gained a whip of confidence.

“Eddie, do you want to come to my place and help me get ready? I could always use a second opinion,” you said.

You could see the shock on his face. You two had never hung out like that before and now he doesn’t know what to feel.

“Sure, I could help. I’ll take you to your place so you don’t have to walk home,” he said.

“Aww Eddie, that is so nice of you. You know, we could just leave now. I don’t really feel like going to English. We can hang out, watch a movie, talk, whatever you want,” you said. “Sure, sweetheart. You know I don’t like that class anyways,” he said.

Nobody thought that it was weird that the “freak'' was walking with you. You were one too. The only difference being that people didn’t mess with you as much. Come to find out, people were actually afraid of you. Good.

The drive to your house went by relatively quickly. Once you got there, Eddie opened your door which you thought was really sweet. You led him into your room and instructed him to get comfortable.

“What do you want to do? I’ve got Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining, Poltergeist. Any of those catching your attention?’ you ask.

“Let’s do Poltergeist. I haven’t seen that one in awhile,” he said.

“Sick. I’ll go ahead and set up the bed and you can go in my kitchen and forage for some snacks. Sound good?” you ask.

“Sounds great,” he says as he makes his way out of your room.

You set the fluffiest blanket you own on the bed along with some pillows. You light a candle that’s on your bedside table and shut all the blinds so the room becomes dark. Once you’ve finished with that, you change out of your school clothes and put on a pair of shorts and a big sweatshirt. The blanket keeps you warm, but you run cold, so the more clothing, the better. You settle yourself underneath the blanket and wait for Eddie to come back.

Eventually, Eddie has made his way back to your room and he catches you with the biggest smile on your face.

“What are you grinning about?” he asks.

“I’m just excited to watch the movie with you. I usually spend my Halloween alone and it's nice to have someone,” you say.

You open the blanket signaling him to climb in and he does just that.

“Do you mind if I get close to you? You can say no. Don’t feel pressured to say yes,” you say.

Eddie feels heat rise to his cheeks. Are you just kidding or do you really mean it? Either way, he isn’t going to let go of this opportunity.

“Of course you can,” he says as he lifts his arm up welcoming you to lay your head on top of his chest.

You instantly relax once your head hits his chest. You can’t be more content than you are at this moment.

The movie is almost over and you have felt eyes throughout the entirety of it. You know that Eddie is staring at you and you love every minute of it. Once the credits roll, you begrudgingly pull yourself off of Eddie’s warm chest to tell him that you have to start getting ready for the party.

You make your way out of the bed and decide that you should put on some music while you get ready. Yes, you will get distracted, but who the hell cares.

Ever since Def Leppard released Pyromania, you have not been able to stop listening to it. You set the cassette tape in its player and turn up the volume as loud as you could.

You started on your makeup. Settling for heavy eye makeup and a deep red lip. As you were going on with your routine, you were swaying your hips to each song. You could feel Eddie’s eyes on you and that was the whole point. You wanted him to look at you.

Eventually, Rock of Ages makes its way on and you can’t help but get excited. You start dancing a lot more and start singing out loud. The chorus begins and you hope to god that Eddie knows it.

“Rock of Ages! Rock of Ages!”

“Still rollin’, keep rollin’!’”

You can’t help but giggle and proceed to finish your makeup. Once that is finished, you switched out the cassette for Holy Diver by Dio. You head back into the bathroom to curl your hair. By the time you were done, your favorite song on the album Gypsy came on.

You moved back into the bedroom and began to dig through your clothes to find that red corset you bought ages ago, but never had a place to wear it. Once you put it on you turned to Eddie.

“Hey, Eds? Can you tie my corset please? I can’t get it as tight as I want it to be,” you ask.

Eddie gets up off the bed and finally gets a good look at you. You look absolutely stunning. You never come to school with any makeup on and he loved it, but this was so new. He could feel himself tightening in his jeans and he is trying his hardest to ignore it.

“Turn around, gorgeous,” he said.

The pet name caused you to feel hot, only to be broken out of your trance by how tight this damn corset is.

“Thank you Eddie,” you say.

You proceed to move into your closet to find the black leather skirt and your platform heels. You retrieve what you needed and put them on in the bathroom.

Once you have finished the final look, you open the door.

“How do I look Eddie?” you ask while doing a little spin.

“Oh my god, you look so hot. No- I- I, you look very pretty,” he sputtered out.

“Thank you, Eds. I should probably head out,” you say.

“Wait, Y/N! Can we talk about something really quick before you leave, please?”

Him pleading wasn’t normal. You are kind of concerned as to why he is acting this way.

“Sure, Eds. What’s up?” you say nervously.

“Can you come sit down next to me for a minute?”

You are beyond nervous at this point. You slowly make your way over to the bed and take a seat next to him while still keeping distance between the two of you.

“Are you okay, Eddie? You look really nervous. What is it that you want to talk to me about?”

“Y/N, you are someone who I don’t know, yet you intrigue me so much. I have seen you from afar and how strong of a woman that you are. You don’t take anything from anybody. I have never met anyone like you.”

The only thing that you can do is look at him longingly. He is running through his words so fast and you are trying your best to comprehend exactly what he is saying.

“ I like your style, your voice, and how nerdy you are. Nobody else notices, but I see all the books you have and how you can never seem to put them down. What I’m trying to say is that I like you, and I have for a while now. I never said anything because I didn’t know how you would react.”

Your jaw might as well have been on the floor. Eddie Munson just said he liked you. What happened next was out of your control. Your body seemed to move on your own.

“Please say someth-.”

You cut Eddie off with a passionate kiss. His lips are kind of dry, as you expected, but it is still so wonderful at the same time.

“So, I’m taking that as you like me back?” he said.

“Shut up, Munson and kiss me again.”

“Not until you take a different seat,” he said as he started patting his lap. You know he was just expecting you to sit, but you take it a step further. You take the liberty to straddle his lap which causes your skirt to ride up exposing the lower half of your ass.

“Holy shit, Y/N you didn’t have to do that.” “Oh, but I’ve wanted to, baby. For a long, long time. Put your hands on me. I promise I won’t bite.”

Eddie places his hands on the small of your back. He’s being too shy, so you do him a favor of putting his hands on your ass. He gives it a squeeze and sighs deeply. You lean forward and kiss Eddie feverishly.

Eddie breaks away from the kiss and is panting. Red lipstick painting his pretty mouth. You can feel his bulge growing as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

“Sweetheart, you are going to kill me. You are so fucking sexy in this tiny outfit.”

You lean forward into Eddie’s ear and whisper and say “Only wore it so I could see you squirm.”

You see Eddie’s eyes darken. Deeper than you have ever seen before.

“Baby, you don't know what you just got yourself into.”

Eddie proceeds to flip you over onto your bed with a loud thud. Eddie stands and starts undoing his belt. You can hear the metal clack as it hits the floor.

Eddie moves agonizingly slowly towards you and slips his hand underneath your skirt. He finds your panties and pulls them off slowly. You try to get up to take your skirt off, but Eddie’s large hand pushes it back.

“Leave it on. You look so hot and we wouldn’t want to waste a good outfit, would we?”

You nod your head no and he smiles.

Eddie pushes your skirt up so it’s resting up on your hips and puts his hands behind your knees and pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

He bends down to his knees and places his head right between your legs. Slowly, he moves his head and licks a fat stripe from your opening to your clit.

“Oh my god, Eddie. That feels so good.”

“Baby, I haven’t even started. You’re in for a wild ride.”

Eddie immediately starts attacking your clit. Sucking so hard that his cheeks start to hollow. You can’t help but rake your fingers through his dark locks. You are experiencing so much pleasure that you start to squeeze your legs around his head. Eddie can’t help but chuckle right before he roughly pushes your legs back down.

You never thought that this would ever happen. Eddie Munson is drowning himself in your pussy and loving every minute of it.

“Eddie, I- I’m gonna cume. Fuck your mouth feels so good. I can’t hold it.”

“Please cum, baby. I want you on my face so bad.”

That was enough to do it. You came harder than you ever have before.

“Holy shit, Eddie. Please come up here and let me fuck you. I want to make you feel good.”

You help yourself up to stand and help Eddie out of his clothes and push him onto the bed.

“Y/N, I don’t have any condoms on me.”

“Shush, I’m on the pill and I want to feel you inside of me.”

You climb your way over Eddie and straddle him. He brings his face to close the gap in between the two of you. He is caught off guard. He moans into the kiss and it gives you the perfect opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth.

You slowly start grinding on his clothed cock. Eddie starts to buck his hips up into yours which causes you to let out a soft moan.

“Eddie, I need you inside of me right now or I just might explode,”

You can see Eddie’s mouth is forming a smirk. Not only do you want him, but you need him.

“You’re so sexy. I have never met anyone like you before,”

“Well, I hope not. Now, we can get sappy after this. Please just fuck me.”

Eddie has no problem listening to your orders. He lifts his hips up to slip off his boxers and you can’t help but moan. He isn’t gigantic, but who wants that? It is perfect for you and that is all that matters.

You slowly lower yourself onto Eddie’s cock and both of you sigh once you have him all the way inside you. Slowly, you start rocking back and forth only to be greeted with Eddie’s face contorting in pleasure.

“Holy fuck, Y/N. You feel so fucking good. Please don’t stop.”

You never thought that you were going to ever hear Eddie beg like this. Beside the point, it is the hottest thing you have ever heard. And you want him to beg more. You aren’t one to be dominant, but he just looks so pretty.

You slide up and then slam back down and stay there. You can see Eddie’s eyes start to get bleary.

“Why did you stop? Please, it felt so good. I need you so bad. What do I have to do to get you to-”

You cut him off by slamming back down onto him. All you can do is deeply inhale at how much of a puddle you can turn this boy into. But we can save that for another time. Now you just want to make him feel good.

No one has ever made you feel this good before. You feel on top of the world. So good that you say something that you might not have intended to come out.

“Fuck, Eddie. I love you so much.”

Your eyes go wide. Did you seriously just say that? There’s no way you let that slip out.

Eddie is just as shocked. But not due to the fact that you said you loved him. But because he feels the same way.

“I love you too, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Those words alone were enough to send you over the edge. The person you have been eyeing from afar wants you and you want him too.

Not long after, Eddie’s breathing starts to speed up and his eyes shut tight.

“Shit, Y/N. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, you feel so good. Please let me cum.”

“Cum, Eddie. I want you inside of me. Let go.”

With that, Eddie got very breathy and you could feel his hot seed painting the inside of your walls. You have never felt something so euphoric and soothing at the same time.

You move to get off, but Eddie’s firm hands stop you at your hips signaling you to stay on top of him.

His cum begins to leak out of you and onto him. He can’t help himself and looks and brings his fingers down to the small puddle that has formed and scoops it onto his fingers. He lifts his fingers up to your mouth and you are more than happy to accept them inside. When you do, you can feel Eddie twitch inside of you.

“Fuck that was so hot,” Eddie says breathily.

Slowly, you climb off his cock and wobble towards the bathroom.

You come back with a warm washcloth and wipe off any remnants of you or him that trickled down to his pelvis.

Eddie just looked at you lovingly. No one was ever this loving and caring for him before. This was definitely something that he could get used to.

Once completed, you made your way back into the bathroom. While in the bathroom, you strip of the corset and skirt that Eddie made you keep on and put back on the shirt and shorts you wore earlier and take off your makeup.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going to Jason’s party,” he said

“ I would be an idiot if I chose to go to some asshole’s party when I could be spending it with someone I love.

Eddie could hear you say that you love him for hours on loop. The sound of the person he loves saying that they love him back has to be the best thing in the world.

“Can I take you out on a date? I know you said you love me and I love you too, but I really want a relationship with you,” he sputtered out.

“We are on a date right now,” you say as you walk back towards the bed and get back in your blanket fortress you made earlier.

“Now, do you want to watch The Shining next or perhaps we should watch something not so scary?”

Eddie couldn’t help but stare down at you in adoration. He finally got the girl he has wanted and she wants him back. He couldn’t be any happier.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #smut #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4

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