now as most of you probably know, I’m super interested in espionage and I was thinking the other day about how far this goes back and anywhere here is a story from when I was nine (9) years old

back in middle school I was friends with a bunch of people who were probably as dramatic as I was (read: very) and so we would have “massive” falling outs every other damn week. I’m talking full blown middle school warfare where we would sometimes fall out for up to a week at a time. who was at fault always rotated, but like clockwork someone would be accused of the ultimate crime – “Splitting The Group Up” – and ostracised until we all forgot about it or someone else tried to Split The Group Up. 

now I enjoyed the drama as much as the next kid but it was getting kind of… stale, you know? I wanted to Spice it up a bit. one day, I saw my opportunity. 

the kid who was Splitting The Group Up this time was a kid called Ross. I was sneaking around the cloakroom one lunch break when I spotted him in there, hiding because whenever we saw him we would chase him across the playground screaming insults, which was as you can imagine very unpleasant. I looked at him. he looked at me, expecting a barrage of insults.

“hey,” I said, holding out a piece of my fruit roll-up as a peace offering. “wanna be Secret Friends™?”

thus the concept of Secret Friends™ was born. basically, two people from the opposing groups would actually be friends on the downlow. in public we would taunt and insult one another with the rest of the group, but in private we were still friends, organising clandestine meetings and passing information to one another about what the groups were planning. I organised most of the codewords and protocol, with input from Ross, as we were the original Secret Friends™, but as the dynamics shifted in the group and different sets of Secret Friends™ were formed, the techniques grew ever sneakier.

before you knew it, it was full on espionage. we had codes. we had certain ways of wearing our uniform to pass messages (top shirt button undone = safe to meet behind the bike shed at precisely 12:06. top button done = attempt no further contact until informed otherwise). we had dead drop zones where we would hide letters and notes to be picked up later. we had certain insults we would throw out in full view of our own side that would send a secret message to the Secret Friend™ in question. we would, on occasion, pretend to defect to the other side, just to be closer to the Secret Friend™ and funnel information back to an inside source in the original group. 

quickly, both groups found their plans being compromised. it was a constant battle of secrecy and wits. suspicions mounted and mole hunts were frequent. I remember being followed into bathrooms and finding people spying on who was coming by my house after school. on one occasion, I was interrogated in the Tree House as to my whereabouts on a certain night, and on where I had been during first break at school (dropping a letter off at one of me and Ross’s dead drop zones, but of course I didn’t tell them that). on several other occasions, I was the one spying on front doors and demanding answers in the hallowed halls of the Tree House.

eventually, Ross and I realised that something had to be done. gradually, over many days (a long time then – can I remind you of the fact that we were nine years old at the time) we framed a girl in my group, Gemma, as the traitor. we planted evidence. I forged her handwriting (to this day I am excellent at changing my handwriting, and I put it down to this). straight-faced and unashamed, I informed my Group Leader that I had spotted Gemma fraternising with the enemy. she was put on trial and found guilty. Ross and I shared a knowing signal of triumph (I unwrapped and ate a red Starburst sweet as I passed him) and life went on.

how did I deal with the stress? I don’t know. all I know is that in the face of true loyalty, sacrifices have to be made. as for ross and I? we were never caught.


On January 20th, hundreds of thousands of people will be storming the streets across the US against Trump’s accelerated assault on migrants, LGBTQ people, women, unions, people of color, and the entire working class.

Now more than ever, we need massive resistance in the streets to shut down Trump’s agenda of racism, sexism, migrant-bashing, cutbacks and war. With capitalism in decline, this agenda can be a recipe for fascism.

While both the Democrats and the Republicans are telling us now to accept the results of the election and look to “work with” President Trump, we completely refuse to accept this racist billionaire as the leader of this country. Trump has no solutions for the real issues faced by billions of workers across the world.

Capitalism, imperialism and the racist cops occupying our communities are the real problem. We, the millions of people ready to take direct action against the attacks of a Trump administration, are the solution.  

Only mass action can push back this racist, sexist agenda. We are entering a new era of historic resistance, led by the struggles of Black Lives Matter and the water protectors at Standing Rock. We stand ready to put our bodies in front of deportation busses, bulldozers, tanks and other war machines. The working class and oppressed must join together in this historic moment with the full understanding that real power is in the streets, not in the White House and not the Pentagon.

Let’s show on January 20th that another world is possible. There is an alternative to racist terror, sexist oppression, homophobia, transphobia, migrant-bashing and bigotry. There is an alternative to capitalism and fascism.

On January 20th, let’s shut down DC with a historic mobilization of the people, united against Trump’s assault on the people.

Let’s fight for the revolution we really need. Now is our time to be in the streets.

We say NO to Trump, NO to Clinton, NO to capitalism, NO to war and NO to the two-party system that supports all of the above.  

On Friday, January 20th, we will make sure our collective voice is heard throughout the halls of power and across the world. Join us!


J20resist.org is a resource to assist this historic moment. It is a way for people all over the world to coordinate to push back against Trump and those who enabled his rise to power.

At J20resist.org groups and individuals can connect up, coordinate travel to DC, connect with local actions – student walk-outs, stay aways, shut downs and rallies in the U.S. and around the world.




dolce_piccante [haydolce146k 

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He’s rich. He’s handsome. He’s reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

It’s St. Lucia’s day today! :D

Not many people celebrate St. Lucia (or St. Lucy), and I personally love it, so I thought I’d make some Lucia themed ot4 art :)

Someone come cry with me. I just watched this fancam and you can see Jimin just quietly sitting next to Namjoon during BigBang’s performance, not talking or moving really, even though we know he’s a massive BB fan. We’ve talked a lot about how Jimin always seem to be the one most sensitive to the members moods. How he’s always right next to them, comforting them, when something happens. Like when Jungkook messed up his flip on AHL and Jimin gave him encouragement to keep practicing and told him he looked cool anyway, trying to make him feel less embarrassed. Or when V got all that ridiculous backlash for mouthing Loser and we can see Jimin in pictures sticking to him like glue, hugging him and trying to make him smile. We have so many little moments of Jimin being there for his members and giving them comfort and support in the way they need it, and I just…everyone needs to appreciate Park Jimin. Park Jimin who sat silently in support of his hyung who was having the near shittiest day imaginable even when one his favorite bands was playing. Park Jimin, who didn’t try and smile and hug and make jokes like he might have with V or Jhope because he knew that wouldn’t help Namjoon, but just stayed next to him to remind him he wasn’t alone. We all need a friend like Park Jimin.

okay, this is totally irrelevant, but have a quick story time because i had to scroll past this post and felt guilty.

way back in time, many summers ago, little old me went to visit the local library for the first time. i was young, very young, in elementary school at the time, and it blew my mind. see, the local library is more of a city library, because it’s located in the town square and is absolutely massive. we’re talking three stories and a grand staircase here. there were so many books! for free! for literal free! and i could have all of them! 

so, because elementary school me had no idea what restraint was or how to apply it to my daily life, i checked out approximately 20 books. possibly more. (the library only had a checkout limit on academic texts. well. used to only have.) i then went home and read voraciously, and was done with all of these books in about 5 days.

only no one believed i had finished all of them that fast. my parents refused to take me back, because they thought there was no way i could have finished them all. 

believe you me i was not about to take this lying down, so i must have argued for hours before i finally accepted defeat. i went back up to my room and shoved this pile of books under my bed, determined to bring them out again on my next trip to the library.

by now you might be getting an inkling of where this story is going. 

that pile of books was then forgotten under my bed until approximately my freshman year of high school, when i unearthed it as i cleaned out my room. (i was going through a ‘reinvent myself’ phase and had decided the new me was not going to be a compulsive hoarder.) somehow, in all of that time, i had never returned to the library. it seemed unbelievable. how could this have happened? i must have sat there for a solid 10 minutes in stupefied horror, running my fingers over the dust-coated spines. i knew immediately i had to return these books.

i did not immediately return the books. because freshman me was dumb as hell about a lot of things, but not about consequences, and i knew there were going to be consequences.

eventually, though, i womaned up and grabbed my wallet and a bag for the books and went to the library again. i marched right up to the front desk area and said i had some books to return and some fines to pay. so they direct me to another desk, where i hand over the decades-old (hahaha but really) library card.

this is where it went to hell in a handbasket. 

turns out when my parents brought me to the library they didn’t register for a full library card and opted to get a ‘guest’ one that would expire in a few weeks. they only put down the home phone number, no address or email. except the phone number was one digit wrong. so this library card had 20 books on it when it expired, and the librarians had to keep refreshing it or whatever for the past however many years while also repeatedly calling a number that never worked. so the fines kept racking up and they had no way of tracking down the owner of the card. 

things only got worse when i pulled out the stack of books and put them on the counter. now, i did my best to wipe off the dust and grime, but there was only so much i could do. these books looked like they belonged in a haunted house or an evil witch’s lair after spending years under my bed, and from the way the librarian was glaring at me by then i was pretty sure that was where my corpse was gonna end up too.

skip ahead to after the librarian scans all of these books, death-glaring me into submission the entire time, and informs me my total amount of fines owed is $90.26. which holy shit. holy fucking shit.

keep in mind i was an itsy-bitsy freshman in high school at this time. $90 was a lot of money to me. as a matter of fact, it still is. so i’m getting out my wallet and counting the money inside, and lucky for me i happened to have $100 and 25 cents. lucky is actually a bit of an understatement, because i got the feeling that if i had anything less or wasn’t able to pay the fine a haunted house would be one of the nicer places my corpse was gonna end up. 

except i wasn’t done being a little shit, because i apparently hadn’t learned my lesson yet. whatever that lesson was supposed to be. so while i could have put down $100 and waited to get my 74 cents change, i put down $90 and 25 cents. 

so the librarian started counting the money, and i started subtly moonwalking towards the door. as fortune would have it, i reached the glass-paned portal to salvation the moment that librarian realized i was exactly 1 cent short of paying off my fine.

she looks up and sees me standing at the door, hand wrapped around the handle. i look back at her. cue the western standoff music.

i don’t know how long we stood there. i honestly don’t. it could have been seconds. it could have been minutes. all i know is that when i felt my palms start to sweat and my knees begin to shake, i wrenched that door open with all of my strength. i had to go. 

and the librarian- the fucking librarian- vaults the desk and comes after me.

the noise that came out of my mouth was not human. it was somewhere between the shriek of a prey animal and the dying wail of an electric guitar. because this librarian, swear to god, was ancient. i’m talking ancient ancient. so ancient my own grandma (bless her heart) would look young. white-haired, sweater-vested bottle-glasses-wearing ancient. yet here she is, heels clicking across the floor, ankle-length skirt flying behind her and twin fires of pure fury burning in her eyes. i could almost hear the souls of the damned strike up their chorus. 

i deadass sprinted out of there so fast my gym teacher would have been proud. i put every action movie star from the past three decades to shame. usain bolt himself would have looked slow next to me. and i did not stop until i was standing in my bedroom again, several miles away.

to this day, i have not set foot in the city library again. i know that if i do, i will not escape alive. sometimes, in the deep, dark of the night, i hear high heels clicking across tiled floor and the sound of a door slamming shut behind me. i burned my library card and never keep anything under the bed.

so, if you’re ever wondering why i can never go to a library again, this post is why. 

Airport Richie  - @ JFK


Why is it the moment that there is a terror attack committed by MUSLIMS you guys instantly start spewing ‘stay safe muslims’ chants.

Are we attacking them on massive scale?


Your stupid ‘stay safe muslims’ isn’t needed because NOBODY IS ATTACKING MUSLIMS.


Get that through your fucking skulls.