#Mexican gun store

[nightlyrequiem]

Crawl to Me

The world ended long ago. Now belonging to the undead that roam it, feeding on the last surviving people. You've learned to avoid the rotters. You have a past with one and like when she was alive, she's not willing to let you escape so easily.

New Part Every Thursday

Masterlist AO3

A/N- I was actually working on an apocalyptic fic in June, but I genuinely couldn't figure out how to progress the story in an interesting way. I still want to write one though because I'm a slut for apocalypse stories. This ones kind of lengthy. Like 2800 words

Tags/Warnings: Undead Valeria, No Use of the Word 'Zombie', Apocalypse, Gore, Stalking, WLW, Implied But Also In Your Face Toxic Relationship

The world ended eight months ago. A disease thawed from the melting glaciers and ravaged through the living population faster than it could control. Hospitals were overrun and the government declared a state of emergency. You weren't to leave your homes for anything. Rations were to be dropped off by authorized personal. They followed all the proper protocols and procedures, and it wasn't enough.

"Do you think this is expired?" A woman asks. She's rooting through a pile of canned food while you and a man keep a watch out. The infected are more active at night. A quick acting evolutionary behavior to avoid the scorching heat of the Mexican sun, to preserve the decaying host for longer.

"No." The man replies, voice deep and buttery. "Canned food can last for years past it's expiry date."

Something moves outside, kickstarting your heart. Some infected still wander out during the day. Your hands are sweating, making it hard to hold the gun. Valeria tried to teach you how to hold a gun once. You were never comfortable around them though. You peer outside, ears too sensitive in the unnatural quiet. A thin stray dog runs past the window. Clumps of fur missing from mange. You relax. Rotters will attack and eat any animal they catch but so far, you haven't seen any animals actually get infected with the disease. You shudder at the idea of running from a pack of infected strays. Their frothing jaws hung open, breath sour with illness. Sinking their teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh.

"Hurry it up, Grace." The man growls. He was a military officer; despite that he has no patience. You don't care for him. He reminds you of Valeria.

Grace shoves cans into her duffel bags. Filling them so much that she struggles with the zipper.

"If you want this to be faster then maybe you should be doing this, Rojan." She growls. Hoisting the heavy bags up and adjusting them on her shoulders. Rojan doesn't reply. Just stares out the window stoically. On the other side of the small supermarket, another man looks through magazines instead of being useful. Holding them up in the sparse light to leer at the women on the pages.

You and your small group move on. Exiting the store. The sun is hot and unforgiving. The ground beneath your feet is dry and cracked. Only the toughest of weeds able to grow from the pavement.

"What are we going to do for shelter?" Grace asks. Walking alongside Rojan. You lag behind, at the tail end of the group just behind the man who was looking at magazines instead of finding food. He turns and glances at you. Sizing you up. Both you and Grace have made it very clear you're not interested. Though there's a lack of women around and he hasn't quite given up yet.

He slows his pace to walk beside you. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. It makes you sweat just looking at him.

"We might have to sleep outside tonight." He says. You wish he wouldn't talk to you.

"No we won't." You reply with disinterest. "Rojan would never make us camp outside." It's just simply too dangerous.

"Well," He starts. "If we do you and I could share a spot to keep warm."

You roll your eyes. It gets absurdly cold at night but even then, you'd rather kiss a rotter than cuddle up to him. "Pass, Arthur." 

Arthur doesn't seem perturbed by your prickly nature.

"It's not like you'd lose anything by being with me for a night." He argues. Up ahead, Grace and Rojan are deep in conversation, heads close together. You wish you could join them instead of being stuck with Arthur.

"I'm a lesbian." You grit out. Even if you weren't, you still wouldn't touch Arthur.

He pauses and you start relaxing, assuming he's going to back off. "Why does that matter?" He asks. "I'm not asking for a relationship; you don't have to be attracted to me to sleep with me."

"Arthur!" Grace barks, turning her head to scowl at him. He looks up at her. "Cut that shit out, she's not interested. I'm not interested, nobody here is interested."

Arthur considers her and moves away from you silently. You give Grace a thankful nod.

Night begins to fall. Your legs ache with each step as you walk, the bag on your back feels like it gained ten extra pounds. Finally, Rojan slows to a stop outside of a small house. The windows have been broken but boards fill in the empty space. The screen door swings in the slight wind, creaking as it does. Weeds and tall grass have dominated the small front yard and somewhere hidden within, flies buzz loudly. Congregating over something dead.

"We'll stay here for the night." Rojan says. He looks at each of you. Pointing at you and Arthur. "Help me make sure it's clear." 

You slowly creep inside. The interior is just as rundown as the outside. A dank, musty smell coats the damp-stained walls and fungus pops up from dark corners. You walk by the living room and startle. In the corner, facing the wall is a rotter. It's back turned to you. The skin is flayed and painful looking. Deep gashes litter it's skin. It's stationary. Unmoving apart from a slight sway. 

You don't know if you should risk making noise shooting it. You look to the front of you as Rojan disappears around the corner. You frown and look back at the rotter. A bullet would be loud and might wake and draw any dormant rotters in the area. You slowly holster your gun and unsheathe your hunting knife. Approaching the rotter like a predator. Remembering what Rojan taught you. Sweep out the legs - which won't be hard considering how emaciated they look - and quickly stab into the temple. You take another step, and the floor loudly creaks under your weight. You and the rotter both go still. The lax swaying coming to an abrupt halt.

You wait, heart beating in your ears. The seconds feel long but the rotter never turns, and you resume your creeping. You come right up behind it and recoil at the smell. Unwashed body mixed with overripe fruit, sickly and decaying. You shake your head and build up your courage. Finally, you kick out it's legs and ignore the very human grunt. Grabbing one side of it's head, you stab your knife into the soft spot in it's temple, cutting of the beginning of a shrill squeal. It drops, becoming dead weight in your arms. You lower it to the grown and let it drop.

The small home is cleared just in time for the sun to begin setting. The group sits in the living room. Silent and eating. Even Arthur is keeping his mouth shut. As the sky darkens, the sound of shuffling gets louder. The rotters have awoken. A few of them call out eerie pleas for help. That's what disturbs you the most; the mimicking. Back at the start you had mistakenly opened your door, assuming the woman crying for help on the other side was human. She wasn't. You had been tackled to the floor trying to fight her off. A lucky shove sent her flying into the table, snapping her neck and stunning her enough for you to bash her head in. You don't respond to calls for help anymore.

You have first watch. Your eyes droop and you fight hard to keep them open. Grace's soft snoring does nothing to help you. You're leaning against the wall. Your name gets called, startling you awake. Your heart throbs in your chest as you listen, ears ringing from the silence. Were you hallucinating? It doesn't come again. A few footsteps sound close to the boarded-up window. Maybe one of the rotters said something that sounded like your name. That's what you decide but it freaks you out enough to keep you awake.

Your group moves on promptly at sunrise. Most of the rotters having hidden themselves in shadows and buildings to hibernate for the day. It's another scorcher. Sweat wets your brow as you walk, legs aching from fatigue. Your tired stumbling reminds you of the rotters.

"Water." Arthur says. Rojan reaches into the side of his pack for the communal water bottle without stopping and holds it out behind him. Arhtur takes it and you watch him carefully from the corner of your eye to make sure he isn't taking too much. Water is a valuable commodity. Getting drinkable water is a hassle. If you can't find any bottled water stashed somewhere, you have to boil some from rivers. You lag behind a little. Overheating and exhausted from having to stay up all night.

You halt as you hear movement beside you. Your group progresses on, leaving you behind as you stare into the shadowy alley. Not a brick is out of place. You hurry your steps and catch up with your group. You're just tired and paranoid.

You sit with your back to your front door as Valeria pounds on it. Shaking the weak wood with every hit.

"Open the fucking door!" She yells. You put your head down and cover your ears, every single limb fizzling with nervous energy. You and Valeria have had a... tumultuous relationship. On and off, fighting, making up. You finally called it off for good and denied her when she tried to win you back. Valeria's never been able to leave you alone though.

She hits the door again.

"Please, mi vida, open the door." Her voice softens. It's forced. 

"Go away, Valeria!" You yell back, worried she'll break down the door. You don't know what she'll do if she makes it inside and that scares you.

"For fuck's sake!" She snarls, dropping the nice act. "I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't open this door!"

You shut your eyes and count. Trying to calm yourself down.

The faded red door and empty flowerpots are uncomfortably familiar. You feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Unfortunately for you, Rojan deems it suitable. He and Grace clear it and you and Arthur enter once they confirm it's empty. You cast a glance at the decayed woman on the floor, head mashed to a pulp. You're disturbed to find chunks missing from her. The other's congregate in the living room but you wander down the hall and take a left. Pushing open the closed door. The bedroom is full of dirt and dust. The curtains nothing but moth-eaten tatters now. You wander to the nightstand and lower yourself down to your knees, the carpet damp and spongy. You reach under and pull out a box, running your fingers over the gold trim. Clearing dust off the lid. You open it and pull things out. Birthday cards, baby teeth. Polaroids. You and Valeria smile up from the picture tauntingly. She has a firm grip on your waist, keeping you pressed against her.

Flowers get shoved in your face, startling you out of your skin. You stare at Valeria like a deer in headlights. Behind her lurks two dangerous looking men. Protection or intimidation? You can guess which.

"I'm sorry." Valeria murmurs, forcing you to take the flowers. "I know you're upset but I also know you're not done with me. Just stop with this little angry act and take me back."

"What? No." You frown. "Valeria, we are not good together."

Valeria ignores your words and grabs your arms gently. "I love you." She says, looking at you intensely. "I love you so much that it makes me sick. It makes me angry. You did this to me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. We are it for each other, why can't you understand that?"

You put the picture back down and hide it under a few others. Ones without Valeria in them. It's all history and at the end of the world, history means nothing. You join the others as they finish up their meal of canned sausage. You don't ask for any, no longer having an appetite. You're still exhausted though. Settling yourself on your couch. It's filthy but you still gleam a small sense of comfort from it. It doesn't take you long to drift off. Lulled by the quiet chattering of your companions.

You aren't sure what woke you first. The shattering of glass, or Grace's panicked curse. Nobody remains a heavy sleeper when there's a constant threat outside. The whole group is startled awake. It doesn't take long for the rushed steps of the rotters to be heard. You freeze. Watching as Grace shoots one but gets tackled by another. Filthy teeth sink into her throat. Both Arthur and Rojan aim and take down a few. One of the rotters slinks in-between them and heads right towards you. You're horrified to see Valeria's face glaring back at you. She barrels right into you, crushing you under her weight and pinning you down to the couch. You feel bile stinging your throat.

You slam into the floor as Valeria slams the door shut in your face. Your body is already on overdrive and in your adrenaline induced haze you decide Valeria did that on purpose. It doesn't help that she immediately crowds you. Her warm hands latching onto you, her smell overwhelming you.

"Get off!" You hiss, kicking at her.

"I'm sorry." She growls. Maneuvering you onto your back. You can't move, you can't leave. You're trapped in this stressful situation. A claustrophobic panic kicks in. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but you can't run out every time you argue - stop struggling!" Valeria says with anger.

"You're hurting me right now!" You try to wrench yourself away from her but only end up pulling a muscle.

"You cannot leave me." She replies, sounding hurt and desperate. Her tone scares you more than anything. "I'm sorry, just stop struggling and we can talk, please."

The sound of flesh tearing is seared into your memory. The screaming stopped after only a few seconds, but you think you'll remember it for the rest of your left. Valeria keeps you crushed under her firmly. The reek of decay permeates through the air. It's so thick you worry you'll get infected just breathing in. Through a gap in her limbs, you watch the rotters in a frenzy. Ripping your group apart like animals. Something cold caresses the side of your neck, startling you. It's Valeria running her fingers along your neck. She says your name. Voice distorted and growly. It sounds like it hurts to speak.

A salty tear rolls down your cheek as you stare blankly at the massacre. Grace's head bobs slightly as a rotter feeds on her intestines. Her eyes stare back at you lifelessly.

The wood trembles.

"Open the fucking door!"

You raise your head from your hands and look at the wall, you don't know what to do. The pounding stops. Valeria's voice is muffled but clearly aggressive as she speaks to someone.

"You're sick." She exclaims, disgusted... and afraid. "Fuck. Open the door." She repeats. Valeria doesn't sound angry anymore, she sounds urgent. "Open the door, someone sick is staring me down, open the door now." 

You've never heard her sound frightened before. This disease is frightening though. You haven't seen one of the sick in person before but just the symptoms were enough to scare you.

A bite or bodily fluid was all it took. Doctors said incubation was from anywhere between an hour to three days. It started with a fever, intense mood swings, violent behavior, thirst and hunger. Sores sprouted up on the body. Eventually they would pustulate and then rot. Then the virus made it's way through the brainstem and effectively killed the frontal lobe while triggering the amygdala. Turning the host into an animal. Valeria calls your name.

"Please open this door, I know you're mad at me, but you can't leave me out here with that thing." 

You're very tempted to open the door but you can't move. You're frozen to the spot.

"Get back!" Valeria snaps. Startling you. "Take another step and I'll shoot you."

The infected care not for the threat of a gun. Shots are fired, loud and earsplitting. Something hard thumps to the ground and Valeria screams.

You feel sick.

"I know you're mad at me, please open this door." She whispers into your hair. Every second you wait for her to bite. To tear into your vulnerable flesh, but she doesn't. "I didn't mean to hurt you, please open this door." Valeria brushes her face against your cheek. Something wet transferring onto yours. "I'm sorry, it makes me sick. I love you." Valeria tightens her grip on you. Shielding you from the horror in the living room. After being infected and dying she tracked you down. She got rid of the only people you had left. There is nowhere you could hide that she wouldn't find you. Dead or alive, she's yours.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 4 | Soap x Reader

Summary: Taken by someone from your past and tortured for information, memories from long ago, and truths unspoken begin to resurface.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Warnings: water boarding, torture, gas, dead bodies, guns, blood, grenades, flashbacks, injuries, kidnapping, yknow, the usual

A/N: (in matpats voice) the LOOOORE bonus: can you guess the two people at the end?? if you can you get extra creditt <3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Your head was pounding.

The first thing you registered was your aching wrists, rubbed raw from what you assumed to be a rope around them. You slowly tried testing out your body, trying to find any injuries or at least a general feeling of what was still functioning.

Your fingers were cold, but still movable. Arms worked all right. Your torso was sore, especially your ribs and your cheek was throbbing as well. Feet, legs, and toes still seemed to work, from the feel of it, though they didn’t feel great either. A thick blindfold lay over your eyes as you tried to open them.

Your memory slowly started to come back, and you quelled down the panic that rose within you. The accent of the men that had taken you…it sounded as if they were vaguely Iranian. And with the slight roll of their r’s? Maybe a hint of Mexican.

Not good.

Forcing yourself to focus on something else than the mind-numbing pain of your ribs, you strained to hear anything that could give you more information. You could loosely hear a fan in the background, or some sort of AC at the very least. A steady dripping, probably from the roof to the floor. Sounds of scuffling outside what must’ve been a thick door, before the sounds of metal creaking reached your ears, and you heard footsteps. Walking closer.

Very not good.

“Well, well…we meet again, compadre.”

A mocking tone. One you recognized all too well. You tried to focus on anything else, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking nervous or afraid. You stopped your fingers from fidgeting, and your wrists from squirming beneath the ropes.

“Aw, not going to talk? That’s alright, we have some convincing methods in store for later.”

A lilt to his tone, the accent still there. The black canvas blindfold was ripped off, and your eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room.

He paced around the four stone walls, occasionally glancing at the tiny, barred window too high for even you to reach. The steady dripping continued. A constant melody.

“I have a few questions for you, mainly about those new roommates of yours, or that little plan you’ve been putting together for so long.”

Drip.

The puddle seemed to echo.

You wouldn’t tell him a thing, not when he’d already taken Nalani — oh god, poor Nalani.

Who would find her body? Would the boys come home from a mission and find it? Or would other friends come to visit and find her sickly dead form, contorted with a hole in the back of her head? How long would it be before her family knew?

She hadn’t known anything about it. About you. Who you were, what you were. She’d been innocent, a mere pawn in the game, and she’d still been crushed and pushed aside. No hesitation, no mercy.

“They had no idea, did they? Who they were living with. You really fooled them, didn’t you?”

Your gaze focused on the puddle.

Drip.

These walls became a cage all too quickly. A familiar cage, one you’d been forced in before. A cage you’d escaped before, spreading your wings and taking off. But now, your wings were clipped, and there was nothing to save you. No one to help.

“So,” He drawled, pulling out a rag and a watering can full of a liquid you assumed was water.

“Why don’t you tell me all about the reason behind your little trip to America?”

Your lips remained sealed, even as you mentally began reciting what had happened leading up to this, up from the very beginning. The boys had no idea. You’d tried to lay out hints, clues, a breadcrumb trail, but they hadn’t caught on.

He gave a tsk, wetting the rag with the water, and placing it over your face. It was cold and damp, biting against your skin. His hand slid to your throat, where he shoved your head backward, to tilt back, before pouring the watering can down.

Drip.

Water was filling your nostrils and your mouth opened to gasp for air, but-

You couldn’t.

There was no air.

You turned to one side, gasping, getting half a breath in.

Before the water came down again.

“Let me know when you’re in a talking mood.”

He said, continuing.

Even as you thrashed in that chair, a bit of your mind began reminding back, reflecting on events without telling. It had all started two months earlier, in the meeting.

~

“We have reason to believe a terrorist group is taking refuge near [REDACTED], we want you to find cover in a nearby area, assume the role of a new transfer student, and keep your eyes peeled. This won’t be quick, and it won’t be easy, but you’re the most qualified we have.”

“Bullshit. What about my men?”

“They’ll be taken over by [REDACTED].”

“You’re sending my team to that American pussy?”

“Are you in or out?”

“…”

“Wasp?”

“I’m in.”

~

Water poured down.

Drip.

Your senses filled up with what felt like cotton balls, and you only got a moment of reprieve, a few seconds to breathe before the water began pouring down again. The cloth was heavy and irritating against your skin.

You didn’t speak.

Memories blurred together in your mind, too disoriented to tell what from what, you let yourself fade back into that dark space. The little cave that became your refuge when it was all too much to handle.

The back of your mind, where you’d buried some of those memories so far deep that they could barely be coaxed out now. Older memories.

Drip.

~

Gunfire reigned everywhere.

You ducked behind a pile of sandbags, gun held tight to your chest. Your hair was dirty, tied back with spare rope. Two magazines left. You needed to get to him.

“Grena—“

Your ears rang as dust exploded into the air, bodies of your brethren shredding as angry Arabic made it to your ears. Some Spanish, too, but not as much.

The main building was to your left. You couldn’t cross over.

That was, until, that grenade had gone off and given you all the cover you needed to sprint into the building.

Gunfire that narrowly missed you, and your finger pressed down on the trigger, putting holes in the bodies of more soldiers. You moved, running, up the stairs and clearing it if you could. You were running off of pure adrenaline at this point, and you knew it.

A few more minutes, and you’d be out cold, dead, or worse.

Five doorways in this hallway. He was in one of them.

You opened the first one, unlocked. Nothing more than an office, much like the second and third.

The fourth was a weapon’s room of sorts, five men inside. As soon as you opened the door, they were shouting. Numb fingers unclipped a grenade, pulling the pin, throwing it in before shutting the door.

Shouting. A loud pop. Silence.

Moving to the fifth door, you heard it. His voice, in there.

“Hermanos mios, esta escoria no nos puede desanimar!”

Kicking the door open, you found him seated at a wooden chair, talking on what looked to be a live video. He turned, whirling around, brandishing a small gun that he didn’t get a chance to use before you smacked it to the ground with your gun.

Shoving him into the chair despite his screams and struggles, you took another grenade from your belt, or the poor excuse of a belt you had, anyways. The last one left.

Forcing his jaw open, you pushed it in, shoving his mouth closed around it even as he began muffled begging and a bit of tears as well. You had no pity. Not when you’d seen what this man had done to people, these people in this camp. You leaned in close, right near his ear, looking him in his soulless eyes.

You began humming, a simple song, even as you pulled the pin out. A song he would understand despite any language gap.

“Round and round the cobbler’s bench, the monkey chased the weasel,”

He began crying, shaking his head in a silent expression of horror, begging for something, anything else. He wouldn’t get it.

“The monkey thought ‘twas all in fun…”

The live continued going. He knew this, as he frantically glanced towards it. You wouldn’t turn it off. Let them see the truth behind their ‘fearless’ leader.

It was only a matter of time before…

“Pop, goes the weasel.”

~

“Still not eager to speak, eh? You’re tougher than before, chica.”

He gave you a moment of a break again. This time, however, he peeled the wet cloth off of your face. The drain under your chair made deep noises as it sucked all the water up. The puddle beneath your chair was large.

You blinked away whatever water remained by your eyes, and he glanced down at the now-empty watering can, making a little mocking pout.

“A shame, yes? I’ll go fill this up, and give you time to think about your roommates. I want to know all about them.”

His footsteps echoed through the now empty room that held you. Your mind began working overtime, trying to get out.

You weren’t sure how long you could last, and if you broke…it would be disastrous. On the boys. On you. On your entire team. Everyone would be in danger. So you had to get out of here.

You tried maneuvering your wrists, wincing when the raw flesh rubbed against the rope. Your ankles were left untied, for some strange reason.

Odd.

It was common knowledge to tie the ankles. You’d never exactly tied anyone down more than once or twice, but even you knew that. Was it on purpose? To make you doubt yourself? Or just to give you a glimpse of hope and snatch it away?

For whatever reason it was, you could use it.

Slipping your shoe off by pushing the back of it against the leg of the chair, you did the same and managed to push your sock off as well.

Your knife was gone, still embedded in some man’s neck, so there was no getting that back. Glancing around the room, you tried to notice anything nearby. Anything that could be used. The very basics of guerilla warfare, use anything around you to your advantage.

Nothing much in the room. The puddle, the dripping, your chair…

The chair.

There was a small piece that was fraying off down on the bottom of one of the legs, and if you managed to get that sharp wood off, it might be your ticket out of here.

Using your free foot, you trapped the piece of wood between your toes, and began pulling against it as hard as you could. A few cracks. Some more footsteps. Shit, you needed to get out of here.

Shouting from down the hall.

The wood splintered but didn’t break all the way.

Almost there….

Frantic Arabic, Spanish, and even a few other languages you didn’t catch became more than apparent throughout the building, a hissing sound releasing faintly somewhere else.

The wood broke free.

It cut the sole of your foot open, but you grabbed the piece of sharp wood with your toes, somehow maneuvering your leg over to put it in your hand. Your numb fingers grasped it as that one foot began struggling to slip the sock and shoe back on amidst the slippery blood now coating the floor.

You began moving the sharp wood against the rope. It began fraying before….you were free on one hand. Immediately moving to the other wrist, you freed that one as well.

The shouting slowly went further away, and your head began feeling fuzzy. Your shoe was back on now, at the very least. Getting up, you rushed to the door, pulling it open, immediately being greeted with a thick green gas in the air, wafting through.

Gas.

You broke into a sprint down the hall, looking for any sort of gas mask there was. The people in the hall’s cells were coughing before collapsing, their eyes brimmed red and some throwing up stomach acid. There were no gas masks.

One struggling soldier who had fallen behind was around the corner. The only reason you knew was because you heard the heavy breathing of him.

Crouching down, you tried to wait, before deciding there was no time and lunging around the corner. He fell to the ground as you tackled his legs, groaning, reaching for a gun, but too late as you lodged the piece of wood in his throat. He gasped, fingers fumbling still, but you grabbed the gun first, yanking his gas mask off as you shot him in the head.

You shoved the gas mask on as quickly as you could, holding the gun close, trying to force your weak limbs to move. Your head throbbed from the injury you’d relieved earlier, aching in pain.

Maybe you’d already inhaled too much of the gas. It might be too late already. Your knees gave out five steps into the exit, and you began crawling, arms and hands hauling your otherwise limp body across the floor. Your arms gave out about six feet in.

Two people came rushing in, gas masks on, guns up. A woman, and a man.

You tried to signal that you were still alive, to barely any avail, only able to twitch and try to crawl to them. They didn’t look like the rest of the soldiers.

“Bastards tried to gas us out. Killed their hostages.”

The man spoke. He sounded American.

“Not all of them, look..” The woman had a thick accent. She reached down to you, feeling for a pulse, and getting one. Their words slowly faded in and out.

You were being dragged. Your body limp. Someone eventually took your mask off even as you tried to protest, your tongue a dead weight in your mouth.

Minutes, maybe hours later, you were gulping down fresh air as you were pulled into a truck and sat up against what felt like maybe a seat in the back. Seats on the sides.

“…you hear me?”

Voices flitting in and out as you toed the line between unconscious and conscious.

“Find…-ntification.”

“..ma’am.”

The more air you took in, the more everything came back to you. Someone was digging around in your pockets. The American. They pulled a silver necklace out, but not just any silver necklace.

A silver necklace that wasn’t a necklace at all.

“Ge’ your’ bloody hands off ‘at.” A raspy voice spoke. Your voice, you realized. Much more British than when you’d been in that school.

The American didn’t flinch, reading the dog-tag aloud.

“Y/N “Wasp” Riley.”

He said, before dropping the dog-tag into your buzzing hands. He cocked a brow at you.

“Well, Y/N, why were you-“

“Don’ call me that.”

The woman driving the vehicle upfront spoke.

“What do you want us to call you, then?”

A pause.

“It’s Captain Riley to you.”

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[homoquartz]

i lived in texas a while and it has softened me significantly towards texans and southerners as a whole. they get a bad rap because racists are loud and strong there, but there are A LOT of people of color there too, and queer people, and otherwise good people. they're just kind of drowned out by the bad people who have systemic power.

where i worked, i was not the only nonbinary person in the office. my boss was a white ex-cop. my boss's boss was a man of color with a mohawk. my first day, i was told a racist joke about native people (i'm native) and no one spoke up. three of my coworkers were immigrants. my friend took me to a mexican grocery store to buy authentic candy. someone i knew got held up with a gun because she was black. i had a lovely date at the dallas zoo with a girl. i had another one at an arts fair in town, and no one bothered us.

anyway. we have more in common with each other than we ever will with rich liberals.

[ltwilliammowett]

Mourning Ring for Vice-Admiral Sir Samuel Cornish, 1770

Amethyst, diamonds, gold and enamel. Bezel set with a faceted amethyst encircled by diamonds in a closed setting, the shank set with black enamel decoration around the inscription ‘Sir Sam. Cornish … 30 Oct 1770 AE 56’.

Sir Samuel Cornish is remembered for the Capture of Manila in 1762 during the Seven Years War - the conflict that found Britain competing with France and her allies around the globe. For nearly 200 years Manila had been at the centre of the imperial Spain’s galleon trade with Acapulco, trading Mexican silver for Chinese silk, porcelain and spices. After Spain allied herself with France in 1762, the British government approved plans to attack Havana and Manila. 

Samuel Cornish was appointed to the command of the naval forces bound for Manila comprising 12 ships-of-the-line, 3 frigates and 4 store ships, with his flag in HMS Norfolk. Brigadier-General William Draper commanded land forces of 6,839 soldiers, sailors and marines. By posting a frigate in the Strait of Malacca, Cornish ensured that no news of the impending strike reached Manila prior to the fleet's arrival on 23 September 1762. The city walls were breached on 5 October and on the following day the place was taken by storm. Draper did his utmost to put a stop to the rape and plunder of the town, and with Cornish agreed to accept a ransom of 4 million dollars from the Spanish acting Governor-General Archbishop Manuel Rojo del Rio y Vieyra. 

The British occupation of Manila lasted 18 months until the city was returned to Spain under the 1763 Treaty of Paris.During their time in the Philippines, the British found themselves confined to Manila and Cavite, but were rewarded with the capture of the treasure ships Filipina and  Santísima Trinidad. These captures made Draper and Cornish wealthy men to the extent that they could retire on the prize money. Both were thanked in Parliament, and Cornish received a Baronetcy.

Sir Samuel Cornish (c1715-1770) was believed at one time to have risen from modest origins, and to have served his apprenticeship on a collier before being appointed to an East Indiaman, but it has been suggested these details relate to his father. Cornish is known to have entered the navy as a volunteer ‘per order’ in 1728. He was commissioned lieutenant in the Litchfield on 12 November 1739, and on 11 November 1740 he moved, with Captain Charles Knowles, to HMS Weymouth, in which he served in the ill-conducted combined operation at Cartagena during March and April 1741. On his return to England he was appointed to command the bomb-ketch Mortar; and on 12 March 1742 he was posted flag captain of the old HMS Namur, flagship of Admiral Matthews in the Mediterranean. In 1742 Cornish was appointed to command the Guernsey (50); and continued in her until the end of the ‘War of Jenkin’s Ear’, doing occasional good service in the destruction of Spanish privateers. 

During the war of the Austrian Succession, he was present at the Battle of Toulon which saw the British lose control of the waters around Italy and Spain take the offensive against Savoy. Matthews was dismissed from the navy along with seven captains for lacking offensive spirit. Cornish’s part occasioned no comment, which must be considered an achievement in the light of the number of careers destroyed. On 9 March 1749, as a 'gentleman well skilled in mathematicks and natural knowledge', Cornish was elected to the Royal Society. In 1755 he commissioned HMS Stirling Castle for service in the channel, and in 1758 he was transferred to the Union (90 guns), and was ordered by Lord Anson to wear a distinguishing pennant.

On 14 February 1759 Cornish was promoted Rear-Admiral of the White, and sent out to the East Indies with a small squadron to reinforce Vice-Admiral George Pocock, and undertook operations to clear the coast of Coromandel, which established his reputation as a commander able to co-operate effectively with the army. He succeeded to the command of the East Indies station in 1761, but became embroiled in a dispute with the East India Company over the plunder taken from the French at Pondicherry. Nevertheless his professional competence in combined operations won him the command of the Manila expedition.

Cornish returned to Europe with a comfortable income from prize money. In 1765 he purchased the manors of Sharnbrook, Tafte, and Temple Hills in Bedford. The Duke of Norfolk supported his election as MP for Shoreham, a seat he held from December 1765 until his death, and on 9 January 1766 he was created a baronet, taking his style as Sir Samuel Cornish of Sharnbrook. About this time he married Susan, daughter of James Gambier of Holborn and sister of Admiral James Gambier; they had no children. Cornish died on 30 October 1770, whereupon his title became extinct and his estate passed to his nephew, Samuel Pitchford, captain in the navy, who took the name Cornish.

[miryum]

"The Red Arrow"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

Mp/n: mispronounced name W/n: wrong name N/n: nickname

I combined two episodes- just a heads up

Y/n stood next to Cass behind the two-way glass, carefully watching a redhead sitting in the interrogation room. Jason stood silently in the corner. The redhead was a burly man, feet thrown up on the metal table, causally singing. “What’s going on?” Y/n scrunched her nose.

“Picked him up on more than a dozen counts of identity theft,” Cass said. “His name is Roy Harper. Ever seen him?”

“Nope. Although, I will admit, he’s one of the hotter perps. Definitely smash.” Jason grunted at Y/n’s words.

From inside the interrogation room, Roy sang, “Cassandra…. Cassandra…. Caaaassandraaaaaa…. oooooh yeah….” Y/n snickered and Jason couldn’t hold back a smirk.

Ignoring Roy, Cass said, “he said he wanted to talk to a Mp/n or W/n L/n. Whatever.”

“Why would he want me? And, should I change my name to W/n L/n? Cause it sounds super badass.”

“He said he has some info about someone with arrows?” Cass shrugged. 

“Arrows?” Y/n’s eyes widened. She muttered to herself, “he knows the Red Arrow.” She grabbed Cass by her shoulders and demanded, “listen to me. He specifically said he knows someone who uses arrows?”

“Yeah. I literally just said that.”

“Right, right, sorry.” A laugh bubbled out of Y/n. She practically ran into the interrogation room, Jason following on her heels. He wasn’t about to let her be alone with a criminal. Cass sighed and marched after them.

“So, I used to work in a pawn shop,” Roy explained after introductions. Y/n sat forward, hanging on to his every word. “Chill hours, absent boss, perfect place to snag jewels and stuff. Uh, not that I’ve ever done that,” he hurriedly added. Cass’ jaw twitched. “Anyway, this guy came in a lot, selling rubies.”

Y/n gasped. “Just like the Red Arrow!” she exclaimed. 

“I mean, we called him Miguel, but whatever.” Roy shrugged. 

“I’ve been chasing this guy for six years!” Y/n turned to look at Jason and Cass, explaining her passion for this random thief. “He always steals red rubies from high tech jewellery stores and spray paints a red arrow before he leaves, hence the name. He never left any evidence and he’s never been caught on camera. He’s a ghost!”

“Super ghost,” Roy whispered, eyes gleaming.

“Super ghost!” Y/n yelled out, agreeing. 

“Before anything else happens, we need to know this guy’s legit,” Jason said. “Describe him.”

“Uh…” Roy hummed. “Mexican dude, maybe 5’8”? He has this pointy little beard and always wears a purple tie.”

“So would you say he looks sort of like,” Y/n whipped up a drawing of the man Roy was describing. “This?”

Roy winked. “There‘s that sexy motherfucker, Miguel.”

“This is a composite sketch from ten interviews I've done,” Y/n said in awe. “A perfect match.”

Cass wasn’t satisfied. “So all you know is what a bunch of other idiots have said over the years. Big whoop. Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Roy sat back and his teeth flashed as he grinned. “I know how to get in touch with him.”

Y/n gasped and emphasised, “Roy Harper!” Jason clicked his tongue, unimpressed.

“Ah, Brown. Just the woman I was looking for.” Captain Wayne stopped by Stephanie’s desk, looking down at her. “Clark has accepted an offer to teach at the University of Florence for the next six months.”

“Oh, I love Italy,” Steph said, still unsure as to why her Captain was telling her this.

“Clark and I belong to the Park Slope Racquet Club, where we've established a squash doubles dynasty.” Bruce explained, “we've taken home the trophy two years in a row. Unfortunately, he’ll be flying to Florence this year during the tournament. I remember you told me you played in college…” he trailed off and glanced at Steph hopefully.

“Three-time intramural champion at Sarah Lawrence,” Steph said proudly. “Would have been four, but senior year I played Lord Farquaad in our school's production of ‘Shrek.’”

Wayne hummed, unsure of how to respond. “In any case, I would be honoured if you would take Clark’s place so that I could still compete.”

Stephanie blanched, yet offered a thumbs up. “Absolutely! I would love to do that!”

“Fantastic,” Wayne said.

“Yup! That is great. This is great.” She slowly stood and manoeuvred over to Dick’s desk before collapsing in a seat next to him. “This is terrible.”

“Why? You’ve always said you wanted more quality time with Wayne.” Dick set down his pen.

“No, not like this,” Steph shook her head. “Squash brings out my competitive side. Breaking racquets, cursing, excessive use of the bird.” Her eyes widened in fear. “One time, just to psych a guy out, I locked eyes with him and ate a squash ball.”

“That's not possible.”

"I can still feel it rolling around in me, Dick.”

“Look, the point is to have fun,” he tried to reassure her. “So just relax and have fun.”

“Right, right, right, yeah. I mean, it's just a game. It's fun. There's no need for Wayne to see me unleash the beast.” She laughed nervously. “Okay.”

“The burner phone that Roy uses to contact the Red Arrow is at his house.” Y/n pressed her hands together and pointed at Captain Wayne, a hopeful look plastered on her face. “He's agreed to help us catch the Arrow if…. We drop all charges against him,” she said quickly, almost as she hoped her superior didn’t hear her.

Captain Wayne sat behind his desk, analysing his detectives. “How many rubies would you say this Red Arrow has stolen?”

“Fifty-eight, that I know of.” Y/n said, “but the real number could be in the thousands!”

Wayne squinted at Y/n. “You’re not very good at maths,” he stated. Turning to Cass, he asked, “what are the charges against Harper?”

“Thirteen counts of identity theft, but I’ve been chasing him for more than a month.”

“A month?” Y/n scoffed. “I’ve been chasing the Red Arrow for more than six years. Do you know how many months that is?” 

“Seventy-two,” Wayne answered instantly. 

Y/n pursed her lips and murmured, “Ten…? Five and seven… and four years… wait, months?”

“Do you need a maths tutor?” Captain Wayne asked. “Because the department will provide one.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Y/n muttered.

“I’m on the fence,” Wayne admitted, returning to the matter at hand. “Cain, you caught him. It’s your call.”

“Cass,” Y/n turned to her friend, practically begging. “This guy is for real. One thousand pushups.”

Cass’ eyebrows shot up. “One thousand pushups? Alright. I’m in.” She shrugged. 

“What’s one thousand pushups?” Bruce asked.

Y/n explained, “we were in the academy together and hated the drills. So now, when we're on a case, if one of us says one thousand pushups, it means ‘I'm so sure I'm right that if I'm wrong, I'll do one thousand pushups.’”

“It’s a pact we made,” Cass added. “It means ‘trust me.’ And I do,” she added with a smile. 

Wayne nodded. “Make the deal.”

Y/n cheered, “yes! I’ve got you now, Red Arrow! Wow! It feels good to say that in front of actual people instead of the mirror. Okay! Let’s grab the burner, contact and catch the Arrow, and become police legends.”

Later, Roy stood in front of his house, flanked by Y/n and Cass, the latter in her signature leather jacket. “Babysitter’s car is here,” he said. “They’re home.”

“Babysitter?” Y/n scrunched her nose. “You have a kid?”

“Yeah,” Roy beamed. “Little girl called Lian. Can I take my cuffs off?”

“No,” Cass deadpanned.

“Lian doesn’t know I’m a criminal!” Roy protested. “She thinks I own a construction company.”

“Why stop there?” Y/n shrugged. “Tell her you’re an astronaut.”

“Nah, man,” Roy shook his head. “Space is scary. You saw what it did to Matt Damon. I don’t wanna staple my skin together.”

“You got a point.” Y/n shot Cass a look. “Come on, Cain.”

Cass huffed and rolled her eyes. “You can play-act with your daughter for three minutes until we get the burner. One false move and I tase you in front of your daughter,” she threatened.

“Geez, dude. Harsh,” Y/n sucked in a breath. She mouthed towards Roy, “Don’t worry, she loves me too much to do that.” Roy nodded back dramatically. 

He unlocked the door and a small voice shouted out, “Daddy!” A tumbling mess of toddler came barreling down the hall and into Roy’s arms. Y/n cooed, heart melting. Roy grunted, picking Lian up and spinning her around. 

“Hey, baby! How you doing?”

“Good! Lois and I were playing Veterinarian.”

“Ooh! Sounds fun. Where is Lois?” Roy looked around.

“Cleaning up!” A voice shouted from down the hall. 

“Why aren’t you at work?” Lian asked. “And who are they?” She pointed at Y/n and Cass and Roy gently reminded her it’s rude to point. 

“They’re my coworkers!” Roy snickered, “Cass is a director on my board of directors and Y/n is my financial planner.”

Y/n winced and hummed, “yes. Stocks and numbers. Money. Very important. Did you know that four twenty-five dollar bills equal a hundred dollar bill?” Cass simply sighed and rubbed her temples. “Speaking of which,” Y/n said, noting her friend’s expression, “we should find that phone. So we can get back to building… buildings.”

“Right, right.” Roy let Lian down and said, “it’s in the spare bedroom.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Y/n volunteered. “Cass can stay here with Lian and Lois.” Cass glared at her, but agreed. 

Roy led Y/n through the house, waving to Lois and asking about Lian’s day. The spare bedroom was filled to the brim with toys and stuffed animals from Lian and memorabilia from Roy’s younger days. Roy dug the out burner phone and presented it to Y/n who quickly typed out a message. “Back in the game,” she narrated. “When can we meet up?”

“Ooh, you’re good at this criminal thing,” Roy commented. “If you ever wanna quit your cop thing, I could use your intelligence.”

“Aw, thanks man. How long until he usually responds?”

“Like, ten minutes?” Roy shot her a look. “Chill, dude.”

“I can’t chill!” Y/n bounced up and down. “I've never been this close before.”

“I gotta admit, your enthusiasm makes me want you to catch him.”

Y/n placed a sincere hand to her heart. “Thank you.” She noticed a pile of DVDs in the corner. “You still have those?”

“Yeah. I robbed a store a couple years back and kept my favourites.”

Y/n crouched down and scanned the titles. “Goonies, Princess Bride… The Sandlot! Dude! You have the best taste in movies!”

“Gotta have the classics,” Roy said. “Yes, ma’am, the American stories of promise and inspiration.”

“Inconceivable,” Y/n muttered, grinning.

“I’m not sure that word means what you think it means,” Roy said in a stilted accent. 

“Hey, you guuuuys!” They crowed together.

“Hurry up, Benny! My clothes are going outta style!” Roy quoted. 

“They already are!” Y/n cried back, both giggling. 

“Hey,” Cass stepped into the room. “You guys having fun?” Lian gripped onto the detective’s hand, smiling brightly. Cass’s eyes screamed, 'Cause I’m not. Her hair was decorated in braids and she looked as if she wanted to rip them out. 

The phone suddenly chimed and Y/n practically dropped it trying to see the Red Arrow’s response. “Parking lot on Flatbush and Vanderbilt in 15 minutes. Let's go.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Roy held up his hands. “Cain looks like a dirty criminal. But you,” he pointed accusingly at Y/n who still wore her GCPD jacket, “look like a cop, man. You can't go over there like that.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “...What'd you have in mind?”

A couple minutes later, Y/n stepped out of Roy’s house wearing a striped shirt and jeans with a white suit buttoned in the middle, sleeves rolled up. Y/n giggled, a moment away from breaking out into laughter. “I don't look like a cop now.”

“No, you look like Backstreet Boys meets Jonas Brothers,” Cass said.

Roy laughed, “Burn!”

Y/n shook her head, “Nah, that's not a burn, that's cool.” As they walked to the parking lot, she commented, “Not gonna lie, the suit is kinda growing on me.”

Cass grunted, glaring out the parking lot. “There’s no one here. L/n…” 

“A thousand pushups,” Y/n said softly. Cass took a slow, deep breath and nodded once. 

“Incoming,” Roy hissed, eyebrows up and hands in pockets. “Who the hell are you?” he cried to the man walking towards them, very clearly not Miguel. “Where's Miguel?” Y/n frowned and eyed Cass. 

“He hadn't heard from you in a while, so he sent me to make sure everything was cool,” the man said, shrugging.

“Apparently it's not,” Y/n muttered, kicking the pebbles at her feet. She had been so close. 

“Who are they?” The man nodded to Y/n and Cass, glaring.

“They're with me,” Roy said. “This is the buyer. Rosa Santiago.” He gestured towards Y/n.

The man shook his head. “I don't know ‘em, I don't trust ‘em.” He stated his terms, “He meets with you alone or it's off. I'll text the address.” 

The man walked away, not giving them another option. Once he was out of earshot, Y/n groaned, “Come on! I promise you this: they have not heard the last of Rosa Santiago!” She shook her fist at the back of the retreating man. She pivoted to face Roy and Cass and announced, “Okay, it's worth the risk. We send him in alone.”

Cass argued, “no, we don’t! Something doesn't smell right to me.”

Roy shrugged. “Could be my dad's suit. He died in it.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “He died in it?! Wait… this is a man’s suit? Why does it fit me so well…?”

Roy’s burner phone pinged and he said, “they just sent the location.” He studied his phone and exhaled loudly. “Man, this dude is cautious. If I show up one minute late or I'm not alone, he is done with me.” He pursed his lips and said to Y/n, “this is your last shot.”

Y/n shook her head and picked at her skin. “I can't let the Red Arrow get away.” After a moment of contemplating, she decided, “put a wire on him, get a tactical team in as backup.” She begged Cass, “please, it's the only way.” When the older detective didn’t look impressed, Y/n tried to convince her. “Harper and I know this guy. You have to trust us.”

Cain scoffed. “Do I? One of you is a criminal, and the other one is dressed like a knockoff of fucking Steve Harvey.” She poked her tongue in her cheek and decreed, “it's over. I'm ending this now.” She sighed. “Sorry, Y/n. Truly, I am.”

Y/n stared at her and couldn’t help but cross her arms. ��Seriously, Cain?”

“Yeah.” She repeated the words Y/n had promised earlier, “one thousand pushups.”

Y/n’s chin jutted up. “Well, I raise you. Two thousand pushups.”

“What?” Cass frowned. “That's not how this works. I said "one thousand pushups.” You have to back me up, L/n. That's the pact; end of story.”

“Well, I break the pact,” Y/n said abruptly. “Cass, I hope you understand how serious this is to me.” She whined in a deep voice, “Can't you read between the lines, man?”

“Don't quote Die Hard.”

“Sorry. But we're still sending him in alone.”

Captain Wayne wore shorts and a t-shirt, something Steph was still getting used to seeing. She, however, was on the sidelines, fiddling with her racquet. “You ready, Brown? Psyched up?”

“No, why?” she asked. “Do I seem psyched? 'Cause I'm definitely not. I- I just want to have fun!” She ran a hand through her hair.

“And to win,” Wayne reminded her slowly. 

“Hey hey hey!” Steph shrugged dramatically, pulling at her shirt. “If we all have fun and don't throw any racquets and don't eat squash balls, then we're all winners.”

“What?!”

“Nothing. I'll serve.” 

The game started with Stephanie serving and after a couple hits, their opponent called, “out.”

“What?” Steph shouted. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Then, as if a switch flipped in her head, she gave a high-pitched chuckle and gritted her teeth. “That was... fun. That was a fun call. You're a real fun guy, fun guy. This is fun! This is fun! Right?” Her knuckles turned white on her racquet.

Y/n prepped Roy Harper in the back of a police van. “We need evidence, so get him talking,” she encouraged him. “Ask questions about money, jewels, specifics.”

Roy clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I'm getting kind of nervous, man. This dude is for real. You sure you have everything covered?”

“Yeah. There's a guy on the back door, eyes on the side door, and two dudes on the corner. You'll be fine.”

“What about choppers?” Roy asked. “Do you have access to choppers? With snipers and rockets and shit?”

“No one has rocket choppers,” Cain deadpanned.

“Although that does sound amazing,” Y/n added, eyes lighting up with the possibilities.

“We got eyes on the Arrow.” A voice announced through a walkie talkie. “He's a block and a half away.”

“You ready?” Y/n asked Roy.

Roy nodded. “You and me, N/n. We were born ready.”

“Yeah! Go, Roy, go! You got this! Show me your game face! Whoo!” Y/n hyped him up as he exited the van, clapping him on the shoulders. Once the doors had closed behind Roy, she turned to Cass and stage-whispered, “his game face makes him look constipated.” 

Y/n leaned over the audio transmitter and muttered, “we meet at last, Red Arrow. For six years I've tracked you. And today I'm taking you down.” She said into the microphone, “Roy Harper, can you hear me? Say something to test the wire.”

“Hey, Cain, after we put the cuffs on this guy,” Roy waggled his eyebrows. “I'll be free for dinner. And I’m sure Lian would love another playmate. What do you say?”

“The mic works,” is all Cass said. 

“Miguel! What's up?” 

Roy called out and another voice filtered through. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Roy rambled, “let's talk about jewels. I’m working at the shop again. I can deal with anything you want. Red jewels, blue jewels, one jewel, two jewels. Jewels are really great, aren't they? Real pretty.”

“What is he doing?” Cain asked in disbelief.

“Talking about jewels,” Y/n said as if it was obvious.

“You know what else is great about jewels?” Roy continued, “The way they look. They’re just so pretty.”

Cass shook her head. “That's it. I'm calling it.”

“No!” Y/n shrieked.

“Move, people, we're going in now.” She banged open the door and the other officers ran onto the scene. “On your knees! Hands on your head!” In the basement where the deal was going down, they surrounded a man who was Mexican, maybe 5’8”, had a pointy little beard, and wore a purple tie. He was clutching a thick briefcase and nervously complied with their demands, dropping the briefcase.

“Gotcha, Red Arrow,” Y/n’s chest bloomed with excitement and pride, having finally caught her prize. “Wait, where's Roy Harper?”

“Uh, he went to the bathroom.” The man stammered, unsure if this was all a trick. “I- I'm just here to cut his hair. I don't know what's going on.”

Y/n hummed, “A likely story, Red Arrow…” She bent down and opened the briefcase, revealing scissors, razors, and other supplies. “But you actually do have a lot of hair products.”

“He's gone. He ran,” Cass confirmed.

“Why would he do that?” Y/n exclaimed. “He helped us catch the Red Arrow. That was the deal. This doesn't make any sense unless…” Her mouth fell open and she realised, “Roy Harper is the Red Arrow.” 

As Y/n stood there, shocked, Cass immediately jumped into action. “Put out an APB. Seal off everything for a 20-block radius.”

The audio transmitter beeped and Roy’s voice said, “Yeah, don't bother looking for me. I'm in the wind.” He made a ‘whoosing’ noise into the microphone.

“If you're close enough for me to hear you, you're close enough for me to catch you!” Y/n called back.

“Nah, I got a relay set up, sister.”

“So if you're the Red Arrow, who's this dude?” Y/n asked.

“Well, a couple of years ago you were getting really close, so I started telling all my peeps that if they ever get caught, they should say I’m Mexican, 5’8”, have a pointy beard and always wears a purple tie.”

Y/n nodded stoically. “So then you hired a guy who matched that exact description….”

Roy laughed. “No, no, no, no, no, no. That's my barber, Miguel Barragan. He gave me the idea.”

Miguel was cutting Roy’s hair and commented, “you know, if you can't come in, I do house calls. You just text me a location and I could be there in half an hour.”

Roy beamed. “Good to know.”

“You know, you should actually use him while he's there. He'll give you a crazy good fade. Lian says he… layers her hair? I don’t know.”

“I get crazy good layers from my current barber, thank you very much.” Y/n deduced, “So you dragged us over here, went in there, pretended to talk, and then snuck out the basement. Am I right?”

Roy squealed. “The basement connected to another basement! Which connected to a garage, which is where my boy picked me up with Lian.” 

“Your boy? Oh, that guy from the meet-up. He works for you.” Y/n rolled her sleeves up and tugged at a strand of her hair. “He pretended to be spooked by me and Cain in the parking lot to make sure we let you go to the next meeting by yourself.”

“Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding! You win a prize!”

“You lied to me, Roy Harper,” Y/n whispered dramatically, somewhat hurt and somewhat impressed.

“You brought your daughter along?” Cass mumbled. 

“Gotta be honest, I'm pretty disappointed right now,” Y/n shook her head.

“Sorry it had to go down this way, L/n.” To his credit, Roy sounded a little sad. “Maybe we could've been friends in another world.” He paused then cackled. “If I hadn't just fooled you like a little- Lian, cover your ears- bitch!” An engine revved in the background. “Bitch!”

Y/n shouted back before the line when dead, “You use that mouth to kiss your daughter, Harper?!”

“Brown.” Captain Wayne approached his teammate after a particular gruelling and unfortunate match. “Is everything okay, uh, with your brain?”

“Yeah yeah. I'm great,” Steph said. “I am having… a lot of fun.”

“Yes, I’m sure, given as you’ve said that one hundred and forty three times today.” Wayne pulled her aside and reminded her, “you do realise that if we lose this next match, we're out of the tournament?”

“Yes, but the important thing is we had a good time.”

“No!” Wayne yelled. ”The important thing is that we win the trophy! I promised Clark before he left for Italy that we would do that.” He sighed before admitting, “do you know why I chose you as my partner?”

“Because I'm the most athletic person you know?” Steph’s voice ended in a high pitched question. 

“No, otherwise I would chose Todd. I chose you because of an article I read in the "Sarah Lawrence Phoenix" about a young woman they called ‘squash's unhinged lunatic.’” He pokes her in the chest for extra measure.

Stephanie swallowed harshly. “I- I haven't a clue what you're talking about, Captain.”

“According to that article,” Wayne said, ”that lunatic was 27-0. I need her on my team. I need you… to unleash the beast.”

Steph’s eyes grew wide and she inhaled sharply. Captain Wayne’s smile was just as sharp.

“Whoo!” Steph paraded into the court. “You butternuts ready to get squashed?” Their opponents stared at her and she mocked them. "’Huh? What? Duh?’ That's gonna be you guys while I smoke your butts, because Brucie and the Beast don't even give a what.” She sang the last word and waved her arms dramatically.

Bruce repeated stoically, ”we don't give a what.”

“Unh-uh. Whoo! Let's do this.”

The matches went on, and with the Beast unleashed, Stephanie and Bruce won every single one- not without earning a reputation.

“Boo-ya-kah, suckers!” 

Whenever someone called her shot out, Steph had a few choice words. “You kidding me? Are you kidding me?”

But when they won a point, she was enthusiastically crazed, even to the point where she slapped Captain Wayne on the butt. “Way to go! That's it, baby!”

Y/n approached Cass’s desk. “Hey,” she mumbled. “So… I went back to his house. Unsurprisingly a dead end.”

“I have a lot of work to do, L/n,” Cass said firmly, standing up to leave.

“Wait. I want to say something.” Y/n sighed and began, “we've worked together long enough to know that you hate apologies. So, I just wanted to ask you to join the Roy Harper case. Officially, as partners. I wanna catch this guy and I can't do it without you.”

“No, you can't,” Cass agreed.

“Now I believe I owe you one thousand pushups.” Y/n grimaced.

Cass gave her friend a small smile. “I don't care about the pushups, Y/n. I care that you didn't honour our pact. I've always trusted you, and when you went against me, it made me feel like you don't trust me.”

“I know and I'm sorry. It won't happen again,” Y/n promised.

“No, it won't. Now get down on the floor.”

What?” Y/n yelped. “You just said you didn't care about the pushups!”

“I changed my mind.”

Taking a long breath, the detective said, “Fair enough. A pact's a pact.” She nodded at Cass, knowing she couldn’t back down. Y/n shed her jacket, stared Cass in the eye, and stooped to the ground, beginning to honour her deal. “One, two, three…”

“Two hundred and sixty nine…”

“Heh. Sixty-nine.” Damian chuckled as he sauntered by, snapping a picture of his best friend. “I’m using this for blackmail,” he shouted back at her.

“Okay!” Y/n gave him a weak thumbs up before going back to her pushups.

“Five hundred and thirteen…”

Jason walked past her, calling out, “Night, L/n.”

“Night. Five hundred and fourteen…” she panted.

“Hey, Derek,” Y/n greeted the night janitor. Derek waved back. “One thousand…” she did one more pushup before whining the rest of her sentence. “Is so many pushups! I'm never gonna make it.” She shouted out, “What am I at?”

Captain Wayne marched by. “Nine hundred and one.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“You said two thousand, remember?”

“Argh! I should've trusted you, Ca-a-a-in!” she sobbed loudly, a stripe of sweat staining the back of her shirt. 

“Clark, there's something we'd like to show you.” Stephanie and Captain Wayne day in front of his computer, face-timing with Bruce’s husband, Clark.

“Ta-da!” Steph held up the trophy proudly.

“Ah, magnificent.” Clark said from Italy. “The trophy is ours! I look forward to getting number four next year.”

“Actually, we've been banned for life from all future tournaments.” Wayne sucked air in through his teeth, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, geez. What happened?”

Stephanie popped back into screen. “My fault, Clark.” The bruises on her arms and legs confirmed her words. “I snapped the second-place trophy over my knee and threw it in a toilet.”

“...Oh, my.”

“Yeah.”

“But the important thing is, we had fun,” Bruce smiled softly.

“Yeah,” Stephanie agreed.

“I don’t want to do it,” Dick said. “She’s not my problem.” 

“She’s literally your problem,” Steph rolled her eyes. “You’re her sergeant.”

“And as your sergeant,” Dick said. “I command you to take care of L/n.” 

Stephanie glared at him. “You’re abusing your powers, Grayson,” she whispered ominously. “Get Todd to do it!” 

“Todd’s already taken care of her,” Dick nodded to Jason who had placed a doughnut and a cup of coffee on Y/n’s desk and a blanket over Y/n’s sleeping form. He had attempted to place a pillow under her head, but when he tried, Y/n had grumbled and whined. Jason didn’t want to disturb her, so he just left her on the floor. Every moment or so, Jason would glance down at Y/n to make sure she was still sleeping peacefully and a loud noise hadn’t roused her. 

“They really are idiots,” Steph muttered. 

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “They are.”

[episodes-ff]

Strong Man

Happy Veterans Day, y'all! As a daughter and niece of veterans, I wanted to give you all a little treat. Especially after remembering Jacob was in fact in a military movie and Aaron plays a former military man. Also Reggie and Terry are Marine Corps men so why not have him join the fold. Enjoy!!!!

P.S. This is just a one-off where Armando always knew his father and joined the Marine Corps with his friends Terry and Reggie instead of leading the cartel...

Armando

Finishing the final strides to my barracks, I came back one last time to say goodbye to my family. "Ohhhh! He's growing so fast!" My uncle Marcus wailed sniffling into his tissue as my dad and I shook our heads. "Will you quit your nonsense, Marcus?" "I can't help it, Mike. He was just a little baby on your hip, now he's going to the Marines." He cried more and more as he suffocated me into a hug. "Don't you have your own family to say goodbye to?" I asked pointing out his daughter and wife as they hugged her boyfriend, Reggie." "Damn, Reggie! You're my nephew, man. I'm gonna miss you."

Chuckling, I hugged him before turning my attention over to my dad. "C'mere, man." He smiled on the verge of tears as he pulled me into a warm hug. "You're not turning soft on me are you, old man?" "I see you got jokes, son. This old man can still whoop yo lil Mexican ass." He chimed as we laughed together. Patting my back, he held my forehead to his and smiled. "I'm proud of you, son." "Thank you, papa. That means the world to me." Giving out all the last hugs and kisses I could afford, I dapped up Reggie before we grabbed our duffle bags and headed inside to start our new lives.

**MONTHS LATER**

Dapping up my boys, Terry and Reggie, I strapped on my gear as we chattered about our plans for the night on the way to our dorms. "So run it by me again, man? What's the plans?" "We hitting the bar on McIntosh in downtown. You in, Reggie?" "Nahhh, not tonight guys. I'm taking a visit to my lady." Reggie said holding his hands up in defense as we groaned. "Ohhhh, baby girl got you pussy whipped, huh?" Terry jibed while he nodded. "Aye, that's my wife you talking about. And yea, I like spending time with my baby." "Awwww, your babyyyy. Answer me this? When you gone make an honest woman outta Megan? It’s been long enough, bro." I said recounting when they met. "If she'll take me, hell tonight." He smirked flashing us the bright ring he had stored in his duffle. "Ohhhh shit! Now that’s what the fuck I’m talking about." Tee hooted as I smiled. "Tryna tell you young bucks, you gotta find the woman for you and her an honest one." "Young buck? Bro, we're the same age." "Hey, I'm just saying." "Whatever, man. Tell us how it goes." "Gotcha gotcha."

Throwing on my shirt, I threw on my watch and chain before hitting myself a couple times with cologne and grabbing my phone and wallet. Headed up to Terry's dorm, I sent a few raps to the door before waiting for his arrival. Watching him come out, I frowned my brows before laughing. "Bro, what the fuck do you have on?" I questioned analyzing his choice of attire. "Hey, what can I say? The ladies love coming to the gun show." He boasted pumping his swollen biceps as I shook my head. "Whatever, dickhead, let's go."

Pulling up to the club, we parked valet before heading in and taking our place at the bar. Ordering a couple beers, we waltzed over to the pool tables as we each scoped the scenery around us. Bumping my head to the music, I stopped squinting my eyes as they landed on this beautiful woman sitting at a booth with her friend. "Aye, I'll be right back." I said leaving Terry as I headed over. "I see ya, boy!" He hooted surrounded by thirsty women. Walking over, I stopped just behind her as friend looked up and smiled. "Well, hi there!" "How are you ladies tonight?" I said putting on the charm as she turned to fully face me. Gorgeous was an understatement with this one. "My name is Armando, and you are?" "My name is Laila and this is my girl, Diamonté." "Diamonté, huh? That's a very unique name." "Why thank you. I can say the same for you, Armando." "Oh can you?" I smirked eyeing her lustfully as I smoothly brought her hand up to my lips.

Terry

Watching my boy work his magic, I cheesed before bringing my attention back to the ladies surrounding me. "You said you're in the Navy, right?" "Marines, little mama." I flirted tapping her chin as she flushed red. "So is that how you got such big arms?" "Nah, I been working out long before I joined. Want me to demonstrate, baby?" Nodding nervously, I smiled a devilish grin before whisking her up into my arms and hitting some bicep curls as she giggled with her friends. Setting her down, I cheesed as they all flirtatiously offered their numbers.

Heading out of the bar with Armando in tow, we drove back up to base and signed in before heading up to our rooms for curfew. Whipping off my sweaty and smelly clothes, I tossed em in the laundry basket before taking another shower. Coming out, I let the steam wrap me in a warm embrace as I looked down at my phone to see if I had any missed notifications. Seeing none from the one girl I actually wanted to talk to, I clenched my jaw as I logged into Facebook. Smiling at the memories of old friends and family as they updated on their current lives, I tapped the search bar and smoothly typed her name. Watching her page come up at the top of the search as it always did, I tapped her profile breathing a ragged breath as an image of her with another man shadowed my view. Clearing my throat, I shook my head quickly logging out before tossing my phone to the side and laying down on my pillow. I can talk to all the girls in the world, it'll never compare to her.

Y'all the outpouring of love I've been receiving is truly heartwarming. I had truly given up on writing after the mishaps with my other stories and you guys are giving me the push to continue 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Tags (Based on interactions, if you’d like to be added or removed let me know): @violetmuses @believeinthefireflies95 @brisunique @kaylaahisthebestest- @madxlov3   @casualsludgeshoetoad @mauvecherie-writes @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @kumkaniudaku @geneziesm @megamindsecretlair @simpledopeme @goldenjasssy @vivaalenaa @playgurlxoxo @ghettogirly @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @tbmotw @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @qdancer22 @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @x-moonchild-xxxx @1love-rere-spread-the-peace @tamyanicoleeeee @markspliers @armandosbabymama

[forthegothicheroine]

I saw a youtuber assign perfumes to her favorite books, so I thought I'd try it.

Perfumes for (some of) my favorite books. Part 1: Fiction.

Dracula: Portrait of a Lady by Frederic Malle

The Bloody Chamber: Fille de Berlin by Serge Lutens

Discworld's Night Watch: A Lilac a Day by Vilhelm

Wylding Hall: Lucid Dream by Ex Idolo

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein: Young Romantics by Poesie

Mexican Gothic: 1940 by Besame

Tooth and Claw: Eau de Protection by Etat Libre d'Orange

Experimental Film: Replica By the Fireplace by Maison Margiela

Blackwater: Saint Julep by Imaginary Authors

The Silver Devil: Tainted Love by Tokyo Milk

Convenience Store Woman: Not a Perfume by Juliette Has a Gun

Spinning Silver: Doe in the Snow by 4160 Tuesdays

My Best Friend's Exorcism: Poison Girl by Dior

The Drowning Girl: Haunted by Deconstructing Eden

Pretty Monsters: Fraaagola Saalaaata by Hilde Soliani

The Coldest Girl in Coldtown: In Love With Everything by Imaginary Authors

The Secret Books of Paradys: Fleurs du Mal by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

Northanger Abbey: Penny Dreadful by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

Moll Flanders: Prends-Moi by Isabey

Camp Ghoul Mountain: Burning Leaves by CB I Hate Perfume

Piranesi: Aqua Universalis by Maison Francis Kurkdjian

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 3, On the hunt

Masterlist Word count: 3.2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women.  It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg.  The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

'There's something off about those fellers,' you state sluggishly, wildly swinging the whiskey bottle in your hand around, 'they ask too many questions.' Mary-Beth chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder to distract you as she takes away the bottle with her other hand. You look up at her with furrowed brows and lean your head against her leg. While most of the women sit spread out on the three logs that are used as benches on the land behind Sadie's house, you have always been a ground person. Molly and Karen were ground people like you but now you're on the ground all on your own. In your intoxicated state, that makes you very sad but you don't hang onto it for too long as another thought grabs your attention.  Normally you play a bit of guitar for the group but last time you all got together, you had lent your guitar to Mary-Beth who promptly broke all the strings while trying to tune it. God, how you miss that Javier feller that passed through a few months ago. He sang the sweetest songs and could make you sing as well. A quiet giggle leaves your lips.  'All men ask questions. Difference is that most men don't make you nervous,' she teases. Tilly and Abigail chuckle in return while Sadie rolls her eyes.  'You ain't got nothing to laugh about miss Roberts,' you state loudly, 'you're tripping over your own feet around that scar faced feller.' Abigail turns a bright shade of red as she tries to avoid eye contact with Sadie, but she's already seen and leans up against her.  'Oh, our sweet miss Roberts has finally found someone to bed,' she teases as she throws her arm around Abigail to pull her as close as she can. Abigail pushes her off and huffs while scooting away from Sadie.  'Ain't nothing like that. The boy is just... charmingly stupid. That's all.'  'No use in defending yourself now, sweetheart,' Mary-Beth teases.  'Yeah, we both saw,' Tilly adds. Abigail groans.  'Fine, yes, John is adorable. I don't know what it is about him ‘cause he's dumb as nails. He told me he can't even swim,' she vents to the group, 'but my stomach tingles around him. It's terrible.'  'Have they gone past the gun store yet, Mary,' Sadie questions as she looks over to Mary.  'No, I haven't seen them yet. Why? Are they all handsome,' she jokes with a teasing wiggle of her brow. You sigh, but it comes out as more of a lovesick groan. The girls laugh and you lean your head down to cover your face with your hat as you lean back against the log.  'That's one way to answer that question,' Mary-Beth teases, 'you got the hots for one of them, Lucky?'  'Piss off.'  'Weren't you sweet on that Mexican feller just a few weeks back,' Mary teases, taking your hat off your head to see your embarrassed expression.  'No, no, that was just another notch on her bedpost,' Abigail jokes, 'no feelings there, right Lucky?'  'I could've sworn she was in love the way she looked at him those nights at the campfire,' Tilly continues as you snatch your hat back from Mary.  'Same thing with that Charles feller, ain't it,' Sadie suggests with a grin, 'I heard you didn't even try to shoot him when he made fun of how you get on your horse.'  'Didn't need to,' you grumble, annoyed and blushing.  'So what is this I heard about you going hunting with Charles,' Tilly teases.  'Okay, fine, that's enough,' you bark. The mood drops for a second. You don't mind being the bud of the joke for a bit but you let them know when it's been enough and they respect it. Least they could do is respect it after all you've done for this goddamn town. 'Anyway, what’s this I heard about them looking for Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell?' The mood flips from light and careless to tight and anxious within a second. Those are not well-liked people to say the very least and none of you have good memories of them.

[siphersaysstuff]

THE GHOST OF PICS: MECHS PAST

And with THAT tortured pun, December's Patreon-backed @tfwiki picture batch is all stuff we've kinda needed forever, all stuff from the prior century, and all stuff from outside the US market!

We start with Takara's original DEATHSAURUS, Decepticon leader in 1989's Victory, who just had his Legacy Haslab toy start showing up on doorsteps. And of course, new separate pics for his Breast Animal partners EAGLEBREAST and TIGERBREAST (yes, get them giggles out, go ahead).

Let's jump back a year to 1988's Super-God Masterforce, and the Godmaster RANGER. This mold is the only one of the three Powermaster Autobot cars to get recolored for its Takara release. Sadly, the MIB copy I bought back in 1996 was missing its gun, thus my general reluctance to add a pic to the wiki. But lord, that tiny, crunchy book scan we were using suuuucked. Made Ranger look white when he's a very light stony blue. Still using the scan though, just now in an inset panel to show off the gun I don't have.

And now we bounce ahead to 1990's Zone, and the Micro Transformer base SKY HYPER, piloted by Deadwheeler. I took these pics forever ago at some BotCon, and have long lost the notes as to who owned this piece a few hard drives back. This sample was also missing the three ramps, thus both the length of time it took for me to get comfy going ahead and adding these to the wiki, and the new book-scan inset to show the missing ramps.

Let's shift over to the European market, with 1992's THUNDER CLASH, the leader of the Autobot Turbmasters. His gravity-feed missile launcher was, like all the Turbomaster and Predator launchers, very much not US choke-gate compliant.

Fun fact: Thunder actually did get a Japanese release! He and Skyquake were straight imported to Japanese stores in Hasbro packaging, with just some necessary legal info changed to Japanese on the boxes. This was the Operation: Combination year, where Takara released the small Turbomasters and Predators in 2-packs.

And now we're going much further back, and much further south. No, that's not Brawn, that's OUTBACK, the 1987 Mexican version by IGA. Apparently, IGA was unwilling or unable to pay for the new '86 Mini Vehicle molds, thus they made their own versions by simply recoloring the '84 originals and slapping them on new cards for the '86 characters. Sometimes with alternate decos to boot!

Sadly, I don't own this toy, and like Sky Hyper, this was a BotCon pic taken with original owner info lost to time. (I always try and credit the toy owner when they let me take pics.)

Now here's the ones I'm super-happy about. These are two of the three Eletrix, ESPORTE and PORSCHE, exclusive to Estrela's 1985 Brazilian Transformers line! These toys transform and walk/roll forward via remote control, attached by a wire over 4 feet long. I'm keeping an eye out for the third one, Jipe.

None of the '85 Brazilian toys have any faction markings, but the Autobot-style packaging leads one to assume "all good guys". As do the bios of many of the toys in the line... but the Eletrix lack bios, sadly. Which is weird, as Estrela made up new bios for some toys in the line, and just straight-translated others from their Hasbro bios.

These molds were released in the US, but as the "Pow-R-Bots" in Village Toys' TF-wannabe line Convert-A-Bots. Like Estrela, Village licensed them from Japan's Yonezawa Toys, where they were the Remote Change Robo Series. All of these releases use the same plastic colors, but give them new stickers for branding and language.

I bought these two MISB (cellophane still there!) earlier this year, but was a little gunshy about opening them, worried the electronics might have somehow rotted. Schrodinger's Electronics. But no, since they didn't come with batteries, no corrosion, and they work as well as a 1984-mold cheap electric gear-powered toy can (that is to say, loudly).

And of course, since I got the boxes, I took the opportunity to take 600dpi scans of the box art unique to Estrela's packaging!

Man, I love going through these older, not-US corners of TFdom, and hope you learned something new about the vast TF universe. And if you'd like to help make that just a little bit easier and get more pics out a month, consider joining my Patreon! "gregstfwikipics" there, every little bit helps, plus at higher pledge levels you can pick a theme for the month!

[maibeewrites]

handle your own when you become a man //

a Marcus Alvarez x female!OC fanfiction

summary:

Veronica could always defend herself, always keep a straight face.

Until one day, when she has to do something that makes even herself question, what was she made for.

part I Bigger dog

"Everybody, calm it!" said Jax for the fourth time with an angry expression. Everyone held everyone at gunpoint. The deal with the Mayans went south. The Sons were all in Mayan grounds, they were surrounded.

They came to convince Alvarez to let them sell a shipment of guns near Oakland. Needless to say, El Padrino wasn't too happy about them arming up his streets.

But the Irish were pushing hard on the Sons and they needed to find a buyer ASAP. The Niners didn't buy it. They were deep in shit. A street gang in Oakland was offering just enough money for them to cover the Kings and make some profit for themselves. It would been the perfect situation, only for them weren't on enemy territory.

"It is a one time deal. You get a percentage too." Jax added.

Alvarez laughed. "You white boy you tripping on some shit if you think I will let you sell here."

"At least can we talk through this without pointing the guns?" Veronica said quietly and gestured around with her free hand.

Alvarez shook his head, and signalled to his men to lower their guns.

"Thank you" nodded Jax. The mexican did the same.

"Please Marcus, if we weren't in this situation, we wouldn't ask you something like this. And have another offer." Jax gestured to Veronica to continue.

So this was the part when she had to step in. She found herself in this situation because of a debt. She had to borrow once some money from SAMCRO, and they agreed that instead of fully paying it back in cash, she did something for them.

Her gig was a high end beauty store in the outskirts of Stockton. She imported MAC lipsticks and Uzis. Dior powders and metamphetamine. What was in season. That was her shit.

"If you let them sell this shipment now, I will pay you an allowance in the next three months, Papi. A percentage of sales. The higher the sales, the more money you get" said Veronica and crossed her arms. This was her deal with Jax, this is how she was gonna pay off the rest of her debt.

"What's your business have to do with this?" Alvarez asked.

"Oh, I'm just happy to help out my friends, you know. It's good for business you know if you have powerful relationships with powerful people" said Veronica with a smirk on her face.

Alvarez and her had already crossed ways in multiple occasions. Everybody in that area who dwelt in illegal businesses knew her. She immigrated from Eastern Europe when she was a minor. As an orphan, she quickly had to fend for herself in order to survive in this climate. She was the diva, a woman in power, who was not involved in porn or prostitution, but instead, in their trade. She was a curiosity nonetheless.

Plus Veronica was young and pretty. She had long dirty blonde hair, which she always wore wavy, and big blue eyes which stared so intensely into everyones' eyes. She was tall, almost the same height as Alvarez. She was athletic but very curvy at the right places, and slim where she needed to be. She was always told when she was a kid that she was "big boned". In the California sun, her skin was a bit more tan that originally, but still, she was a light shade of cream.

Overall, she looked beautiful. But her beauty was always overshadowed by who she was. She always wore combat boots, leather or cargo pants, utilitarian clothing, jackets, denim. She almost carried herself like a man sometimes, but she still had that feminine softness in her. The way she spoke, she was wise, determined and playful at the same time.

Of course she caught Marcus Alvarez's eye. It was always his fantasy to absolutely hatefuck the shit out of that smartass blanca. To make her cry and make her beg for it. He was curious, what else she could do with that pretty, pouty mouth besides playing tough.

"Jax, how much do you need this deal?" asked Alvarez.

"I think I aleardy layed it out for you. I need this" replied Jax with a stern voice. "Ask anything else, I give it to you"

Alvarez was thinking for a second.

"Alright. I let you sell it. You give my my 100 grand. And the percentage for her sales."

"Thank you, ese" Jax said and he couldn't hide his relief.

"There is one more thing, you." Alvarez said straight to Veronica.

The woman raised her brows.

"Me? Yes?"

"No, I mean I want you. For one night." Marcus looked her in the eyes.

Veronica got really confused at first, then it dawned on her.

"What?" The question left her lips so silently that even Jax could barely understand.

The air froze and everyone stared at her.

She rarely felt anxious. The feeling of anxiety was only familiar to her from memories. When she was in fifth grade, and in the winter, the boys would come and drag the most pretty and popular girls in the snow, kicking snow in their faces and ruining their clothes. She always hated that. Her stomach sank every time when recess came. How the boys cornered her and dragged her out in the snow.

But now, she felt the anxiety. A flash of cold washed over her.

"What?" she asked, but the question felt like it wasn't even aimed at Alvarez in particular. It was aimed at everyone. Did she really need to do this for the Sons?

"Chill out, ninita. You spend a night with me. A whole night" said Alvarez with a smirk on his face.

"You a funny man" Veronica said, and now her anxiety slowly turned to anger.

"Easy now" intervened Jax. He pulled Veronica to the side.

"Listen, I don't want this to be this way. But you have to say yes. As much as I know that this is wrong. Please" Jax looked at her with pleading eyes. "They will kill my family if we don't get a buyer" he spoke the last sentence almost as a whisper.

Veronica felt sorry for Jax, but at the same time wanted to laugh him and everyone in the face. What is she? What is she in the eyes of these men?

Really, a night with her?

It didn't take much thought to figure out what were Alvarez's intentions. She always could tell if someone wanted her.

She always put people into four categories: the ones with mutual attraction, even if it was platonic, the ones with no attraction, and the ones who either were attracted to her, but she wasn't to them, and the ones with the opposite.

Marcus Alvarez was in the first category. She found the man good-looking, but this didn't help the situation, that he demanded a night with her, so he could use her as he will. No one does this to her. No one touches her without her consent.

And now she had to give consent. The Mayans were snickering, the Sons stared at them and at their leader with rage. But they had to stay quiet, she was doing this for them.

"Okay. Tell me where to go and when." said Veronica finally, completely defeated.

"Just be ready tonight by 9. I will pick you up at your house" said Alvarez "now go, get the fuck out of my crib."

Jax ushered the Sons out. Veronica only looked straight ahead, pretending to not see the concerned stares.

"Oh, and wear a dress, look pretty" added Alvarez as he turned his back on Veronica.

[survivalist-anon]

Log 7: Spand off, Spand up and DMSO

It was a Mexican standoff.

It was two vs ten, Fjord had been pinned down.

And I was in the middle of it.

"STEN! By bringing that mortal here you've violated our agreement! You and your squad are now obligated by the law of the Codex Astartes to be commissioned in the nearest Imperial Base for security purposes. Surrender now and the human will not be harmed in the process of interrogation!", his voice echoed throughout the pine forest, I could hear birds cawing and flapping in the distance from the sheer volume.

"You forget Aldercon! The purpose of your chapter being here is to defend the mortals on this world! Not subjugate them to Marshall Law!", Sten responed.

Aldercon's face gone red with fury, "YOU DO NOT USE THE EARTH'S LAWS ON ME, STEN! We go by our own conducts!"

Call it curiosity or call it a self destructive itch, I decided to peak over Sten's shoulder. I could see the man's eyes focus from Sten to me, if glaring at someone could shoot bullets, he was shooting rockets.

Something in me boiled over in desperation, I had enough stress for one lifetime."Please! Don't shoot! We just to apologize for last night!".

Sten sharply turned his head towards me, "You have nothing to apologize for, we had reacted on the assumption you were in danger, but it's their transgression and theirs alone."

"if I've learned anything in life is actions speak louder than words, but words can make for a great magic trick called "defusing the situation", just apologize please, this was all just a big misunderstanding anyway!", I couldn't help but raise my voice a bit, I felt terrible doing it too. "Please, I'm....not use to any of this."

I could tell Sten was contemplating my request, at this point it was up to him if he wanted to go through with it. He let out a heavy sigh, "yes....I shall do as you requested.", as he nodded his agreement to me, he turned to Aldercon, "Chaplain Aldercon! We shall only cooperate on a set of conditions! No harm or interrogation shall be bestowed on my human, my pack WILL NOT join your fortress of fools! But, we will admit fault....in our actions, subsequently pay for them if needed!".

I held my sigh of release for just a few moments longer, I look to the chaplain, absolutely no change. It was like he was made of stone, than one of his soldiers methodically goes up to his side whispers in his ear.

By this point whatever was being said, he must have agreed to it.

He adjusts himself to a parade rest, "Alright. Come down slowly!", he commanded.

Sten motioned for Toke to start climbing down the wall, as they did I turned to see that some of the Marines had gone from 'high alert and ready to shoot", to relaxed and somewhat curious. Some of them lowered their guns, even as far as holstering them back. The look on their faces weren't just of harden soldiers, but also of beings who weren't used to visitors to their fort.

As for their leader, his death stare didn't change one bit. He was honed in us.

I didn't know what to make of it. I could even see some had gotten out of a farm house nearby, likely hearing the commotion that had grabbed their attention.

With a turn of his head, all of the soldiers simultaneously went into parade rest nearly in sync.

There was no hesitation in their motions, they weren't even moving. It's was uncanny yet breath taking.

I than remembered my encounter with the gentleman at the hardware store and began to panic. "Ugh, Sten."

He turned his head a little and whispered, "something concerns you?"

I began to blush in embarrassment. How the hell was I going to tell this guy I was put under some pheromone "love spell"....I had to try. "Ugh....that night... wasn't really the first time I was ugh....I don't what to call it? It was like being drunk a-"

"YOU!", a familiar angry voice bombarded the scene.

It was the hardware store guy. Oh no.

"You're that civilian woman who attempted to retrieve your overly aroused companion. The same one from that supply store.....You should be ashamed of yourself for lack of self control! Do have any idea the level of unnerving distraction your pheromones were doing, I could have made detrimental miscount of inventory!", with the wholehearted earnest of someone who has witnessed a lude and lascivious crime, he had just accused me of being the one distracting him?

"...ugh....I.... wasn't the only woman in the st-wait a damn minute you didn't even look at a single person in that story except Mrs Bellcaller, you should be ashamed too...or... something....", I completely fumbled my words, how was anyone supposed to respond to what sounded like the most outlandish accusation?

All the men were looking at me, than the accuser. Toke, Sten and Fjord were also a little confused.

Fjord, still pinned to the ground, "ugh....lass were ya naked or something, yah smell just fine?"

I shot him a look, "Fjord!"

I could see his cheeky grin, he was just playing around.

Aldercon now targeted the tone deaf marine,"..... Bilhard what in the name of the Emperor and all of Terra are you talking about, the tool run, did you not take the suppressor pills? Also GIVE ME FIVE THOUSAND FOR EMBARRASSING ME AGAIN! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

The one named Bilhard immediately dropped down doing pushups, now glaring at me with resentment.

At this point I was shaking not from his glare but from his boss's shouting.

He walked up to me, looked me up and down. Sten was growling at him. "Stay away from her...".

"Oh quit it Sten!", he grunted. "Madame, please pardon the poor behavior of my troops, complacency has been a terrible emerging issue at my facility. My men, as you can see....are not behaved enough to be interacting with the public at this moment.", he then takes a closer look at me, "lift your head up miss."

I do as he says, I lift enough for my neck be a little visible, I flinch as soon as he laid a single finger on me jaw, it was cold from the plated armor. I could feel him lift my jaw higher. I wasn't too sure what he was looking at.

"..... state your name. Occupation and current residency.", commanded what I could imagine was these guy's drill Sargent.

Sten moved to face him while still speaking to me, "you do need to answer him, he....does not answer to your family either, Chaplain Aldercon, you understand I can not disclose the location of my chosen mortals. Or have you forgotten that not everyone needs to be under your watchful eye?"

Aldercon looked at him, looked back at me. He still expected an answer.

"I ....can only give you...uhm....two of those three things....I...um....tell you my name and job...but...if you want a third thing I can tell something else.", I know it was pointless, but it was worth a try.

He looked at me, chuckled a little too, "Negotiating information........fine....my third 'thing'....as per your.....request.....what happened last night?".

The silence was deafening, "um...my name is Lorencia Lakatos Drake...I work at the wildlife rehabilitation center and reserve....and...well..me and my coworkers were out for a drink after work, well....he-", I look at Bilhard still doing pushups, " -and his friends were sitting there. They weren't doing anything I swear, they probably were there for the same reasons too....and...well...Shelly, she's well couldn't resist their charm and ugh....I have to ask....what did he mean by 'pheromones'?....", hopefully this question wasn't going to do anything drastic.

I could see the cogs in his head turning, "hmm....one second madame.". He turns to look for someone, "Sha'kal! I need a word with you!".

I see a huge, extremely dark colored man, jogging as fast as he could to the chaplain. This wasn't just melanin either, it was a deep color, but what surprised me was his eyes. They were a near solid crimson color, like burning embers. I could see that Aldercon and the man were talking to each other and he than looked at me. He came lightly jogging to me and Sten.

"Oh good morning Sten, how have you been!?", he greeted Sten. "Causing mischief as always I presume?"

I could feel Sten wasn't as defensive with this guy. He became relaxed in fact.

"Ah Sha'kal, old friend how have you been? I see you have your work cut out for yourself.", he was probably referring to his chaplain.

"Oh not to worry, things are doing wonders here. You know, you and the others are more than welcome to join too. We could use your talents here.", Sha'kal seemed like a rather friendly guy. More so then the rest so far. "Oh, who is this, hello miss. What is your name? My name is Sha'kal, son of Vulkan, I am very pleased to meet you". He reached out his hand, he didn't show a full palm like one would normally do for a hand shake, he showed his thumb and index finger. Even half closed his hand was enormous, the palm alone could cover my whole face.

I could see his features closer now, he has the facial features of someone from the Polynesian islands. Bright and friendly eyes for someone who's eyes looked like hot metal. He had a strange little metal stud on his right brow, I wasn't sure what was that all about. His smile and friendly demeanor could melt any stone cold heart, in fact he admitted this warm, safe energy. I couldn't explain it, but it's something very rare that you find in people. "My name is Lorencia Drake, but you can call me Lorey. It's a pleasure to meet you too.", I smiled back and shook his finger and thumb.

In spite of the size of his hands, he was wonderfully gentle.

He than examines my hair, face, eyes and teeth for some reason. I was caught off guard but I guess I was getting checked from the neck up.

"ah yes, hmm, let's judging by the health of your external dermis layer you're relatively good in regards to potential skin abrasion, I do see possible signs of melanoma development somewhere in your temporal region in that case I would like you to refer to your local dermatologist and judging by the formation of wrinkles, elasticity of your skin I would like to guess.....25?-", he cheerfully waited.

"ugh...29 actually", I answer back still flabbergasted at what he could tell just by looking at my head.

"oh so close, and remember please wear sunscreen when working outside, I recommend a cream with a moderate level of Zinc and a dash of collagen and iron in your diet. You are keeping very well up with your hygiene levels for someone who works with animals I presume but I will say you're not flossing as much as one should, cut down on any sugary snacks. You may need to get a bit more sleep, I assume it is due to stress, insomnia, drinking or maybe even an irritant in your home or workplace? And lastly based on your ocular reaction to the current brightness of the sun, you are mostly use to wearing sunglasses correct, an outdoorsmen of sorts?"

I giggled and nodded in agreement. This guy was VERY good.

"ah excellent! Sten, she's a healthy girl."

Sten had become a little less tense with Sha'kal

Aldercon was shaking his head, "Sha'kal.", he had waited for him to examine for one more thing.

Sha'kal looked back, motioning with his had for Aldercon to give him some time. "Oh um, please do pardon me for asking, but my I take one small sample of your hair, blood and saliva? It's well...a command from you know", he takes out a small glass petri dish and a syringe, I could tell he was a little bit embarrassed about asking.

Toke walked up to Sten and me wondering was this man asking for blood and spit, "aye don't yah think it's a little silly to be asking anyone for all that on someone's back?", he had pointed out my death grip on Sten's pack.

"oh wow, I'm sorry.", Sten just nodded his head and lowered himself for me to jump off.

Aldercon was watching from a distance the whole thing along with a few other Marines.

"Why does he want you to take blood samples from me?", as I ask I see that Sha'kal offers the petri dish, I do as needed of me for the task. "Is...this about the-"

Sha'kal eyes open a little, "Oh actually yes, you see once a month, most of us go through something close to well....oh it's a little silly to say out loud but it happens occasionally-" as he explains this he takes the syringe and sticks it in perfectly without even looking at my arm, "It is a little embarrassing and it gets us into such situations, moodiness, boisterous outbursts, the works. I've been making a suppressor for it for some time and I can't seem to get it right. I had been close a few times before but it's changes every cycle I suppose. Other than that, the effects you must have felt are completely normal for those...well...not fully exposed to us. It's just our bodies reacting to the nutrients on this planet likely enough."

"...so...it's-", I slowly answered back, not fully comprehending the whole situation.

Taking the syringe out of my arm, Sha'kal hums responsivly. "-mmmhmm, completely normal. In fact it happened quite a lot back home. We were just not aware of it as we are here, than again there has been a lot of things...many of us were not aware of.". He cleans up the area with a little wipe and a bandaid.

I wasn't sure what to make of his explanation, I was still worried if, well, something was going to happen. "It's just, well....I felt sick after being near one of them actually, in fact it started to smell like....I don't know like something from an auto shop?"

Sten interjected, "yes, it was unusual....the poor girl was reeking of one of your fists."

A loud, exclaimed grunt had rolled out of Bilhard's mouth as he had just finished his pushups. "Ah that, Urtus had purchased this terrible ointment from a man in town. He stated it would mask any odor.".

Sha'kal was curious as to what this mystery ointment, "hmmm....where is Urtus?"

~~~~~~~

After a long, cold shower, Urtus was applying more of the ointment on his chest in the locker room near the showers. "Tis not the most fragrant thing in the world, but it does smell interesting."

Cahrilo wasn't too keen on the ointment, "it smells like that plant the cantina uses for one of the special menus....what was it called? Garlic?"

Urtus frowned a little at the statement, "Garlic? Ha! It barely smells of the thing, it has even gotten rid of that aching on my neck."

As the two marines were conversing, the facility intercom pings for them, it was Aldercon;

"Urtus, please head to the medical bay immediately. Please bring your recently purchased topical ointment, ON THE DOUBLE."

End of the intercom.

"oh....hmm...I wonder why? Perhaps Sha'kal would like to apply it use?".

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few minutes, Urtus had quickly headed for the medical bay. He opens the door to find not only Sha'kal and Aldercon in the room, but Sten, Bilhard, and I.

Fjord and Toke were waiting in another room to keep them entertained as wait for Sten's and Aldercon meeting to commence.

He looks around and sees me, sitting on an oversized examination table, swinging my legs. The whole place was definitely built for men their size.

"......uh....um....hello miss......ugh good to see that you are ... unharmed?.... Aldercon I thought you stated that mortals were not allowed in the facility....also please believe me and the savage next to her I had not done anything.", of course he was nervous.

"Where is it?", Aldercon curtly asked.

The look on his face when the ointment was mentioned obviously didn't help the situation. He took out a surprisingly large container, it was roughly the size of a mayonnaise lid in diameter and just about as big as a container of that cheaper brand margarine at the store.

Aldercon takes a closer look at the container, "hmm...'Medical Grade DMSO'?. ....what the hell is DMSO?", what was odd was that he asked me as if I knew. The acronym wasn't too unfamiliar to me however, "I remember a long while ago my mother got into a serious fight with my aunt about the stuff but I can't remember why."

Sha'kal took the container, opened it. The smell of garlic was faint but noticable. "Oh my, why on Nocturne would you use this?", asked as he looked at the ingredients label. "This ointment contains small amounts Dimethyl sulfoxide? With a chemical makeup like that it should have practically suffocating Miss Drake here."

All the years of biology class and the literal three chemistry courses had came right back like a Vietnam flashback. "Oh shit that's right, that stuff is used as a paint thinner and car lube."

Urtus was stunned, never in his life would he have expected to be sold paint thinner as some form of solid cologne, "Good throne! Are you serious about that? Why would this be even used for such things?".

A gave a weak shrug, "I have read about these near death home remedies before, sometimes people sell toxic materials to people for profit and sometimes people are desperate and make their own cures out things they shouldn't sometimes."

Aldercon looks at the container, "....from now on. There will be extensive screening on unknown substances."

Sha'kal in the meantime was checking his files on the substances, "ah, it says here the reason why humans began to use it on themselves for medicinal reasons is because it can be used as a pain killer."

It was just then Urtus just realized why his neck pain was gone, "oh....then why is it toxic?".

Sha'kal let out an exacerbated sigh, "likely it's toxic to mortals. We are capable of handling such chemicals naturally through our implants and augmentations Urtus. It's as simple as that."

"Oh goodness, I beg for your forgiveness miss. I shall stop using this right away. I was hoping it would tame a certain condition of mine when the suppressor was not fully in effect....on that thought, how is the other mortal?"

I was glad to see that pretty the entirety of this nonsense was a misunderstanding. "Oh Shelly? She's good ...she even wants to see your friend she liked so much. Oh and it's ok, mistakes happen. Most important thing is that I'm here today to hear your side of the story", I really couldn't stay mad at the guy. He knew who I was talking about, he was even more pleased to see I hadn't taken what had happened in bad faith either.

"Ah, Cahrilo will surely be pleased he has gained an admirer. I hope he enjoys his women well matured. Hahaha.", he looks at Aldercon, hoping he's free to go.

Rolling his eyes and satisfyed with solving the mystery at what had caused the big hole in the transport truck. "You are free to go.".

Urtus nodded, "good day everyone.", he left the room a little more relieved that moment.

Aldercon than looks to Sten, "Are you satisfied?"

Sten had been silently sitting next to me, watching the whole thing. "Yes....as the girl states....the most important thing is that she is alive today....now ..... about our agreement?"

End of Log 7

@kit-williams @barn-anon

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Thrift store Westerns I've never heard of part 2!

SHOOT FIRST AND PRAY YOU LIVE (Because Luck Has Nothing to Do With It) is an indie film from 2009 and winner of the independent spirit award at Santa Fe Film Festival, apparently. Wikipedia says it was based on the novel Luck by Max Brand. It's got everything! It's got maybe in fact too much going on! It's got split screen, it's got a brief animated sequence, it's got so many fucking flashbacks.

Opens with this, which I find very funny for some reason:

While we're on disclaimers, my quotations are summarized and not exact bc I am not going over ever few seconds of this movie. Also this movie is rated R so assume Yes for most common western content warnings.

Very GBU intro with about 10 seconds of empty street, a surprise close-up and then a tense shootout that we'll only have context for later. I hope.

The first real scene introducing our main character (Red Pierre) is a very gory shootout in a saloon. The shots themselves are fast and then we get a blow-by-blow of exactly where each of the 3 shots fired went. Lots of squirting blood from exploded arteries. I respect it but also was deliberately not looking at the screen too hard for like a solid 30 seconds or so lol. Red's first shot was shooting his opponent's thumb off, so he pulled a Silence a la The Great Silence. However in this case it was not simply a disabling move bc he did just keep shooting and murder those 2 guys. also. so. not sure what the point of that was.

Then he turns around and makes awkward eye contact with the only other guy who hasn't left the saloon, an old man who makes a high-pitched sound and goes 'I didn't see anything! Actually, no, I saw everything and you were totally in the right hahaha don't even worry about it....' Red asks if he has a horse and he stammers that he's got a burro and Red is welcome to take it. "My horse died, or I wouldn't ask," Red clarifies awkwardly, before escaping with the old man's burro. It's now night, Red frees a Mexican man whom some nasty gang members were hanging from a tree as a form of torture. Red waits at the tree, presumably waiting for these guys to show up so he can kill them? idk. He falls asleep immediately and wakes up being guarded by the daughter of the aforementioned gang leader.

fuckin womp womp sound effect plays as he realizes what happened. My guy what did you expect? Why did you go to sleep at the Local Asshole Gang's Designated Torture Tree?

STOP LOOKING SURPRISED YOU HAD TO KNOW THEY WERE COMING BACK.

Anyways the gang leader's son just got killed and then he saw Red and was like, oh yeah I hear he's killed people. Good enough! New son figure and new gang member to fill the empty seat at the table! (Everyone thinks this is a terrible idea, especially gun girl. Red is like 'you're right, what a terrible idea, I'll just... leave.... *gun pointed at him threateningly* ok or not or I'll just sit here I guess')

There's a bit where the camera zooms in on individual gang members and names them. There is no way I am remembering all 5 of these guys at once. The girl's name is Jack though. Cool. Her dad is a creep and does not seem to like her much He does, he just gets really weird dialogue. idk, I have mixed but not very coherent feelings about how Jack is handled in this movie like, generally. Anyways gang leader Jim Payne comments that Red is 'older than I thought, but young enough for what I want to make of you.' He then goes on a rant about how when he was Red's age he had a mentor who shaped him into the man he is now and he's going to be that person for Red.

Red is....

Deeply confused by all this?? but willing to roll with it for his own agenda. If the gang helps him out with some Mysterious Tasks he needs to accomplish, he'll join them willingly. Payne is delighted to hear it. The first task is burying Red's dead father. Everyone chews on some loco weed and gets high as shit before setting off on this long journey (except for Knife Guy, who I guess is loco enough without the weed and thus declines it.)

TWENTY YEARS AGO (we are getting an extended flashback)

Pierre's dad, who is now dead and needs to be buried, was having an affair with Red Pierre's mom. Bob McGurk and the other guys Red wants to revenge kill show up at his mom's house and shoot some guy and assault her. (I thought the guy they shot was her dad but eventually, in a later flashback, we find out it was just like. some other dude she happened to know, and that the killers thought it was Red's dad). She swears to kill them all and eventually manages to kill the sheriff, leaving 2 others for someone else to please take care of.

Red Pierre's dad simply can't, because he is wearing a sweater. He can't shoot no one! Not in a sweater! Despite his extended musings about what a terrible man he was and how he's going to hell, he's apparently just not a shooting man, thus letting his girlfriend be tortured by the local gang for months (yes this went on for Months before she managed to stab the sheriff.) He's also not a "raising my illegitimate son" type apparently, so he drops the kid off at a random Mexican mission to be raised by the friars.

the subtitles helpfully provide pronunciation. Also, THIS PLACE IS LIKE 900 MILES FROM THE BORDER? IS THIS WHOLE MOVIE TAKING PLACE FULLY INSIDE MEXICO (IF SO WHY IS ALMOST EVERYONE WHITE AND SPEAKING AMERICAN ACCENTED ENGLISH) AND IF NOT, DID THIS GUY RIDE 900 MILES TO DROP OFF THE KID HE DIDN'T WANT TO RAISE SOMEWHERE HE WOULD NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER FIND HIS WAY BACK???? WHAT'S HAPPENING. WHY ISN'T RED SPEAKING SPANISH IF HE WAS RAISED DEEP IN CENTRAL MEXICO. HOW DID WE GET HERE. HOW DID WE GET ANYWHERE. WHY ARE YOU SO INSISTENT ABOUT THIS SPECIFIC GEOGRAPHICAL LOCATION THAT DOES NOT MAKE SENSE. LIke don't get me wrong it's a very cool geographical location but what is happening.

Anyways, Red's dying mother whispered something (I thought it was her murderous plans but it will later be revealed that I was wrong about this) into his baby ears as he lay in her dying arms and now he's gotta go murder the bad guys that terrorized his mom but first must bury his illegitimate dad who was nice to his mom but did not protect her from the other guys and also did not claim or raise him bc the dad was married to some other unseen unnamed woman who is presumably also dead now I guess bc she's just not ever going to come up. Simple! I'm so confused. The priest who raised Red after he got yeeted 900 miles south into Mexico has a monologue about raising his beloved child and WAIT HOLY SHIT IT'S ANIMATED NOW. WE'RE HAVING AN ANIMATED SEQUENCE???

I swear to God I am not making this movie up. delightful. what is happening ever. anyways no wonder Red just goes "this might as well happen" about acquiring a new father figure in Payne, he has so many fuckingn dads already...

The priest is like 'yeah I didn't even try to raise him to be a good Christian I knew he was destined to be a total badass adn beat people the fuck up so I taught him to fight bobcats and grizzly bears and climb trees and catch fish with his teeth and shit. bc I'm cool'

The priest then coyly mentions that Pierre is too much of a badass in the boxing ring and nobody wants to fight him, so he uses him as a form of penance on sinners by making them box this violent child and get beat up.

THIS IS NOT THE SAME MAN? THIS IS NOT OUR GUY? DID HE LOSE ALL HIS PIGMENTATION AS HE MATURED. DID A GRIZZLY BEAR BITE ALL THE BROWN OUT OF HIS HAIR AND NOW IT'S RED? WHAT HAPPENED. THIS IS NOT A RED HAIRED BLUE EYED KID. IS OUR CURRENT GUY NOT RED PIERRE? IS HE ACTUALLY SOME OTHER DUDE? IS RED PIERRE (THE REAL ONE) GOING TO SHOW UP LATER??? WHAT'S HAPPENING. (This kid is a very good actor and a good fighter by the way, but he is not a good double for the guy he is allegedly the child version of.)

His opponent mumbles "que diablo" as he's getting knocked out with the most American pronunciation I've ever heard. I don't even know Spanish that well adn I can tell that's some extremely American Spanish. also

thank God we're free of the flashback. We've been here so long. No specific time given bc that would require me going back through this and I don't want to reexperience it.

...My theory about this flashback is it's showing us in realtime how Red's story becomes a legend (part of the intro featured a guy telling us and a bunch of children a story about The Legend Of Red Pierre so Storytelling is like, a Theme.) I guess? It would explain why current Red is kind of a sweet awkward quiet kid and flashback Red is Paul Bunyan if he was a ginger (but only sometimes.)

aww novice Red is so cute.

YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SHOW ME A MAP MONTAGE? DO YOU REALLY WANT TO REMIND ME OF THE 900 MILE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOUR STATED CURRENT SETTING AND WHERE THE REST OF THIS MOVIE SUPPOSEDLY TAKES PLACE? YOU WANT ME TO THINK ABOUT DISTANCE IN THIS MOVIE?? ARE YOU SURE

oh my god we get another different flashback about Red's mom Irene now and. His dad fully was there the day that the gang killed that other guy and assaulted her. he had a gun. he had the drop on them. he... ran awayyy! It haunted him. Finally, years later, he took his gun and went to shoot McGurk, who shot him instead. that's how we ended up here, Red still has 2 guys left to kill for his parents. I've now heard this story like 19 times and it gets slightly more complicated and yet somehow less interesting every time.

Red's batshit crazy rogue priest daddy is ok with the revenge and gives him a???? Cursed crucifix??? that will bring blessings to him and evil to others?????? What's happening. I was raised Catholic I did not get any magical amulets like this

ok so we're caught up. Red killed one of the 2 guys in the first big shootout of the movie, his dad was the guy getting shot in the intro. Jack joins the men officially as part of the gang. We are now getting backstory for some random gang member whom I do not care about.

Blessedly this was a short flashback. he used to be a blacksmith before he went axe crazy, or more accurately hammer crazy, with a hammer. I think he had some reason but I couldn't understand the dialogue in that bit so who knows.

OH NO ANOTHER GANG MEMBER IS GOING TO TELL HIS LIFE STORY NOW... IS THIS GOING TO BE THE WHOLE MIDDLE OF THE MOVIE? PEOPLE TAKING TURNS TALKING ABOUT THE VIOLENCE THEY'VE DONE? wait a minute. false alarm. the next guy starts his story but is INTERRUPTED! By McGurk dramatically showing up. Ok fine that was funny. you got me.

anyways McGurk wants Red dead. what a shock. oh god another flashback PLEASE DO NOT ZOOM IN ON MCGURK PULLING HIS WIENER OUT PLEASE GOD

I do like the period accurate costuming in this movie. buttons yes. can I be done here? can the movie be over here? we're not even halfway in how can I endure this.

anyways. Red and McGurk have a showdown and fire simultaneously, each wounding the other. The other gang is delighted by this as the previously untouchable McGurk being wounded means his charm is broken. He can be killed! Eventually. (?)

The storyteller from the beginning of the movie comes back and tells us that McGurk disappeared for 2 years and that Red did lots of exciting stuff during that time but we're not going to get into all that right now. He also mentions that Red has the gang working with him while McGurk has 'always been a lone wolf'. This is straight up incorrect, as we had to see at least 3 painfully long flashbacks of McGurk and his 2-3 (I forgot) cronies shooting Red's mom Irene's friend full of holes and assaulting her. As a group! He did in fact have help before, if maybe not now. anyways. I shouldn't try to logic this movie.

The kids go to a masquerade. It's cute. Jack is enjoying the dress but worries it'll compromise her tough butch persona if the boys find out. Red promises not to tell anyone. There's a trippy extended rewind sequence that shows, everything playing in reverse, that McGurk, now wearing an eyepatch, has been stalking them all day, and then a completely unnecessary but in parts very funny sequence where McGurk gets a shave and the barber gossips to him about his backstory , providing a couple details we hadn't known but that I don't think matter much. 'now I never even seen a picture of McGurk, but they say he was an unnatural looking man, with a face you'd never forget,' says the barber, dabbing shaving cream onto McGurk's face. lol. It gets to be too much when the barber implies that McGurk dragged himself off into the wilderness and died somewhere, never to be heard of again. McGurk, very alive, pulls out his gun and asks if Red is still alive, and where to find him, thus bringing us back to before the masquerade, though first we must get ANOTHER flashback showing that McGurk did indeed drag himself off into the wilderness and ALMOST die, and he spent the whole time thinking about how much he hated Red.

Then there's a bit from I guess before the masquerade in which one of the gang members gets jittery over one of the others not showing up on time and tells Red he's bad luck, despite Jim Payne's argument that he's brought them nothing but good luck for these past 2 years. Red and the complainer square up for a duel and the other gang members go wait outside. We get some split screen of inside and outside the building:

It's fun but I'm not sure why it needed to happen. The complainer decides to just Not today and slinks off, but Jim mumbles that the other gang members will have to pick sides and a breakup is coming. We exit split screen. Then for no discernible reason we re-enter split screen.

Split screen gives us 2 slightly different shots of the same porch scene for a very funny and confusing moment, then McGurk steps into view in one shot while the gang doesn't notice him in the other. He shoots Jim Payne, Rodrigo and I think that's hammer guy? I think he killed the other non-complainer gang member earlier but the 2 guys sitting outside were shooting at a wasp and therefore didn't hear his shots, which happened at the same time? That section was confusing.

Ok NOW we're back up to the masquerade, and we have to watch a bunch of the same shots again. No wonder this movie is nearly 2 hours, it's mostly repetition, a lot of it of the same couple of flashbacks. Anyways, McGurk shows up at the masquerade, threatens Red, dances with Jack. Red gets knocked unconscious by someone and wakes up tied to a post in the middle of nowhere.

Oh look, Chollas! That places this movie as taking place in the Sonoran Desert, so somewhere in Arizona, southern American California, parts of Nevada or New Mexico, Baja California (unlikely) or northwestern Mexico. Filming apparently took place in New Mexico. You will notice that zero of these places are ANYWHERE near the one SPECIFICALLY NAMED location with title card and everything, TzinTzunTzan Mexico. No I'm not done being annoying about this I'm never done. Does anyone know how distances work?

Anyways. Red is tied up, concussed and dehydrated. The complainer from the gang shows up and mocks him. It was he who kidnapped Red! And now he's going to kill him. But fairly, of course. He'll give Red a weapon--he places it in his left hand and leaves him tied up, of course. And I am going to turn on captions for these because I need you to see that I'm not making this dialogue up oh my God.

"Because I face my challenges head-on! Like a train going down the tracks! I love trains. ...Robbing... trains."

Red shoots the complainer, whose name I will never not mishear as Gandalf (it's Gandall or something?) and then Some Guy happens along to find Red. I'm pretty sure this is the same guy he freed from being tied to a tree at the start of the movie but I'm not sure. The guy comments 'it's only fair' as he releases Red, so maybe I'm right? It's not super obvious if they recognize each other or not. He does threaten Red a bit first before freeing him. idk.

Anyways I think this man is hot and watching him playfully mess with Red a bit before releasing him was the closest I've come to sexualizing anyone in this movie. Mostly I have been too confused and haven't cared about anyone enough.

Red, now freed, finds McGurk McLurking over his mother's grave and yells at him to get away from it, furious. They have a showdown. Red shoots McGurk's gun hand, then drops his own gun and dares McGurk to try to pick his up faster. McGurk doesn't move. Red mocks him, then finally tells him that there would be no satisfaction in killing him like this, even though Red could, and to get out. McGurk leaves his gun, throws his belt of ammunition in Red's general direction and skedaddles. A flashback reveals that Irene told Red's presumed father whom he buried in the beginning of the movie that McGurk was the young Red's father (I did wonder about that. But also how did she know? Red was redhaired like his father. Well I guess his non-father was more blond but like. He definitely doesn't look like McGurk. And all those creeps had their way with her so like. how do we... know... that it's him.... in particular. None of these guys had red hair also. except maybe his dad who wasn't his dad.) but anyways... in Red's non-dad's one moment of bravery, he picked up baby Red, saw McGurk McLurking outside, and shouted 'the boy's mine. Get out!' at him. And McGurk actually McLeft. In the present, once again, he runs away from Red. an interesting ending, though I'm not sure I'd call it a satisfying one--maybe if it was more "Red is sticking to his moral principles of not killing where avoidable" was more of a Thing up to this point, but like, Red has killed a bunch of people and not seemed to mind joining the outlaw gang and presumably doing a bunch of crime with them for 2 years. So. idk??

It's then revealed via, surprise, ANOTHER FLASHBACK that Red had given the magical cross amulet thing to Jack before their dance and so has been winning these last fights with his own skill and no luck, which is a fun reveal I guess. It then cuts to Jack who has been caught and tied up by bandits though, so like, I guess the cross does not work at all bc that is just some real bad luck for her. So. What was the point of any of this?

The movie ends there. No explanation of what's going on with Jack. We do not see her get rescued. I don't even know who those guys that tied her up are. We've never seen them before. What the fuck is happening. ROLL CREDITS!

Ok thoughts: idk interesting movie. I didn't feel strongly about it. I think it's clear the people making it were having a lot of fun so that's cool. Red was kind of a fun character, especially when he's awkward and dorky. Very lovable. However his motivations and general morality are an enigma to me. For a guy who has that much exposition about him I'm really very confused about what's going on with him, which does not seem like it should be possible at this point.

Jack was potentially a fun character but I feel her dad was so weird about her gender while I didn't have a solid grip on how she felt about it herself. It's implied that she has to be a man to join the gang and her dad allows it as long as she dresses masc and shoots guns but views her as neither man nor woman. Potentially fun concept.. I really wish we didn't end the movie with a casual non sequitur of her getting attacked by some random dudes. Do we not have enough women experiencing violence in this movie already. It's in every fuckign western I watch and I am just so tired of it.

idk. I think Red should've shot McGurk. It's not like he was Not shooting anyone else. Why would he shoot all those other guys and NOT McGurk. Maybe he thinks it's crueller to make him live knowing that he had to run away from Red. idk. Also why did we have those two (and a half? there's a brief moment where he talks to someone in a saloon?) sequences of the storyteller talking about the legend of Red Pierre? What did that add?

I did like some of the humor in this movie. Generally I think it was rather incoherent but had some fun along the way. Maybe too much, to a confusing degree. I also liked the costuming and how dusty and greasy everyone looks.

I feel like maybe the characterization was clearer in the book but falls flat or just seems confusing in a movie... this is just a theory though.

Anyways. Unexpected parallels between this movie and the other western I'd never heard about before finding it at a thrift store and making a tumblr post about, Gallowwalkers:

-Some kind of secret society of magical wizards which is vaguely Catholicism-flavored and described as a religious order despite having absolutely nothing to do with real world Catholicism

-Older, morally questionable gunfighter notices a conventionally attractive younger white boy and immediately goes "that's my new boy. I'm adopting him. Boy, hello, I am your new mentor, whether you want one or not. Come shoot people with me." In both cases it's so weird and flat and confusing that I don't even ship it, despite being a known freak and Wanting to...

-generally confusing movie. Too much going on that is never fully explained and yet the stuff that is explained gets too wordy.

Anyways I skipped through the credits to the end looking for some explanation of the ending and did get this:

To be continued?? you thought you were going to make another one of these? well that explains the ending I guess. oh well.

There actually WAS also a brief funny stinger of the shopkeeper whom Red and Jack held up and told to lie on the floor and count to 5000 reaching 4998 and going "To hell with this" and getting up. lol.

[mariacallous]

On June 19, 2021, a convoy of armed men drove into the border city of Reynosa, Mexico, in the state of Tamaulipas, and opened fire on pedestrians. For more than eight hours, gunmen roamed four neighborhoods, kidnapping and killing 15 people, including two cab drivers, a nursing student, and a group of construction workers. After security forces were deployed throughout the city, four suspected gunmen were killed. In the days that followed, rumors spread on social media. People in Reynosa were afraid to go back out into the streets, factories shortened their night hours to protect their employees, and local businesses closed early.

Three days later, the attorney general of Tamaulipas, Irving Barrios Mojica, said the motive of the attack was to destabilize Mexican society. The attackers belonged to a cartel that was looking to gain control of the area surrounding the Pharr-Reynosa International Bridge, which straddles the U.S.-Mexico border. The authorities seized a formidable amount of weaponry from the men: about 180 cartridge cases in total, as well as five long guns, and several .223-caliber magazines, which are commonly used in AR-style semi-automatic rifles. These weapons had one thing in common: They came from the United States.

The Reynosa massacre is just one recent entry in a long list of violent acts committed with U.S.-made weapons in Mexican territory. At least 70 percent of guns recovered at crime scenes in Mexico between 2014 and 2018 were trafficked into the country from the United States. Although the exact number of weapons smuggled across the border is uncertain, a study quoted by the Mexican government estimates that 2.2 percent of the nearly 40 million guns manufactured annually in the United States make their way into Mexico, amounting to more than half a million weapons a year. Hidden inside vehicles, appliances, and furniture or trafficked by sea in sealed shipping containers, U.S.-made weapons are bringing violence from north to south, according to the Mexican government.

In 2021, Mexico filed an unprecedented lawsuit against U.S. weapons manufacturers and a firearms distributor in the District Court in Boston, the first suit filed by a foreign government against the U.S. gun industry. The lawsuit names gun manufacturers such as Barrett Firearms Manufacturing, Colt’s Manufacturing Company, Smith & Wesson Brands, Glock, Beretta, and Century International Arms and aims to hold them responsible for facilitating the flow of weapons across the border.

The complaint was dismissed by the District Court in September 2022, and Mexico filed an appeal in March. On July 24, the Mexican government urged the U.S. Court of Appeals in Boston to revive the suit, arguing that a U.S. law does not protect U.S. gun manufacturers from being sued over gun trafficking that leads to violence in Mexico. A ruling is expected in the coming months, but this lawsuit could potentially set a precedent for cross-border litigation and strengthen the global fight against the illicit arms trade. The Mexican government is seeking at least $10 billion in damages for economic harm, yet the primary aim of the lawsuit is more ambitious: to curb gun trafficking by forcing changes to the business practices of U.S. gun companies and pushing for tighter controls on their distribution systems.

Mexico has strict national gun laws. There is only one store in the country where individuals can legally purchase a gun. The store is owned and operated by the military, and fewer than 50 gun permits are issued annually, mainly to prominent businesspeople, public figures, or individuals who have been the victim of a crime and need a firearm for protection, said Lt. Col. Israel Martínez Valdés from the Federal Registry of Firearms and Control of Explosives, responsible for gun permits.

After a U.S. ban on assault weapons expired in 2004, the Mexican government’s suit argues, U.S. gun manufacturers increased production, “particularly of the military-style assault weapons favored by the drug cartels.” The lawsuit alleges that this accompanied a dramatic increase in homicides across the border after 2004. One of the most common types of gun smuggling across the U.S.-Mexico border is the hormigas (“ants”) method, in which straw buyers—intermediaries with clean records who are sent to buy guns on behalf of third parties—pass weapons on to traffickers, who smuggle them in small quantities.

Zulia Orozco Reynoso and Gerardo Hernández, researchers at the Autonomous University of Baja California in northern Mexico, explained that local gun shows in the United States lack restrictions and controls, which makes it easier for weapons to cross the border undetected. Dealers purchase large quantities of guns from distributors and resell them at gun shows with no paperwork and no questions asked, the Mexican government’s suit states. Private or unlicensed sellers at gun shows in the United States are not required to conduct background checks or maintain records linking weapons to buyers, a fact known as the “gun show loophole” or “private sale exception.” Traffickers can buy several guns at once and smuggle them in private vehicles without being monitored by U.S. or Mexican authorities.

The California-Baja California border region, which stretches for 120 miles, is one of the busiest land border crossings in the world. Yet while an enormous law enforcement operation ensures that people do not travel from south to north unauthorized, movement from north to south is far less surveilled. The guns “come by land, by air, by sea, and through the tunnels along the border,” Hernández said.

Much of this trafficking is done by people with dual citizenship or Americans hired by drug cartels. Mexican citizens can face up to 10 years in prison for trafficking a gun and up to 30 years for trafficking weapons intended exclusively for military use. Yet foreigners introducing a single weapon to the country for the first time are merely fined, Orozco Reynoso said, and the weapon is returned to them when they leave the country.

“The risks for Mexicans are greater, or at least they are not given a second chance, unlike Americans,” Orozco Reynoso added.

Dangerous weapons don’t just end up in the hands of criminal cartels. Law enforcement and members of the Mexican defense ministry, the nation’s sole authorized importer of firearms, have also committed atrocities with U.S.-manufactured firearms. A 2018 report by the Mexican Commission for the Defense and Promotion of Human Rights affirms that legally imported firearms have been used by police and military units in gross human rights abuses. The local police who attacked the 43 Ayotzinapa students who disappeared in September 2014 were armed with legally imported Colt AR-6530 rifles. In 2011, a man was arrested in Tamaulipas for allegedly belonging to a criminal organization; while he was in custody, a navy lieutenant killed him with a 5.56 mm Colt M16 rifle.

Legally acquired firearms from military and law enforcement stocks are also diverted with the cooperation of corrupt authorities. Between 2006 and 2017, more than 20,000 firearms were reported as lost or stolen, according to the Mexican defense ministry. Last year, a leak of more than 4 million confidential documents from the ministry by the hacker activist group Guacamaya revealed that high-level military members had sold guns, grenades, and tactical equipment to criminal organizations.

U.S. gun manufacturers know that their marketing and distribution practices have caused harm in Mexican territory, the Mexican government claims. According to its complaint, U.S. gun manufacturers have not implemented public safety measures in their distribution systems, such as comprehensive training for dealers and a code of conduct that requires distributors to keep better track of their inventories. Mexico contends that U.S. gun manufacturers design semi-automatic rifles that can be easily modified to fire automatically, a feature sought after among cartels. These practices “aid and abet the killing and maiming of children, judges, journalists, police, and ordinary citizens throughout Mexico,” the lawsuit says.

For Alejandro Celorio, Mexico’s lead attorney and spokesperson for the foreign ministry, this “lack of care” facilitates the illegal trade in their weapons. “It’s the number of guns but also the type of guns that are sold in the United States with total irresponsibility,” Celorio said. In the United States, “guns are sold to someone who wants to kill children in a kindergarten or to someone who works with organized crime.”

Mexico argues that these companies have access to firearms trace data that identifies specific networks of distributors and dealers that regularly supply drug cartels in Mexico. Based on reports from the U.S. Justice Department’s Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, the Mexican government revealed that over a four-year period in the mid-2000s, more than 500 Century Arms WASR-10 rifles originally purchased in the United States were seized at crime scenes in Mexico. Yet Century Arms, the lawsuit claims, continued to supply its rifles to the same distributors and dealers. (Century Arms did not respond to a request for comment.)

The U.S. gun-makers filed a joint motion in 2021 to dismiss Mexico’s claims, arguing that the injury is not traceable to the gun manufacturers but rather stems from violence committed by criminals in Mexico. They further argue that allowing foreign law to apply “would invite other nations to likewise invoke their own laws to attack the U.S. firearms industry.”

“The scope of liability the complaint suggests well exceeds what any U.S. court would permit at common law, even under strict product liability. And such a pervasive assault on the firearm industry would imperil civilian access to firearms—a right guaranteed by both the U.S. and Massachusetts constitutions,” the joint motion states.

On Sept. 30, 2022, when Judge F. Dennis Saylor dismissed Mexico’s lawsuit, he stated that “while the Court has considerable sympathy for the people of Mexico,” the Mexican government’s claims do not outweigh the protections provided to gun manufacturers by the Protection of Lawful Commerce in Arms Act (PLCAA), a U.S. federal statute that bars lawsuits seeking to hold gun manufacturers liable when individuals use their guns illegally. Since 2005, the PLCAA has granted gun manufacturers and dealers broad immunity from lawsuits when deadly crimes are committed with their products. Saylor added that while the PLCAA contains several exceptions, such as claims for damage caused by a defective firearm or for entrusting a gun to someone the dealer knows is high risk, none apply in this case.

However, in its appeal, the Mexican government argues that because crimes were committed on Mexican territory, U.S. federal law does not apply; instead, Mexico should be allowed to sue the companies for breaches of Mexican law. When U.S.-based corporations cause injury abroad, the U.S. Constitution and statutes allow other nations to sue for violations of their own laws, the lawsuit states. It further argues that the defendants violated Connecticut and Massachusetts consumer protection laws by knowingly marketing their products to criminals and drug cartels.

Heidi Li Feldman, a law professor at Georgetown University and an expert on gun litigation, said the Sandy Hook settlement provides a road map for how to circumvent PLCAA protections with consumer protection laws. In that case, the families of nine victims of the 2012 shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School argued that Remington Arms, the manufacturer of the AR-style semi-automatic rifle used in the shooting, violated state laws by marketing its Bushmaster XM15-E2S to “at-risk” young men as a combat weapon and allowing the gun to be depicted in video games. They reached a $73 million settlement with Remington in 2022.

“The suit’s going to be fiercely fought on the grounds of whether PLCAA applies to it in the first instance,” Feldman said. The PLCAA was never meant to apply extraterritorially, she said, and it would be “politically unpopular” in the United States to allow foreign governments to sue.

Mexico filed a second lawsuit in a U.S. federal court in October 2022, this time against five gun dealers in Arizona. That lawsuit seeks to prove that the dealers knowingly sold weapons to straw purchasers.

The complex and extensive web of protections for U.S. gun manufacturers, mainly created by the PLCAA, makes it difficult for Mexico to beat the industry. But the lawsuits have received international support. Among those who submitted supporting amicus curiae briefs are U.S. prosecutors and district attorneys, activists, victims of armed violence from both sides of the border, and Latin American and Caribbean countries that argue that guns smuggled across the U.S.-Mexico border do not end up only in Mexico—they continue to flow into other countries throughout the Western Hemisphere, while more weapons are transported from the United States directly to the rest of the region via shipping companies and commercial airlines.

“We have come a long way, and this conversation about the illicit arms trade is becoming more and more questioning about the irresponsibility of companies,” said Celorio, the lead attorney.

A new piece of legislation in the United States, the first major federal gun safety law passed in nearly 30 years, also may change smuggling patterns. Signed into law in June 2022, the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act cracks down on straw purchasers, allowing them to be punished with up to 15 years in prison or 25 years if the firearms are linked to serious criminal activity such as drug trafficking. In September 2022, a 25-year-old U.S. citizen living in Mexico was driving south to the port in Laredo, Texas, with 17 handguns. He is the first person to be convicted under the new law. According to Justice Department officials, between Jan. 21, 2020, and July 11, 2022, the 25-year-old purchased 231 handguns.

The success of the Mexican lawsuits, however, depends largely on lifting the general immunity that the PLCAA grants to the powerful gun industry and lobby. A win for Mexico could open the door for other foreign governments to sue U.S. gun-makers for violence in their countries. Whatever the outcome, the litigation raises a question that the United States has not wanted to answer: Who will hold U.S. gun manufacturers responsible for the violence they cause abroad?

[maypearlss]

𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚

i have genuinely no idea how to properly introduce may without being absolutely feral about her, so we're keeping this part brief: this post is all about the main character of the nona incident!, may costa! and i'm completely fucking obsessed with her by the way! no joke, i think about her and my heart goes crazy and then i get sad that she's not a real person. anyways, moving on to the rest of the post—

oh, may. nobody quite knows what to make of you, do they? least of all yourself.

may is the protagonist of this story. she is witty, affectionate, highly protective over her loved ones, and wildly electric and talented with a guitar in her hand, but most people tend to be more acquainted with her wry, sardonic side. having spent her entire life acutely aware that she is "the other" in more ways than one, may has become accustomed to being disliked, and to fighting any battle that gets thrown her way. but there's only so far fighting can get her when the biggest issue is her own internalized hatred of herself. may's lifelong dream has always been to play guitar in a professional band and live the rock 'n' roll life—and to live her life side-by-side with nona.

at least one of those things is possible. she's very good at guitar.

𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋆｡°✩

full name: mayra daniela costa herrera

age: 20 (1985)–tbd

birthday: july 23

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual

ethnicity: mexican-american

occupation: music store clerk, guitarist

love interest(s): nona darnell, tommy salem

likes: nona, playing guitar, rock music, performing, big dogs, mariachi, leather, pinball, spending time with her abuelo

dislikes: duke, talking about her feelings, people posturing, being alone, neat rooms/spaces

height: 5'7

build: lean, rectangular

hair: wavy, ginger, reaches her chest

skin: light bronze-brown

eyes: hazel (primarily brown and amber with green around pupils)

noticeable features: has a very intense stare no matter her mood

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋆｡°✩

⋆ bad obsession - guns n' roses

⋆ rocket queen - guns n' roses

⋆ magic touch - aerosmith

⋆ get in the ring - guns n' roses

⋆ heaven's on fire - kiss

⋆ you're crazy - guns n' roses

⋆ mr. brownstone - guns n' roses

⋆ estranged - guns n' roses

⋆ detroit rock city - kiss

⋆ since i don't have you - guns n' roses

⋆ i'll fight hell to hold you - kiss

⋆ bad apples - guns n' roses

⋆ heart's done time - aerosmith

⋆ patience - guns n' roses

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 ⋆｡°✩

one of her longest-held nicknames is mayday, which she got from her dad, who was an air force pilot

her playlist used to consist of entirely guns n' roses and literally nothing else. needless to say, their music and the band in general was the single biggest source of inspiration for her character

she plays the bass on top of the regular guitar

she inadvertently caused nona and duke's first meeting, something she's been mentally kicking herself for ever since

she's absolute shit at verbally expressing her feelings

physical affection is her biggest love language, she's very physically affectionate with all of her friends and loved ones—her second biggest love language is "staring at you until you understand that you matter to her"

there you have it, may costa! she's probably the biggest reason i'm so excited about this wip, i know i'm going to have a blast writing her <3 also, thank you for all the reblogs and love for my last post! you're all so lovely and cool and i really appreciate all the support <333

[mxlooker]

ok story time

so im high on my pain relief gummy, 15mg deep, and decide it'd be a smart decision to go to the dollar store w/ my mom. with that in mind, we're walking around and mom starts to laugh and tells me that i'm waking like a gunslinger. like idk some guy in an old western with his guns out. maybe dude from mike's movie stands like that at some point.

anyways out-loud i laugh with her but in my head i start thinking "oh god what if someone things i'm part of the mexican cartell and is selling them drugs???" and have to choke back tears. "i'm too nice to sell someone drugs without their consent !"

idk if this is even funny but it made mom laugh so :)

[shingekinomyfeelings]

um so I had this insanely long, complicated story/movie of a dream last night.

I was some pretty woman who was gonna get married the next day and I guess my husband (who I don't think appeared once in the entire dream) and I wanted macaroni salad (I don't even like that shit???) from this local tiny restaurant. The lady who owned it was super famous for her macaroni salad and people were desperate for the recipe, like INSANE, and she even had a competitor who went to cartoonish lengths to get the recipe but was always unsuccessful.

Anyway I went there and she was like 'well I can't make it today but.... I can give you the recipe 👀' and told me this whole sneaky cryptic plan where she'd leave the recipe on a little note for me to come find at a certain place at a certain time.

Everyone found out and people started trying to kidnap me - housewives, random dudes, some guys I think were part of a cartel - because they were sure I had the recipe (I did not yet) and I was in several weird Mexican standoff kind of situations, with knives and guns. My cat Mochi (I knew her name but at the same time apparently she was not my cat) came in at one point and saved me by biting a guy who was holding a knife to my throat and I took Mochi away with me and said she would be mine and my husband's baby, our only child (which actually does sound 100% like me). I guess I left her safely with the restaurant lady or something, but then I had to go to the drop off site to get the recipe.

When I got there I picked up the note and read it, and it wasn't the recipe! I was like 'omg' and then the competitor's thugs showed up (he had thugs 🤷‍♀️) and I got kidnapped again, and all the people trying to get the recipe converged in one area. I'm kind of fuzzy on what went down then but it was both weirdly dramatic and fucking stupid, and I was getting roughed up but even when the competitor guy himself came out and pointed a gun at me, I wasn't gonna tell him what was on the note!

So instead I told them the note they had seen me pick up had nothing to do with the recipe, and that the real, recipe-containing note was hidden 'somewhere right around here' and they all started fighting wildly amongst themselves while I ran off to meet Macaroni Salad Restaurant Lady at her restaurant where this entire shit started. At this point it was dawn of the next day.

I was like 'okay why are you doing all of this' and she was like 'I just thought it was time. btw have you talked to your fiance today at all??' and I was like 'no I told him I'd be home in an hour yesterday afternoon' and she was like 'oh my' and gave me a bowl of macaroni salad and then she set this big box full of papers on the sidewalk in front of the store and told me to have a nice wedding.

I went home and I guess I got married????? what the fuck ever

The next day I went to say thank you to the lady, and all the rival 'gangs' who had been fighting each other also showed up looked exhausted and fucked up, and that was when they saw the box with the papers. All the papers had the recipe written on them and the Macaroni Lady had put up a sign saying 'from now on I'll be sharing my recipe with everyone (:'

And around that time I woke up.

There you fucking go, people