#Tactical Offloads

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

if you think pop up ads are annoying i left my house to take out the trash and got interrupted by a man who was walking down our street trying to sell cheap steaks to anyone he saw while his company van rolled slowly beside him...it’s almost halloween and an actual ghost drifting by would’ve been less creepy

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

I can't function at work unless I pretend I have a normal modicum of regularity in my personality

Mental Health lady: positively giving me a headache with her five pounds of bullshit

(yes I was visibly demonstrating)

Me: Hi there, (so pretty much fuck all y'all) you will note I am similar to my oldest who some of you know well. I will save your ass when you need it though.

That being said I am probably the least sociable person in the staff.

[shotmrmiller]

since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

[drdemonprince]

Just chiming in to agree that that person is not a selfish bitch. I'm also really put off by moralistic performances of emotion, and I know in my case it's because it was part of a pattern of abusive behaviour that my mother did.

Anytime you expressed to her that there was a problem with her behaviour, she seemed to genuinely believe that if she put enough effort into weeping and crying on her children's shoulders, and verbally denigrating herself for being an inherently bad an immoral person, and stressing so much that she developed physical illnesses from it, then she could follow that up by asking for forgiveness - as if it would be cruel for us to continue her suffering by denying her that forgiveness. Except that to her, "forgiveness" meant "it's all swept under the rug, I have Atoned By Suffering Guilt, so now it doesn't matter and I can keep doing it again." (I really wonder how much the religious background of her parents' generation came into the formation of this worldview.) And at the same time, she refuses to read news that's "too upsetting" and never engages with literature or media about dark themes "because there's enough of that in real life."

It might be cynical of me to read this pattern into the way people talk online about genocide. But I keep seeing parallels. My perspective is that a) if you're not regulating your emotions well enough to function, then you have less capacity to offer practical help; and b) people who are actually trying to survive genocide want unnecessary human suffering to END, so you're not aligning yourself with that hope by engaging in rumination etc that compounds suffering with not practical benefit to anyone.

But also, watching my mother's behaviour has led me to add perspective c) that a lot of people (in Christian cultures?) haven't developed enough understanding of the complexity of the world and how to relate to it, and genuinely believe that an overblown emotionally affected reaction, followed by helplessness and thereby inaction, is the only possible way for them to respond when they're confronted with upsetting information that demands action from them. Being raised to think in a black-and-white "good vs evil" dichotomy, and thinking about people as "either morally good or morally bad" rather than thinking about people as neutral and behaviours as either ethically helpful or harmful... it doesn't give them a conceptual framework to integrate upsetting information and then carry on getting things done, it's like their moral anxiety gets them stuck and that keeps the emotions escalating.

I see people discussing this pattern in the context of religious trauma, and in the context of the cultural construct of "whiteness" - the discovery of something morally bad has to be followed by an extreme emotional reaction that basically amounts to protesting your own innocence and helplessness to deny responsibility for your direct behaviours (in my mother's case) or complicity in a corrupt system (in the case of overwhelmed average people learning about genocide).

Maybe I'm rambling more than I'm analysing here, but the comparison stands out a lot to me and it's troubling to watch.

yo anon no this is gold, thank you for sharing. This is remarkably astute.

I will add the quick caveat that hyperempathic people who are debilitated by their sensitivity exist, of course, and have very real struggles and none of this is intended to denigrate them. In practice, their behavior can have the impact of silencing criticism or distracting from the issue at hand but being wired that way certainly does not doom a person to behaving in a counterproductive, manipulative manner.

This critique is more about performative over the top empathy as a tactic (conscious or not) of offloading responsibility, and as a pseudo-religious ideology that makes predominately white western cultures particularly ill-equipped to deal with the consequences of their global plundering. almost certainly by design. Most moral teachings that we encounter in the west promote this tactic and ideology, and it gets very deeply ingrained in most us if we don't devote a ton of attention to uprooting it.

thanks for this great response.

[jinxxangel13]

Phantom of the Night

Chapter 3-full

I've been so excited to post this chapter that I actually forgot to post it on time. I'm not surprised anymore! Hope you enjoy! Tw: blood, gore, death, minor character deaths, injuries, inaccurate military and medical terms (I tried to research as best as possible, sorry if they're wrong!)

~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~

Heavy set boots were all that could be heard around the hangard. Soldiers moving quickly on and around a transport plane, giving a wide berth to a large man with a completely black tactical gear, black skull balaclava and hard white skull mask cover the top half of the face mask: Lieutenant Ghost. 

“Wheels up in five.”

Some soldiers rushed faster to get their seats on the plane and double check their gear, but a few remained rooted in their spot, Ghost included.

“Roger.” His gruff voice cut across the radio back to General Shepherd.

“Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeant are leading the way on this.”

Ghost tilted his head, annoyance in his voice lost in the neutral tone.

“Sergeant?”

A 6 foot tall man walked up to Ghost with an enthusiastic step. His hair shaved on the sides with a sort of mohawk down the center of his head, blue eyes sharp and full of excitement.

“Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, L.T.? Save ya a seat, sir.” 

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.

Soap fist bumped Ghost’s shoulder before making his way up the transport plane, making eye contact with another soldier walking up to the plane looking oddly out of place.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grumbled.

“Ghost- do you copy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Any issues?”

“Negative, Sir.”

“Good. Captain Phantom will also be joining you on this mission. Get it done.”

Just as Shepherd finished his statement, the mystery figure Soap saw previously made their way towards Ghost.

The figure was wearing black tactical cargo pants with multiple knife straps and holsters on the thighs, a black long sleeve with a hooded overlay on top, tac vest full of frags, flashbangs, extra ammo clips and other things in pouches unknown to anyone except the figure wearing it, as well as a short black scarf around their neck and tucked into their vest. They had a balaclava across the lower half of their face with a thick black metal tactical mask over it, grey eyes almost gleaming as they stopped in front of Ghost, and their hair was underneath the scarf and out of view so he couldn’t identify this mystery person. When they stopped in front of Ghost, they had to look up quite a bit; being less than 6' compared to the 6'4" man didn't seem to be a deterrent for them at all. 

“Lieutenant Ghost, good to meet you. Captain Phantom.” The figure, the female, stuck her gloved hand out towards him.

Ghost shook her hand briefly, keeping in mind the strong grip each of them had on the other’s before they let go.

“On your move, sir. I’ve been requested by the General and Station Chief Laswell to accompany you and your men as backup on Alpha Team. I’m familiar with the mission and have been read in.” Her voice was deep, partially muffled and grainy from behind both masks, but she didn't seem to mind nor care.

Ghost nodded, turned away from her and walked right up into the transport plane with her at his heels to grab a seat and buckle in just as the door sealed shut for takeoff.

The teams spent a while in the air, not much conversation going on except for Ghost to introduce Phantom to Alpha team briefly. 

“Bravo Team offloads here. Alpha Team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill.” Ghost's strong voice echoed through the radio in Phantom’s ear as well as directly in front of her.

She watched as Bravo team got ready to unload as the plane landed momentarily, nodding to Ghost as they made eye contact and accepting a first bump from Soap as they got off.

Phantom pulled her goggles down over her eyes and gripped tightly onto her M16 between her legs as the plane took off again to head to their final destination. She kept herself strapped in on instinct, as if something was telling her to brace herself and she was never one to ignore her instincts.

Another minute in the air and it grew more tense as she exchanged glances with her other team members after the plane made a sudden drop on the right side.

“All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed, we're getting lit! Incoming- Flares! Flares!”

Phantom’s eyes grew wide as one of the soldiers stood up to go help the pilots. She could hear the flares going off outside of their plane as it righted itself once again.

“Shit- that was fucking close.”

She chuckled, agreeing with another soldier in front of her and letting her shoulders relax themselves slightly.

“Second missile!”

Phantom barely had any time to brace herself and her weapon before a loud crash sounded on the right side of the plane, throwing anything or anyone not strapped down off balance. She grappled a soldier about to crumple to the ground, pulling him down onto the seat next to her.

“Razor 1 going down! We're going down!” That was the last thing Phantom heard in her ear before she felt the plane plummet down to the ground, grinding and crunching metal the only thing anyone in the vicinity could hear. 

The sound was deafening; a ringing in her ears as she slowly came to. Everything was blurry and she couldn’t make out the garbled voices in her ear before a shrill let off through her radio. With a heavy hand, she ripped the contraption out of her ear before taking a moment to regain her bearings. 

Phantom could barely register her own coughing, let alone the one or two soldiers near her as she struggled to unbuckle herself from her seat.

“Alp--immobile. -Critical! Taking effective fire!” 

Phantom shook her head a little, running her hand across her head, hissing as she brushed against a gash over her temple; must have hit her head on the headrest or something. The piercing sound of bullets from around them was grounding her enough to be able to open her eyes, finding her gun still hooked around her foot.

“Still alive there, Cap?”

Phantom’s eyes were unfocused as she looked around the voice, jolting when a hand steadied her as she stood up. Her legs almost collapsed from underneath her, but she knew they’d be dead if she didn’t stay upright.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was harsh as she spoke, finally able to get her hands to stop shaking enough to lift her gun up.

Muscle memory started to kick in as her mind caught up with the fact they were in the middle of the battlefield. The man in front of her she didn’t know except his radio callsign.

“Just you and I?” 

Alpha 0-2 and Phantom looked around.

“5 KIA, one wounded, you and I standing. Get your gun on that treeline. Gotta hold them off until Bravo team can clear those buildings.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Phantom leaned heavily against the right wall, windows blown out, and raised her gun to help drop as many AQ members as possible.

She could barely hear the other man over the sounds of gunfire and rpg’s going off in the background, but she could tell that he was talking to Bravo team over his radio.

“I don’t have coms! What’s going on?”

There was a lapse in firing, so Phantom took the moment to reload her gun as quickly as possible; easier said than done when her hands were still shaking from adrenaline, but it at least distracted from the headache.

“Bravo team is on their way. Keep your eyes peeled!”

“Copy!” Was her immediate reply as she leaned her back against the metal siding.

Barely 30 seconds had passed before she heard footsteps fast approaching the opened back of the plane. As she turned her sights towards the entrance, she heard a familiar voice hastily calling out to the two of them.

“Blue, blue, blue!”

Her posture relaxed slightly as Ghost and Soap ran into the plane wreckage.

“Damn good to see you both.” Phantom groaned out, repositioning herself against the corner of the window, switching to her rifle and pointing it out as she focused her eyes on the treeline but still listening to the men.

“We got five KIA, one wounded. It's just my gun and I'm low on ammo. Help me move him-”

“No time.” Ghost cut him off, sliding behind Phantom to pat her shoulder and set himself up at the next window. “Get your gun on that treeline.”

Soap set himself up in a crouching position at the plane opening after placing down a few proximity mines a few paces away as a last resort.

Phantom's eyes narrow through her scope, catching Ghost’s attention at the tensing of her posture.

“See anything?” Ghost’s voice was heavier than previously.

Phantom kept her hands steady as she zeroed in on something in the distance.

“Got movement.” 

“If you have a shot, take it.”

That was all that she needed to block out any further conversation between her teammates and take initiative: headshot.

A smirk made its way across her lips from under the mask as she set up her next few shots. Phantom wasn’t registering what they were saying around her even though she could hear them until she felt the plane rock back from the force of an RPG. If it wasn't for the quick reaction time of Ghost grabbing onto the back of her vest, she would have been flung backwards from the force.

When the dust settled, she straightened herself back up, switching back to her M16.

“Thanks, L.T.” Phantom nodded to him, switching places with Soap at the opening instead. 

“We clear?” Soap kept looking out of his scope, even after Phantom gave him a nod.

Ghost huffed, reloading his gun. “For now.”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

“My sense is that Meghan's market is more of the TJ Maxx demographic.” Interesting assessment of Meghan’s market. From a business perspective, brands who end up at TJMaxx, Marshalls, etc. (owned by the same company TJX) are typically bought in due to 1) supplier has made too much (overstock) and it isn’t selling 2) it’s getting close to the end of its expiration dates (close out) and it sold in at a much cheaper cheaper price to TJX. She’d still need a regular place to sell before she tries to offload (usually at a much lower margin / maybe even a loss) to TJX. I’m basing this on my experience with working in food industry and resorting to these retailers for the same reasons.

Exactly my point. The TJX brand is the end of the line for so much product and merch these days (especially fast fashion) that it's inevitable Meghan's products will end up there if this turns into the deal she wants to be. The key thing is that she needs product first. That she launched without a real product is very telling.

To me, what I think it says is that she's not getting the investors or partners that she wants so she launched ASAP to use the media's hype as part of her negotiation or recruitment strategy. (In addition to taking advantage of Kate's absence, of course.)

I made a suggestion in an earlier post that Meghan's competitors are the socialite/influencers that are launching their own brands or already have brands. A great many of those brands use print-on-demand dropship merch. They save on overstock storage and production fees by only keeping a limited selection in stock and marking up their own prices to cover "demand."

I see Roop heading in that direction. If they can't find a distribution vendor (e.g., Kohls, Target, Macy's, etc.), they'll do dropshipping but at such low quantities they always sell out - which is the same tactic Meghan uses when she wants to be a fashion influencer (she wears something already heavily discounted and with so little stock that she can take credit for "selling out").

What is interesting, and why I think Roop has a good argument for exclusivity with TJX companies, is Rae Dunn. Most of her product is sold exclusively through TJX and she has a deal with a company called Magenta Inc., an online retailer that's thought to be behind Rae Dunn products in places like Amazon and Walmart.

So there's precedent for Meghan/Roop to sell exclusively with TJX, with perhaps a side deal for an online storefront like Magenta offers. But that's not the audience or market Meghan wants (even though she herself is the "wine mom" elder millennial motivational-quote-spouting stereotype that buys Rae Dunn and shops at TJX stores so it's a natural fit). She wants Roop in luxury marketplaces that prices out the very people who would actually buy Meghan's product.

She's stuck between a rock and a hard place. I think she realizes it now while watching the metrics on social media plateau from a total lack of engagement and total absence of content (hence throwing Mandana under the bus in Page Six). Which is surprising. Given the way she rolled out Sussex.com with the IG Vancouver kickoff - four or five days straight of new Sussex content and material - I expected the same thing with Roop; 1st day - social media launch, 2nd day - lunch papwalk, 3rd day - product launch, 4th day - "checking out my product" charity visit/papwalk, 5th day - Netflix cooking show promo, and so on.

I know, I know. Stop giving her ideas. I'm trying!

[ai-luni]

HI IM THE HESH ANON I LITERALLY LOVE YOU NSKGKSKFK <333

I headcanon despite him being obsessed with impressing his dad he’s a sneaky little bastard who likes to take risks with the reader. Like in your fanfic, he pulled her down the hallway. I see him doing that all the time!! He wants to cop a feel!!!!

OH ABSOLUTELY STOP you've unleashed something within me. Happy valentines day, take this horny mf.

David "Hesh" Walker NSFW headcanons

I think this man is an ass man through and through. Whether it’s big or small or no matter, he will always become so mesmerised by your hips and how they move. I’ll get into that later but for now

I think he learns very quickly when to pick his battles. His job and serving his country means so much to him so I don’t think he’d even think about getting intimate on a mission, in a situation that could really easily result in either of you losing your jobs and NEVER in a combat setting. 

That being said, if you’re in between missions, at base or occasionally hiding at a safe house and he’s certain you guys are safe and have time, he’ll shoot his shot. I feel like his kind of risky is people risky rather than situation risky. He’ll fuck you in a closet with the ghosts next door, but the offers off the table the moment any element of physical danger is implied. 

The only exception I can see to this rule however is patrol. In fact if the ghosts have been hiding out in a safehouse for longer than two days and one of you is on a night patrol shift, that almost seems like prime time to him. So long as you're not expecting any action to pick up soon. 

He's never afraid to slap your ass though. Like annoyingly so. You haven't spent a single day on base without him trying to slap it at least once.

Look. Elias has been there, done that. He knows how it feels to be young and in love. He couldn’t be more thrilled that his son’s found that in someone he trusted as well. He 100% knows you guys sneak off and in all honesty, he thinks it’s good for Hesh. Hesh got his father’s hot headedness and there’s literally no better way to offload that kind of tension. 

Don’t you think it's kinda odd you’re always put on patrols together or one after another in the very early mornings. Every. Single. Time! Everyone knew but if Merrick and Keegan ever tried to pry for fun, Elias would always respond with “Whenever Hesh gets too tense, I set them up at night and magically he’s got lazer set focus the next day.” 

So if Hesh is ever cheeky, it’s only because his father enables it. 

He has often fantacised about taking you in the back on a truck or helicopter after a successful mission. He knows it’s likely just pure adrenaline draining down south but the way you look in your tactical gear when you take off your helmet and balaclava. 

He’s only ever almost pursued it once. Logan and Keegan were driving a small cargo truck, sat in the front while the two of you sat in the back. It was after what was supposed to be a quick mission in the midst of no man’s land that had turned into a showdown of excessive gun fire. No one was hurt but his heart was beating so fast. 

The entire bumpy ride, his eyes flickered between you stretching as best you could to the little metal bar separated window between you and the front seats. 

Off deployment though, the two of you would happily drive your truck into the woods at night and stargaze. You two do whatever your little heart's desire until the sunrise.

Hear me out. This man has an obsession with just the act of humping, like almost embarrassingly so. Moving your hips is a sure fire way of teasing him and getting him in a mood. Swaying your hips when you walk, bending over a railing, stretching, sparring especially. Everyone knows you can hold your own but whenever Hesh is in sight while training with a sparring partner, you’re always sure to put on a show. 

He has on multiple occasions came in his pants from you riding his thigh alone. It’s his favourite video on his phone (he has other photos of you and his dad and Riley and Logan of course! But he only really uses his phone for those videos, let's be honest).

You guys were on his bed, his phone perched on the bedside table watching from a three quarter angle. He sat with his legs spread enough for you on the edge of the bed, forearms resting over his head. You were in your underwear, hands gripping his triceps as you grounded yourself on his clothed left thigh. 

You would pant, rock your hips, whimper, repeat. For a good excruciating minute you told him to keep his arms up while asking him about his day. He’d stutter out words that didn’t really make a whole lot of sense while his eyes worked overtime following your hip movements without missing a beat. 

At exactly the 1:24 mark, your head dropped onto his shoulder and your hips started to rut onto him. Your hands slid to his chest and his newly freed arms flew to your hips to guide you. He was groaning as much as you were. 

2 minutes in, you were letting out soft mewls into his left ear. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his face obscured yours from the camera. One hand was sprawled out on your lower back pushing you to him while the other hand was gripping your thigh pushing you back out. 

His head had fallen back as far as you let it, eyes squeezed shut as he let himself get engulfed by you. The noises you were letting out to the warm breath down his back. The way your spine curled in one hand to the softest flesh being squished in the other. The way your thigh would graze the fabric of his crouch just enough to feel it. 

He started to bounce his thigh for you, a little too rough in the moment that it made you giggle in surprise. Your giggle always made him smile but the moment he looked at the small screen and the way your ass jiggled at the action, the man was a goner. 

He let out a noise that could only be written out like a strained “GE-Heh” of pain followed immediately by “aAHO Oooh” of release. 

By 3:30 you had stopped all movements, watching in amazement as Hesh was now rutting into your thigh. Once his high was over, he met your eye with a look you couldn’t entirely read. He’d later tell you he was thinking he should’ve been embarrassed but it felt too good. Whatever you thought it was in the moment though was irresistible and you pushed him onto the bed in a sloppy kiss the camera could clearly pick up. 

That video continued rolling for another 20 minutes until one of you remembered it was still going.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

New York, Ohio and Indiana have collectively retired 47 coal plants in the past two decades. Of these, only 11 have been successfully redeveloped—converted mostly into gas-fired power plants, but also into data centers and cryptocurrency mining operations. 

And the Great Lakes region is far from an outlier. Across the United States, retired coal plants sit vacant and rusting, with little to no chance of revival. They are, in many cases, the picture of neglect: abandoned lots with murky ash ponds and dirt berms, visible to locals only through barbed wire fences. In some cases, the deserted structures have been known to catch fire or unexpectedly collapse. 

Yet they also occupy some of the country’s most valuable plots of land—large, contiguous parcels abutting major waterways, often within walking distance of a population center. These qualities make them attractive locations for parks, industrial centers, or, as in the case of Nanticoke, clean energy hubs. Why, then, are they so rarely redeveloped?

The answer to that question involves shadowy companies, secret agreements, and false promises—but it begins 40 feet below the Tanners Creek ash ponds. Before any redevelopment can occur, the site must be purged of the harmful toxins such as arsenic, boron and radium that decades of burning and dumping coal allowed to leach into the soil. All told, decommissioning and remediating a retired coal plant can cost anywhere from $3.5 million to $200 million. What’s more, thanks to a 1980 federal environmental law, a botched remediation job can trigger lawsuits against the original polluter, even if they no longer own the property. 

Former coal plant sites, then, are not so much attractive assets as they are a monkey on the back of power plant operators desperate to offload them. 

Dave Altman is the president of Cincinnati-based environmental law firm AltmanNewman. In his five decades of litigating remediation cases, he has witnessed the creative tactics companies employ to jettison contaminated sites. Initially, he says, “the dream of any polluting company was to turn over their contaminated property as a gift to the Boy Scouts, the Girl Scouts, or a church.” That way, when the full scope of contamination was discovered, elected officials would opt to clean it up with state funds rather than sue the “mom-and-pop nonprofit” that had unwittingly agreed to assume ownership of the site. Altman says people eventually caught on to this tactic; he himself warned Xavier University against accepting an exploded chemical plant as a gift in 2000.

With few willing recipients and no desire to maintain the properties, power plant operators now pay millions to offload the sites and, in doing so, unburden themselves of the environmental liability. That has spawned what Altman calls “an entire industry for taking the liability off the books.” Around the country, companies purporting to specialize in brownfield redevelopment have sprung into existence. These companies, Altman said, sign “secret deals” with power plant operators to take over their contaminated properties and associated liabilities.

A closer look at these companies raises more questions than answers. Take the example of Tanners Creek. The property’s official owner, Tanners Creek Development LLC, was incorporated only seven months before assuming control of the site and seems to have no other assets. Altman said this structure is by design. “They set up a separate, small limited liability organization to take hundreds of millions in liability,” he said. Under this structure, the parent company can reap the profits of the land transfer while the small pockets of its subsidiary limit the amount it might have to pay out in the event of a lawsuit, effectively shielding the parent company from responsibility. As an added benefit, he said, “it makes it appear that they’re different companies to regulators who are asleep at the switch.”

Land transfers are often followed by vague statements about redevelopment. But the redevelopment companies’ economic incentives point in a different direction. “They get paid millions of dollars to do the minimum they can do to get out,” Altman said. “If you resolve your uncertainty with a phony cleanup, nobody is going to touch the property. Everybody knows it, but the utility has got it off its books.” In other words, having cashed in on the liability transfer, the new owners would prefer to perform “cosmetic cleanup” than to take on the substantial remediation costs involved in developing. 

[incometaxevasion]

Like to be clear trying to offload the responsibility of JK Rowling's ongoing bigotry onto some mold discounts her long standing problems with minorities in her writing and obscures the fact that she fell down the radfem hole because it's a movement with as many predatory recruitment tactics as the alt right

But also it's bothering her soooo much

[crescencestudio]

crescence ko-fi shop now open!

hi, everyone! popping in to let you all now i....

Officially shipped out Kickstarter merch (yippee!!!)

Opened up a ko-fi shop to sell the remaining merch

so for those interested, i have a couple pins and postcard prints available for sale in case you missed your chance during the kickstarter, want to help support game development, etc.

it's only while supplies last---i honestly just don't want the extra merchandise lying around my house (really effective marketing tactic i know). so if you'd like to help me offload it or don't want to miss your chance!!

Behold!!

some kickstarter backers have started receiving their packages and have already mentioned how pretty they are, so if my words are not enough to convince u!! the word of the people!!

the pins are enamel pins of the characters. i personally think they're really nice quality and are a very cute size to hold in your fingies! would definitely recommend picking one up of your favorite character(s)

the postcards are small prints that feature in-game backgrounds and a sweet/fun little message from the lis on the back! cute and lightweight for those of you who want something that is more compact <3

[sebbiesolace]

*Comet thought for a second why a blacklight would be so special*

Why a- oh oooohhh...

..

Do you like affection? I don't know if you can really feel much, tactically, that is..

"He glows in the dark!!!!!!!! Like a bug!!!!" [p.AI.nters screen powered off as he 'explored' the submarine, poking around in the coding.] "I like it. It gives a good method of offloading heat, 'specially with Sebs. Cold blooded." [The screen powered back on, showing a very smug pAInter.] "We're just about entering the Abyssal zone, by the way :]"

[arbustorum]

I am also enjoying solo Blaire. Mostly because her awfulness can't be offloaded onto other genderists giving her commands. She does follow Brick'a word like a puppy, but that sharp turn she took into manipulation. The don't you trust me?

That was all her. She is not a victim in this situation. She is employing active intimidation tactics to suppress dissent from Riley. It's like the flip side to her perceptiveness. She noticed when Jaden hadn't eaten her pancakes. She offered comfort after Jaden fought with her family because she saw she was hurting.

And she deliberately chose to sow doubt into Riley. To question her trust all while putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Blaire is dangerous in her own right. I love how this page, after so much goofiness, reminds me not to underestimate Blaire.

Yes you get it as well... shes an interesting complicated antagonist :3

[faustianbroker]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Mephisto's Repository PARTIES: Leviathan (@faustianbroker) & Sofie (@sofiedupont) SUMMARY: Sofie visits the shop to make a little trade, but ends up finding more than she bargained for. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

—

After tripping over one too many boxes in her apartment, Sofie had come to an unfortunate conclusion. It was time to offload more of her things than she had anticipated. 

Luckily, she remembered speaking to someone on the internet who owned Mephisto’s Repository. Chuck, if she remembered correctly, had sussed her out as ‘the new competition’, though Sofie would have hardly called herself competition. She was too busy anguishing over which of her beloved memories to part with to be much competition. But she’d sat for hours digging through centuries of memories and managed to find a few potentially cursed (or just frankly spooky looking) artifacts from her personal history. She packed them all neatly in a bag and set out to try and make a deal. 

Sofie entered the curio shop and was immediately overwhelmed with the sheer mass of bits and bobs, all wonderfully weird and wacky and, based on her conversation with the store's owner, probably cursed. She milled about, making her way toward the person she saw over by a display case. “I’m looking for Chuck?” 

—

Henrietta was busy buffing the metal frame of the display case to a blinding shine when she heard a voice pipe up behind her. Whipping around to face its owner, the girl gave Sofie a bright, welcoming smile. “Helloooooo!” she greeted the customer enthusiastically, her gaze fixing on the bag in the woman’s arms. Her head cocked to the side, high-set ponytail dancing through the air. “Chuck, huh?” Eyebrows raised, giving the woman a more thorough once-over, during which that winning smile almost faltered. “Yeah! Yeah, I can get him for you! Wait here, honey.” 

Turning on her heel, cleaning materials gathered in her arms, the twenty-something woman bopped her way toward the back to the store. On the way, she dropped her rags and bottle on the desk where the cashier sat, tinkering with something. The squirrely man gasped in shock, lifting his head from where he’d been hunched over to glare after her as she approached the red door that led into the back, giving it a rapid succession of knocks. 

“Chuuuuck, there’s someone out here to see you!” She glanced back at the spot she’d left Sofie standing in, beaming a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. The door opened a moment later, and suddenly her attention was solely on the owner of the establishment as he emerged, scanning the storefront for a moment before landing on Sofie. With a nod, he started in her direction, leaving Henrietta behind to close the door and mutter something to herself under her breath. 

“Welcome, welcome,” Chuck began as he approached her with a smile, but once his gaze spotted the bag in her arms, that smile became something more of a smirk. “Wait a minute,” he started playfully, “you’re not here to bring me some special items from your personal collection, are you, miss Du Pont?”

—

The woman who chirped hello’s at the front of the shop seemed sweet, but there was something unnerving about the way she gave the vampire a thorough once-over. Sofie gave a flash of teeth in what she hoped was her most winning smile, and that it didn’t come across as a vampire who might decide it was snack time. Good thing she’s stopped for a red eye on the way over. 

Her fingers drummed idly against her bag as she waited. She walked in a slow circle, taking in the shop. He certainly hadn’t been kidding when he said he loved a good haunted anything. Everything her eyes set upon gave a curious feeling of something being off. Perhaps it was just the idea of it all being haunted or cursed that gave that feel. She’d been known to use the tactic before. If Sofie had felt a particular client would be more inclined to make a purchase if it had a deeply tragic past, then who was she to deny them a few grisly, albeit mostly fake details. 

She turned when she heard a new voice and looked up at who was most assuredly the owner. So this was chuck. She wasn’t sure why she’d been anticipating someone older. Some graying old man with a curled mustache with some taxidermied bird perched on his desk in the back. Perhaps it was the idea of working with old things that she usually associated old things with old people. Though she knew better than most that looks could be deceiving. 

“As a matter of fact, I am. And please, call me Sofie.” She said with a friendly smile. “Though of course, I also came to browse. I figured it wouldn’t be right of me to attempt to pawn some of my old things off on you if I didn’t also make a purchase. I did promise I’m not trying to be the competition. Most of my wares are spectacularly mundane, if a bit dusty.”

—

Clicking his tongue appreciatively, Chuck cocked his head at Sofie and grinned. “Oh, no need to worry about that. What’s a little competition between neighbors, anyway?” Except for Kurt. Fuck that guy, he was just a bastard. “Still, if you see something you like, I’m sure an exchange could be arranged.” 

There were items from all across the globe, some ridiculous, others deeply macabre. There wasn’t much rhyme or reason to the placement of things, except when sequestering the smaller selections of non-cursed-but-still-bizarre objects. Or the bones and skeletons: those had their own wall. 

Henrietta was lurking nearby, clearly listening to their conversation. Ichabod, the cashier, was making bug eyes at her, trying to silently lure her away from the pair, but she wasn’t having it. Brows furrowed in frustration, the young woman crept closer and closer under the guise of cleaning things. Chuck noticed it of course—she wasn’t particularly sneaky—and cleared his throat. She straightened up with a little peep, eyes widening. 

“Henri, be a dear and go make sure the piece in storage is properly wrapped and padded for mister Duarte’s delivery, won’t you?” Annoyed but obedient, his employee gave a curt nod and whipped around to stalk back toward the red door that led into the back. 

“Curious little things,” he mused, wearing a slight grin. Whoever they’d been in life had gotten all mixed up with the lesser demons that’d been stuffed into their bodies, so their personalities tended to take on extreme qualities, these days. Chuck didn’t mind, though. They were nothing if not entertaining to have around. “Now. What d’you have for me?”

—

“Excellent,” Sofie’s face broke into a grin to match the man’s. It probably wasn’t the best way for either of them to conduct business, but if both items were of relatively similar monetary value, then were either of them really losing any money?

It was a curious little show. Chuck clearing his throat- the young woman who had been barely dusting the displays as she inched closer, the wide-eyed cashier watching the entire thing go down. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep a little amused laugh at bay. Sofie would have felt bad if the poor girl had thought she was being laughed at when she was already getting dismissed by her employer. 

The vampire shrugged. “I’m sure you have a great deal of interesting things pass through your doors. I can’t say I blame her for being curious.” Being a one woman operation (or more so a one woman garage sale) Sofie had never had to deal with prying eyes or questions as to where things had come from from anyone under her employ. And people looking to buy weren’t always begging for the details- they simply wanted the product and a guarantee that it was genuine. 

“Well, unfortunately, the haunted doll I had originally been discussing with you was, erm…” She paused a moment, searching for the right words. “Emancipated from my care by someone who simply would not take no for an answer.” Sofie sighed, setting the bag down. “But thankfully, that wasn’t the only odd knick knack I had in my collection.” She pulled out a small black velvet box, and opened it to reveal a small gold ring with an assortment of gemstones set neatly across it.

 “This is what is referred to as acrostic jewelry. If you’re not familiar with the concept, each of the gems helps to spell out a word. Wildly popular in the romantic period. Unfortunately, I’ve had nothing but horrible luck any time I’ve worn it. Which was rather sad when I first acquired it since it was a gift from someone I was once very fond of.” A sort of grimace washed over Sofie’s features when she remembered that particular trist. Thankfully her standards had improved in the centuries since that dalliance. Men who give you sparkly things as an apology aren’t worth your time Seraphine had told her. Her sire had, of course, been right. And it was high time Sofie had gotten rid of that stupid ring anyway. “It spells out amour, if you’re curious. Amethyst, morganite, opal, uralian emerald, and ruby.  A beautiful thing. But any slight misfortune that could befall me when I wore it did. Getting caught in the rain without an umbrella, something important going missing, being unable to find the matching shoe- you get the idea.” Not to mention I was trapped in the sun for the most stressful twenty minutes of my prolonged existence. She finished silently to herself. 

“I also have this,” She pulled a smaller package that she’d wrapped carefully of a very old portrait. “I swear the eyes follow me, and I would like nothing more than for it’s prying eyes to be someone else’s problem. And while I did lose the haunted doll, I do have this one-” She pulled out another porcelain doll with a mess of curly blonde hair and a missing eye. “She’s just creepy. Not haunted, I don’t think. But I didn’t advertise her for fear of… certain repeat customers, if you catch my drift?”

—

Chuck hummed thoughtfully, stealing a glance in the direction he’d sent Henrietta off in. “I suppose—can’t help but think that in her specific case, it’s more of a jealousy thing.” An idea that he wasn’t going to elaborate on, instead focusing his attention on the bag as it was opened. “Ah, no worries, it happens—can’t say I haven’t done that to my fair share of sellers in the past,” he chuckled.

Brows raised as the ring was offered forth, and the demon pulled a pair of black cotton gloves from his pocket, slipping them on. He then took it from Sofie with careful hands, plucking it from the small box it came in with an evident lack of concern as far as the curse she was describing went. “Fascinating,” he said quietly to himself, turning it to let the light catch each gemstone in turn. “From the romantic period, you said? That’s quite old.” Strange for someone to be willing to part with on a trade basis, but then perhaps the trade deal was only for whatever else she had in that bag. 

Either that, or it was a personal belonging that needed rehoming. If Chuck weren’t an ageless being, it would never have been a thought that crossed his mind. But as it was, he’d met plenty of folks over the years with extended lifespans, and knew to never discount the possibility. Especially in a town like this.

Putting it back in its box, Chuck determined that it would make an excellent addition to his collection. Next came the portrait, which he inspected the frame of, looking pleased. This one would be easy to sell off, people loved old portraits. Mostly, they loved claiming they were of their own ancestry, but if it was spooky to boot? He’d give it a week. Lastly, the doll—ah. He laughed, nodding his head and brushing the doll’s hair from her cherubic face. “That’s fair. And haunted or not, as you said, she certainly is creepy. I’m happy to have her around the place.” 

Settling each item safely on the table they’d chosen as their workspace, Chuck gestured to the entirety of the store. “Please, have a look around, miss Sofie. If you see anything you like, take it to Ichabod, there,” he gestured to the squirrely young man at the register, “and whatever the cost of these lovely pieces you’ve brought me that isn’t covered by your selection will be paid in cash.” There was a beat, and he smirked to himself before looking at her again. “I have to ask, though… What got you interested in collecting antiques?” 

—

An amused grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Ah.” If three hundred years had taught her anything, it was the delightful intricacies of interpersonal relationships. Jealousy was one of those tricky little emotions that could cause a terrible mess of things. She’d seen more than a few of those messes over the years. She’d been a participant in a few as well. This time, however, she could happily remain a bystander. Sofie’s grin turned toward a slight grimace for a moment. “Believe me, I would have much preferred to sell it. But some accusations about ethics and morality were thrown about, and I also wasn’t given much of an option.” 

Sofie nodded. “I believe it’s from the eighteen-forties, specifically.” Eighteen forty-three, but semantics were semantics. “Worth a pretty penny I’d wager.” More than wager. She knew how much something that old in that good quality could cost, regardless of it’s cursed status. 

A lopsided grin crinkled Sofie’s features as she looked at the doll. It hadn’t always been creepy. But the years had passed, and the doll had experienced typical wear and tear that came with travel. And then when she had been on the run, packing hadn’t always been the top priority, and certain things had gotten tossed about. The doll had unfortunately been one of them. 

Ah, there it was. The question that always came that the answer to always changed. The only thing that stayed the same is that it was never the truth. Well… almost never the truth. “Ah, well you see, a great many of them were inherited.” Mostly a lie. She’d taken some of the other DuPont family members things after they’d gone. They hadn’t been left to her specifically, but she couldn’t bear to part with the little she had left of them. 

“Then over the years I’ve just acquired a few more. From people like you, yard sales, and whatnot.” Sofie realized that ‘over the years’ wasn’t really the best turn of phrase for someone who looked like they’d only have been in business for a few years, but the words had already left her mouth. “What about you? How did you get into all this?”

—

“Ethics and morality? What were they, a ghost rights activist?” Chuck let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Weird.”

The slip up, if you could call it that, did not go unnoticed by the demon. He vaulted an eyebrow, making a mental note of it. If it was really a collection, as she said, then a lot of her family must have died at the same time. Or, more likely, she was older than she looked. Chuck was pretty good at picking them out, seeing as how he’d been around since humanity first started on their evolutionary path. 

But that would have to wait, because she was asking him the same question. Seeing this as an opportunity, he gave her a smile. “I’ve been traveling for a long time, you see. And I always like to take little knick-knacks home with me, but home wasn’t a very great place for them, turned out…” It wasn’t entirely untrue, but the collection that was here in the store certainly wasn’t composed solely of things that the demon had collected over the years. No, many of these had been acquired in the last couple of years, since settling in Wicked’s Rest. There had been many trips to exotic locations since then, and many lesser demons in Chuck’s employ to do the gathering for him.

“Eventually, it became too much. I, like you, started looking for ways to offload some of them. Then I found this town, and it just seemed like an excellent fit.” Another lie, as it had more or less been the other way around. He let a beat of silence pass between them before shaking his head and laughing airily, like he was admonishing himself for a thought that’d crossed his mind. “I’m sorry, I just—I can’t help but notice that you look awfully… young. How is it that someone like you managed to gather up such an impressive stock in so short a time?”

The question—or accusation, depending on how you looked at it—hung heavy in the air. His smile and curious, expectant expression took on an almost severe quality, like he’d punish her if she tried to lie.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” he added, voice sickly sweet. “Curiosity killed the cat, et cetera.” 

—

“Yes.” Sofie said without a trace of humor. “They were quite literally protesting my unjust treatment of ghosts outside my apartment.”

She watched as his eyebrow ticked up on his forehead. Sofie somehow managed to maintain an air of calm about her as panicked alarm bells started sounding in her mind. Of course he was a curious man- he collected cursed, haunted, or otherwise spooky items. He knew a good story when he heard one. He probably knew a shitty lie when he heard one, too. 

She smiled politely as he kept talking, and was relieved that it didn’t seem to be circling back to any of the risky territory she’d inadvertently drawn a huge circle around, practically screaming ask me more damning questions, please! 

Of course there were no holes in his own tale. At least, none as far as Sofie could see. And Wicked’s Rest was an odd enough town that it didn’t really surprise her that someone would collect so many potentially dangerous things only to set them free into the world. She was still smiling and nodding politely when the question she’d been dreading was asked. And the way that he looked at her…

If Sofie could have turned into a bat like the vampires in books and flew out of there, she would have. 

She somehow managed to make the soft laugh that left her sound effortless. “Well now, Mister Jones, you know it’s terribly rude to ask a lady her age.” Sofie smoothed her clothes, the motion an attempt to comfort herself that did not work. “I have an affinity for old things. I suppose you could say I’m an old soul.” Neither of those things were lies. They were the closest thing to the truth she’d dare say- especially to a stranger. 

—

There was no immediate response, that unnerving grin remaining buttoned to the demon’s visage. Perhaps it was giving her a chance to say more, or perhaps it was digesting her excuse. Whatever the case, the painful pause in dialogue dragged on and on, until— 

“Well then,” he said with an abrupt cheerfulness, “you are in good company, my dear.” As if to excuse her for the time being, Chuck gave another low dip of his head, a respectful nod, and gestured again to the rest of the store. “Please. Take your time.”

Once she’d wandered off to peruse the wares, however reluctantly, Chuck poked his head into the back room. “Gabagool, my love?” The furry little demon came scampering over, wrapping his arms around Chuck’s leg to try and peer around them to get a better look at who was in the shop. Chuck laughed, snapping his fingers to get the beast to look up at him.

“Be a dear and gather what information you can on Miss Sofie Du Pont, won’t you?” The lesser demon’s massive maw cracked into a wide, toothy grin. 

“Can do, boss.” And like that he was off, squeezing through the small open window in the back office. Chuck smiled to himself and backed out of the office, shutting the door behind him and scanning the store to locate Sofie. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he went to Ichabod, instructing him to gather the pieces she had brought and begin preparing them for display.

“Anything caught your fancy, yet?” the demon asked a few minutes later as he approached her in an aisle, still brandishing that too-wide smile.

—

It was probably a good thing that Sofie’s had already ceased beating years prior, because if it hadn’t, it would have stopped stone cold under Levi’s scrutinizing eye. It felt as though he could see right through her, and she loathed it. The seconds ticked by for centuries as she waited for him to break the silence.

The sound of his voice was so sudden, it was like the sudden crash of thunder on an otherwise calm evening. Wide eyed, she managed a smile until he turned to go, and let out a soft breath of relief. She looked around, walking to the first display case she saw and stared into it absently as she attempted to collect her thoughts.

What did he mean ‘in good company’? Was it just a turn of phrase? Sofie didn’t think he was a vampire, but she couldn’t be entirely certain. What had started as a seemingly normal interaction had suddenly caused her to be completely unnerved. She was pulled from the endless labyrinth of her thoughts at the sight of a necklace. It was a pretty thing- a simple gold chain with what she believed was a peridot dangling from it. She wondered why such a pretty thing had been left to the isle of cursed things. 

She didn’t even hear the store owner walk back over, and she barely managed to not jump as his voice pulled her from her thoughts. And then there was that smile- that utterly unnerving smile. “Y-you know,” Sofie stuttered, clearing her throat. “There’s just. So much to choose from- I saw a few things, but I think I’ll take a day to think, if you don’t mind. I’m not much for impulse purchases.”  As she talked she took a step backwards, willing her feet to blindly find their way to the door. 

—

The grin became somewhat knowing as Sofie stammered out her excuse, but Chuck offered a gracious nod. “Of course. It’s a lot to consider. Take as long as you need, we won’t be going anywhere.” 

As the long-lived woman who’s true nature he had yet to discern backed her way out of the store, Chuck raised a hand in a nonchalant goodbye wave. “Ta-ta! See you soon!” 

Once the door had shut behind her, his smile dissolved and the demon immediately turned on his heel and stalked to the counter at the back of the store. Ichabod was busy doing as he was told, carefully inspecting and cleaning the pieces. Leviathan inhaled deeply as he approached, smoothing out his proverbial feathers and grabbing a pair of gloves to help the possessed lad. 

“She seemed… interesting?” Ichabod said carefully, side-eyeing his boss. Leviathan grinned, raising a brow.

“Interesting indeed. I think she might have been interested in that necklace in the middle aisle. Take a look at it, won’t you? Make sure it’s still functional.” 

“Of course, sir. Yes. Right away!” 

[jinxxangel13]

Phantom of the Night

Just a little insight as to what's in store for this week's update!

[Masterlist] [Prev] [Next]

Chapter 3 teaser:

Heavy set boots were all that could be heard around the hangard. Soldiers moving quickly on and around a transport plane, giving a wide berth to a large man with a completely black tactical gear, black skull balaclava and hard white skull mask cover the top half of the face mask: Lieutenant Ghost.

“Wheels up in five.”

Some soldiers rushed faster to get their seats on the plane and double check their gear, but a few remained rooted in their spot, Ghost included.

“Roger.” His gruff voice cut across the radio back to General Shepherd.

“Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeant are leading the way on this.”

Ghost tilted his head, annoyance in his voice lost in the neutral tone.

“Sergeant?”

A 6 foot tall man walked up to Ghost with an enthusiastic step. His hair shaved on the sides with a sort of mohawk down the center of his head, blue eyes sharp and full of excitement.

“Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, L.T.? Save ya a seat, sir.”

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.

Soap fist bumped Ghost’s shoulder before making his way up the transport plane, making eye contact with another soldier walking up to the plane looking oddly out of place.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grumbled.

“Ghost- do you copy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Any issues?”

“Negative, Sir.”

“Good. Captain Phantom will also be joining you on this mission. Get it done.”

Just as Shepherd finished his statement, the mystery figure Soap saw previously made their way towards Ghost.

The figure was wearing black tactical cargo pants with multiple knife straps and holsters on the thighs, a black long sleeve with a hooded overlay on top, tac vest full of frags, flashbangs, extra ammo clips and other things in pouches unknown to anyone except the figure wearing it, as well as a short black scarf around their neck and tucked into their vest. They had a balaclava across the lower half of their face with a thick black metal tactical mask over it, grey eyes almost gleaming as they stopped in front of Ghost, and their hair was underneath the scarf and out of view so he couldn’t identify this mystery person. When they stopped in front of Ghost, they had to look up quite a bit; being less than 6' compared to the 6'4" man didn't seem to be a deterrent for them at all.

“Lieutenant Ghost, good to meet you. Captain Phantom.” The figure, the female, stuck her gloved hand out towards him.

Ghost shook her hand briefly, keeping in mind the strong grip each of them had on the other’s before they let go.

“On your move, sir. I’ve been requested by the General and Station Chief Laswell to accompany you and your men as backup on Alpha Team. I’m familiar with the mission and have been read in.” Her voice was deep, partially muffled and grainy from behind both masks, but she didn't seem to mind nor care.

Ghost nodded, turned away from her and walked right up into the transport plane with her at his heels to grab a seat and buckle in just as the door sealed shut for takeoff.

The teams spent a while in the air, not much conversation going on except for Ghost to introduce Phantom to Alpha team briefly.

“Bravo Team offloads here. Alpha Team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill.” Ghost's strong voice echoed through the radio in Phantom’s ear as well as directly in front of her.

She watched as Bravo team got ready to unload as the plane landed momentarily, nodding to Ghost as they made eye contact and accepting a first bump from Soap as they got off.

Phantom pulled her goggles down over her eyes and gripped tightly onto her M16 between her legs as the plane took off again to head to their final destination. She kept herself strapped in on instinct, as if something was telling her to brace herself and she was never one to ignore her instincts.

Another minute in the air and it grew more tense as she exchanged glances with her other team members after the plane made a sudden drop on the right side.

“All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed, we're getting lit! Incoming- Flares! Flares!”

Phantom’s eyes grew wide as one of the soldiers stood up to go help the pilots. She could hear the flares going off outside of their plane as it righted itself once again.

“Shit- that was fucking close.”

She chuckled, agreeing with another soldier in front of her and letting her shoulders relax themselves slightly.

“Second missile!”

Phantom barely had any time to brace herself and her weapon before a loud crash sounded on the right side of the plane, throwing anything or anyone not strapped down off balance. She grappled a soldier about to crumple to the ground, pulling him down onto the seat next to her.

“Razor 1 going down! We're going down!” That was the last thing Phantom heard in her ear before she felt the plane plummet down to the ground, grinding and crunching metal the only thing anyone in the vicinity could hear.

[thedemocraticallyelectedovahkiin]

Loud and Clear

Sorry for the delay but I've been having a few real life things this past week or so that has stopped me from playing, hopefully things will settle down and updates can be more regular. But now onto the show

Firstly, upon leveling up and exiting our new home after offloading excess gear I was approached by a courier carrying an anonymous letter for me

Reading this activated the quest the Rising Dead.

After this I travelled to Mistveil Keep and bought Muffle off of Wylandriah before heading to Goldenglow estate. From there the quest went by quite easily. I used flames to burn the beehives, and to deal with the mercenaries I let my Undying Ghost tank while I stayed back and hit them with flames or the dagger while they were distracted by the ghost. I made sure to pick up the queen bee statue to give to Delvin before wedging myself between Arangoth and the wall in order to become undetected and pickpocket him for the keys I need.

From there I went to the cellar and using the same fighting tactics as before dealt with the remaining mercenaries and cleared out Arangoth's safe. I then headed back to the thieves guild to report my success to Brynolf and complete the quest

Quests:

quest lines active: Before the Storm (main), Dampened Spirits (thieves guild), Under Saarthal (college of winterhold)

quests started: The Grey Cowl of Nocturnal, A Soul Divided, A Farmers Life for Me, The Rising Dead

mic quests: learn more about the thieves guild from Delvin and Vex, return the queen bee statue to Delvin, join the Imperial legion, join the Stomcloaks

Places Discovered:

Goldenglow estate

Enchantment's learned:

none

Spells learned:

muffle

Apparel:

Head: Iron helmet, Thieves guild hood (prices are 10%better), Stormcloak helmet, Fine hat, Novice hood (increases magicka by 30 points)

Body: Iron armour, Thieves guild armor (carrying capacity increased by 20 points), Vampire armour, Fine clothes, Necromancers robes (Magicka regenerates 75% faster)

Hands: Thieves guild gloves (lockpicking is 15% easier), Hide bracers, gloves

Feet: Iron boots, Thieves guild boots (pickpocket success is 15% better), Vampire boots, boots

Shields: Banded Iron, Hide

Jewellery: Amulet of Arkay (Increases health by 10 points)

Weapons:

Ancient Nord bow

Iron battleaxe

Iron greatsword

Iron warhammer

Steel war axe

Steel mace

Steel sword

Steel dagger

When polling please be aware two handed weapons will be included in the right hand poll while magic and shields are in the left

[dragonmoder]

As you immobilize the first slime five more come out from the bushes behind you! It’s an ambush! These slimes seem to be behaving differently from the ones you had encountered before, they seem to be trying to guide you into the immobile slime they have you sandwiched between

Huh... an interesting change of tactics! Surely they won't-

ROLL: 7

Ah. She's able to blast just one of them, but the rest manage to push her into the immobile slime... which proves itself to be a lot more mobile than expected! It was too big to move from its spot, but it can still move! It starts trying to offload its watery mass into Bubbie, snaking a bloated pseudopod up to her mouth and pumping!

ROLL: 8

This thing has far more gallons of water in it than our dragon could expect to hold, so hopefully she'll escape soon... but for each time she fails to struggle out of its grip, it pumps her full of another gallon of water! Two gallons already, her stomach is feeling thick and sloshy...

ROLL: 19

She's out, but can she keep herself from being pushed back in? The slimes have her corralled in pretty tightly...

ROLL: 12

She manages to blast a couple more of them. Not out of the woods yet, but she's close!

ROLL: 7

The other two jump at her, and one misses, but the other hits her in the hip, causing her to stumble back against the immobile slime! It quickly takes advantage of the opportunity to seize her and pump another gallon... and suddenly, her chest swells out!

ROLL: 17

She breaks free again, and...

ROLL: 1 (CRITICAL FAIL!)

The two remaining slimes wind up for a strong coordinated leap, hitting her square in the chest and pushing her... INSIDE the immobile slime! She's going to have to try a lot harder to get out of this one, and with her fully immersed, the slime can pump twice as fast!

ROLL: 4

Too shocked and surprised to regain her bearings particularly quickly, the slime eagerly pumps another gallon of water into her! Her chest explodes outward with liquid mass, filling up just about as much as her belly!

ROLL: 17

A bit of struggling gets her closer to the slime's surface, but she's not done yet!

ROLL: 13

Closer, closer... one more good tug, and she'll be through...

ROLL: 6

But she's not quite there yet, and the slime eagerly offloads another two gallons of water - this time, nearly all of it seems to go to her chest! Something's causing her breasts to act like some sort of water-sink!

ROLL: 18

Finally, she breaks free of the large slime, immediately twisting around to ready an icicle bolt, and-

ROLL: 2

Getting immediately shoved facefirst against the big one and pumped with another gallon of water.

ROLL: 8

And another. She's getting awfully waterlogged, but at least her chest is taking the bulk of it...

ROLL: 11

Barely, just barely escapes!

ROLL: 3

And then gets grabbed again.

ROLL: 2

And pumped with even more water - she's got at least ten gallons in her by now, thankfully split between her belly and breasts.

ROLL: 5

More...

ROLL: 19

She breaks out...

ROLL: 19

And finally blasts them! Gasping for breath, she stumbles just far enough away from the remaining large slime to sit down on the ground and catch her breath, watching it wobble helplessly in place. Thirteen gallons of water, leaving her with waterballoon tits sticking out a full foot from her chest. Fortunately, whatever magic made them act as a water reserve also seems to help them maintain a reasonable amount of perk - though they are absolutely back-breakingly heavy.