#also a gun store across from a walmart

[gladiatorcunt]

about to project all my beef with hyper christian southern small towns onto cowboy anakin

[bonchobrick]

Dead on Main au where Jason is of course Danny’s Fright Knight and like all knights do he has a weapon—except it’s his gun.

The batfam + justice league + everyone (except ghosts duh) don’t know that his normal average everyday gun is actually like a super powerful spiritual soul shooter that is, yaknow, capable of blasting someone into an alternate dimension where their greatest fears become real.

So imagine there’s like a big battle where a ghastly ghoul reigns terror on Gotham. The world sends their best hero’s—wizards and occultists are notably high highest in demand—to stop the ghost but, nothing works. All of the weapons and spells and chants fail.

But,

As the fights worsens and the heros scream for people to flee suddenly--

Loud squeaking footsteps echo across the ground. Jason yawns strolling into the battle zone in a ghostbusters t-shirt plaid pants bunny slippers--he strolls up in pajamas--as if annoyed at being woken up and cocks his fucking normal 'i could buy you at walmart' gun at the ghost.

His brothers screech at him yelling ”Are you insane” and to "get the hell out of here" in fear and panic because their idiot brother is trying to kill a real life ghost with a damn gun.

But then Jason shoots the ghost and it works.

The ghost fizzles down with a cry into just a little blob.

The young man then spends 30 minutes lecturing the spirit saying things like “you’re glad I’m not calling the big guy” and “you know our highness would not be happy learning what you’ve been doing” before taking out a thermos of all things and sucking the ghost into it.

Jason then sighs and walks away as if he hadn’t just defeated a hell raising ghost with a gun people can buy off a corner pawn store and a soup container.

Immediately the bat family swarms him with questions

Dick grabs him by his shoulders tense with worry, “Are you okay?”

“Um yeah—“ Jason tries to reply squirming in his hold

Damian cuts him off, “How the hell did your gun a physical weapon hurt that ghastly demonic spirit!”

“Uh that ghost is actually pretty chill you guys just pissed him off." Jason replies plain

They stare at him with a look saying 'you did not call a ghost that has been decimating gotham chill' probably because he did just that.

Tim is the first to break out of the disbelief stupor as he very inteligently says, "What?"

Jason responds easily with a confused quirk in his brow, "Second, my gun affects entities of all sorts, perks to my job and all that."

"How did being a vigilante and also probably crime boss give you a gun that could do that?" Dick asks

Jason sends him a look saying "are you an idiot" as he replies, "Yea, sure, kicking petty thieves and druggies got me my all powerful spirit weapon--No you dumbass, it's from being the bodyguard of the King of the Infinite Realms! How the hell did you guys not think of that!”

Tim breathes in, then breathes out, then breathes in again and screams, "Why the HELL WOULD WE THINK OF THAT JAY?!"

"The--" Batman, suddenly beside them, chokes, "Bodyguard of T-the what."

Jason blinks at his family then his eyes widen, "Oh shit."

"What?!" His family screech in panic

"Oh fuck," Jason says with a growing hysteric smile, "Danny's gonna have a big ol' fucking laugh with this."

"Brother who is Danny!" Damian demands for an answer

Jason coughs into his palm, "Oh yeah you guys really dont dont know. So I may have forgotten to explain some... things."

Bruce levels him with a stare that says "you think?"

Jason chuckles nervously, "So y'know how I'm half dead?"

pause

Damian very eloquently responds for the suddenly dying screaming combusting members of his family, "...sure."

"Well I met the King of the afterlife which is like the Ruler of Everything and he was really cute--" Jason says distant in his own world

"Theres a afterlife?" Superman asks casually appearing beside the emotionally wrecked family

"Yea its pretty cool. So I start flirting a bit with the guy and we hit it off, I now im his zombie ghost knight boyfriend lover for all time. Oh and i got this sickass gun." Jason says with a happy grin

"That is a pretty sick gun." John Constantine nods

"I know right?" Jason chirps

"You wouldn't mind if I inspected--" John reaches his hand

Jason slaps it away, "Not a chance you soul whore. Y'know your basically the tax evasionist of the Ghost Zone right?"

John only sighs and leaves

"But yea so I'm like the ghost world equivalent to married with the king and became his knight and thats how I was able to stop that ghost guy." Jason reiterates as if explaining a simple question, "Y'guys get that?"

Tim is on the ground trying to decide whether; sobbing hysterically, interogating jason to find out all the things he doesn't want to know or sleeping would be a better use of his time.

Dick has decided to blame himself and has started to draft a reddit post in the middle of the street starting with "I (23 m) have a younger brother (19 m), who I used to resent but really regret now, he died and came back and doesn't even tell me about what goes on in his life anymore. How do I fix our--"

Damian is just staring at the gun and... Jason pushes it deeper in his holster and shifts to the side, better to be safe than sorry with this thieving shit.

As Jason adjusts his weaponry he hears Bruce sob in the background, "He didn't even invite me to the wedding! Am I that horrible of a father!"

Wonder Woman pats his shoulder reasuringly whilst the rest of the League seem to be trying to calm him down

Jason looks around tiredly at the mess he had created and decides fuck it

"Alright I'm heading out for the night, you guys get home safe!" He yells and without caring to listen to anyone and everyone voicing their confusion he zips open a green portal and stumbles in

He crashes down on an unbelievably comfortable bed

Danny blinks blearily before sending the young man a sleepy smile, "Hey Jay, what kept you up so long?"

Jason slipping under the blankets with a yawn says, "You would not believe the night I just had."

------------------

Edit: UMM HII The fic is out now here!! you guys are awesome I'll post the new chapter 2 in a hot sec after editting ^^

[homerforsure]

Fuck It Friday

Tagged by @panbuckley and @wildlife4life

Okay according to poll results, I need to give you 56 sentences of Eddie Gives Buck a Key which would be a lot easier if my sentences weren’t 56 words long 😅

but! i have the first 26 for you.

The blue and grey concrete box rose up in front of him as Buck rounded a bend on Victory place. The Burbank Walmart lit up with the same sea of bright white LED lights that Buck recognized from every other parking lot that he’d been in across the US. The sameness and familiarity of it was almost comforting except that it also felt a whole lot like defeat as he backed the Jeep into a space and put it into park.

When he first left home, Buck meant to save the money that Maddie gave him. He wasn’t going to blow through it like he did his allowance and his tuition money. He was going to build a new life and if Maddie didn’t want to come with him that was just fine. He didn’t need her.

He skimped on food, bought well drinks for people who smiled at him in the bars, drove past E until he found the cheapest gas, but for the first month that he was on the road, Buck slept in a bed surrounded by four walls. Hotels mostly, but also assorted apartments and condos and houses both fancier and more rundown than the one he’d grown up in. It wasn’t that he hadn’t slept around before, but there was a new wild freedom in doing it without having to worry about being caught, getting home late, wondering if he’d be shamed or ignored this time. For the first time since Maddie moved away, Buck reached out and found others reaching back.

Unfortunately, his, like all addictions, was expensive, and Buck’s pile of cash grew thinner and thinner in his glove box. He pulled over in a beachside town, talked his way into a dishwashing gig that barely paid enough to put gas in the Jeep, and got let down easy by a brown eyed server with a crooked smile. It got darker and closing time came and Buck thought about driving around and pretending he had somewhere to go until the sun came up and he could blend in with the surf crowd, but he couldn’t spare the gas.

It was a local grocery store that time, but the lighting was the same. Buck lay awake, waiting for a knock on his window, a gun, storm, a cop. But the only thing that peeked through the glass was the sun. Early morning staff pulled in not long after and Buck pulled away, a little stiff, a little grimy, but knowing something new about himself. What he could do. He still spent plenty of time in other people’s beds and eventually found jobs that paid enough to get him a room in someone else’s house and then, finally, his name on a lease of his own. But when it eventually, inevitably, came time to leave, Buck knew he could go.

Of course, the procedure was easier when half of what he owned was in the Jeep most of the time anyway. These days, Buck had a couple empty energy drink cans, an overkill first aid kit, a book he’d lost interest in, and a rubber duck in a firefighter’s helmet. No blankets. No extra hoodie he could squash down into a pillow. And it was January.

tagging @rewritetheending @mellaithwen @princessfbi @sibylsleaves @bigfootsmom @honestlydarkprincess @messyhairdiaz @renecdote @littlespoonevan @fleurdebeton @shortsighted-owl @devirnis

[duckyfruitbat]

Retro Review: War of the Monsters

Happy Birthday to me

Happy Birthday from me

Ducky you feeling good, you're kinda singing to yourself? Please don't cry again.

That's right friends and lovers, my birthday is coming up! Instead of just eating a whole cake by myself, I decided to do a review of a game from my childhood, while eating said cake by myself. Now what to play what to play? Well if you read the title you'd know I'm looking at a brawler released for the PS2 by Incognito Entertainment back in 2003, War of the Monsters.

You see one day my dad got a PS2 demo disc with said game on it. It had one map and two playable characters, but my brother and I constantly played that game until the disc broke. We loved seeing the monsters, the destruction physics, and just the atmosphere of an old monster movie. Obviously our parents swiped up the full game when they saw a copy in the store. It was the first game I ever completed, and I played it constantly. With the preamble out of the way, it's time to actually play the damn thing.

Everything about this game, from the intro video, the box art, to even the instruction manual is just one big loving homage to the old giant monster movies of the fifties and sixties. The box art is very reminiscent of the hand painted movie posters, and the manual is presented as a news magazine with the same name as the in game newspaper that is shown in the intro video.

The story is that in the fifties Earth is being invaded by an alien race known as the Zorgulons. Things are looking grim until the top scientist of the world develop a series EMP devices referred to as the secret weapons. They are placed all throughout the world and when they are activated the invading fleet is crippled and saucers are crashing down all around the globe. Victory is nearly declared when there is an unexpected side effect to the saucers leaking fuel tanks. The fuel has a mutagen effect turning all sorts of animals, people, and even stone into giant rampaging monsters. That's all established in the intro video, it's full of old movie tropes too.

Heading into the main menu, it's in a drive in movie theater with most things displayed on a screen. I have to say, this old movie thing really does give it a nice charm. There's even black and white footage of gameplay on the screen. Now time to select a character for the story campaign.

There are ten playable monsters, two are unlockable and each one has four alternate skins, with number four usually being the most out there design. Here's a list of said monsters.

(Fake name (Real Name))

Walmart brand Godzilla (Togera)

Beeg bug (Preytor)

Royalty free King Kong (Congar)

Liberty Prime (Robo-47)

Murder Tiki (Agamo)

Voltron (Ultra V)

Four Arms but Lava (Magmo)

Zappy Bitch (Kineticlops)

Dragon (Raptros)

Yip-yip With a Gun (Zorgulon)

I decided to go with Kineticlops because it was one of the two monsters available on the demo, so why not relive that? Also I had this image of one guy in a studio wearing a mo-cap suit with an eye painted on his chest while surrounded by people in rubber monster suits, and that made me giggle.

First level is against Congar in Mid-Town Park. I think it's based on New York, a bit hard to tell. Any way, the opening shot gives you an idea of the monsters story being a massive territorial dispute against each other along with their constant encounters with the military trying to either capture or kill each monster. Here we begin the battles!

Congar was the easiest one, and here I noticed that there are little health pick-ups across the map. You can pick them up at any point, but so can the other monsters. I also noticed that instead of an invisible wall, or weirdly indestructible buildings, the boundaries are marked by the secret weapon emitting a force field around the map. Nice little touch, and is used in all but one level. Now fighting Congar was just laying into him until he kicks the bucket. As we're battling the destruction physics come into play as buildings get caught up in the mayhem. As they crumble, all sorts of debris falls to the ground and becomes a usable item to either throw or use as a club, same for any vehicles around. I also found a truck that explodes on impact, so I threw that at Harambe in order to curse humanity for another hundred years as he burns alive. First level done!

Second level is Gambler Gulch, a legally distinct Vegas. Here I have to fight Togera, after he handles some military vehicles. I just start laying into him like before, but here is when I notice that these monsters have a self preservation instinct. If they get low enough health they start making a b-line towards any health nearby. Lucky for me there was some rubble that I could throw at him and I managed to take him out that way. This is where the military starts inserting itself into the players campaign. Once Togera is defeated, a Platoon of tanks and attack helicopters come through the map barrier and are followed by Robo-47. Yeah the robots are all military meant to defend humanity against the monsters and the aliens as seen later on. This one was a bit harder to get through because of the military taking shots at me, but I managed and the warranty won't be covering this.

The third level also has the first boss in Rosdale Canyon. An obvious homage to Roswell and area 51. First thing to get through is a barrage of mutant ants which are actually one of the alternate skins of Preytor. Their health is lower than other monsters, so the only real challenge is their numbers. With the ants out of the way we see the first boss landing atop the military base, Goliath Prime.

He starts the fight by lobbing bombs at you from behind a forcefield, the coward! The way to bring him down is to throw those bombs back at him. Eventually he falls off his pedestal and you must fight him in hand to hand combat. This is where you realize that he hits Hard. He has two pistols that he fires at you but he also has a charge attack and a spinning attack that knocked me across the map. This bot really spanked me, but I eventually came out on top as the dom I am.

Fourth level is in Metro City, the other New York level. This one is against Preytor and a resurrected Congar. The military has rebuilt him and are now having him do their bidding. This is where the difficulty starts climbing. Whenever going against two or more monsters they will team up against you, and often one will keep you busy while the other tries to get you. In these cases I had to start focusing on one and ignore the other. This also left me vulnerable to attack. Managed to defeat them and became the ruler of Metrocity!

Fifth level is Century Airfield where two Raptros are terrorizing the planes trying to leave. They are a pain to deal with, the previous issue with teams applies, but with the added issue of them flying around me. Managed to get them with one life left.

Level six is Atomic Island, a nuclear power plant that looks like it can power half the country. This one starts as another barrage of Kineticlops. I am now forced to fight my own kin. Here is where the environment starts giving options beyond throwing rubble and cars. There's a button I was able to ground bound that released hot, radio active liquid into the lower area. As I sat there watching my brothers melt into the sludge I wonder to myself how it came to this. I looked over the pile of corpses in mo-cap suits rotting away in the radioactive lake and hang on what's with that alarm? My thoughts were cut short as a meltdown happened and the environment changed to the next boss arena in a crater.

The boss is a three headed carnivorous plant named Vegon. This one is pretty simple, it will spit venom at you followed by trying to eat you. As its jaws are gearing up for a good bite you have to use the debris around you and throw it down its throat. As you do each head will retract back into the bulb until the final one falls dead. I like this boss, plant monsters have my favorite designs, but this one was pretty easy.

Level seven was Baytown, which was just San Francisco. Here we see a couple Robo-47's fighting off some UFO's before turning their attention towards my mocap suit. Ah yes, the thing that kicked off the plot. This team kept giving me the slip, I'd wail on one, the other would tag in letting his friend find all the health pick-ups. Cheeky little shits. Don't worry, I disciplined them thoroughly and moved on to the next level.

Level eight is Club Caldera, which is just Hawaii. Here we see Magmo and Agamo duking it out before they locked eyes with my singular eye painted on my mo-cap chest and decide that I was begging for a wedgie. Just like junior high. They both hit real hard, and I had to be the one who slinked away to get some health pick-ups. The whole time the UFO's start asserting their presence more, taking shots at me as I run around screaming with my underwear over my head. I somehow won against the two jocks of the roster and was able to move on.

Level nine is Tsunopolis, or just Tokyo. Here two Ultra V's backflip into the camera and challenge me to a Gundam fight, just like high school. Unfortunately I remembered the environmental trigger that causes a tsunami that will wash them away. Threw a car at a giant UFO and it created the tsunami and then I picked them off with a couple of lightning chains. With the mechs down I was abducted by the UFO and taken into space.

For level ten the UFO takes me to the Zorgulon mother ship. A citadel and base of operations orbiting between the Earth and the Moon. Here I am faced with a council of three Zorgulon, all appalled by my mo-cap suit. I tried to explain to them that my character design was impossible with practical effects and it can be fixed in post, but they weren't having it and they attacked, just like college.

There weren't many environmental hazards beyond a couple mounted turrets. Despite being in space, this level is one of the more boring ones. At least the canyon had a giant rock to throw around. Anyway, I decided the councils fate with my fists and the mother ship was evacuated. I was warped back into the saucer and as it was flying away it was hit by the ensuing explosion leading to the saucer crash landing on Earth. Thus setting up the final boss fight.

The final level is called capital. I read somewhere that it's supposed to be D.C, but it looks more like the Vatican to me. Anyway, the scene is set when the dome of the recently crashed saucer opens up revealing a brain in a four legged saucer mech. It jet boots its way out of the saucer and destroys the Washington monument before setting up a force field and beginning the battle. This is Cerebulon, the leader of the Zorgulon's and this thing can absolutely wreck my run. I remember having to start this battle over many times as a kid. There are three phases to this monster.

The saucer mech is the first one and it is invulnerable until after it does its main attack, being a laser that eats at your health like me at a sushi bar. You have to hide behind the obelisks around the pool Cerebulon is staying put in. After the laser is done Cerebulon needs to take a moment to recharge and the shield goes down. I took this opportunity to use the lighting chain to zap the brain jar. After I did that enough times the mech explodes into giant pieces and Cerebulon emerges from the wreckage in its second form, being an obvious homage to the tri-pods from war of the worlds. Also the brain can apparently twitch, which was just weird.

Anyway, this form still has a laser but will also use its tentacles to attack. The way to beat this form is to take the giant pieces of the mech suit and just yeet them at the glass brain jar in order to shatter it. After the off brand tri-pod collapses, Cerebulon decides to burst out of the dome in a scene that might be a homage to Alien. It howls and gurgles as it stands up on its tentacles and points towards me with its scythe hands to challenge me head on. Oh now the flashbacks are starting.

This is the most devastating monster in the campaign. It has a ten hit combo move that just deletes health. It does not take a break for health either, in order to heal up you have to make a run for it. If you stop moving it will just spank you over and over again until you beg for more, just like a Saturday night. I decided to just pick off its health with my light ranged attack and my beloved lightning chain. Yeah I took the cowards option here, cut me some slack! The naked dalek was after my lack of buns!

In its death throws Cerebulon's head exploded all over the square, and a smaller version emerged from that completing the Alien homage. Kineticlops declares victory, and the scene fades to black. Before the credits roll I am treated to the origin story of my chosen monster.

That was War of the Monsters. My god this thing just oozes with absolute love for the old monster movies. It is just so charming, from the music, the sound effects, all those posters above are the loading screens. The campaign itself is only a couple hours long and perfectly serviceable. The monsters having a sense of self preservation was a pleasant surprise and helped balance out the battles. The environmental hazards added some strategy to the stages when they were there. I only had issues with the camera, which was the style at the time. I absolutely recommend taking a look at this game, it's available on the PlayStation Store for the PS4. Hasn't been made available for the PS5 yet, but as I've said before the PS5 doesn't exist. If you like a good arcade brawler, and you're a fan of monsters like Godzilla, this is your game.

[newstfionline]

Sunday, April 7, 2024

Shhh, I’m on vacation. Travelers are on a quest for the quiet (AP) At home in the New York City suburbs, Oscar Sandoval has lots of friends and an active social life. But when it’s time for vacation, he prefers to keep it quiet. Like, literally. He’d stroll, sit, do some gardening and generally contemplate life for a week. More recently, he’s done solo backpacking trips across Spain. “The utter peace and stillness is impossible to put into words.” From serene nature retreats to silent walking, the quest for quietude has become one of modern travel’s latest trends. Conde Nast Traveler said last month it was “the travel trend we’re most obsessed with this year.” For many, quiet travel goes beyond escaping the cacophony of everyday life while on vacation. It can be a shift toward introspection; a deeper connection with where we are both literally and figuratively. “Transformative travel’s a trend we’re tracking for growth,” says Alex Hawkins, editor at the trend forecaster and consultancy The Future Laboratory. “It taps into consumers’ desire for self-reflective tourism experiences.”

Mexico breaks relations with Ecuador after embassy raid (Washington Post) Ecuadorian police forced their way into Mexico’s embassy in Quito late Friday and pulled out a former vice president who had sought asylum there, sparking a diplomatic crisis in a region becoming increasingly polarized between left and right. The raid was a brazen move by Ecuador’s government, which sent a convoy of black vehicles with sirens blaring to break down the front gate of the embassy. When the Mexican consul tried to stop one of the vehicles as it exited, police grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground. “This is totally unacceptable,” the consul, Roberto Canseco, told journalists, his voice breaking. “At risk of my life, I defended the honor and sovereignty of my country. This can’t be!”

When Haiti’s gangs shop for guns, the United States is their store (Washington Post) When Walder St. Louis entered the Miami pawnshop in October 2021, his shopping list contained just a few items: Two AK-47s and an AR-15. Germine Joly, then head of the Haitian gang 400 Mawozo, had placed the order from a Port-au-Prince prison. St. Louis would soon send two barrels of firearms back to the Haitian capital. Heavily armed gangs control 80 percent of Port-au-Prince, the United Nations has estimated, where they rape, kidnap and kill with impunity. Haiti doesn’t manufacture firearms, and the U.N. prohibits importing them, but that’s no problem for the criminals. When they go shopping, the United States is their gun store. The semiautomatic rifles that have wrought human carnage from an elementary school in Newtown, Conn., to a Walmart in El Paso are also being used to menace the Haitian government and terrorize the population. U.S. authorities seized some of the guns in the 400 Mawozo plot before they could be smuggled, and Joly, St. Louis and two others pleaded guilty to federal gunrunning conspiracy charges. The gang would soon gain notoriety for kidnapping 17 American and Canadian missionaries. Other firearms, purchased in part with ransom money, slipped into Haiti undetected.

French pupil dies after being beaten near school (BBC) There are renewed concerns over levels of violence in French schools after two young teenagers were the victims of attacks, one of them fatal. A 15-year-old boy named as Shamseddin died in hospital on Friday. The news came a day after he was beaten by a group of youths near his school in Viry-Chatillon, in the southern Paris suburbs. “This extreme violence is becoming commonplace,” said the town mayor, Jean-Marie Vilain. On Tuesday, in another incident in the southern city of Montpellier, a 14-year-old girl named as Samara was placed in an artificial coma after she was beaten by a group shortly after leaving school. The attacks have further heightened concerns about violence in schools, against a background of gangs, cyber-bullying and pressure to conform to Islamic rules.

Germans finally warm to digital payments (Spiegel) The island of Rügen is considered a stronghold for paper money in Germany, which is already widely known as a cash-obsessed nation. Tourists are often amazed by how attached the islanders are to coins and bills. “If you’re going to Rügen, take cash and lots of bread with you!” the Berliner Zeitung in Berlin once wrote. But cards are also slowly finding their way to Rügen, albeit slowly. Stickers can now be found on the windows and doors of many stores in the tourist town of Binz: “We accept debit card payments.” Still, 69 percent of Germans said that cash is either important or very important to them, especially older people and people with low incomes and education levels. In Europe, only Austrians appear to have a greater affinity for cash than the Germans. But that love is being put to the test. Millions of customers suddenly went cashless during the pandemic—and stuck with it. Many young people prefer to pay even small amounts by debit card or mobile phone. The EU is pushing for limits on cash payments, local authorities are issuing debit cards to asylum-seekers and the European Central Bank (ECB) is already working to create a “digital euro.” Cash, it seems, is coming under pressure from many different sides.

With no way out of a worsening war, Zelensky’s options look bad or worse (Washington Post) As Russia steps up airstrikes and once again advances on the battlefield in Ukraine more than two years into its bloody invasion, there is no end to the fighting in sight. And President Volodymyr Zelensky’s options for what to do next—much less how to win the war—range from bad to worse. Zelensky has said Ukraine will accept nothing less than the return of all its territory, including land that Russia has controlled since 2014. But with the battle lines changing little in the last year, militarily retaking the swaths of east and south Ukraine that Russia now occupies—about 20 percent of the country—appears increasingly unlikely. Negotiating with Russian President Vladimir Putin to end the war—something Zelensky has rejected as long as Russian troops remain on Ukrainian land—is politically toxic. The Ukrainian public is hugely opposed to surrendering territory, and Putin shown no willingness to accept anything short of Ukraine’s capitulation to his demands. The status quo is awful. With the fight now a grinding stalemate, Ukrainians are dying on the battlefield daily. But a cease-fire is also a nonstarter, Ukrainians say, because it would just give the Russians time to replenish their forces. Ukrainian and Western officials view Zelensky as largely stuck.

US, Japan, Australia and the Philippines to stage military drills in disputed South China Sea (AP) The United States, Japan, Australia and the Philippines will hold their first joint naval exercises, including anti-submarine warfare training, in a show of force Sunday in the South China Sea where Beijing’s aggressive actions to assert its territorial claims have caused alarm. The four treaty allies and security partners are holding the exercises to safeguard “the rule of law that is the foundation for a peaceful and stable Indo-Pacific region” and uphold freedom of navigation and overflight, they said in a joint statement issued by their defense chiefs Saturday. Aside from China and the Philippines, the long-simmering disputes in the South China Sea, a key global trade route, also involve Vietnam, Malaysia, Brunei and Taiwan. But skirmishes between Beijing and Manila have particularly flared since last year.

Chinese Overcapacity Is About To Slam Into Europe’s Economy (Die Welt) In late March, the BYD Explorer No. 1, a 200 meter-long bright white vehicles carrier, made its maiden voyage to Bremerhaven, a port city on Germany’s North Sea coast, to deliver 3,000 China-made electric cars. Technically equal to most German models, these cars are often significantly cheaper. And they are the first of many waves that will strike at the heart of a key German industry. In the next few years, the Chinese electric vehicle maker BYD alone is planning to launch seven more cargo ships to transport cars from Asia to Europe. And the electric cars are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to industrial products that are expected to pour into Germany from China over the next few years. Many of these will likely be less expensive than their German counterparts, forcing companies and politicians to look for new ways to respond to this challenge.

China carefully scrutinizes U.S. envoy’s ... chopstick skills? (Washington Post) U.S. Treasury Secretary Janet L. Yellen landed in China this week with a raft of thorny issues to tackle. But it wasn’t her trade policy or stance on the poor state of U.S.-China relations that caught the attention of the Chinese public. “Watching Yellen use chopsticks, it’s clear she’s a chopsticks master. She definitely eats Chinese food on a regular basis,” one user wrote on the microblog Weibo after news outlets posted a seven-second video clip of Yellen wielding said utensils at a Cantonese restaurant in the southern Chinese city of Guangzhou on Thursday night. Chinese social media platforms on Friday were awash with details of Yellen’s first meal in China during a week-long visit aimed at improving U.S.-China ties and addressing what Washington sees as unfair Chinese trade practices. Hashtags related to Yellen’s dining choices drew almost 10 million views on Weibo. The breathless state media coverage of her dining choices or dexterity with chopsticks reflects an effort by Beijing to cast Yellen’s visit in a positive light, especially to an increasingly anti-American Chinese public. It underlines how Beijing sees Yellen as perhaps its best hope for improving trade ties with Washington and helping its own ailing economy.

U.S. Seeks ‘Results’ After Israel Promises More Gaza Aid Routes (NYT) World leaders and humanitarian groups said on Friday that Israel must show concrete results after it reacted to growing pressure from the United States by announcing it would open more aid routes into the Gaza Strip, where the United Nations has warned that a famine is looming. At a news conference in Brussels on Friday, Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken welcomed the new aid routes, calling them “positive developments,” but said that the United States was watching to see if Israel would make it a priority to ease the humanitarian crisis in Gaza. One measure of Israel’s commitment, he said, will be “the number of trucks that are actually getting in on a sustained basis.” “The real test is results, and that’s what we’re looking to see in the coming days and the coming weeks,” he said, adding, “Really, the proof is in the results.”

After 6 Months of War, Some Israelis Ask: Is Netanyahu Dragging It Out? (NYT) Nearly six months since it began, Israel’s war in Gaza is dragging on. So, too, is the tenure of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. In Israel, some are now asking: Are the two linked? To his allies, Mr. Netanyahu’s refusal to agree to a cease-fire in Gaza is a necessary one, made in the national interest and backed by many Israelis. The thinking goes that Israel must cripple Hamas to weaken its hand at cease-fire negotiations. To his critics, the prime minister is dragging out the war to prevent the collapse of his fragile right-wing coalition and extend his time in office. By this analysis, he has made a domestic calculus that ignores both the growing global anger about the bloodshed—including from Israel’s most powerful ally, President Biden, which erupted into full view on Thursday—and the rising anger from the families of Israeli hostages who seek their relatives’ immediate release.

13.56 (WSJ) That’s the initial value of Zimbabwe’s new currency against the U.S. dollar. The government, notorious for printing 100-trillion-dollar notes, is launching Zimbabwe Gold, or ZiG, to replace the current Zimbabwe dollar, which most recently traded at more than 30,674 to the U.S. dollar. A previous dollar was abolished in 2009 after a hyperinflation rate of 500 billion percent, according to some estimates. Then the country used foreign currencies for nearly a decade. When the central bank couldn’t pay out savings in cash dollars, it reintroduced the Zimbabwe dollar in 2019. The currency has lost around 75 percent of its value this year.

[bike42]

August 3-7, 2023 Montana for Calvin's Wedding

We left home in the early hours of August 3rd – heading North at first, then West back to Montana – this time a road trip!  We met our friend, Trapper in Maple Grove for lunch.  It had been way too long, and the hours flew by as we caught up.  When I first met JT, he and Trapper were like “brothers from different mothers,” with their own code language and lots of shared history. 

From there, we continued North to Moorhead/Fargo – where we joined brother-in-law Matt for dinner at their house.  My sister had already ventured west with my parents in their VW camper (a different kind of adventure!).  We had a nice dinner, visited with her cat, and enjoyed the evening in their serene backyard oasis.  My brother and two of his daughters (Emma and Georgia) were coming for the night and to transport Matt to MT, but they arrived much later in the evening, and we stayed in a hotel so didn’t see them until we arrived at camp in MT on Saturday.

We drove through the rain, took a few stops in Bismark, Medora and Circle MT.  Once again, we were revisiting memories of our 2012 bike adventure!  We made several stops in Bismark (TJMaxx, Dollar Store, Walmart) in search of cowbells for Jeff’s 29029 volunteer gig but came up short.  The drive from Circle was new territory for us, a two-lane road across the desolate prairie and ranch land of Montana.  Much of the road was under construction and but traffic was light, and it didn’t slow us down much.  With the rain and the mud though, we had a mud-encrusted Audi!

We arrived at our hotel in Grand Falls and found the Montana State Fair happening across the street!  We quickly checked in, then walked over to the fair.  We caught the last half of the rodeo – calf roping, young women riding horses very fast in the barrel races, and the bull riding at the end.  It was all so foreign tome, but I loved the energy of seeing it in person!  It was the second to last day of the fair, so most of the animals in the display barns had been taken home, I was disappointed about that!   But the art and flower arrangement displays were still there so we enjoyed that.

The next morning, we had some time, so we visited the Lewis and Clark Exhibition Center.  It was cool to imagine what the Missouri River looked like in those days!  There was a cool exhibit showing how they devised an 11-day portage around the 5 falls – imagine!!  We also enjoyed talking to an older gentleman that had many period guns and other weapons on display – his private collection.

The rain continued as we drove to Seely Lake (as did the muddy construction).  We grabbed hot drinks at the local coffee shop and then headed around the lake to “Camp Paxson,” our home for the next three nights (an old boy scout camp that’s now part of the National Forest and run by a non-profit).  I felt bad for Calvin and McKinley about the weather, but everyone in attendance was of the “make the best of it” mindset.  We got settled in our rustic cabin – I thought they’d be smaller (not sure why I thought that), and was surprised to find JT and I were sharing a cabin with mom & dad, and San & Matt.  A close family affair!

Saturday night was informal with a lasagna dinner, lots of wine, and Sandra and Matt led campfire stories and songs.  They were dressed in scouting attire, and it was a really fun night!

Sunday morning it was still raining.  Calvin and his friends had erected a tent with a stage and dance floor.  It was dry but sandy in there – we cleaned it up and Sandra led about 10 of us through a morning yoga session.  Then breakfast in the lodge, and free time for hiking, napping, or hanging out until the afternoon wedding.  Jeff and I hiked about 4 miles through a beautiful hemlock forest – incredibly open without much understory.

There was a rush to get ready in the communal bathrooms before the wedding – a different kind of experience.  Most found with the rain and humidity, it was senseless to try to do anything with one’s hair!! 

Like a miracle, the sun came out just before the outdoor wedding and it was a beautiful afternoon and evening.  A thoroughly enjoyable occasion – great band, good dinner, and fun celebration with family.  There were some “wedding crashers” at the end of the night – apparently, they got away with one of the beer barrels.

Monday morning was quieter.  Sandra and Amy and I still did yoga, we had a leisurely breakfast (my dad and my brother made Huckleberry pancakes).  A larger group of us hiked to a nearby waterfall, and then the folks that were left had salads and leftover lasagna for dinner.  Matt, San, JT and I played a fun game of croquet – obstacles like pinecones and tree roots!  Early to bed for me – big week coming up!

[adrian-the-lonely-writer]

Transitions

A fluffy 'Dean WinchesterXTrans!Male' Reader one-shot where you had come out to Dean, and Dean decided he's going to do everything he can to support you.

“So,” Dean began. His heart was pounding. He rather be facing any number of ghosts and ghouls to avoid fucking this part up. Hell, he’d even take a few demons over this. Anything over these tense emotional moments. Still, he was glued to the bed, hand holding yours. He loved you. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of helping you.

“Y-yeah?” You stumbled over your words. You had no idea how your boyfriend was going to handle the news. Tears were threatening to fall over your cheeks as you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

Dean swallowed. Dammit, his brother mentioned something like this in the past. Why couldn’t he remember now? “Well in that case, I suppose we better get you some comfier clothes. C’mon.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. Looking up, you saw that same smile dance across his lips, the same smile you fell in love with. “Wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be uncomfortable.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you jumped into his arms, relief and love washing over you. Dean just chuckled, quietly as he shifted to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “Thanks Dean…Thank you so much.”

“Of course. You have a different name you like to be called now?”

“Y/N now- I uh, kinda picked it out when I realized I just-”

“Y/N is perfect babe.” His lips left a light little peck at your nose. “C’mon. Sammy’s with Bobby looking for another job, let’s take the day to get you feeling as good as possible, hm? I just had that great poker payout-”

“I thought that was for silver bullets-”

“Pshh. I can win another game or too.” Dean went to smile, but it quickly drooped into a frown. “Your clothes...do they make you feel-” He tried to find the right word.

“Dysphoric? Well I mean a bit. I didn’t exactly have time to choose great clothes when I ran off with you Dean.” Before you could even finish your sentence, Dean was digging through his duffle.

“I was going to drop them off somewhere, they feel a little small.” Dean grinned, poking his head back up. In his hands were an AC/DC shirt and an old pair of jeans. He even pulled out his spare hunting boots. “Might not be the most practical all the time, but we’ll get you some stuff today.”

You tried not to cry once again.

Few minutes later, you found yourself wrapped up in your boyfriend's clothes, in the passenger seat of the car. AC/DC rang out through the speakers. You couldn’t help but smile.

“You...really don’t mind Dean?”

“Mind? Why the hell would I mind?”

“Well you were into me as a-”

“I am into you, period.” Dean smiled a little. “Masculine, feminine, It makes no difference to me. You are still you. So, clothes we’re doing. Not half assed Walmart clothes either, we’re gonna get you some good hunting gear.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. “Masculine fake IDs from now on, easy enough. Anything else you need?”

“At the moment, I’m not sure...I kinda like what Sam does with his hair so I don’t think I’ll cut it off yet. It isn’t as long as his at the moment anyway.” You giggled at the scrunch in Dean’s nose at the mention of his brother.

“Cute guy with a ponytail never hurts either. Ah. Here’s the shop.”

“Dean this is a mall-”

“Yeah, sporting goods, including guns, bullets, as well as various clothing stores to get you what you need. Plus crowds to blend into. Malls are great Y/N.” He turned into the parking lot, picking a spot somewhere in the middle. “Plus, the impala doesn’t stick out too much here.”

Dean slipped out of his side, opening the door for you before you were even unbuckled. His calloused hand still felt tender as it grasped yours tightly, pulling you towards the store.

Your boyfriend was right after all. The crowds were seamless and the selection would be much greater.

“I’m thinking, we hit the sporting goods store, get some food and supplies. Take our time with it. Then just meet up with Sam and Bobby for the job, sound good Y/N?”

“Sounds perfect Dean.” Your smile was glued to your face as you leaned against his arm walking into the shop Dean had picked. “Is this where you got all your flannels and things?”

“Most of em, yeah. Why? You like that one?” He winked as he saw your cheeks turn a little pink. Sure, you loved the flannel. It made you feel more you, it also smelled like the man you loved more than anything.

“Well it’s nice and warm and-” You tripped over your words again. “Just really nice hunting clothes ya know? Like durable enough you have some protection, it’s also warm enough for nights but I can always open it ya know.”

“Great. So a couple flannels. Some jeans that won’t trip you up. Shirts.” Dean guided you to the clothing area of the store, whipping out his cellphone.

“Dean? Something the matter?” He doesn’t often look at his screen with that much concentration.

“Nope. I was just looking at a size chart.” He matched his screen to a couple of the tags. “These your colors?” He held out some forest green flannel and a black shirt.

“To start with, yeah! Although lighter colors are still nice. I don’t want anything thinking I’m your little brother if I match your style.”

“My style is functional and timeless. Plus, if I had a nickel for everyone who thought Sam and I should-” He scowled as you laughed. You couldn’t help but pick up those books when you saw them. Plus, as prank wars broke out it definitely gave you an upper hand.

“Alright, I concede your style is wonderful Dean.”

“Damn right it is.” He smiled a little. “But I get it, c’mon. Let’s walk around and see what catches your eye.”

The two of you scoured the store from top to bottom. Dean’s arms quickly became laden with fabric as you both approached the fitting rooms.

“Find everything you need sir, and-?” The guy in charge of the rooms spoke.

“Sir.” You introjected. Your heart rate spiked a little. Dean’s hand rested on your shoulder as he nodded to the cashier, as if confirming what you said.

“Of course, right this way. Here is your room, sir.” Without batting an eye the cashier escorted you back to try on your new wardrobe.

“Give 'em hell babe!” Dean called after you, taking his seat. He fiddled with his phone. Sam had finally convinced him to upgrade, and this one had a camera on it.

Quickly, pulse racing, you put on the first outfit of clothes, and slipped outside to model for Dean. Your nerves subsided when met with that goofy grin of his, and you couldn’t help but match it.

“You look amazing.”

“I feel amazing.”

“Wanna try more?” Dean snapped a photo. “That’s gonna be my new cell wallpaper.” You stuck your tongue out to him, a look he cheekily returned.

You went through this a few more times. Different mixed and matched outfits and hunting gear. Dean flirting with you every time you slipped into his sight. Soon you had a week's worth of clothes, with some extras to wear during a wash. Eventually you made it towards the food court, carrying the bags. You both went immediately to the burger stand and sat down.

“Fucck~” Dean’s eyes were closed in bliss. “I forgot how amazing these burgers were.”

“God we ate at gas stations so much I had forgotten food could be juicy.” You were devouring your burger as ravenous as Dean was. Oblivious to the look he was giving you.

Dean just smiled, chewing as he looked at you. It had only been a few months since you were traveling with him. Demon blooded kid like Sammy, you wanted to be able to help. Truthfully you were thankful they accepted.

Dean sometimes kicks himself at night for almost saying no. He had fallen for you, hard, the first time you rode in the back of the car. The way your eyes lit up as his own music started to play. The way you got along with Sam. He had fallen hard. You were perfect in his eyes now as you were then.

“Dean?...” Your voice was quiet, head against the window. After eating Dean had loaded you and your new things into the impala before starting to make your guy’s way to Bobby's place.

The excitement of the day had driven your eyelids to a close by this point. The soft rumblings of the engine were lulling you to sleep. Dean’s hand found yours once more, with a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah babe?”

“I love you Dean…”

“I love you too Y/N.” His words were the last things you heard before finally succumbing to sleep.

Dean drove on, hand never leaving yours. He had found the best boyfriend in the world, and he intended to keep things that way.

[thedeathdoctor]

Kinktober Day 5: Blood Play

Blood Play - Halloween: Michael Meyers x Reader

Guardian Demon

Tw for Breaking and Entering, Being held at gunpoint

It was ten past two in the morning when you pulled your 2003 Altima into the driveway. Fucking Steve. Ever since he had started as manager, your store had been pathetically understaffed. He never stuck around past four and never saw how long closing duties took. It was just you and Allison now, because “we don’t really need three people in here when we don’t get that many customers, anyway”. 

You shoved your work apron into your purse laying on the passenger seat before dragging yourself out of the car. Everything felt heavy, and your keys dangled limply in your hand. A thought resurfaced in your weary head: the pothole you had hit on your way to work because the assholes wouldn’t let you merge over to avoid it. It sounded expensive, but you had managed to get home, so you just gave a quick glance at it. You weren’t much of a car person, and it was dark; you’d look at it again in the morning. 

Leaning against the peeling paint of your side door, you fit the key in the lock, and found it unlocked. What? Maybe you had forgotten to lock up when you rushed to work this afternoon. Henry had called out for the third day in a row, and they had called you to come in earlier to cover for him. You didn’t want to, but you had to. The shitty washer that came with the unit had broken, and your landlord had refused to take care of it because clearly you had misused it in order for that to happen. A contractor had come out to fix it yesterday; the work was expensive,  he unsettled you in a way you couldn’t place, and in the middle of it all Steve called to ask where you were. He seemed to forget how you told him, to his face, three times, “I won’t be in on Wednesday, do not schedule me,” and still his chicken nugget sized brain forgot and expected you to come in. 

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind of the work fuckery from your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. It took up enough real estate in your head as is. 

Snacks. 

You dropped your purse on the mess of mail that covered your kitchen table. It would be sorted later. For now, you took your phone with you and rummaged through the cabinets, finding the box of Goldfish you had bought Monday. You padded into the living room, settling down into the couch. Though you lived alone, you had slept here for the past few nights on account of clutter spread over your bed. Well, it was mostly organized. Monday you had found the least sketchiest laundromat in your fifteen mile radius for the three weeks of laundry built up while you fought with your landlord. After all, there was a finite amount of times you could handle rewearing your work clothes before the thought of having to pay for laundry became begrudgingly tolerable. 

The waist of your pants cut into your waist, and you stripped them off and threw them towards the stairs with a growl. Your bra was next, and soon you were comfortable in your tank top and underwear. It had also been an embarrassing amount of time since you had vacuumed the floor, so your socks stayed on to keep your feet clean. 

“Honey, if you ever need help, I can always come over and clean with you. It’s really no problem for me.” 

Your mom’s voice reappeared in your head, kind and soothing. Truth was, you needed help, but couldn’t bring yourself to accept her offer. It was out of mercy. You didn’t want her to come over and see for herself how you, her precious daughter was really doing. She worried for you enough as is, and anyway, you were doing just fine, no need for her to see the bottles that frequently piled up in the yellow bin next to the door or the refrigerator that didn’t hold much excluding the condiments on the door, or the condition of your bathroom sink. You spared her the worry she would feel if she knew. Anyway, you could handle it, all you needed was another day off to take care of everything, two at max. 

Turning on the tv, you chose a random episode of Criminal Minds to watch to distract your brain. It had been your comfort show since you started watching it in 2011, and it filled the otherwise quiet space of the house. You apathetically ate a handful of Goldfish before folding the box back up and letting it drop on the ground. That wasn’t it. Occasionally, lights drifted across the interior of your house, headlights drifting in from the living room window as the occasional car passed by. 

A loud crash shocked you awake from the doldrums of half-sleep. Your eyes shot open as your heart revved from 0 -100, realizing that the sound came from upstairs. Fuck. There were footsteps now. Scrambling to find your phone to call 911, your heart sunk as the screen flickered to life for just enough time to blink its “low battery” icon at you before giving up. You did have a .357, but one too many nights with the bottle led you to disassemble it as much as you could and shove the pieces into a shoebox at the back of your closet, if only for your mom’s sake. 

You listened with bated breath as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs and began to descend. Every single muscle in your body did not reply, even as your mind screamed for you to run. You were frozen to the couch. 

A man, partially dressed in a dirty work coverall tied around the waist at the bottom of a grimy undershirt strode aggressively over to you. A black ski mask hid his face, but you could see his eye twitch as he raised the Glock in his hand to your face. His voice was strained and rough as he questioned you.

“WHERE ARE THEY??” 

“Where is what?” 

You didn’t have much of value at all, the most expensive thing that you had to your name was the Altima sitting outside and that was only $6,000 when you bought it a few years ago. 

“PILLS, SMARTASS. DON’T LIE TO ME. I SAW THE EMPTY BOTTLES. WHERE DO YOU KEEP THEM?” 

Oh. Truth be told, you didn’t have any left. All you had ever really taken was your Adderall XR and Zoloft. The empty Adderall bottle sat pathetically on your dresser, reminding you of the last time you had been able to afford the copay the pharmacy demanded. As for the Zoloft, well, your psychiatrist would keep refilling it as long as you kept showing up to her regular appointments, and the spontaneity of work had made it damn near impossible to keep an appointment with her. So it had been at least a few days since you had tried to taper off of them yourself. But you were unmedicated and well beyond tired, so you responded rather dumbly. 

“I don’t have any more. They’re gone. Sorry.” 

He didn’t react well to that, gritting his teeth and kicking over a folding chair that left a rather large hole in the drywall. Your fucking landlord would have a field day haranguing you for those damages. 

The side door that you had taken care to lock swung open violently, knocking over the bottles perched on the top of the pile in the recycling bin. Heavy footsteps strode through the kitchen and another man appeared behind the first intruder.

“HEY WHAT THE FUC-”

He was cut off as he was violently disarmed, gun clattering to the floor as a blade slashed through every tendon in his arm. Then, his body flew across the room and crashed head first into the Walmart bookshelf and the few books you had left with a horrific crunch. He was crumpled in a way that no human should ever be, and still the other man kneeled and plunged his knife between his ribs, ventilating his body as you would a frozen microwavable meal. And then slowly, stood up and turned to face you. 

He was impossibly tall, looming over the man who had tried to rob you; like him, he was also dressed in a coverall, bluish grey and relatively cleaner aside from the blood splashed across the front. His head was covered too, by one of those rubbery Halloween costume masks that people wear and pretend to be a serial killer or something. Matthew, or maybe Michael? You glanced over at the mutilated corpse at his feet, and the real, actual knife in his hand, still dripping with blood. You didn’t think he was pretending.

You cowered in the corner of the couch, your knees pulled up as close to your chin as possible, shaking uncontrollably. He walked closer to you, stretching out his free hand, and for some reason beyond your understanding, you took it. Your legs trembled like those of a newborn fawn, but you stayed up, mostly due to his hidden strength. Together, you both made your way over to the dead body, letting you collapse to your knees next to it. He dipped the tip of the knife into the man’s blood and brought it to your face. A scream died in your throat as he grabbed your jaw and steadied you as the blade traced over your forehead and cheekbones, painting you with the blood of his kill. On your stomach, he marked you with a simple “MM”. Michael Meyers. You were his. 

When he was done, he pressed you to the floor on your back and stripped you of your tank top and panties with a few quick flicks of his knife. His hands worked the jumpsuit zipper down as he shed his clothing and towered over you. He stroked his cock lazily, enjoying the look on your face as you realized that he wanted to put it deep in you. You were his and he was going to consummate your partnership, right here, right now.

He spread your legs and kneeled between them. It had been a while since you last had any kind of sexual encounter, but the patch of curls was of no consequence to him. Blood slicked his fingers, and you were surprised how expertly the pad of his thumb found your clit, kneading you to orgasm in spite of the horror you had just witnessed. Perfect.

He teased you, running his fingertips up and down your vulva until your hands urged him to get on with it. That was a mistake. He snapped your hands together and held you firmly by your wrists with his free hand. Punishment for being too impatient. Two fingers found your entrance before suddenly plunging into you as deep as they could. Your gasp satisfied him and he returned his thumb to your clit as his fingers pistoned into you at a punishing pace. 

The second orgasm crashed through your body, your arms weakly trembling against his fierce grip as you screamed out in pleasure. When your eyes returned to him, the submission he saw drove him mad with desire. He gripped your hips so hard, you were sure that you would see bruises in the morning, and slid you onto his cock, hissing softly as he entered you. God, he spread you apart like no one ever had before. 

You weren’t the most petite person in the world, but to him and his strength, you may as well have been. He slammed you against him, your thighs stinging as they met his hips, fucking you as if you were a filthy toy, a cocksleeve for him to use as he wanted, whenever he wanted. He paused for a moment, sliding his hands up under your back and supporting you with his arms as he stood up, still inside you. Your thighs wrapped around his waist, feeling the muscles in his torso and ass flex against you. His hips thrust up into you as he held you up in the air, gravity working alongside his powerful body as he ravaged you. Moans dribbled from your mouth as most of your upper body went limp. The back of your head crashed against the wall, but you didn’t care, your body was flooded in ecstasy as you came over and over, writhing in his arms and twitching helplessly around his cock. His fingernails dragged long, deep scratches along your back that smeared and stained the wall with blood as he pressed you against it, his breaths deep, panting, heavy with lust. 

Time lost all meaning to you as he broke you down to a sopping, quivering mess in his arms. It seemed he was intent on folding you in half and pressing you against the wall before his breaths hitched and pulled you as close as he physically could to him. His hips bucked involuntarily as he came deep into you, filling you with copious spurts of his cum. It took on a pinkish tone as it mixed with the blood from earlier, dripping from where your hips met. You were spent, falling asleep before he had let the both of you fall ever so gently to the floor, letting you rest on top of his chest. 

[ericdeggans]

A Tale of Two Videos: Why the Images of George Floyd Dying Broke the Nation

Why is the footage of George Floyd dying beneath a policeman’s knee the video that finally broke the nation?

I actually think the story of our current public chaos stems from two videos, brought to the public at nearly the same time, that outline both ends of a system which elevates white, moneyed people at the expense of everyone else -- especially those of us who are darker than blue.

In one, a white woman threatens a black man by telling him she will call the police and lie about him threatening her life. In another, a black man is pinned down by several police officers, pleading for help to breathe, until he dies.

One video shows the nightmare of overpolicing black bodies; losing your life because a store clerk thought you tried to pay with a counterfeit bill. The other shows a white woman well aware of the power that such overpolicing gives people like her when she calls 9-1-1. She knows – and assumes the black man she’s threatening also knows – whose interests will be defended, possibly with lethal force, when officers arrive.

Amy Cooper’s confrontation with Christian Cooper and the death of George Floyd have revealed the full scope of white supremacy non-white people live with every day in America. We have been talking about it for a long time; I wrote a book about it in 2012. But it is a reality many other Americans will not believe, until someone grabs a cellphone at a fateful moment, records it, and shows it to them. Again and again.

Because we have seen these videos before. We saw Philando Castile, a black man filmed in his last moments by his girlfriend, shot by a police officer during a traffic stop. We saw John Crawford, a black man who was going to buy a pellet gun at WalMart, shot to death by police within seconds of their arrival at the store after a 9-1-1 call. We saw 12-year-old Tamir Rice, playing with a toy gun in a park, gunned down within seconds of a police car driving on the scene.  

We saw Levar Jones, a black man who survived being shot by a cop during a traffic stop at a gas station as he was retrieving his license (the reason the cop stopped him? He was driving without a seat belt just before turning into the gas station.)

Eric Garner. Darrien Hunt. Botham Jean. The list of black people hurt or killed by police under suspicious circumstances is long and infuriating. How can a white college student suspected in the murders of two people who inspired a nationwide manhunt get taken into custody without incident, while a black man accused of passing a bad $20 bill winds up dead on a street, killed in broad daylight while cellphone cameras captured it all?

Beyond the frustration of the rising body count, there is frustration at the high price America demands before it will believe there is a problem in the first place.

People of color constantly have to rip open their wounds to prove to white America that racism is killing us. The videos are a blur of bottomless tragedy; a parade of pain where victims are often left screaming at officers: What did I do? Why won’t you help me?

And every time a new video emerges, black America asks that same question of the nation.

The challenge we face is summed up in a statistic from my book. I quoted a September 2011 study which found 46 percent of Americans believe discrimination against white people had become as big a problem as discrimination against racial minorities.

A study published in November 2017 by NPR, the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and Harvard University’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health came up with different numbers. In that study, 55 percent of white Americans said discrimination against white people exists and 63 percent of white Americans said local police were just as likely to use unnecessary force against white people as non-white people.

This is the question at the heart of so many political and social conflicts in America: The fight over the very existence of systemic racism and prejudice.

It’s one reason conservative-oriented Fox News Channel is often so tone deaf on issues of race. Many of the channel’s pundits resist the idea that systemic racism against people of color is a serious issue. Lots of conservatives have decried George Floyd’s death; but the question of whether that death is a result of a few bad cops acting out or a result of systemic overpolicing and overpunishing people of color is the real dividing line in this crisis.

When Fox News anchor Tucker Carlson interviewed Ted Cruz on the unrest in Minneapolis, both men were careful to note they were horrified by the actions of one officer, while extolling the bravery of most police officers. But what about the notion that police officers work inside a flawed system that can shield bad cops and make it tougher for good officers, regardless of their race, to stop something terrible as it is happening?

This “one bad apple” idea – a notion expertly dismantled by comedian Chris Rock years ago – was also advanced by White House National Security Advisor Robert O’Brien Sunday on Jake Tapper’s CNN show State of the Union.

“I don’t think there’s systemic racism,” O’Brien said during one exchange with Tapper, before praising “99.9 percent” of police officers. “But you know what, there are some bad apples in there.”

Given all the videos we all have seen of black people hurt or killed unfairly by law enforcement in recent years, that sure seems like a lot of bad apples. And again the question rises: How many videos do you need to see, before you consider another possibility? How much pain leads to contemplating another explanation?  

Of course, Donald Trump has only made a volatile situation worse. I think his actions are summed up by a phrase I read or heard someone else say about him years ago: He can’t help saying the quiet part out loud.

So when Trump tweeted about the unrest in Minneapolis on Friday, he called protestors “thugs” – a word sometimes used as demeaning code for unruly black people – and dropped the phrase “when the looting starts, the shooting starts.” That’s a saying traced back to a speech by 1960s-era Miami police chief Walter Headley, often accused of racist policing tactics during the civil rights era.

In another tweet, Trump promised protestors who came close to breaching the White House fence would be “greeted with the most vicious dogs, and most ominous weapons,” invoking another terrible image from the 1960s, when segregationist police would use attack dogs to break up civil rights marches.

The quiet part. Tweeted out loud.

As cable TV news was filled with reports on looting and unrest in cities across the country, I was struck by a tweet from celebrity comic Chelsea Handler, who posted “Something for all white people to think about. Reflect on our privilege and ask ourselves if we’ve ever had to protest for the lives of our white brothers and sisters.”

With all respect, I suggested something a little different. Perhaps white people should find one element in their lives that supports or reflects white supremacy: that Fox News-loving relative, the pal who posts terrible things on Facebook or the boss/coworker who says awful things about non-white people when he thinks they aren’t listening (guess what: we usually know, anyway).

Find one element and do something to address it. Do what you can to dismantle the system where you can.

Beyond that, governmental leaders of all stripes need to learn that platitudes and the “one bad apple” philosophy will not satisfy people who feel like an endangered species in their own country.

Don’t make us rip open another wound to prove something we have been telling you for a long time. Maybe this time, when black people say they need help, you could just listen. And then help.  

[stone-man-warrior]

June 11, 2020: 5:05 pm:

I just now returned from a trip into dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon, about thirteen miles from my home, where the entire town in a theme park, every last detail of every last person in the town is all panned and scripted in advance, for the advance of terrorism towards Global Domination. Everyone is either a Screen Actor Guild member, or a Canadian SDA terror soldier. The two groups have killed and replaced all of the people who once lived in the town, and replaced them. I went only to 6th Street Market and returned home. Upon leaving Jackpine, the Sentry/Scouts had already been alerted, and were on Three Pines Road and Monument Dr., and there were sentry/scouts who swarmed into the empty field near the Freeway onramp as I passed by there. The Freeway was showing the same traffic conditions that have become the norm over the years. The presence of an Amazon Prime big rig truck & trailer spells large scale murder events. There was a car wreck at the same corner where the same two cars crash into one another regularly. A “T-Bone” accident where a late model white pick-up is broadsided by a modern lime green small car at the intersection of 6th and NW Midland Ave., there is always a large Grants Pass Fire Service emergency vehicle on the scene, and one white, small pick-up truck marked “Grants Pass Public Safety”, and a flat bed wrecker for hauling away the two cars that crash there, as the script and screenplay provides that they will on occasion. There are never any people visible at the wreck site, only vehicles in the intersection, with flashing lights. The white pick-up truck marked “Grants Pass Public Safety” is one of the crew that does preparation and ushering services at the large killing events, such as the one’s that are held at the Bi-Mart store on 6th Street. The Grants Pass Public Safety truck joins and works with a motorcycle cop at the Bi-Mart events, they wear orange vests, have some orange cones, they park at the 6th Street entrance to the Bi-Mart, and make themselves look busy, while exposing victims who drive into the parking lot with Nitrous Oxide gas. The terror soldiers and SAG members, only use the rear entrance to Bi-Mart when the killing parties are happening. At the 6th Street store, there are groups of people who all work together to kill customers who go there. Today was the “Hot Dog in the Hot Car with Black Man” terror attack scenario. It includes that there is a dog in a car in the heat in June, it’s barking and crying as the store clerk terror operative is out in front of the store scouting for victims, about ten feet away from the Hot Dog In the Car. When someone shows up, see’s what is going on, there could be direction that the car and dog belong to someone who is at the Orchid Grill restaurant nest door. Anything could happen if someone were to go over to the restaurant to say something about the “Hot Dog in the Hot Car”. I don’t take the bait, so I don’t know the results. Then, the clerk follows the customer into the store, there was no one in there, and the clerk/Scout was out front. Two Seventh Day Adventist Canadian terror soldiers come into the store behind the customer victim, they were summoned by the clerk/Scout, and had been driving around in the nearby shopping areas to aid any of the store front clerks who summon them. They pull in to the parking, and come in after the customer. The two were a “SDA Mating Pair” today, one bald white man, and one heavy female, they hide their faces, release nitrous gas into the store near the victim. Then, a very tall black man comes in and stands behind the intended victim, he is an actor, is a SAG member there to appear intimidating. That is when the Clerk/Scout strikes with a sword, or a .25, or uses the ground-glass-dust weapon by blowing a hand-full of tiny glass shards into the eyes of the victim. That is when the SDA Mating Pair would offer first aid. The black man would just leave, stay outside, and look innocent at that point. I have seen all of this play out exactly the same way with the same people at the same store many times. I have suffered the glass shards many times. I have defended against a sword many times. I have been shot with a .25 caliber gun, many times.

After leaving safely, I decided not to go to Walmart today. I saw there was a impostor Oregon State Police at the top of Merlin Hill on the Freeway in the median on both trips to and from Grants Pass. Upon returning to Russell Road, there is a terror play that includes a live snake. The terror bastards expose a snake to the Nitrous gas, and put the snake onto the roadway stretched out long. The snake is unable to move, is in the road, in the middle. Several cars drive by, and swerve to avoid the snake, and also to make sure that I, the victim, see the snake in the road. If I park my car to get out and retrieve the snake from the road, as I always do when the terror bastards do this terror play, then, just as I am getting to were the snake is, a big pick-up truck comes by and runs the snake over intentionally just as I am about to pick it up out of the road. Today, the truck barely grazed the head of the snake, and I was able to pick it up, and put it a safe distance from the road, with a minor head injury. That has happened the exact same way, with the same people many times over many years. Someone follows me into the neighborhood on Jackpine after that, I may have been shot at while helping the snake, from the “Bad Guy Automotive Service” terror cell there across from where the snake was placed in the road. Russell Road and Three Pines road, the house on the corner with so many cars ad trucks in the driveway. As I approached my driveway, someone driving the Monroe A-1 Exterminator Pest Control van, black Nissan Quest, drove out from the Monroe terror cell, and that was accompanied by a black sedan that I did not recognize, was was there to protect Monroe. The van will be reported as stolen if they think they killed me, and I will be blamed for the theft. I don’t know where the black sedan went to, it’s not a local car. And a small white pickup that followed me onto Jackpine, but ahead of me, went into the Clyde Baum terror cell, and also is not a local vehicle. Jackpine is a dead end street, only residents and guests should be in here for the most part, but none of the usual home owner/terror cells are around any more, almost all of them seem to have been replaced with new terror cells. No “property sales“ have been listed lately. Even if there are property sales, it’s all fake, and part of the show that is #SAGcoup, Global Domination Mass Murder Take-over. End terror report 5:58 pm.

[stormcrawler75]

Taking a Different Path (No Matter How Different the Path) Chapter 4

Summary: In the past, the four escaped subjects raid Walmart for food and clothes. In the present, Roman deals with his brother's decision to go to College. Warnings: Mentions of stun guns and mentions of eating disorders.

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

January 4, 2001 2:19 AM

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

Logan looked the grocery store door up and nodded before giving Patton a firm nod. "Give me the babies," he ordered, holding out his arms. "You'll most likely need your full concentration for this."

"I don't know about this, Lolo," Patton said hesitantly as he passed the two sleeping babies over to Logan, who held them only semi-awkwardly. "The Doctors said that stealing was bad."

"They said that because they didn't want us to take extra food when it was in arm's reach," Logan explained with a sigh. "Something we did several times. It didn't bother you then."

Patton pouted at him and stomped his foot. "That was different! We were starving then-"

Logan arched an eyebrow and glanced down at the babies. "And they are starving now," he pointed out. And he was right. Other than stolen bottles of water, a banana, and a bottle of newborn milk stolen from an actual newborn, none of them had had a single thing to eat. And it was showing. Roman had lost some of his chub and the unnamed baby was a lot smaller than he should be. "They won't survive much longer without food," Logan said to Patton softly. "I know you don't like this but we need to do it."

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before Patton fixed his jaw and turned to the store's door, holding out his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan didn't look away from Patton, not even when he heard metal doors squeaked and strain as they were pried open. He worried for a moment that the noise would wake the babies but, very luckily, they remained quiet the entire time.

Patton gasped for breath when he stopped, doubling over and supporting himself against his knees. "D-did I do it?"

"You sure did," Logan said proudly, looking at the doors with a bright smile on his face. The metal doors had been pried open, leaving a nice sized hole for them to walk through. "You did amazingly, Patton. But-"

"I'm not done yet," Patton finished, wiping his forehead. He smiled at Logan tiredly. "Wait here. I'll be out in a little bit" Patton slipped inside the Walmart, leaving Logan standing outside with two very small and hungry babies in his arms.

Logan sighed and looked around nervously. He felt so vulnerable out in the parking lot without Patton watching his back. Doctors could be watching them from anywhere with stun guns waiting at their sides. Guards could be on their way over here to drag them all back to the Hospital with the Doctors waiting there to rechip them. He swallowed and pushed back those thoughts. They would do nothing to help anything right now. 

But, perhaps stepping into the shadows a little more would help.

"I am very glad that the two of you are asleep right now," Logan whispered, looking up at the moon. It was so beautiful when not looked at through a barred window. "The two of you would find this very upsetting. But it'll be alright. We will be getting you both some food right now. And something to carry you in." He smiled down at them gently. "And a book of names too. We need to find you a proper name, little one," he told the unnamed baby softly.

The response he got from the baby was nothing but a little grunt. Logan sighed. From his experience these last few days, grunts meant only one thing. He really hoped that this store had more diapers in it. 

He startled when Patton poked his head out of the hole in the door. His friend's face was drenched with sweat but he had a bright grin on his face. "Finished," Patton chirped. "Got all the cameras crushed into little balls and the people putting the things away knocked out!" He skipped out of the hole and held out his arms demandingly. "Now gimme one of the cuties! I'll get the diapers and carrier bags and you get some food Then we can both find some clothes for ourselves. 'kay, 'kay?"

 "Of course," Logan agreed. He passed Roman over to Patton and sighed in relief at being relieved of the extra weight. "We need backpacks too."

Patton nodded. "Got it!" He walked back inside and disappeared into the aisles. Logan took a deep breath and looked back down to the baby, just in time to see the baby's eyes open seconds before tired and hungry cries started up.

"Shhh, shhh," Logan cooed, rocking him back and forth as he walked inside. He grabbed a cart and awkwardly started to push it with one hand. "We're getting you food now, little one." He squinted up at the signs. His glasses had gotten chipped in the escape making it even harder to read than normal. But eventually, he found the aisle with all the baby food. 

There were so many different kinds.

Logan ended up grabbing plenty of the little jars with mashed foods inside, about ten boxes with bottles of something called "powered formula", newborn food, inside, and some little biscuits for Roman to chew on. Roman liked to chew on things ever since his teeth started to grow in. He also grabbed a sippy cup for Roman and a baby bottle for the baby.

Logan immediately broke the box full of formula opened and poured one of the bottles inside the baby bottle. He firmly put the top on and held it to the baby's mouth. "Come on then," he said gently. "I know it's cold but you gotta drink it."

It seemed that the baby didn't need the encouragement. Almost immediately, the baby latched onto the bottle and started to drink. Logan sighed in relief and paused, resting against the cart and smiling tiredly at his small burden. "There we are," he whispered. "I told you that I'd find a way for you to survive."

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

January 13, 2020 1:02 PM

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

Roman stared out his window with a sad expression on his face. His right wing was stretched out in front of him and he was slowly grooming it. His feathers had been puffing up so much lately that it was making it harder and harder to groom. And Roman knew that it was completely, totally, one hundred percent, his own damn fault.

Really, Roman should know better than to forget to groom his wings. Wing care was super important! How could he please Icarus' adoring fans with puffy feathers?! It just wouldn't do!

Before, Virgil would help groom Roman's wings but since Virgil was off to stupid College, Roman had to do it all by himself. 

College. Who even cared about something as stupid as College? College was dumb and stupid and you didn't learn anything important at College. Roman thought that College was the stupidest thing that his baby brother could've thought of.

His gave drifted over to the stolen Arts College poster he had ripped from a wall on one of his daily flights. His mood turned melancholy as he took in the picture of the man standing on a stage with roses littered around him. 'Yeah,' Roman thought with an air of jealousy that was somehow both general and directly pointed at Virgil. 'College is so stupid.'

Who cared that Virgil was going off to make new friends and leave his older brother behind? His older brother that was stuck inside all day except for when he was in costume? Roman certainly didn't care. And it didn't matter that Virgil was going off to be a terrific vet and start his own life. Roman had his own life. He didn't need his emo younger brother.

Roman sighed and flopped back on his canopy bed. "Who am I kidding," he muttered. Sadly, there was no answer to his open question. Rude. And before he realized what he was doing, Roman had his phone in his hands and was staring at Virgil's number.

He had made such an ass of himself these past few days. Going on live TV and telling everyone that there was going to be a new member of their team. Roman wasn't an idiot. Virgil was just as stubborn as him and wouldn't turn his back on stupid College, not now. All Roman did was make a complete fool of himself and got embarrassed by Logan carrying him off. And then sending that text this morning?! Ugh, no wonder Virgil stayed away from him! His older brother was the world's biggest drama Queen in the world!

But... if he admitted that he was wrong then he'd have to admit why and... Roman didn't think he could stand the pitiful looks from his normal looking brothers. It would just be too awful. And Roman would probably start crying and there was nothing worse than running eyeshadow.

Roman tossed the phone across the room. 

He sighed and turned onto his side, pulling his laptop over to him and pulling up his blog. He posted:

[Does anyone else get having something about you that draws so much attention and you love it? But you also hate that it draws so much damn attention?]

Roman sighed and rested his chin on his hand. This computer was the only normal interaction he got outside his brothers. And he really did love his brothers! He adored them! Patton was so supportive and he was finally gaining some more weight! Roman was so proud of him for eating more than he had before. He didn't think he had ever been so proud of his older brother than he had been when he saw a bit of chub on Patton's stomach at morning training. The morning training that his baby brother wasn't at.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd, welcome back bad mood! How good to see you again!

Roman pushed those awful feelings back and reminded himself to ask Logan to make him some hot chocolate. Logan made the best hot chocolate ever, even if he sometimes didn't mix the power all the way through. It was the thought that counted!

Just when Roman could almost taste that powerdy hot chocolate on his lips, his feathers bristled and he froze. He sat up clumsily and looked around wildly. The windows were closed and the door was locked shut. Roman shivered a little. For some reason, he felt like he was being watched.

Roman forced himself to stand up, his feathers puffed up behind him, and walk over to the window. He looked around nervously and couldn't seem to calm down even when he didn't see a single person outside. 'It was just a bird,' he tried to convince himself. 'Everything's fine.'

But even so, Roman drew the curtains closed. Like Logan always said, it was better safe than sorry. You never knew who was watching.

[ledenginelight]

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[keepswingin]

What about something with Wyatt and.Cobalt Silver? (I know I'm not much help)

so apparently the cobalt silver is the stuff that’s used in that part in flesh and bone in case anyone was wondering like I was lol but that’s all you really need to know for this one!

.

i’m here (but don’t count on me to stay)

.

There’s something about humans in their environment that makes his skin crawl.

He doesn’t like the way they eye him from their balconies, their laughter ceasing until there’s nothing but silence and hallow gazes that seem to sear his skin. He doesn’t like the way families huddle closer together as he passes, holding their children tight, because they still see him as threatening even with a grocery bag in one hand and a jug of milk clutched in the other.

He doesn’t like the teenagers that hang around the liquor stores, drinking from paper bags - whiskey mostly, he can smell it from down the street - obnoxious as they drone on and on with drunken babble no passerby listens to. He doesn’t like the loners either, the ones out in thick jackets with their hands stuffed into their pockets on a night that’s far from chilly.

Being out in a world that isn’t his, one he’s still learning about years later and still not fully used to, it puts him on edge, and the humans do nothing to make that edge any less sharp.

This place made Seabrook look like something out of a fairytale, he thinks to himself bitterly.

His phone chooses then to ring from his pocket, startling his already ansty heart. He exhales slowly as he shifts the jug of milk to his other hand, careful not to tip the grocery bag or shuffle around the donuts he had snuck in for himself with the things they had actually needed.

“Hello?” he answers as he shoves the phone beside his ear, keeping half an eye on the surrounding buildings bustling with activity around him.

“Hey,” Addison replies, and she sounds...worried? Something inside him twists suddenly, his eyes catching on a car that revs from where it sits at the light.

“You sound worried,” he tells her quietly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. He was probably overreacting because of this new city, with all these new people and all this new noise.

“Only a little,” she admits, and he can hear the pitch in the breath she releases, “are you close?”

He looks at the street sign at the corner he’s approaching - 5th Street - which is still a few roads over from where their apartment sits on 10th. He could cut through an alley, save some time, but he’s not really feeling an alley is the best way to go right now as he passes another family that goes out of their way to be away from him.

He sighs, “I’m still a few streets over.” He decides to cut right to the point. “What’s going on?”

“There was an armed robbery a few minutes ago and - “

He can’t help the scoff that escapes him. “So much for this place being safe,” he mutters.

“No city is safe,” his fiancée rebukes, a bit of an edge to her tone. He doesn’t answer, instead adjusting his grip on the milk. He should’ve gotten the half-gallon. “I’m sorry,” she says a moment later, “this place was supposed to be safe. Apparently it’s the first big crime around this place in a while so,” she trails off, and the irony isn’t lost on him.

“So we’re just lucky,” he finishes for her, and he’s successful in making her laugh at least. He smiles. There’s a cop car heading down the street, slow as it stops at the light, dark in the shadow of the full moon above. “Where was the robbery at?”

“Close enough for me to be worried that you’re out right now,” she says wryly, “they stole a bunch of stuff from the Walmart and the gas station next door. A few took off in a car, one took off on foot. The police haven’t found anyone yet.”

“Stealing from Walmart is a new low isn’t it?”

He watches as the cop car passes him, it’s tires crunching on the cracked pavement. Addison chuckles, “Were you able to get everything?”

The car makes a u-turn behind him - he can hear it, the sharp turn of the tires, the hiss of the engine - before pulling up next to him. The window rolls down, revealing an officer in his mid-forties with a goatee that’s turning grey.

“Hold on Ads,” he whispers, directing his attention to the police now rolling alongside him.

“Heading home?” the officer asks, his squadmate watching from the passenger seat.

“Late night shopping trip,” Wyatt answers with a light laugh before turning his attention back to Addison. “Sorry. Just some cops asking where I was going.”

“Why are they asking where you’re going?” He shrugs, and is hyper aware when the cop car rumbles to a stop.

“No idea.”

He keeps his voice as even as possible, not wanting to worry her more than she already is. “It’s a load of bullshit is what it is,” she responds, and it’s then that he hears boots behind him.

“Can you stop walking, wolf?” The same officer from before calls, raising his voice enough for passerby to stop and look and murmur amongst themselves.

Wyatt turns around, coming to a stop as the officers approach him. The older officer has his hands clasped together, but the younger officer - who barely looks old enough to be a cop - has his hand over something small on the back of his belt. Wyatt can’t see what it is but his heart is beating faster and faster by the minute.

“Something wrong officers?” he asks, calm and collected, Addison asking him what’s wrong with increasing panic from the phone line. “I’m just trying to get home to my fiancée for some late night movies.”

“Do you have your ID on you?” the older officer questions.

Inside he curses himself, because of course the one time he didn’t bring it with him he needed it - he hated carrying a wallet with a passion, something he still didn’t enjoy about human life one bit. He didn’t like anything weighing him down, in the forest that wasn’t the way things were done, but outside it, humans enjoyed carrying more than they needed.

Wyatt’s heart is thrashing against his ribcage now, his moonstone humming with more urgency, and something inside of him telling him to run. To leave, to get as far away as possible, because these officers were barking up the wrong tree, and he was at the center of it.

“No sir, I don’t,” he replies, “didn’t think I’d need it for a run to the store a few corners over.”

“Wyatt,” Addison begs from the phone, her voice crackling against his ear, horror stories from her father and from the history books flashing through her head. No police were good when it came to werewolves, or zombies, or anyone different.

He hears it before he sees it.

His eyes snap to the younger officer, to the thing he pulls from his belt.

It’s a small container, something printed on the side of the metal that he can’t see, and then it’s spraying in his direction, and even with the dodge he uses with a jolt of power from his moonstone, whatever it is that comes from the container catches the corner of his elbow and then his skin is on fire.

He cries out, the grocery bag falling to the ground, the jug of milk breaking open against rough cement, his phone skidding across the sidewalk.

He reaches for his elbow with his opposite hand, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin that’s bright red and burning silently, and his fingers begin burning before he can pull them back fast enough.

“Goddamn it!” he hears the older officer shout, two pairs of boots advancing toward him, but the fire is twisting and thrashing like his heart is, and when someone’s hands go to grab at the excat same elbow that’s burning, he growls and shoves them off.

His eyes flash brightly as he moves away from the men, but they push forward, their hands still reaching.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” the older officer contuines, his voice muffled in Wyatt’s roaring ears.

“It’s a fucking werewolf, no matter what we did it was just going to attack us anyway!”

One hand is successful in closing around his elbow, but that just closes the fire in, drags it across his skin, and he growls again and pulls back, but before he can get far there’s someone on top of him, attempting to pin him to the ground.

That same something from before is sprayed at his back, catching arms and sinking through his shirt to the skin underneath, fire everywhere, blossoming and igniting and rippling. His moonstone hums angrily and flashes bright blue as he pushes the men off him with little difficulty, and then stumbling to his feet and running, power flowing through his veins and making his legs pump faster.

He needs to escape, he needs to go, to run, because he doesn’t know what will happen later, but he also doesn’t want to find out what happens now if he sticks around. Nothing good, his brain supplies, if the fire still racing across his skin was any indication.

The pain distracts him from hearing the cock of a pistol, the action of a bullet being slotted into place from inside the gun.

He doesn’t hear the bullet.

He feels it, something rupturing his skin and mixing with the fire, and sees it, when the bullet brings him to a sudden stop, looking down and seeing dark red seep from the middle of his chest.

He brings his hands to the red, pressing his palms flat against it before pulling them back, almost in disbelief when he sees them slick with dark red liquid that should be inside his body, not outside it. He hears shouting, and screaming, and so many other noises, and before he knows what’s happening there’s the shattering sound of another bullet unloading into his back, and another, and another.

His moonstone hums, louder in his ears than the noise around him, and then everything goes black.

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 75

This past week has been kind of stressful, but today turned out to be a pretty good day. I got up early so I could hit Walmart as soon as it opened, figuring that the best time to hit up a superstore would be as early as possible on a holiday where people might like to be sleeping in. I also made an extremely detailed plan beforehand, using Walmart's app tools to locate every item on my shopping list and rewrite the list in order of where I could find the items, working my way from the back of the store to the front. In an unfamiliar Walmart, especially one with one-way aisles currently, this somewhat tedious task saved a _lot_ of time. As it turned out, Walmart is about a hundred times better than Food Lion at safety practices, and with the place nearly empty anyway, I felt at least as safe as at Publix, and a lot more at home. No cart wipers, but a lot of social distancing and masks on just about everyone. 

Why start at the back of the store? Because that is where the toilet paper is, of course. I did well, too, picked up twelve jumbo rolls of Ultra Soft and Strong, far better than the Toilet Paper brand toilet paper that was all I could get delivered. There wasn't a huge amount available, but there were several different brands. I was able to get everything on my list except yeast, which remains stubbornly unavailable, but luckily there is always beer bread. The good thing about shopping at Walmart is that when you spent two hundred dollars stocking up at Walmart, you feel like you're actually stocked up. My cart was _full._ We should not need more groceries for at least another week, and then maybe just a top up. 

The thing that actually took the longest was my detour all the way across the store into the toy department. I spent a long time (less than five minutes, but subjectively very long when you're speed-shopping) looking at the Razor scooters, wondering if that would let the kid burn off energy and have some fun. The cheapest one that would really fit him was fifty dollars, which is not beyond our reach, but I realized I could only see him enjoying it with other kids around. Riding around in the driveway and the cul de sac alone seemed depressing even in my head. So instead I picked him up some other things. I got a pack of two generic super-soakers and two little squirt guns, a bouncy ball sized for throwing or kicking, a nerf football, and a four-pack of bubble wands. Stuff that also wouldn't be fun to use alone, but that his dad or I could use with him. Something to play with, but also the implicit promise that we would play with him. (I also got him some bubble gum because he likes bubblegum and hardly ever gets it.) 

Anyway, I got the groceries home and unpacked, then I showed the kiddo his new things. He was _very_ excited. I promised him that when the temperature got warmer in the afternoon, we would put on old clothes and run around with squirt guns, and he immediately filled them up and went on the deck to start practicing. There was a lot of yelling and posturing in front of the window for the benefit of us inside. The bouncy ball was another hit, and we're going to save the bubble wands to take on a visit to Papa so he can see them too. 

I decided on salsa chicken for supper because it is easy and takes five minutes in the morning to put together. Basically you cover the bottom of your crockpot with chicken breasts (a big one takes four or five), dump a packet of taco seasoning on them, and cover the whole thing with an entire jar of salsa. (I like the Walmart brand black bean and corn because it is good and extremely cheap for a big jar.) Turn on your crockpot to low and let it cook all day. Sometime at least an hour before you serve it, shred the meat with two forks and then wait until it has soaked up most of the liquid to serve it. Put it on tortillas with your preferred taco stuff. It's delicious! MIL ate two of them, another sign she's feeling much better after being sickly yesterday. 

While the chicken was cooking all day, we did baked potatoes and salad for lunch, and then it was time for The Soakening. At first it was just the kiddo and me because my husband is deep into writing a book and is trying to make up for lost time in the past few weeks. We went out to the driveway and ran around squirting each other and shrieking, then went to the hose to refill our guns. We did that twice more before the kiddo realized that just using the hose would be a more efficient vector for getting really, really wet. I agreed on the condition that he got to be the one getting wet and I would hold the hose. He agreed, so we began a hilariously one-sided water battle of Kiddo vs The Hose. He got very, very wet. I got pretty wet too, but not as much. My husband came out and we were going to give him one of the big squirt guns, but he pulled out the two little guns and started squirting in a very treacherous fashion, so of course it was the hose for him! After that it was mostly anarchy, with a lot of me getting Supersoakered in the back while trying to drench my husband with the hose. And yelling, lots of yelling. 

It took about an hour until we were all exhausted and soaked through and decided to call it a day. We had to use towels on the porch so we didn't soak Nana's hardwood floors as we sloshed off to our rooms to change clothes. There was resting time after that, then the kiddo and my husband baked a chocolate cake from scratch that turned out pretty good, then supper, a documentary about baseball, two episodes of Avatar, and bedtime. The kiddo didn't come out of his room after bedtime because he was stressed or sad even once. He just went right to sleep. It was a pretty good day. 

[twdfanfic-multifandom]

“I’ve had worse scratches from my sister’s kitten”

*Set between season 3 and season 4*

****

"Can I slide in a small request?" Michonne said quietly, her face stern. You turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

"What is it?"

A moment of hesitation passed before Michonne finally spoke, the seriousness of her voice making you slightly nervous.

"Snickers. Kit-Kat. Butterfinger, whatever you can find. Please. I'm begging you." Desperation filled her voice as if her life depended on her single request for a candy bar. A laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head.

"I'll try my best, though I can't guarantee its freshness," you stated as you made a mental note to look for any form of chocolate on your supply run.

"As long as it has sugar and has more than a hundred calories, I don't care if it's decades old," Michonne retorted and offered you a small smile.

"Be safe," she instructed finally before turning away from you.

Daryl leaned against the car with arms crossed, waiting patiently for you. Tyreese already had the engine running, and soon the three of you were exiting the prison grounds. The sun was fresh and sharp having just risen, and the blinding golden rays streamed through the windows. From the backseat, you watched as golden strips of light cut across Daryl's skin, almost making him glow. He looked beautiful. He absentmindedly chewed on a fingernail while he and Tyreese exchanged quiet conversation.

An aura of tiredness filled the car. It was early, and runs weren't a fun part of surviving - though they were necessary. The prison ran out of food quickly despite the rationing, so scavenging for supplies became more frequent. Most of the time it was you and Daryl out hunting for food. The two of you worked exceptionally well together - your bubbly yet sarcastic disposition paired well with his hostility and dryness, and you found yourself enjoying time with Daryl. He was cold and stern, but beneath the tough exterior was a heart of gold. You'd clearly seen that throughout the months. This was occasionally reinforced by meaningful conversations shared between the two of you on late night watches, or laying beside a fire in the woods. He was a good person.

"Y/n, you still awake?" Tyreese said loudly, making you wince.

"Am now, asshole," you joked with a small chuckle, and Daryl glanced at you out the corner of his eye, his lip tugged up at the corner.

After a few more minutes, the entered into a desolate town and the three of you stepped out, weapons ready. Everything looked ransacked. Windows were smashed in, and walls were covered in graffiti. The end is here. Repent and get saved. They're coming. We're all dead. You're dead.

A small chill ran down your spine, and the two men also seemed unsettled by the writing on the wall. It was hard to get used to things like that. It added to the feeling of impending doom that always seem to loom at the back of everyone's minds. Walkers snarled in the distance. None of them seemed nearby, but everyone knew it was best to get in and get out before they became a problem.

"There," Tyreese pointed out a large building with a faded sign - what once was presumably a Walmart. Quickening up the pace, you headed into the building.

Daryl stepped protectively in front of you, crossbow raised. He scanned the massive room before walking forward towards the shelves.

"Let's split up," you suggested in a whisper. The large man nodded before Daryl interjected.

"No, no way. Ya stick with me," he instructed, making you roll your eyes despite the warmth that filled your heart.

"I can fight. It'll be quicker if we split up," you motioned to your gun and knife.

"She's right," Tyreese agreed, earning a glare from the archer. After a moment he reluctantly agreed, and we went different ways.

The shelves were not entirely empty, but most of the canned goods were gone. The only things left were the things most people didn't want to eat - beans, tuna, clams, vienna sausage. You placed the available tins in your backpack before heading to the candy aisle. Your heart sunk when you saw that it was totally barren. All the racks were empty, save for a single bag of marshmallows that had been ripped open and spilled all over. Defeated, you dropped to your knees.

"Why the candy?" You muttered bitterly to yourself, letting out a huge sigh.

"Ya say something?" Daryl called out from somewhere else in the store, and you shook your head stupidly before realizing that he couldn't see you.

"Just talking to myself," you called back. In a last effort, you bent down to scan the deep dark depths beneath the metal shelving. Shining you flashlight underneath, all there was to be seen was an ungodly amount of spiderwebs and dust. Then something glinted in the artificial light. Desperately you crawled forward to reach for the shining object. With a crinkle, you pulled out the dusty bar. Baby Ruth. Hell yeah. A big smile plastered onto your face and you pocketed the candy bar - Michonne was going to be happy. She hadn't asked for anything since arriving at the prison. All she did was help out as much as she could and stayed out of the way. The two of you had become close friends in the short time that Michonne had been at the prison, but it might as well have been years of friendship. It sure as hell felt that way sometimes.

"Guys we got company!" Tyreese yelled, snapping you out of your daze. Raising your gun you shot up off the floor and headed towards the sound of his voice, now noticing hungry growls.

"Holy shit."

A steady stream of walkers flowed through the single open door of the Walmart, while dozens more were pressed against the large window panes, blocking your exit. Arrows fired from beside you, and you glanced at Daryl. He was focused. You and Tyreese followed suit, firing your guns at the grotesque and hungry walkers. Their jaws snapped loudly. With a sudden shatter, one of the large window panes gave in under the pressure of the walkers, allowing them entrance.

"Shit," Daryl muttered. Fear pulsed through you as you kept firing, though it seemed pointless. The unmistakable click of an empty mag sent frustration coursing through your head. You flung your gun towards a biter with only half a face, then pulled out your knife. Rushing forward into the oncoming creatures, you stabbed them relentlessly in their decaying heads, one by one.

"We gotta go," Tyreese said breathlessly as he motioned towards the rest of the building. There had to be another exit. You nodded as you turned away from the creatures and hurried towards Daryl, who placed a warm hand on your arm.

"Ya okay?" He asked quietly, his low voice rumbling through your chest. His eyes were simultaneously cold and warm, paradoxical like him. Soft and hard. Cold and warm. Where his fingers touched your skin sent waves of electricity through your body, making your stomach tighten.

"Yeah," you breathed softly, your eyes staring straight into his.

"Seriously guys, not the time. We gotta go now."

With the moment broken, the three of you ran through the array of shelves. In the distance was another loud shatter. Then another. Then another. No more glass. Panic rose in your chest along with the increasing sense of urgency. They were coming, fast. Tyreese fired his last few rounds at the herd of walkers that just rounded the corner, and Daryl continued to fire his arrows - which would eventually run out.

"Tyreese, find the exit. We'll hold them off," you barked as you stabbed your blade through a half-exposed temple. The man paused for a moment, contemplating arguing, then nodded and headed out of sight. One particularly gross walker had been split up the torso, and its bowels hung out of it like putrid sausage. Its jaw hung limply from its rotting face, tongue lolling out like a smelling slab of meat. Bile rose in your throat and you shut your eyes.

It was a stupid thing to do.

Suddenly you were down on the ground. Fingers clawed at your ankle and a new set of nails clawed at your stomach, ripping open your skin. A small scream erupted from you as you shoved your arm forward, blocking the thing from chewing your face. A series of other pains burned their way onto your body like fire, and tears streamed down your face.

The walker by your face suddenly stilled, as did the other ones surrounding you. In one swift motion, Daryl pulled you up into his arms and sped towards a small, dingy bathroom. The fear in his eyes seemed to scare you more than the intensity of the situation.

He threw down his crossbow and instantly surveyed your wounds, paying attention the scratches on your abdomen. Blood seeped out of the slits and onto the beige tiled floor, making you feel slightly sick.

"Shit, y/n," Daryl's voice was laced with panic. His hands pressed against the wounds to stop the bleeding.

"It's not so bad. I've had worse scratches from my sister's kitten," you joked, though your attempt at humor failed miserably. Anger flashed across the man's face.

"This ain't a joke, y/n!" He yelled, making you flinch. Black spots danced into your vision and you shook your head slightly. It only made you more dizzy.

"You're right. The joke is you focusing on the scratches," you said lazily, staring into Daryl's fearful eyes. A puzzled expression crossed his face. Sighing, you pulled yourself into a half-sitting position before pulling off your tattered shirt. Daryl blushed heavily before turning to a deathly pale shade when he spotted the fresh bite in the side of your torso.

"No, no, no. No," he said repeatedly, his hands suddenly by the bite as if he could heal it. he couldn't. His head shook repeatedly, shaking free a few teardrops which spilled onto your blood-soaked skin.

"'S okay, Daryl," you said softly, gently placing your hand on his warm arm. Death was inevitable. Everyone knew that.

"Don't you dare say that," Daryl growled.

"It really is, it's okay. I'm not afraid of dying," you reassured him, though it was a lie. Everyone is afraid of dying. Especially when they have to die in front of the person they loved.

"Ya ain't gonna die. I'm not lettin' that happen. Ya gonna be fine, y/n. Ya gonna be fine," the archer's voice was now thick, choked by tears. Your own tears spilled onto your face as you watched him stare helplessly at your dying body.

"Don't let me turn."

Daryl looked at you, and for the first time you saw that he was broken. His mouth was turned down at the corners, and tears spilled down his cheeks in a steady flow, hair covering his face. Your hand found his blood-covered one as you passed him the Baby Ruth bar, also covered in blood. Your blood.

"Please give this to Michonne," you whispered and your eyes slowly fluttered shut. You were tired.

"Open ya eyes, y/n. Stay with me. Stay awake," Daryl pleaded as he gripped your hand, his other hand on your overheating face. It was now a battle whether you would die from blood loss or from the infection. This was one competition that you wished neither would win.

"I'm just tired," your voice was barely audible, sending blind fear through Daryl's body.

He never got close because he knew this day would come, but now it was here, he wish he did. He wished he'd told you how he felt. He wished he'd spent every single waking second with you, rather than attempt to distance himself. But now it didn't matter, because you were dying and it hurt all the same. God, how it hurt.

"Stay with me," Daryl pleaded finally, before he did it. Heart beating so fast he thought it would explode, Daryl place both hands on the side of your face and gently placed his lips against yours. All the times he wanted tell you how he felt, all the times you'd shared watching the stars, all the moments of ineffable feelings between the two of you filled that single kiss. His lips against yours felt like his heart growing warm and his heart shattering at the same time. It was warm because he loved you. It shattered because he knew that he would never be able to kiss you again. He would never be able to have more moments with you.

"Finally," you muttered weakly when you broke apart. Your heart would have been beating fast if it weren't pumping slowly and thickly from blood loss. New tears lined your face as you stared into Daryl's swollen eyes. Your heart broke at the sight.

"'S okay, D."

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, placing his forehead against yours. He felt your warm, slow breaths against his face. The words were about to leave his lips; those three words that he'd been itching to say for the longest time. But then he realized it didn't matter anymore, because he no longer felt your breaths on his face. They had stopped. You were gone.

[ausfallen]

EL PASO, Texas — Lawyers for the man charged with shooting scores of people in a racist attack at El Paso's Cielo Vista Walmart say their client has diagnosed mental disabilities that should be a “red flag” for federal prosecutors considering whether to seek the death penalty.

Patrick Crusius “has been diagnosed with severe, lifelong neurological and mental disabilities” and was treated with antipsychotic medication following his arrest moments after the massacre in El Paso, his attorneys wrote in a court filing. (You can read the entire document at the end of this article.)

The shooting left dozens wounded and ultimately killed 23 people. Soon after it, Crusius’ lawyers say, jail mental health staff found the 21-year-old to be in a “psychotic state.”

Crusius’ mental health conditions, which have not been previously reported, were revealed in a request by his lawyers for more time to investigate these “mitigating themes” because of the coronavirus pandemic.

The court record also states Crusius was in special education for much of his schooling, but does not elaborate on his mental health. A lawyer for his family, Christopher Ayres, declined to comment.

Crusius was arrested soon after the Aug. 3 shooting. Police later said he confessed to driving to El Paso from his home near Dallas to target Mexicans. Soon before the attack, he posted a racist screed online that railed against Hispanics coming to the U.S., according to prosecutors.

Crusius pleaded not guilty in a state case where prosecutors are seeking the death penalty but has not entered a plea to the scores of hate crime and gun charges he faces in federal court. A trial date has not been set in either case.

Conviction on the federal charges could also come with a death sentence, and Crusius’ lawyers said in their Saturday court filing that prosecutors had indicated they’ll proceed with a decision about what sentence to seek by July 30.

David Lane, a Colorado-based defense attorney, wrote that this schedule would violate Crusius’ constitutional rights because the virus has stalled their investigation of issues the government must consider.

Lane, who is 65, said safety concerns have blocked the defense team from doing in-person interviews since mid-March, including with Crusius, who is jailed without bond. He asked the judge to schedule a discussion of these issues for October.

Federal prosecutors are opposing the request and have said the attorney general will decide whether to seek the death penalty. They did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

Lane declined to comment, saying the “the motion speaks for itself.”

This is all BULLSHIT.

WHAT INVESTIGATION? As if multiple eyewitnesses and footage from store and cellphone cameras isn't "enough" to convict you?

You don't get the right to claim "mental disability" for your pathetic defense when you had the clear cognition and motive to drive 9 HOURS across the state to commit a massacre on innocents. It doesn't change the fact that you MURDURED so many innocent people that were just shopping and fundraising for school. It doesn't change the fact that you HATE us to the point of killing a child.

You don't get to tarnish mental disabilities with your hateful rhetoric.

I'm not able to share the whole court filing, but it is available in the article link above. This is so upsetting and frustrating.

Posted here on July 13, 2020