#c: blackburn

[lgbtqreads]

Fave Five: Queer Literary Fiction about Grief and Mourning

Mostly Dead Things by Kristen Arnett Dead in Long Beach, California by Venita Blackburn You Made a Fool of Death With Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi Some Hell by Patrick Nathan Broughtupsy by Christina Cooke Bonus: Coming next month, Model Home by Rivers Solomon

[caliburn-the-sword]

your initial, your reminder: tlc character edition

L: perhaps if you hadn't been so reckless, things wouldn't have ended the way they did

I: everyone you love will leave you one by one. until you have no one left, and you are all alone

K: you left them when they needed you the most, and they paid the price for it

S: you will never get to be the girl you once were, the one without the weight on her shoulders

Z: if only you had communicated properly, you wouldn't have driven away the ones you love

C: no matter how hard you try, you will never be able to connect with your peers as well as or as easily as they can with each other

T: you're just waiting for everyone else to realise what you already know: that you're not a good person

W: you will never truly know if someone sincerely loves you, or if they just have something else to gain

J: it will be impossible to absolve for the things you've done, no matter how good the intention was

[words-of-tomatoes]

Wolf’s eyes widen as Jacin pulls him in, momentarily caught off guard by the doctor’s willingness to show physical affection. He knows that Jacin finds it awkward, knows that he typically doesn’t let anyone aside from Winter and, on occasion, a very stubborn Iko this close to him. Gratitude washes over him as he lets go of Jacin’s hand, dipping his head in acknowledgement of Jacin’s words. It’s what any friend would do. While he doesn’t know if that can be said for everyone’s friends, he does know that it can be said for every member of the tight-knit group they’ve created for themselves over the past few years. 

--- 

Wolf’s muscles are tense the entire walk down the hallway as they approach the room where Scarlet waits. Waits is a looser term, Wolf soon comes to realize however, as he takes in her still-unresponsive form looking far too small in the hospital bed. His nose wrinkles at the overwhelming wrongness that masks what usually makes up Scarlet in his mind, but the sight of her at least calms his nerves somewhat. 

His gaze doesn’t stray from her face even as both the nurse and Jacin address him, his only acknowledgement to hearing the words being a small nod as they finish speaking. He hesitates for a long moment before walking slowly to her side - the one without the IV marring its skin. He crouches down carefully and cups her hand in his, both thumbs brushing gently over her knuckles before he presses a kiss to the back of her hand, holding it against his skin as his eyes fall shut for just a moment. Just a moment, he tells himself as he breathes in. 

Continued from x; @words-of-tomatoes

[ac-19]

T-Shirt - C. Spenser (Bravo 6)

Summary: you wore Clay's shirt to an op by accident.

When I got the call for the op, I was at Clay's apartment, so I got dressed as quickly as possible. Clay and I headed out in separate cars to keep our cover intact with the team and headed to base. Briefing was on the plane, so we barely had a minute to get settled before we took off and briefing took place.

I could feel the heat radiating off Clay's body as he stood behind me as Jason briefed us. Jason turned his back to talk to Blackburn, and I felt Clay's breath on my ear.

"Is that my shirt?"

I quickly looked down at myself and realized I was, in fact, wearing Clay's shirt. In the hurry, I guess I didn't realize that I grabbed his shirt instead of mine. In my defense, we had gone for a run that morning, and I was wearing an oversized t-shirt with some biker shorts when I got to his place so this was the same look I had on prior just a different shirt.

I swiftly grabbed my jacket that laid on my gear pack which was set off on the right side.

"You good there princess?"

I looked over at Sonny and nodded.

"You know I'm always cold."

He nodded, and he looked between Clay and I, and I diverted my attention back to Jason as Blackburn spoke up.

"Listen up, guys, we're receiving more intel, so for now, sit tight. We'll brief you in soon."

We all nodded, and all went out separate ways to make sure our gear was squared away.

"I don't believe it."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked back at Sonny.

"What are you going on about Sonny?"

"You and Blondie are sleeping together."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"That's Clay's shirt that you're wearing. I know that because he wore it leaving the base yesterday."

I grabbed onto Sonny's arm and pulled him away from prying ears and eyes.

"You tell anybody about this I'm going to come and kill you in your sleep understood?"

"Copy that princess. But it's about damn time."

I rolled my eyes as I went back to checking out my gear and before I knew it Clay was sitting beside me.

"Sonny knows."

I nodded.

"I know."

"Said you threatened to kill him in his sleep if he told anyone."

I chuckled.

"I thought of it more like a promise but yeah."

Clay chuckled.

"You look good in my shirt by the way."

I smiled as Jason walked past us.

"Get back to work Spenser."

"Yes, sir."

I chuckled as I watched Clay walk over to his gear pack. I caught his eye, and he smiled as he winked at me. I shook my head as I turned my head and looked down at myself. I couldn't believe I had worn Clay's shirt to an op.

[enigma2meagain]

RESTRICT Act: The TikTok Ban is a Smokescreen for PATRIOT ACT 2.0. EDIT: KOSA and EARN IT Act are also back.

EDIT: So now we not only have RESTRICT to worry about, but we also have the EARN IT Act and the Kids Online Safety Act to deal with.

See here for my previous post on it. Fuck Blumenthal and Blackburn for trying to bring back two pro-censorship bills on top of the RESTRICT Act.

And Evan provides some insight on it.

EDIT: SO it turns out that Meta IS partly behind this, but it’s also due to Silicon Valley AND the government wanting more power and control. More information in the links provided below.

EDIT: List of Sponsors has been removed for easier reading. You can still find the list in the Link to the bill itself.

EDIT: Meta-related information apparently incorrect. Updated for accuracy.

----

Here is a link to the bill:

----

This RESTRICT Act is EXTREMELY authoritarian and violating privacy and the 1st Amendment. It’s being disguised as being about banning TikTok, but it’s VASTLY overreaching and basically gives far too much power to the government.

How bad is this bill? Bad enough that pretty much every side of the political spectrum opposes this bill once they took a closer look at it beyond the TikTok smokescreen.

The following points were articulated succinctly by tumblr user @logan-galbraith (used with permission):

This act, while saying it's to insure American's personal information will be safe from foreign powers, it goes much deeper than that.

It will give the United States Government the power to remove and ban ANY online service they deem "a security risk" while making it so they do not need just cause and do not need to clarify or release a public statement.

It allows them the power to gather American's data without our knowledge or consent and even force us to submit documentation for anything they wish.

It protects the government from scrutiny on this, and if you try to speak about it and inform people on what it ACTUALLY allows, they can claim it to be false information and charge you.

It prevents you from using a VPN as it's seen as a breach of information security, thus they can charge you. (Uncertain on accuracy. Crossed out until more concrete information is revealed)

Failure to abide by these "guidelines" can lead to a fine up to ONE MILLION DOLLARS and/or 20 YEARS in prison.

And above all it does NOTHING to prevent AMERICAN companies from collecting and selling your data.

It doesn't matter what political party you're on, because BOTH parties in office want this. This is not about sides. This is about the ENTIRE government stripping our rights away so they can keep lining their own pockets.

And that’s what the TikTok ban really is; a smokescreen for Congress to grab more power. This is the PATRIOT ACT VERSION 2. This has BIPARTISAN support and approval from the Biden Administration.

The scary part is that this bill is being approved under THIS administration...and it’s STILL incredibly bad.

What would end up happening if an openly fascist leader were brought into power? All of sudden, ANYONE and ANYTHING could become a target or considered an adversary under the flimsiest of pretenses.

What should YOU do?

Well, the same thing as past horribly invasive bills like EARN IT and KOSA; we make a LOT of noise, and get the word out.

While there has been increasing amounts of negative press and opposition on this bill, it’s hard to tell how much this has really slowed thing down. As such, getting the word out on how bad this bill is CRUCIAL. Make it EXTREMELY CLEAR that the TikTok ban is just a smokescreen, and that this is nakedly authoritarian and dangerously unconstitutional.

And PLEASE call your Senators.

Find your 2 senators numbers here.

Fax them, email them.

Tell them they MUST oppose this bill. Calmly make it clear to them that if they support this bill, then you will vote for someone else who doesn’t go along with this blatant act of authoritarian intent. CONTACT any major human rights and cybersecurity related organizations and let them know about this bill. Get this out to any local news groups that you can.

There’s some petitions by groups like ACLU: https://go.peoplepower.org/letter/tiktok-ban

They are betting on people being blissfully ignorant of this, that it’s “Just about a Silly App”, so they will not expect you to contact them about this. They are trying to weasel this through in order to give themselves more power, and we won’t be able to do anything about it without the risk of being jailed or censored.

Here’s a part of a rough script if you need one. Add in more based on what is relevant:

"Just to make you aware I do not support the TikTok ban and I do not support the Restrict Act. If this bill is passed I will not support any official who supports that bill. Instead, I will be spending all my time and energy supporting your opponents in the primaries."

----

A list of links/citations:

Truthout Article 4/02/2023: Restrict Act Critics Call the Far-Reaching “TikTok Ban” Bill a “Patriot Act 2.0”

Dailydot Article 3/10/2023: “The RESTRICT Act isn’t about banning TikTok—it’s designed to force a sale”

Lawfareblog.com 3/23/2023: “Two New Bills on TikTok and Beyond: The DATA Act and RESTRICT Act”

Reuters Article 3/28/2023: “If TikTok is banned, brace for epic First Amendment fight”

VICE Article 3/29/2023: The 'Insanely Broad' RESTRICT Act Could Ban Much More Than Just TikTok

Reason Article 3/31/2023: The RESTRICT Act Would Restrict a Lot More Than TikTok

ArsTechnica Article 3/31/2023: Meta can’t buy TikTok, so it hired GOP operatives to run a smear campaign

https://twitter.com/evan_greer/status/1642721929013362688?s=46&t=9ilK5pqP73XDblTtTbb4Qg

https://twitter.com/Imani_Barbarin/status/1640527908790837250?t=nTf7qCAcXB1s1RE-fb2Cwg&s=19

----

[freetheshit-outofyou]

"

Ner-a-Car ca. 1924   Model  “C “   350 cc side valve Blackburne  

During WW1 American Carl Neracher designed a motorcycle that should be clean, easy to operate, stable, comfortable and reliable.   He came up with an unusual machine that was constructed more like a car than  like a motorcycle; it had no frame but a chassis made of beams,  221 cc two stroke engine, friction drive and hub-centre steering. This rather unique means of transport  was  aptly named  the Ner-a-Car. Nearacher had some trouble to find investors and manufacturers for his machine. In 1919 he signed an agreement with the British Sheffield Simplex firm to produce the Neracar for England and its Colonies, excepting Canada. Production started in 1921.  Having found financial support in the USA as well, the Ner-a-Car Corporation started production in Syracuse, N.Y. in 1922.  In November 1922 Cannonball Baker rode a Neracar from New York to Los Angeles, a distance of 5420 kilometres. He averaged 30 Km/h and used 2.7 litres of petrol per 100 kilometres. In less than 8 days he spent 179 hours in the saddle… In 1923 the  model B with larger front mudguard and 285 cc engine was brought out in England. A year later the model C came out, powered by a 350 cc Blackburne engine and fitted with a conventional clutch and gearbox.  This rare  model “C”is unrestored." Source

[bantarleton]

Thomas Dowdeswell, by Joseph Blackburn c. 1778. Dowdeswell was a Lieutenant and Captain (a ranking convention peculiar to the Brigade of Guards that I won’t get into here) in the 1st Foot Guards during the American Revolution, and this portrait shows him in the modified campaign uniform he wore in the early years of the conflict.

Superficially it follows what we might expect from an officer’s garb, but differs from standard regulations in many interesting ways. Firstly, Dowdeswell’s hat is not the cocked “tricorn” (to use the later term) that we’re used to – it’s been modified by being cut down into a small round hat, with the lace left off and only one side pinned up, plus a few feathers.

He carries a fusil and bayonet and the accoutrements that go with it – belting and a cartridge pouch, making him appear in this regard almost indistinguishable from a regular private soldier. It seems he doesn’t have a sword. He has kept his gorget and sash, but removed the gold lace from around his buttons. In fact, his regimental coat has been cut down to a jacket, with the skirts shortened.

Besides these more obvious modifications, there are many minor ones that set him apart, from the pointed design of the cuffs to the slender trim of white cord around his collar and turnbacks. It is an ensemble that doesn’t match most regulations, but fits with reality.

Officers rarely modified their uniforms wholesale during the war, but nor were they all strident followers of the 1768 regulations. The traditional rank signifiers of sash, gorget and epaulettes were sometimes present in different combinations. Not, of course, that a formal portrait necessarily denotes exactly what was worn during active service, but in Dowdeswell’s case he seems to have specifically worn his “campaign uniform.”

There are further caveats to this – the Brigade of Guards made a lot of specific uniform modifications prior to deploying to North America in 1776, but didn’t keep all of them up throughout the war. Officers dressed differently in different theatres and at different times.

But I think the Dowdeswell portrait gives a nice indication of some of the variation at play. Much of this comes from the brilliant research of Professor Gregory Urwin, who has studied and analysed hundreds of portraits of British officers from the period. For the full modifications undertaken by the Brigade of Guards in 1776, see this excellent article by William W. Burke and Linnea M. Bass https://www.military-historians.org/company/journal/guards/guards.htm 15/15

[transkeiichi]

update on my house:

lower 2 ft of walls and all floors have been ripped up, nearly every single piece of furniture has been trashed, all appliances have been trashed. our clothes were high enough in the closets that they are okay. many sentimental items were put up high to keep out of the water.

todays agenda is ripping out the a/c duct work and beginning the process of scooping mud out from our crawlspace.

our gofundme is up to $6k but that is a drop in the bucket of home repairs. my brother does construction stuff so he is trying to get us some deals on material but that is still uncertain.

yesterday, both governer bill lee and our congresswoman marsha blackburn stopped by house. we have given licensing rights to storyful to sell our videos to news agencies, and we are talks with fox weather for an interview.

everything is so crazy and happening so fast. there are dozens of volunteers all over our street helping remove debris and other manual labor, not to mention people delivering food, water, and hygiene products to us.

my whole body is sore, my legs are covered in bruises from stuff slaming into me while we were inside and the water was so rough. my cousin lives in asheville and its like a warzone there, she is hoping to get out sometime today because she hasnt taken a shower or had a hot meal since friday, or probably thursday even since it hit so early in the day.

the cats act like nothing bad has ever happened to them in their life...our dog is staying with my brother who has 4 dogs already so he is well taken care of at least even if we miss him like crazy. we saw our outdoor cat* the day after the flood, but we havent seen him again because there was no way to get him calm enough to move locations, a neighbor saw him get swept away before he saved himself so im sure hes terrified, but we have food out and a little house for him were hoping he will come back to at night when all the craziness is less.

i wish i could be there helping but i honestly feel im just in the way. i feel so overwhelmed when im there and everytime the rain starts i panic. i went back to work yesterday so i can make some money to support us a little more for now. i should get paid for my friends wedding dress either today or tomorrow depending on when i can go see her.

every day gets a little easier, but also more difficult. its starting to sink in just how different my life is and will be for who knows how long.

[hxtties]

If she was looking to spread the word of God, she came to the wrong place. If she was looking to get her pussy worked over until it couldn't take so much as a single lick anymore? Well, let's just say Lola's all too willing to dish that out in spades. And from the state of Abigail, it wasn't hard to tell: she'd never gotten it like this before. A shame for a looker like her not to get the attention that pussy deserves. But Lola's going to make up for lost time and then some. Every lick, every suck. Every thrust of her fingers. Every last movement the brunette made was being dedicated to not just push Abigail to the edge, but to push her over it as many times as she could. One hand would grasp at her now parted, shaking thighs. Two fingers slowly thrusting as deep as they could be sent. Juices dripping down her hand. It's amazing just how wet the blonde had gotten already. And despite the attention the poor girl was getting towards her clit, Lola would soon work in a third finger for good measure. The sob she pulled out of the blonde was music to her ears. Lola's going to make her crumble before long...

muse — abigail chamberlain. 20s. bisexual but closeted. preacher's daughter. lili reinhart fc. plot — abby was doing her father a favor going door to door to spread His word, but your muse invited her in and she was helpless to comply...

"...I swear..." Panting softly between the words, head tilting back and chest rising and falling with deep breath. "...I... I really did want to... Talk about..." But their tongue swiped across her clit, making her stomach clench and body shiver, a small sound leaving her as she closed her eyes. "....oh, God...!" let out in a hushed whisper, their fingers deeper inside her, sparking such bold electric shocks through her body. "....I'm sorry.... I'm sorry, Father..." Whether she meant her own father, the preacher, or the heavenly one, she couldn't quite tell, not with the way they stroked their fingers inside of her like that. Her legs widening further and further with each deeper stroke. Her hand reaching for their hair, feeling her thighs shaking as she felt their lips wrap around the bud and suck so hard she could hear it. As well as the sinfully wet sounds of their thrusting fingers, how many, she lost count. "...I'm so wet... I'm so we--God...!" she whimpered, a sob pulled out of her.

"Don't stop."

[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers: Chapter Eight

Summary: Sam, Dean and Julia take on Louisiana to investigate a case, when they reunite with one of Julia's old friends. The four get to dress up in some snazzy clothes for a gala they fandangled their way into.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC: Julia Blackburn ]

Warnings: Mostly flirting and a decent amount of disappointment

Word Count: 5, 039 words

Author's Note: I dont know what New Orleans is like but this is just on vibes. Also hope everyone enjoys it. Kinda made myself sad if thats even possible.

Chapter Six; Chapter Seven

As the trio ventured into New Orleans, they found themselves enveloped by the city's vibrant tapestry. The streets buzzed with energy, a mix of historic charm and lively contemporary culture. Colorful buildings with wrought-iron balconies lined the streets, and the air carried the tantalizing scents of Creole cuisine, intermingled with the distant melody of jazz and the buzz of lively conversations. Sam directed Dean through the bustling streets towards the French Quarter, the heart of the city's ancient allure, where Julia was scheduled to meet Chelsea.

Pulling up in front of a quaint restaurant nestled among the vibrant tableau of the Quarter, Julia leaned forward to address both Sam and Dean. "I'll catch up with you guys at the Four Seasons Hotel this afternoon. Have fun doing your detective thing," she quipped, her voice light but laced with a hint of anticipation for the day ahead. Without thinking, she pressed a quick kiss to Dean's cheek, a spontaneous gesture of affection.

Realizing the intimacy of her action, Julia swiftly turned to Sam, mirroring the gesture with a kiss on his cheek as well, her face flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment at her own boldness. Sliding out of the car, she paused before closing the door, a playful seriousness taking over her tone. "Oh, and don't forget—we need you two looking sharp tonight, so make sure you've got your suits ready," she reminded them, then quickly turned and disappeared into the restaurant to meet Chelsea.

Dean, momentarily stunned by Julia's kiss, watched her leave with a mix of amusement and a hint of something deeper. As the door closed behind her, he turned to Sam, a smirk slowly forming on his lips, his earlier surprise morphing into his usual confident demeanor. "Well, looks like we've got orders to dress to impress tonight," he said, the smirk evident in his voice as well. "Better make sure those suits of ours are up to the gala standard, huh, Sammy?" His tone was teasing, yet there was a clear undercurrent of excitement about the evening's potential. The day in New Orleans was shaping up to be anything but ordinary, and Dean was ready to embrace whatever the city had in store for them.

Sam and Dean made their way into the heart of the vibrant city, their mission leading them to the local sheriff's office. Inside, they were greeted by the sheriff, a man whose weary eyes spoke volumes of the mysteries and burdens that came with his badge. He briefed them on the recent string of disappearances, noting the victims were all from wealthy, high society backgrounds, yet the details of their vanishings remained elusive, shrouded in uncertainty.

"Do any of these disappearances have a connection to the Cartwrights?" Sam inquired, his tone serious and probing. He leaned forward slightly, indicating his keen interest in finding a link that could unravel the mystery they were diving into.

The sheriff sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice as he responded, "Most likely. The Cartwrights are an old, wealthy local family. Been around for centuries." It was clear from his tone that the influence of the Cartwright family was both well-known and pervasive, a constant undercurrent in the town's social fabric.

Dean, picking up on the lead, pressed further. "Any idea where we can dig up more on the Cartwright family history?" he asked, his question sharp and direct, aiming to uncover any information that could lead them closer to understanding the family's potential involvement.

"The local library has a section on the old families around here, including the Cartwrights. That's probably your best bet," the sheriff explained, his tone indicating resignation to the fact that the Cartwrights, like many of the town's elite, remained an enigma to those outside their circles. "They don't really mingle outside their high society groups," he added, underscoring the challenge Sam and Dean faced in penetrating the closed world of New Orleans' upper echelon.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, a silent communication that spoke of their next move. They offered their thanks to the sheriff, their minds already racing with the possibilities that awaited them at the library. As they stepped out of the sheriff's office and back into the bustling streets of New Orleans, the weight of their task loomed ahead. Yet, the prospect of uncovering secrets hidden within the pages of history invigorated them, propelling them forward in their quest to unravel the mystery surrounding the Cartwright family and the shadowy disappearances.

* * *

The Impala glided to a halt in front of a charming, somewhat antiquated library. Its facade, adorned with the gentle wear of time, whispered tales of the countless souls who had passed through its doors in search of knowledge. Sam and Dean exited the car with a purpose, their strides full of the confidence that came from years of navigating the unknown.

Approaching the library, they pushed through the heavy doors and were greeted by the quiet, sacred hush that envelops all such repositories of wisdom. Their boots echoed softly on the polished wood floor as they made their way towards the front desk, where an elderly librarian sat, her presence as much a part of the library as the books themselves.

Dean took the lead, leaning slightly on the desk with a disarming smile. "Excuse me, ma'am, but could you point us towards the section on the history of the local area's old families?" he inquired, his voice carrying a blend of respect and charm, the latter honed to perfection over years of dealing with all manner of people.

The librarian peered up at them through her glasses, a flash of curiosity crossing her features before she rose from her seat. Without a word, she led them into the heart of the library, navigating the labyrinth of bookshelves with a quiet assurance. Eventually, she halted before a specific shelf, her hand waving gently towards the collection before she retreated, leaving Sam and Dean to their investigation.

The brothers scanned the titles, their focus narrowing as they sought anything related to the Cartwrights. When they finally located the book they needed, they exchanged a glance of silent understanding and moved to claim a table in a secluded corner.

As they settled down, the pages of the book open before them, the library around them seemed to close in, the outside world fading away. They were now fully immersed in the task at hand, piecing together the puzzle of the Cartwright family's history and its potential connection to the mysterious disappearances. The quiet rustle of pages turning was the only sound that accompanied their research, a testament to their unwavering determination to uncover the truth hidden within the library's serene confines.

In the hushed confines of the library, Sam and Dean pored over the ancient tome they'd found, its pages heavy with the weight of history and secrets untold. As they delved deeper into the legacy of the Cartwright family, a series of aged, grainy photographs caught their attention. Each photo depicted individuals who bore a striking resemblance to each other, yet the captions indicated they were generations apart.

"Dean, look at this," Sam said, his finger tracing the lineage of faces that seemed to defy the passage of time. "These photos... these people look identical, but they're supposedly from different centuries."

Dean leaned in, his eyes scanning the images skeptically before realization dawned on him. "That's not normal. You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, the gears turning in his head.

Sam nodded, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. "Vampires. It's the only explanation that makes sense. The Cartwrights could be an old vampire family, hiding in plain sight, using their wealth and status to cover their tracks."

The idea seemed far-fetched, yet the evidence before them was compelling. Dean flipped through more pages, finding references to lavish parties thrown by the Cartwrights that coincided with mysterious disappearances in the area.

"Look at this," Dean pointed out, his finger landing on a passage describing a grand ball from the late 1800s, after which several prominent guests were never seen again. "History's repeating itself. The Cartwright galas... it's like they're hunting grounds."

Sam's expression grew grim. "And with another gala happening soon, they could be planning to feed again. We need to stop them before it's too late."

The brothers shared a look of determination, the kind forged in countless battles against the dark. In the silence of the library, surrounded by the musty scent of old books, they found a new resolve. The Cartwright mystery was unraveling, revealing a sinister truth that had been hidden for centuries. Now, armed with knowledge and a sense of urgency, Sam and Dean were ready to confront the ancient evil lurking within the Cartwright lineage. The hunt was on.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, the Winchester brothers found themselves once again navigating the vibrant streets of New Orleans. Their mission had taken them to a tailor shop, where they'd picked up gala-ready suits, a necessary armor for the night's impending confrontation. Now, they were on their way to the Four Seasons Hotel, a luxurious accommodation arranged by Julia's friend Chelsea, signaling the next phase of their plan.

Pulling up in front of the hotel, Dean faced a moment of reluctance as a valet approached, his instinctive protectiveness over the Impala kicking in. It took some persuasive coaxing from Sam, but eventually, Dean surrendered his beloved car keys, albeit with a wary glance back at his cherished vehicle.

Duffel bags and suit bags in tow, they strode into the hotel's lavish lobby, exuding the quiet confidence of men on a mission. Dean led the way to the front desk, his demeanor shifting to one of effortless charm as he addressed the receptionist. "We have a reservation under Ms. Blackburn," he said, flashing a smile that had disarmed more than its fair share of adversaries.

The receptionist, momentarily caught off guard by Dean's charm, quickly regained her composure, cheeks tinged with a blush as she handed over the room keys. "Your rooms are ready. Enjoy your stay," she managed, her professionalism intact despite the fluttering in her chest.

As they made their way to the elevators, Dean's phone buzzed with a new message from Julia, instructing them to get ready in Sam's room. She explained that she had the room key for the room she was sharing with Dean but was currently with Chelsea getting ready. Understanding the logistics of their preparation, Dean pocketed his phone, a sense of anticipation building.

"Looks like we're bunking with you for the prep, Sammy," Dean remarked, a grin spreading across his face at the thought of their makeshift dressing room scenario. "Let's hope your room's got enough mirrors for all of us."

The brothers continued towards the elevators, their steps synchronized, a silent testament to the countless times they'd faced challenges together. Today, the challenge was not monsters or demons, but the social battlefield of a gala filled with the city's elite—and possibly, a coven of ancient vampires. Yet, the Winchester resolve remained unshaken, their readiness undimmed by the setting sun over New Orleans.

* * *

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Sam and Dean stood poised in the opulent lobby of the Four Seasons, their black tuxedos and bow ties epitomizing classic elegance. The anticipation was palpable between them, a silent acknowledgment of the night's significance.

The moment the golden elevator doors glided open, their attention was captured by the emergence of a statuesque blonde. Her hair, styled in an immaculate French twist, added to her high fashion allure. Unlike Julia's gentle curves and softness, this woman was all sharp angles and striking presence. Her gown, a masterpiece in dusty pink, whispered against the marble floor as she approached.

Her smile was both confident and enigmatic as she extended a hand adorned with pink manicured nails towards Dean, mistakenly addressing him, "You must be Sam, I'd recognize tall, dark, and handsome anywhere. I'm Chelsea," her voice rich with the melodious lilt of a Louisiana accent.

Dean's response came with a cheeky grin, an easy charm that had disarmed many. "Actually, I'm Dean. And this," he said, stepping slightly to the side to introduce his brother with a flourish, "is Sam, your tall, dark, and handsome date."

Chelsea's momentary surprise was quickly masked by a practiced smile of excitement, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes as she corrected her assumption. The brief falter in her confidence was a rare sight, quickly smoothed over by her poise.

The exchange, brief as it was, set the tone for the evening, hinting at the layers of intrigue and performance that awaited them at the gala. As they prepared to step into a night of high society and hidden dangers, the Winchesters and their companions were fully aware of the roles they had to play, their outward appearances just the first layer of their elaborate masquerade.

The lobby of the Four Seasons held a wealth of opulence, but all of it paled in comparison when the elevator announced its arrival with a soft ding. Dean turned, his gaze immediately captured by the vision that emerged. It was Julia, her auburn curls masterfully gathered into a low bun, with delicate tendrils caressing the contours of her face, adding a softness that contrasted with the grandeur of her attire.

She stood there for a moment, framed by the golden elevator doors, and then stepped forward. Dean's breath caught as she moved gracefully across the floor, her gown a statement of elegance and boldness. The dress was a striking emerald green, its fabric flowing like the cascading waves of a verdant sea. The bodice clung to her in all the right places, its strapless design accentuating the graceful line of her shoulders and the gentle curve of her neck. The skirt was a masterpiece, cinched at the waist and flaring into a full silhouette, with a daring slit revealing a glimpse of her leg with each step she took. The dress's structure was both timeless and daring, much like the woman who wore it.

Her eyes, a mesmerizing green to match her dress, were fixed on Dean's, and in that instant, the bustling lobby seemed to dissolve into nothingness. Time stretched, elongated by the intensity of their connection. She glided toward him, her presence commanding the room without a word, each step a note in the symphony of the moment.

Dean, usually so guarded and poised, found himself at a loss, his usual quips and banter silenced by the vision before him. He could only watch, utterly captivated, as Julia approached, the world around them fading into a blur—all noise, all movement, all thoughts secondary to the woman who held his undivided attention.

Julia halted her approach mere inches from Dean, her fingers deftly pushing up her glasses with a delicate touch to her cheek. “I would've gone for contacts, but I’m pretty much blind without these,” she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability as a blush crept into her cheeks under Dean’s intense gaze.

Dean, who had been momentarily breathless at her entrance, let out a silent exhale. His hand found its way to the small of her back, a gesture both protective and tender. “Sweetheart, you could wear ski goggles, and you'd still look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere, eyes never leaving her face.

Julia's blush deepened, her delicate hands rising to straighten Dean’s bow tie, her touch light but full of affection. “And you’re not looking too shabby yourself,” she replied, her eyes lifting to meet his, a soft smile dancing on her lips.

Their intimate bubble was gently burst by Sam’s voice, clearing his throat to signal his presence. “Alright, it’s time to head out. Wouldn’t want to miss the grand entrance,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed the pair.

Chelsea, who had been quietly observing the exchange, felt a fleeting shadow of envy pass over her before she brightened up with a practiced socialite’s smile. “And to make our night even more special, I've arranged a limo for us," she chimed in, her cheeriness as polished as the evening ahead.

With a roguish tilt to his smile, Dean offered his arm to Julia, bending it with a flourish of old-world gallantry. "Shall we? Your chariot awaits, m'lady," he quipped, the tease in his voice softened by the warmth in his eyes.

A giggle, light and genuine, bubbled from Julia as she looped her arm through his, her touch feather-light against the strength of his arm. Together, they made their way to the sleek black limo that stood poised to whisk them away into the night.

Reaching the limo, Dean's movements were smooth and practiced as he held the door open for her. He extended his hand to assist her, a silent testament to his ever-present protective nature. Julia gathered the rich emerald folds of her gown with grace and ease, her fingers brushing against Dean's as she settled into the plush limo seat.

After ensuring Julia was comfortably seated, Dean slid into the space beside her, the soft leather welcoming them both. Across from them, Sam opened the door for Chelsea, who, with a nod of polite indifference, opted to glide into the limo unassisted, the light from the setting sun catching the highlights in her blonde hair.

* * *

The limousine whisked them away from the city’s heart, toward a realm that seemed untouched by time. The road unraveled like a ribbon through an ethereal tunnel formed by ancient trees. Their heavy boughs, veiled in the soft glow of fairy lights, arched above, creating a celestial canopy that twinkled like a sky of stars just within reach. The fairy lights cast a gentle luminescence that danced across the vehicle’s sleek surface, imbuing the journey with a sense of enchantment.

As the limo proceeded down the enchanting path, the awe-inspiring sight that awaited them at the end of this verdant aisle took their breath away. The house, grand and imposing, stood as a sentinel at the road's end, its white facade a striking contrast against the deep greens and the twilight's gold. The elegance of the classical architecture, with its stately columns and expansive porches, was accentuated by the setting sun, which bathed the entire scene in a warm, golden light.

"The Cartwrights sure know how to pick a location," Dean remarked, his voice low, filled with a mix of admiration and the hunter's ever-present vigilance.

"It's like something out of a storybook," Julia whispered, her face alight with the beauty of it all, yet shadowed by the knowledge of what might lurk within.

Sam nodded, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a strategic mind. "Perfect for a gala... or hiding secrets," he mused, his thoughts already racing ahead to the night's mission.

As the limo glided to a stop, the quartet readied themselves, each aware that the night would be as much about wits and courage as it was about waltzes and wine. The house before them was more than just a venue; it was a chessboard, and they were about to make their opening move.

* * *

The limo's gentle purr subsided, giving way to the evening's quiet splendor as it halted at the gala's entrance. Dean was the first to emerge, stepping out with the ease of a man both sure of himself and alert to his surroundings. He then reached back into the limo, offering his hand to Julia. Her fingers slipped into his like the final piece of a puzzle, the luxurious fabric of her dress whispering secrets as she rose from the car, the color of deep forest leaves after rain.

Sam and Chelsea joined them, rounding the vehicle to unite as two pairs ready to face the night’s intrigue. Together, they made their way toward the imposing front doors of the mansion, their steps synchronized on the red carpet that welcomed them.

The gala greeter, poised in a tuxedo that mirrored the event's elegance, offered a smile that was both professional and warm as they drew near. Chelsea stepped forward, her confidence echoing the grandeur of their surroundings. "We're with Blackburn and Sterling," she announced with the clarity of someone accustomed to these events.

With an acknowledging nod, the greeter ushered them inside, extending the hospitality of the Cartwrights. "Welcome, please enjoy the evening," he said, his voice a smooth melody over the soft buzz of conversation that escaped from within.

As they crossed the threshold, the gala unfolded before them like a scene from a gilded age. Crystal chandeliers cast a constellation of light across the room, their brilliance reflected in the polished marble floors. Waiters in crisp uniforms glided through clusters of guests, offering flutes of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres on silver trays. The air was alive with a string quartet's lilting harmony, the music weaving through the laughter and chatter of the assembled elite.

Opulence dripped from every corner, from the ornate moldings on the walls to the lavish floral arrangements that adorned every table. The guests themselves were a swirl of silks, satins, and sparkling jewels, each moving in the intricate dance of socialite pageantry. As Dean, Julia, Sam, and Chelsea joined the flow, they were swept up in the spectacle, their senses attuned to both the beauty and the hidden dangers of the Cartwright gala.

As a waiter navigated the throng of guests, Julia deftly plucked two flutes of champagne from the passing tray and turned to Dean with a glint of mischief in her eyes. Dean accepted the glass, his eyebrows arching playfully as he caught the mirthful sparkle in her gaze.

"What's the game plan, huh? Trying to get me tipsy so you can take advantage of me?" he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting into his trademark smirk.

Julia's giggle was a light counterpoint to the rich timbre of the string quartet filling the room. "No, just embracing the role of a gala attendee," she quipped back, a mock-serious bob of her head punctuating the words 'gala attendee' as if they were a title she had studied for.

Dean, his glass poised halfway to his lips, took a deliberate step closer. His free hand found the small of her back, resting there with familiar ease. "Oh, is that so? And what exactly does the role of 'gala attendee' entail?" he inquired, his tone laced with flirtation and a hint of challenge, inviting her to continue their playful banter amidst the grandeur of the gala.

Julia's smile was an upward curve of shared secrets as she regarded Dean. "Well, they discreetly uncover where the Cartwrights whisk away their 'special guests'," she whispered, her hand lightly touching his chest as though to anchor herself in the whirlwind of their covert operation.

Dean was about to respond, the words forming with the ease of a man who lived on the edge of danger, "Sounds like a perfec–," when Chelsea's voice cut through, diverting their course.

"Come on, let's blend in. We can start with a dance, maybe? Anything's better than just loitering here," Chelsea proposed, her fingers lightly pressing against Dean's upper arm, urging him into the flow of the gala.

Dean glanced at Sam, who seemed content to observe from the sidelines, before turning back to Chelsea with a nod. "You heard the lady. Let's see if the Winchester charm works on the dance floor," he said, a playful note in his voice, ready to slip into the night's rhythm, where every step was a measure of their investigation.

As the evening wove its way through laughter and clinking glasses, Sam leaned in toward Dean and Julia, seizing a moment when Chelsea was drawn away by the swirl of the gala.

"I'm going to take a look around while everyone's distracted," Sam murmured, his voice a low frequency meant only for his brother and Julia. Without waiting for a response, he slipped away, merging with the sea of guests as he vanished into the mansion's grandiose interior.

Dean and Julia continued to converse, their dialogue an effortless tennis match of wit and insight, until the distinct vibration of a phone interrupted their rally. Julia's expression shifted as she reached into the hidden pocket of her dress, a testament to its practicality. She pulled out her phone, and her forehead creased with concern.

"Uh–" She locked eyes with Dean, a silent apology in the look. "I need to take this," she said, her voice threaded with urgency. With a fluid grace, Julia threaded her way through the crowd, leaving Dean to watch her go, a slight crease of concern mirroring hers as she sought a sliver of solitude for her call.

Dean's gaze followed the trail of Julia's auburn hair as she weaved through the gala's crowd, disappearing from sight. He took the opportunity to survey the room, a hunter's instinct to always be aware of his surroundings. Suddenly, he felt the familiar pressure of a hand on his arm. Turning, he found Chelsea standing closer than before, her presence insistent.

"Where did Julia and Sam wander off to?" Chelsea inquired, her voice carrying a note of curiosity, almost too close for casual conversation.

Dean kept his cool, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Sam's off doing his mingling magic, and Julia had to take a call," he explained, his attention briefly following the trail of Chelsea's hand as it drifted from his arm to rest against his chest.

"So, that leaves just us... alone together," Chelsea intimated, her voice lowering, eyes locked on his.

Dean glanced around at the sea of people, the hum of conversation surrounding them. "Not really alone, we've got about a hundred chaperones," he quipped, gesturing to the guests around them, trying to maintain a light-hearted atmosphere.

Chelsea hummed, a sound that seemed to hold more than mere agreement. She leaned into Dean, her body language shifting as she guided him with gentle pressure, away from the crowd and toward a secluded part of the wall, her hands exploring his chest with an unspoken intention.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Dean's face, his brows knitting together as he tried to navigate the situation with diplomacy. "Chelsea, I think we should–" But his attempt to diffuse the advance was interrupted when Chelsea, bold and unyielding, placed her hands on his face and drew him into a kiss.

Caught off guard, Dean's first instinct was to pull away, but he also knew the importance of keeping up appearances. He had to handle the situation without causing a scene that could jeopardize their mission, all while maintaining the respect and boundaries he held for Julia. It was a delicate dance, even for a seasoned hunter like Dean Winchester.

* * *

The brisk Louisiana winter air wrapped itself around Julia as she stepped outside, its chill a stark contrast to the warmth of the gala inside. As the call ended, leaving her with a tangle of emotions and unanswered questions, she let out a sigh that mingled with the night. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tucked her phone away, and she removed her glasses to press weary fingertips against her eyelids, willing strength into her resolve.

In that quiet moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of the call, to acknowledge the ripple of distress it had sent through her. But she knew she couldn't let it consume her—not tonight. With a fortifying breath that turned to vapor in the cool air, she replaced her glasses, her vision clearing along with her determination. She was ready to return to Dean, to let the night's earlier enchantment wash over her once more.

As Julia re-entered the opulent mansion, she wove through the throng of guests, their conversations a distant hum in her ears. Her gaze scanned the room, seeking the familiar form of Dean, craving the comfort his presence promised. But when her search finally ended, the sight that greeted her was a piercing jolt to her heart.

Dean was pinned against the wall, ensnared in an unexpected embrace with Chelsea, whose hands cradled his face, lips pressed to his in a kiss that stole Julia's breath. A sharp pain clawed at her chest, a mixture of shock and an inexplicable sense of betrayal. She had no claim over Dean, no vows had been exchanged, but the sting of seeing him with another was undeniable.

Turning away, Julia forced herself to refocus on the mission. There were clues to be found, secrets to unearth—this was no time for the distractions of the heart. With a swipe at the tears that dared to spill, she started her silent quest through the mansion, each step a message to herself that she was more than what she felt in this moment. She was a hunter, and tonight, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Dean's reaction was immediate, his voice a low, controlled growl that barely concealed his shock and discomfort. "Chelsea, what the hell?" he demanded, the firmness in his tone not quite masking the undercurrent of confusion. His eyes darted around, conscious of the eyes and ears that might be privy to this unintended scene.

Chelsea retreated a step, her expression faltering into one of wounded pride as she absorbed the rejection. Looking up at Dean, she saw the residual crimson mark her lipstick had left on him, a vivid contrast to the pale annoyance etched across his face.

As the realization dawned on her, her voice took on a bitter edge, tinged with jealousy. "It's Julia, isn't it? I mistook your charm for something... less serious. But you're actually in love with her," Chelsea accused, her disappointment morphing into a disdainful sneer.

Dean fixed his gaze on her, the lines of his face hardening. "This isn't the time or place. Let's just get back to the party," he said, his tone final, leaving no room for further discussion. He sidestepped her, putting physical distance between them as he reoriented himself toward the throng of guests, eager to put the discomfort of the moment behind him.

To Be Continued...

Tag List: @deanwinchestersgirl87

[accidentalspaceexplorer]

April Monthly Recap:

This month, I was participating in Magical Readathon by BookRoast on Youtube, and I smashed it! I read 13 of the 14 class prompts, as well as 4 quest books, plus four that didn’t count for the readathon, bringing me up to a total of 21 books this month! Clearly life is calming down a little bit and I have more time to read than February/March. Unfortunately, despite my reading quantity, my quality wasn’t awesome - my average rating this month was 3.6, compared to my typical average rating of around 4. This was also my first month without a 5-star read this year. However, I did read and really enjoy Babel, Half a Soul, and Unnatural Magic.

Tommy Cabot Was Here by Cat Sebastian: 4.25/5

Tell the Machine Goodnight by Katie Williams: 2/5

A Restless Truth by Freya Marske: 4.5/5

Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater: 4.75/5

Bryony and Roses by T. Kingfisher: 4.5/5

Peter Cabot Gets Lost by Cat Sebastian: 4.5/5

Babel by R. F. Kuang: 4.75/5

The Kraken’s Sacrifice by Katee Robert: 1.75/5

The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman: 2/5, dnf

The Bright Ages by David M. Perry & Matthew Gabriele: 3/5, dnf

An Embarrassment of Witches by Jenn Jordan & Sophie Goldstein: 2.5/5

Obsessive, Intrusive, Magical Thinking by Marianne Eloise: 2.5/5, dnf

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier: 4.5/5

Sorcerer to the Crown by Zen Cho: 3/5

You Sexy Thing by Cat Rambo: 4/5

Umbertouched by Livia Blackburne: 4/5

Silver Moon by Catherine Lundoff: 2.5/5

The Councillor by E. J. Beaton: 4.25/5

Winterkeep by Kristin Cashore: 4.25/5

The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. LeGuin: 4/5

Unnatural Magic by C. M. Waggoner: 4.75/5

Goal progress below the cut:

23 in 2023: 10 [+3]

Read 100 books: 63 [+21]

Translated works: 1 [+0]

Physical TBR: 8 [+5]

Top of TBR: 3 [+1]

Books in Spanish: 0

Read 40% AOC: 22.2% [-4.0%] *BOY is this going in the wrong direction

Discworld books: 1 [+0]

Series: 9 started vs. 16 caught up on/finished [+6/+4]

Storygraph recs: 1 | avg. 3/5 [+0]

Indigenous authors: 1 [+0]

[usafphantom2]

RAF Air Support Command 47 Squadron Blackburn Beverley C.1 XB267/B (1967)

aviationphotocompany.com/p934046062/eeb…

More Beverley images: aviationphotocompany.com/p799029743

AviationPhotoCo via X

[mariacallous]

In his 2002 State of the Union address, President George W. Bush warned that the United States needed to confront a new “axis of evil” threatening the world—a turn of phrase that would come to define Bush’s controversial foreign-policy legacy and years of costly quagmires in the Middle East.

If you thought Washington was past all that, think again.

More than two decades later, the axis of evil is back on the menu. The phrase, and others like it, have again burrowed into the Washington zeitgeist to describe what some believe is a growing alliance between China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea.

“We have to always remember [that] a win for Russia is a win for China. And we can never let that axis of evil gather any more momentum,” former South Carolina Gov. Nikki Haley said in late August on her Republican presidential primary campaign. “There’s an axis of evil in the world: China, Russia, North Korea, and Iran,” Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell similarly warned in a CBS News interview in October. “And we need to stand up to the axis of evil, not try to do business with them.”

“Axis of evil” is a phrase that harkens back to an era of badly misguided optimism about American power abroad—and the badly mishandled wars that followed. The fact that it has come back could be a harbinger of what U.S. foreign policy will look like in the coming years.

Both Republicans and Democrats in Washington warn of the increasing links between Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea. Russia is leaning on Iranian and North Korean arms shipments to supply its war in Ukraine, and the United States and its allies are anxiously eyeing any military or economic lifelines Beijing could throw Moscow’s way to prolong the war. Russia’s support for Iran, meanwhile, has positive knock-on effects for militant groups like Hamas and Hezbollah that are viewed as Iranian proxies in the fight against Israel, and Russia appears to be using the ongoing Israel-Hamas war to try to burnish its own credentials in the global south.

President Joe Biden has tied U.S. support for Israel and Ukraine together in his pitch to Congress for more national security funds, framing both conflicts as part of a global fight to defend democracy. And many in Washington, rightly or wrongly, argue that a Russian victory in Ukraine would embolden China to invade Taiwan. Many in Washington view these rivalries as deeply interconnected—even if they are not banging the axis drum.

“I think it’s important to be clear who our adversaries are,” Jeanne Shaheen, a Democratic foreign-policy heavyweight in the Senate, told Foreign Policy in a recent interview. “We need to understand who is trying to undermine the United States, who is trying to undermine democracies around the world. And it is China, Iran, Russia, and North Korea.”

There isn’t apparently a single instance of Biden or top administration officials using the phrase, but that doesn’t mean it’s not catching on. On the Republican side, McConnell and Sens. Tim Scott and Marsha Blackburn, as well as Rep. Cory Mills, have all tossed the term around, while on the other side of the aisle, one of the most influential and longest-serving Democrats in the House, Rep. Steny Hoyer, has adopted it.

Not everyone’s on board, however. Some experts bristle at the idea of lumping these four disparate powers together, wary that it could lead to a new generation of U.S. foreign-policy debacles and mishaps. “There are a lot of differences in the overall strategic goals of these countries,” said Matt Duss, executive vice president of the Center for International Policy. “It’s not ultimately going to be productive to just group them all together and go at them as if they’re an anti-U.S. Voltron.”

They are all nuclear powers, or soon will be. They all create mayhem in their neighborhoods. But the security challenges posed by Russia, currently at war in Europe, or China, which has set its sights on conquering Taiwan in the indeterminate future, are different from those posed by Iran and North Korea.

“Each of these countries needs to be treated in its own right,” said Comfort Ero, president and CEO of the International Crisis Group think tank.

Unlike Washington’s network of alliances abroad, which run deep on interconnected economies, militaries, values, and other links, the alliances between these four U.S. adversaries are more alliances of convenience, Ero and other experts and Western diplomats argue. These alliances of convenience, furthermore, are laced with mutual suspicion and distrust, and they are more fragile than those in the axis of evil camp seem to suggest.

China, North Korea’s main benefactor, views it as a key buffer state between Washington and its allies in the Asia-Pacific, namely South Korea. But according to several senior Western and East Asian officials, China is growing uneasy about how North Korea is deepening its ties with Russia, lest that reduce the leverage Beijing has over Pyongyang or further exacerbate tensions on the Korean Peninsula.

Iranian power brokers are split over how their country has deepened its ties with Russia, and Tehran still views Moscow with suspicion even as they expand military ties, according to regional experts. China may look to deepen its relationship with Russia, but only in ways that benefit Beijing’s economic and political interests, not out of any affinity or loyalty toward Moscow, as recent talks on energy cooperation between the two powers show. This axis wobbles.

It may be “a convenient shorthand, but it’s not convenient in terms of shaping policy,” Ero said. “I think there’s a danger in putting them all into one basket and with a master stroke assuming you can have just one policy on all of them as well.”

Foreign-policy hawks have been testing phrases, portmanteaus, and acronyms to describe threats to the West in recent years. Former U.S. Vice President Mike Pence tried out “wolf pack of rogue states” for a brief period in 2019 when he was working to burnish his foreign-policy credentials. Earlier this month at the Halifax International Security Forum, an annual gathering of hundreds of top foreign-policy officials and experts from democratic countries, some began using the acronym CRINK—China, Russia, Iran, North Korea—to describe these Western rivals, in a nod to the BRICS bloc of countries. But recycling is easier than inventing something new.

If this rhetorical game previews a new era in U.S. foreign policy—depending in part on who wins the 2024 presidential election—some foreign dignitaries warn there could be some real-world consequences for Washington trying to revive an era of “good versus evil” in global politics.

Multiple foreign diplomats at Halifax voiced concern, saying the trend could drive middle powers and countries in the so-called global south away from the United States; many, like India and South Africa, have deep economic and military relationships with both China and Russia.

Top Biden administration officials have repeatedly stressed they don’t want to force countries in Africa, Latin America, or elsewhere to choose between the United States and China, wary of driving potential partners away. But explicitly lumping China into an axis of evil may, in the end, have the same effect.

Even dignitaries from some of Washington’s closest partners are voicing concern at lumping China into the same pool as Russia, Iran, and North Korea. Top Ukrainian officials have been cautious not to derail ties with China even as Kyiv’s primary backers in the West gear up for a new cold war against Beijing, lest it push China to ramp up support for Russia in the ongoing war.

“I hate the idea [of] put[ting] China in the list of nations with the evil axis,” Petro Poroshenko, the former president of Ukraine, told Foreign Policy on the sidelines of the Halifax forum. “I mean Russia, Iran, North Korea, maybe Belarus, but definitely not China. Let’s not put it together that way, because that would be the biggest mistake,” he said.

“I still keep my fingers crossed that China’s influence can help de-escalate the situation,” he said, adding that he had “very positive experiences cooperating with China and President Xi [Jinping].”

Bush said that countries were either with America or against it. It’s actually more complicated than that, and, experts widely agree, global politics in general is vastly more complicated than it was in 2001 or 2002, when the United States stood as the lone and unchallenged world superpower.

The West “needs to acknowledge that sometimes what we see as major global problems don’t resonate the same way in other parts of the world,” said Sarah Margon, director of foreign policy at the Open Society Foundations.

“‘Axis of Evil’ is a great title for an article, but when it becomes the driver of policy, it makes it really difficult for countries in the middle, because they feel like they have to choose a side, and that’s just not how international politics will work in the world today,” she said.

[arcanescholxr]

“This won’t make me explode will it?”

Elias stretches out in place, not giving any attention to the younger witch flipping through his grimoire. He agreed to let Dwight try out a spell he needed to do for class. It was a glamour spell making someone appear not what they seemed. Perhaps an animal, maybe someone entirely else. In the olden days, witches used these glamour spells to hide in plain sight and escape aggression.

Normally, Elias would be wary about letting Dwight do a spell on him. It wasn’t that Dwight was bad at magic, it was simply that he spent his entire life not being able to control it, and the college was his first time ever learning how to manage it. Since entering the college, he’s gotten better, so what harm could one spell do?

“What are you planning on doing?”

Dwight thumbed through the grimoire until he landed on the certain section of glamour spells. “How about your familiar?” Dwight nods his head over to Crimson, Elias’s wolf familiar. He was sprawled lazily on the floor, paws stretched out in comfort. “That might be an easy thing to do.”

“Why not just change my hair color? That’s way more easier.” Elias suggested.

“But everyone is going to do that!” Dwight pouted. “I really want to impress people, I want to do these cool spells.”

“Wow you are really living up to the Blackburn name.” Elias teased lightly. “Okay then kiddo, give me your best shot.”

Dwight read through the grimoire and gently set it down against a nearby desk. He grabbed his staff and held it up. The young witch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Soon, the staff started to glow, life omitting from the magical artifact. Elias watched as the carved sigils on the staff started to glow as Dwight concentrated his energy into the spell. Then as quickly as it appeared, a ball of magic came from the spell and hit Elias.

A small cloud came from the other witch and when it cleared, Elias was gone and in place was a black cat.

Dwight gasped, a smile upturning his face. “I did it! I mean, I meant to disguise you as a wolf, but hey! I’ll take a cat.” The young witch knelt down to examine his glamour.

The cat, or rather Elias, appeared to be a black cat. He had green eyes and his tail swished behind him. “Hey not bad kid.”

The glamour could fool the untrained eye but if you disturbed the glamour, it could wash away. Dwight touched the cat, expecting it to disappear and Elias would stand there once again. Expect, he found that Elias had very soft fur.

Dwight touched him again. And again. And the glamour wasn’t going away

“Uhh, are the glamours supposed to be this strong? Or is this a family magic thing?” Dwight asked.

Elias realized around the same time that he felt different more than he looked different. A yowl left the cat. “What did you do to me?!” Elias demanded, running over to the closest mirror, examining himself. The glamour didn’t dissolve.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“I-I don’t know, why isn’t it going away?” Dwight stammered as he watched Elias panicked. The cat hopped over to Dwight’s open grimoire, eyes scanning over the text before looking over at Dwight in what could be described as anger.

“DWIGHT! This is transformation chapters, not the glamour chapters!l

“I-I thought they were the same thing! Don’t they both turn you into something else?”

“One tricks people into thinking you’re something else, the other MAKES you turn into something else!” Elias hissed.

“Oh god, Elias I’m so sorry, I-I’ll fix this.” Dwight grabbed at the grimoire flipping through the pages. There was shuffle of noises, and Dwight looked over to see that Crimson got up from his nap. And he was looking at Elias. And looking at the now cat Elias, hungrily.

Elias, noticing immediately, walked backwards away from his familiar. “C-Crimson, it’s daddy, don’t you recognize me?”

The wolf familiar barked excitedly and made a mad dash for Elias. The cat yowled and ran away, with Dwight in tow.

“No Crimson stop! Bad dog! That’s Elias, bad dog!” Dwight called out as he chased down the two.

October Event: Elias is now a black cat for the month of October.

[aaronburrdaily]

November 18, 1808

Castella called before I was up. Breakfasted with me, and gave me many interesting details respecting South America and of persons there. Called on General Picton, Dr. Blackburn, and on Mr. Duval ; waited till he came in to dinner, and dined with him. To Madame H. Surry, who confessed that there was no such person as the Hon. Madame Bruce, but that the whole was a fable imposed on her by Madame G., sister of Madame C, and so on me. Madame G. lives in handsome style, handsome carriages, and many servants! Called on Madame W., found there a card from General Picton and a note from Mr. Duval, with whom I am to dine on Sunday. Tea with Bentham, Wrote to Hosack in reply to his of the 17th, and a long letter to Mrs. Prevost. Confab an hour with K. Read Thierry¹ an hour with B.

1  There were several French authors of this name.

[racingtoaredlight]

St. Helens

I always knew about the eruption of the volcano under Mt. St. Helens, but I listened to a podcast about this dude’s experience on there that fucking blew me away and sent me in a deep dive.

The video at the top is one probably most of us are familiar with...it sets the stage for two critical elements of the story I heard.  First, they didn’t expect it to erupt sideways.  Second, this was the largest landslide in recorded human history...over a mile of the mountain’s north face was displaced.  From beginning signs of eruption to the aftermath, St. Helens lost 1,300 feet of elevation.

The mountain had been bulging like a pregnant zit for weeks.  Just swelling up more and more, causing all sorts of shit.  There were more earthquakes in six weeks here than the state of California experiences in an entire decade.  Think about that for a second...

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Lets talk about the landslide...

The video I’m about to post is the aftermath of Seattle KOMO cameraman Dave Crockett’s chase.  Chase is the perfect word for it because here are the estimates for the speed of the debris tsunami that was racing after him...initial speeds after the eruption were likely 200mph, reaching critical speeds of over 600mph that were capable of breaking the sound barrier.

Let me put this in perspective...the governement issued a safety radius of 7 miles.  The landslide and all its mass traveled over 7 miles in just over 10 minutes.

Crockett jumped in his car, had this feeling and kept checking his rearview mirror.  All of the sudden, he saw a giant wave of mud, ice, boulders, entire tree trunks and other assorted forest detritus melded together by magma and thick ash, that was about the height of a 3-story building...bulldozing and entire forest of trees in its path.  Here’s an idea of how powerful this landslide was...

*this massive tree was absolutely shredded by the blast itself

*note the humans circled in the bottom right corner for scale

When he looked back towards the road, he saw another giant wave cut across in front of him...he immediately swerved, and by the grace of god, landed on an unused forest road that was somehow safe from all these landslides...got out of his car and started rolling.

I’ve watched the whole video.  It’s honestly kind of boring until things get worse and worse...and it’s still kinda boring because it’s pitch black ash all around him.  His survival is so outrageously lucky, it’s almost impossible to comprehend.

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The first pic in this section is two pictures taken by photographer Robert Landsburg a few minutes apart.  The second is his camera.  There are supposed images of his car too, but I think they’re mislabeled and actually the car of another photographer lost in the eruption, Reid Blackburn.

The thing is, they knew it was going to erupt...putting up safety radii and warning people and shit...but nobody knew when.  The mountain just kept bulging, getting more and more pregnant...earthquakes were a matter of daily life at that point and the timing couldn’t really tell...so you had a few dudes up there still taking pictures and doing science stuff.

And, like I said above,.the other thing was that nobody expected the volcano to erupt sideways like it did either...

Landsburg must have known he was already dead.  He snapped these pictures, climbed in the car, put the film from his camera back in its case, threw all the stuff into his backpack, and shielded it with his body hoping to preserve it.  They found his body 17 days later, the film miraculously in tact (if not a little damaged).

In that first picture, use the treeline for context...those pictures are a few minutes apart, and yet look at the sheer size of that oncoming hellscape and think about how fast it was moving.  There was no escape from that kind of power.

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There’s no point or conclusion to this...just blew my mind.

The lake adjacent to St. Helens, Spirit Lake, took the biggest brunt of the blast.  Almost directly in line with the massive sideways displacement and ensuing landslide, the lake’s water was completely slammed to one side of the lake...

If you know anything about tsunami’s, you’ll know I’m describing one right now.  When all that debris slammed into Spirit Lake and shoved the water to one side...it comes back, you know.  The science is pretty well known for shit like this, and judging by the displacement and speed, the ensuing wave of water rushing back would’ve been about 600 feet high.

43 years later, this is what the lake looks like now.  Go to 1:06:00 in the video below.

It’s really incredible shit.