#end qualified immunity now

[reasoningdaily]

How a Child Got 65 Years for a Murder the Police Committed

America is a very dangerous place and it is now stooped to putting Black children in prison for crimes they could never have committed

White supremacy and systemic racism are the police.

End qualified immunity in policing now

[ausetkmt]

Goon Squad - goes to jail in Mississippi for torturing two Black men

Six ex-Mississippi officers plead guilty to state charges for torturing two Black men

[poisonouspastels]

actually im kind of thinking abt how all the main players in the AU are probably way more mentally Not Great than it may appear at first

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Month - July 2024

🏅- Talk about an Olympic comeback!

1. U.S. proposes ban on airline fees for seating parents next to kids

Parents should't have to pay a fee to sit next to their children when flying, according to the White House, which is moving to ban airlines from charging families extra to be seated together.

Under a rule proposed Thursday by the Department of Transportation, airlines would be required to seat parents and kids 13 and younger together free of charge when adjacent seating is available at booking.

2. A spinal injury killed Adriana Ruano's dream as a gymnast. She just won Guatemala's first Olympic gold medal as a shooter.

Ruano was training for the 2011 world championships in gymnastics, a qualifier for the London Olympics the following year, when she felt pain in her back. An MRI showed the then-16-year-old had six damaged vertebrae — a career-ending injury.

But on Wednesday, she came back as a shooter and won Guatemala's first Olympic gold medal.

3. Woman swept out to sea rescued after surviving 37 hours in 6.5' waves, drifted over 50 miles.

A Chinese woman who was swept out to sea while swimming at a Japanese beach was rescued 37 hours later after drifting in an inflatable swim ring more than 80 kilometers (50 miles) in the Pacific Ocean, officials said Thursday.

4. Afghan Sisters Escape The Taliban To Achieve Olympic Dreams

Sisters Yulduz and Fariba Hashimi are set to become the first female cyclists from Afghanistan to compete in the Olympics. The siblings fled their country after the Taliban seized power in 2021 and cracked down on women's rights, including banning women from participating in sports.

5. Stem cell therapy cures man with type 2 diabetes

A 59-year-old man had been suffering from diabetes for 25 years, needing more and more insulin every day to avoid slipping into a diabetic coma and was at risk of death. But then Chinese researchers cured his disease for the first time in the world. The patient received a cell transplant in 2021 and has not taken any medication since 2022.

6. Seventh person likely 'cured' of HIV, doctors announce

A 60-year-old German man is likely the seventh person to be effectively cured from HIV after receiving a stem cell transplant, doctors announced on Thursday. The man received a bone marrow transplant for his leukaemia in 2015. The procedure, which has a 10 percent risk of death, essentially replaces a person's immune system.

7. Every country has now banned the use of leaded gasoline in cars

Three and a half decades later, in 2021, Algeria became the last country to ban it. Leaded gasoline is now banned from being used in road vehicles in every country. It is a big win for the health of people around the world.

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That's it for this month :)

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[oblako]

is a dream technically a nightmare if it's objectively scary but you don't feel scared

[harryscherrypie]

It's been a long time coming.

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summary ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Charles and her are childhood best friends. His win in Monaco proves that some promises are worth waiting for.

triggers - mentions of underage drinking, y/n (ugh)

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She watched his every move on the track. It was Monaco, the most important race of the season to him. As if on purpose, everything went to shit, dampening his mood and spirit in the upcoming weeks before the race. Leo had gotten sick and needed to stay out of the paddock with his compromised immunity. His girlfriend had broken up with him, saying she didn’t feel the passion she thought she did in the past few months. He didn’t particularly care; it was just too much hustle with the media and their constant meddling in his business. His car wasn’t performing as well as he would like, and he barely got P1 in qualifying. Now, Piastri was almost up his ass as he kept the lead for the 45th lap straight.

She remembered when they were kids; it was his favorite play pretend. Running down the sidewalk of the famous first Monaco corner with their fake carton steering wheels, Charles always had the lead. She ran as fast as her much smaller legs could carry her, but in the end, the advantage of one extra year of growth always helped him to cross the finish line first. She remembered crying to his parents and them scolding him for getting too carried away. He would sulk a little before coming to her and mumbling an apology as he wrapped his arms around her.

She watched from the Ferrari garage, as usual. She hadn’t been to a lot of races these past few months, mainly wanting to avoid his, thankfully, now ex-girlfriend. The girl didn’t like her at all, and (y/n )didn’t mind. She would be definitely doing something wrong in her life if a girl like that would like her. She was just another bleach-blonde stereotypical dumb girl, wanting to live the WAG life while she didn’t even understand the basics of the sport. It was laughable to (y/n).

He dived into the tunnel. She remembered being nine and sitting on their balcony, their feet stuck through the railing as they watched the cars zooming below them, leaving behind the stench of gas and rubber. She never liked the smell. Charles reveled in it. It was clear, even when he was ten, what his desired career path was. She admired it—him knowing what he wanted to do. She didn’t. She liked sleeping in and watching cartoons. She supposed it was in the way he had to act more mature. By that time, he was slowly racing in the big local leagues, being on the track almost every week. She hoped he wouldn’t leave her behind when he made it into F1.

Another lap passed, and she could feel the desperation and hope radiating from his onboard. She started pacing, praying to whatever was up there to let him make it. She couldn’t handle seeing him disappointed at a home race again. She had seen enough of that in the past few years. Coincidentally, he was always single when he raced in Monaco, his relationships never really reaching this milestone of his girlfriends seeing him race on the home soil. She knew she would be the one to console him if this didn’t work out. They would skip the celebrations of whoever won, and he would lock them in his apartment, taking both Leo and her into his bed and holding them tightly as he worked through the bitter taste of resentment and feelings of inadequacy. Some prior years, his hands would wander, taking her closer and holding her in a way friends shouldn’t do. But she allowed it. Just this one misstep if it would make her soothe his racing mind. She hoped it would be different this year.

She remembered them getting drunk in the bar overlooking the last corner of the track when they were teenagers. He was freshly 18 and snuck her 17-year-old ass in. His old classmates dragged him there, and he didn’t want to spend his birthday night without her. He had never done it before. They didn’t like it there. Even though it was an under-the-radar local bar with prices catered towards the locals and not the millionaire visitors, he still found it quite expensive. He was finishing up F2 and talking of an F1 contract. The whole group pregamed, as young people do, and already came into the bar more than slightly drunk. She didn’t have as much, nervous about her parents finding out she was sneaking into a bar. As his friends announced another round, Charles and y/n looked at each other knowingly. They bought one beer to split and keep the buzz going and snuck out.

They found themselves on a rocky beach. In most places, it was very uncomfortable to sit on and quite dangerous if the wind picked up. They liked it there, though. It was October, and cold enough for them to be wearing jackets and long pants. He popped the cap with his keys and offered her the first sip. She took the bottle with a thankful smile. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to talk. There was an unspoken understanding and never an awkward moment of silence between them. He took her hand into his and placed it in his palms, trying to keep it warm. She was always freezing. As the minutes went by, they got closer to each other, intertwining their limbs.

It was long after both of their curfews when they were turning the corner to her street. He was holding her hand as he led her to her front door. He turned to look at her and he already found her staring at him with a knowing look on her face. His drunken haze was long gone, but the alcohol confidence stayed as he stepped closer and ducked his head to place a gentle kiss against her lips. They parted soon after and smiled at each other sadly.

“I know,” he softly whispered and kissed her forehead. He knew she just wasn’t ready. And it was alright; he understood.

“Ask me again when you win a home race in red,” she whispered with a slight smile playing on her lips, masking just how sad it made her.

He only nodded as he pressed another kiss to her forehead before he took a step back and watched her get inside her house. Once she waved at him from the window of her room, he was comfortable with going back home.

Tears streamed down her face as she watched him drive past the checkered flag. She could feel Pascale wrap her arms around her as she shook with sobs, watching her son achieve something he and his father wanted for so long. She was pretty sure she dissociated. It was an out-of-body experience watching him get out of that car and pull his helmet off. His eyes were crinkled as the biggest smile he had possibly ever sported made its way onto his face when he saw his entire team behind the metal barricades. She was thankful everyone in the team was mindful because she was sure she would be squashed against the railing in front of her. He made his way to the team. She thought he would jump into the crowd of the Ferrari workers, but he simply stood in front of her. It was another one of those knowing moments. They didn’t have to say anything as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She could feel him trembling and knew he probably needed some emotional grounding.

“I won in red,” he whispered into her ear, a hopeful look in his eyes.

She tilted her head back to look up at him. He was a Monaco race winner, something he wanted since they were kids. Her hands traveled from his shoulders to the nape of his neck and to the back of his head where she tangled her fingers in the slightly sweaty hair. She didn’t care. He looked at her tenderly. They both knew.

“A promise is a promise,” she whispered teasingly before she guided his head down to her face and pressed a loving kiss on his lips.

She felt a tear down his cheek, and she discreetly wiped it from his skin. She knew he waited for a long time. She did too.

[heian-era-housewife]

This fic is part of the Monster Mash collaborative event hosted by @nanamiscocksleeve ♡

Synopsis | Things get a little monstrous when you end up swapping bodies with the very curse you were sent to destroy.

Content | mdni 18+, f!reader x CurseMonster!Sukuna, slight dubcon, body swap, sex (piv), oral (f receiving), dp, biting, mention of blood, swearing, sukuna is ooc, you *literally* fuck yourself, it gets weird.

Word Count | 2.7 k

A/N | Idea credit to the ever-creative @noodle-is-unstable . Click HERE to see the SMAU that inspired this story and be sure to check out Noodle's other works!

"Come now, you mustn't stop trying!" The monster's voice rang out into the night.

Your lungs burned with each ragged breath as you drew in the cool evening air. You'd been sparring for what felt like hours. Aloft on a Tokyo highrise rooftop, you and the beast you'd been hunting for weeks had finally come to clash.

A wayward smile curled your lips. "Don't you worry, Sukuna. I'm just getting started."

"It seems he's looking for a vessel." Yaga had informed you when the monster curse first appeared.

"A vessel?"

"Someone he can posses. Someone with strength and powers to match, to maximize his abilities. That's why we're sending you." He counceled.

"Why me?" You asked, thinking of at least a dozen more qualified sorcerers. You weren't even special grade.

"Because you are the only one Ryomen Sukuna can't control."

It's true, your ability was unique. Rather than a cursed technique, you had what could only be described as "curse resistance". While you weren't the strongest fighter, cursed energy rolled off your back like droplets of water. And while not entirely immune, you could take a hit like no other. In the odd case of bodily posession, you were a stone fortress.

In the weeks since your dispatch, you'd spent your time tracking the four-armed monster. Learning his methods, his motives, the sound of his voice- and he was well aware. He left you red herrings, had you chasing down bootless errands, and generally toyed with you like his own personal plaything. But your game of cat-and-mouse was coming to a head and there was just one thing neither of you had counted on.

Fatal attraction.

Impervious to his flame, you walked toward him through the raging inferno like something out of an action thriller. The warmth of his curse lapping at your skin as you sauntered through. The air between you thick with heat and excitement.

"You're stronger than I imagined." He praised. "I'm impressed." A rare acknowledgement from the monster of all curses.

"And you're not nearly as hideous as they claim." You teased. "Almost a pity I have to kill you." A dreadful smile curled his lips as you dodged another glancing blow. He was fast and clever, spurred on by your fighting spirit and already privy to your curse resistance, or so you believed. Somehow, he seemed to be enjoying himself, and with every volley of witty banter you were finding yourself feeling the same.

"Such an odd technique you have." He called over the roar of flame and the whiff of mislaid punches. While he realised early on the only real way to take you out would be with his own bare hands, the flames acted as a blind for his pursuit of an ambush, the close proximity of the rooftop forcing you both into a violent waltz. "There's just one thing I haven't been able to work out." He continued.

"What's that?" You panted.

"How is it you're generating these feelings of arousal?"

You stopped, stunned. Did he say "arousal?"

In your moment of distraction, he managed to land a kick, swiping your legs from beneath you and sending you tumbling to the ground. Your back hit the roof with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. And there was the face of the monster, mere inches from yours. His intricate markings stretching handsomely over his wry smile. His sharp teeth bared in a predatory sneer. Two of his hands had you pinned at the wrists, stretched back above your head. The other two bore down on your hips as he knelt above you, caging you in. You froze, certain your luck had run out. All four eyes peered down at you, the smallest glimmer of sadness in his crimson gaze, perhaps at the thought of his fun being over. But in his furrowed brow still lingered a questioning look.

"Speak." He said simply.

Surely he hadn't been serious?

"Answer me, brat!" He urged, warm breath fanning your face.

"I don't 'generate' arousal." You almost laughed. Such a ridiculous situation you were in, pinned beneath the monster you'd been sent to kill, the one you'd started falling for, as he unwittingly confessed his mutual attraction.

Slowly, he lowered his body onto yours, careful not to crush you under his towering weight. Bringing his lips to your ear, he purred his next question.

"Then how do you explain this?"

With a roll of his hips you felt it, the warmth of not one but two massive bulges pressing hungrily between your thighs. Even clothed you could feel them twitch upon contact. Your eyes widened.

"S-Sukuna!" You gasped.

"Surely it's you who's doing this." His graveled voice just barely above a whisper. "No mortal being has ever made me feel such a way." His words sent heat rushing straight to your core, and creeping wantonly up your neck. When you spoke, your voice was thick with need.

"Sukuna, I don't have a cursed technique... I have curse resis-"

"Shhh." He hushed, breathing deeply against your neck. "You will make a most worthy vessel."

"Sukuna!" You urged, squirming slightly under his hold. "Listen, would you let that go? Besides, I'm resistant to curse-"

"All I need is a bit of your blood." He cooed as if to a lover. Your head was spinning. So desperate for his touch, and yet you needed stop him. Who knew if your resistance would hold up to his sheer force of will. It was taking all that you had just to try and think clearly. But the two of you were growing ever more desperate. Your hips bucking up in sheer agony against the firmness of his cocks, still pressing into you.

He rutted against you, half whimpering half growling as he dragged his teeth deep against your pulse. The heat, the longing for his sex, and whatever energy he was using all began to overwhelm you. Darkness flooded the corners of your vision as droplets of warm blood beaded on your neck where his sharp canines were carving their mark. A distant voice yelled out in a sultry mix of pleasure and pain. Your voice.

The weight of his cocks and his name in your throat were the last things you felt before going under.

When you awoke moments later it was to the taste of metal on your tongue, the smell of something provocatively sweet, and an ache like you'd never felt between your legs. Your eyes rolled in their sockets as you forced them back open, your vision was doubled, unfocused. But as you went to rub your eyes, you nearly fell over, shocked to discover that you now had four. Staring down at your trembling hands you realized those, too, had doubled.

"What is this?" Came a voice that was hauntingly familiar. Glancing down, you looked upon the woman pinned beneath you, blood running cold as your were met with your own steely gaze. "What the hell is this?!" She spat, writhing under your hulking form.

"S-Sukuna?" You ventured, your words deep and graveled. Your own cold eyes glaring up at you, and a scent so alluring you thought you may just lose yourself.

"Brat?" There was a moment of pause. A deep seated silence while reality settled in.

"Well..." You said in a voice far different from your own.

"Fuck." Sukuna finished.

"I told you it wasn't going to work!" You moaned, following the curse as he paced along the rooftop. Your stride now twice that of his, you had to be careful not to trip over your own feet.

"I wasn't listening, I was too distracted by that technique of yours!"

"It's not a technique!" You snapped. "You're attracted to me! I can't help it if I turn you on! And, by the way, the feeling is mutual. Annoyingly so!" You said, gesturing to the obvious and very painful predicament between your legs. "How do you even walk like this?"

"Carefully." Said Sukuna with a smirk.

"Be serious!"

"As I told you I've never dealt with anything like this before. I've never experienced anything so trivial as 'attraction'." He turned to look at you. "And for what it's worth, your situation isn't much better." He leered, reaching a hand down to the growing stain between his thighs.

There was that smell again. Your own pheromones were betraying you. Even the great mouth on your stomach had started to pant in shameless desire. Flecks of drool dripped down your front.

What a mess this had become. If the other sorcerers could see you now, they'd have your head for sure. Your mission had gone belly-up, you'd almost become a vessel for the monster you'd been entrusted to extinguish, and here you were drooling and pining over the very creature you were meant to kill while trapped inside his body. At least, in some small, strange way, you weren't entirely alone.

When you looked up from your stomach's lolling tongue, you saw Sukuna, almost feeble-looking in your comparatively small frame, sitting quietly on the darkened rooftop. Human, monster. Suddenly the difference didn't seem so vast...

"Look," you began,"I'm going out on a limb here, but if I had to guess I'd imagine this will wear off after a little while. On the rare occasion I have been affected by cursed energy, it always wears off within a few hours."

"And what do you propose we do until then? You don't expect us to just sit here?"

No, you didn't. Not that either of you had much choice in the matter. You weren't about to fight your own body, nor were you inclined to return to the streets as a four-armed beast with a bounty on your head. Bringing a hand to your neck you called back the feeling of Sukuna's lips against your skin, his sultry voice within your ear.

You couldn't believe what you were about to say.

"Th-there is one thing...we could do."

The air was cold against your skin, but Sukuna was colder, trembling, naked, on the rooftop after you'd helped him remove your clothes. Yours had been easy. A pair of loose-fitting pants was all that kept your dual lengths from springing back against your stomach. The great mouth sputtered.

"Woah..." You marveled- a moment of genuine fascination amidst the bizarre scene. Each shaft was long and heavily veined, one laying atop the other in equal length and proportion. They bounced under their own impressive weight, and each bore a handsome black ring toward its base.

"You done staring?" He asked, arms wrapped around himself as he shivered where he stood.

"Sorry." You chirped. Before he could protest, you scooped him effortlessly in your arms, laying him down atop the pile of discarded clothes, shielding him under your warmth. Slowly, just as he had done before, you lowered your hips, rutting them against his own, the lower of your two cocks gliding over the slick between his thighs.

In one large hand, you gathered his wrists, holding them once again above his head. In the others, you worshipped his body- your body - in exactly the way you knew how. Two large thumbs rubbed circles on your hips, while a thick and calloused finger found your clit with pinpoint precision pulling gasps and moans from a quickly fraying Sukuna. In spite of his efforts, each little sound sent a rush of heat straight to the pit of your stomach, and that gave you an idea.

You laughed something a bit maniacle before spreading his legs and lowering yourself just enough to lay your head down on his breasts.

It was hard to control, the strange anatomy seemed to have somewhat of a mind of its own. You grunted in concentration.

"What the hell are you doing, brat?" Sukuna craned his neck to look at you. You were focused- determined. And then...

"Ohh fuuuuck!" Sukuna said for the second time that night, only this time it was downright sinful. His moans were sweet music to your ears, your cocks twitching in tandem against Sukuna's silky thigh.

With a great deal of effort, you commanded the mouth on your stomach, using its tongue to lap at those sopping folds. Once it had a taste, the rest came naturally. The great maw working itself eagerly between Sukuna's thighs, nipping and sucking as if that were its very purpose. You nuzzled into those pillowy breasts, strong hands pawing at them with surprising tenderness. Sukuna was all but gone, twisting and writhing against the steady rythm of the massive tongue, now fucking up into him as it dipped in and out of his entrance, the taste so sweet your cocks were weeping at the sensation.

Before you knew it, you were flipping him onto his knees, two hands digging bruises into his hips, the others holding him tight against your chest. In truth, you weren't certain your body could handle a cock this size, but you'd be damned if you didn't try. Leaning into his ear, you offered him a hand, your words sending a ripple of chills over his skin. "You just bite down if you need to." You said in a lustful growl before sliding your thick fingers past his lips and over his tongue.

With a careful thrust, you slid your upper cock into his squelching cunt, white stars behind your eyes as you experienced, for the first time, the delicious grip of those velvety walls. You were hooked in an instant.

Desperate cries for "more! More! MORE!" spilled out around your fingers as Sukuna arched his back, keening with every thrust. He rutted back into your frenzied sex like a dog in heat, drooling cunt raining tears of pleasure on the rooftop below. He was milking you so well you nearly missed his desperate plea.

"B-both." He choked around your fingers.

"What?" You asked breathlessly, removing your hand from his mouth.

"BOTH!" He demanded, voice cracking in his need.

Obediently, you reeled your hips back, aligning yourself with each hole, but before you could plunge yourself deeply back inside, Sukuna reached a hand back, adjusting your cocks so they were both lined up with the same hole. Your chest grew tighter.

"Y-you sure?"

A stoic nod was his only reply, knuckles tightening over clenched fists before rutting back into you.

You were in heaven. Ragged groans being ripped from your chest as you railed your hips into your own throbbing pussy. Both cocks pressed together in painful ecstacy as you chased your unholy high. Fat tears rolled down Sukuna's cheeks and you did your best to wipe them away to the tune of his pleasured cries. Your own lashes were wet with sweat that poured from your wild pink hair.

Everything about this was wrong, and yet nothing had ever felt so right.

With a strangled cry, Sukuna's walls closed in on you in the same, unrelenting nature with which he fought- powerful and overwhelming. With the same biting rapture that pulled air from your lungs and stars from your eyes. Forget being a vessel. He came with such conviction you would've given him your soul, had he asked.

"Fuck!" He cried out, and with that you were a goner. His voice sending you spilling your cum in velvety ropes. Both cocks pulsing their load in violent waves that wrought your body and rattled your brain. Your vision swam as you pumped your body full of Sukuna's thick seed. And as you bit into the flesh of the tender nape before you, the world became an inky shade of black.

"Brat."

You blinked your eyes against the darkness.

"Hey! Brat!"

The monster's voice floated to you from the depths of your hazy mind. Slowly you turned to him. His naked form towering over you on shakey hands and knees, his panting breath fanning you in its musky warmth. Chest still heaving in the wake of his orgasm.

"You're stronger than I imagined." He praised. "I'm impressed."

"And you're not nearly as hideous as they claim." You teased once again. "Almost a pity I have to kill you."

"All this, and you still wish to kill me?" He gave you a dubious look.

"Come now, you mustn't stop trying." Your voice rang out into the night.

A wayward smile curled his lips. "Don't you worry, brat. I'm just getting started."

MDNI Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag List | @queentoji @yuujispinkhair

[contemplatingoutlander]

"I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" --Howard Beale (Peter Finch) in Network (1976)

The above quote from Network sums up what I'm feeling right now. With their decision on presidential immunity, the far-right SC justices shredded the Constitution, and paved the way for Trump to become a dictator if he is put back in office. The above article goes into detail about the liberal justices' dissent. This is a gift🎁link if you want to read the full article. Below are some excerpts:

The Supreme Court’s three Democratic appointees railed in dissent against the conservative majority’s ruling that former President Donald J. Trump has some immunity for his official actions, declaring that their colleagues had made the president into “a king above the law.” Writing that the majority was “deeply wrong,” Justice Sonia Sotomayor added that beyond its consequences for the bid to prosecute Mr. Trump for his attempt to subvert the outcome of the 2020 election, it would have “stark” long-term consequences for the future of American democracy. “The court effectively creates a law-free zone around the president, upsetting the status quo that has existed since the founding,” she wrote, in an opinion joined by the other two Democratic appointees, Justices Elena Kagan and Ketanji Brown Jackson. Insulating the president of the United States — the most powerful person in the country and possibly the world, she noted — from criminal prosecution when he uses his official powers will allow him to freely use his official power to violate the law, exploit the trappings of his office for personal gain, or other “evil ends.” “Orders the Navy’s Seal Team 6 to assassinate a political rival? Immune. Organizes a military coup to hold onto power? Immune. Takes a bribe in exchange for a pardon? Immune. Immune, immune, immune,” she wrote, adding: “Even if these nightmare scenarios never play out, and I pray they never do, the damage has been done. The relationship between the president and the people he serves has shifted irrevocably.” [...] Sometimes justices conclude their dissents with a softening and polite qualifier, writing “Respectfully, I dissent.” Justice Sotomayor instead concluded this one harshly: “With fear for our democracy, I dissent.” [color emphasis added]

________________ Video source for gif

[artielu]

Listen up.

We knew this was coming but it's really, really fucking bad. We're in the endgame now.

For all of you who are somehow still on the fence about voting for Biden, the Supreme Court, including THREE JUDGES HE APPOINTED, just gave Trump a nearly blank fucking check.

And if he's elected in November, he's going to appoint another two people to SCOTUS to replace conveniently retiring Thomas and Alito, and maybe another if Sotomayor's health continues to decline. That's five or six ultraconservative justices in their 50s who will be on the Court for the next thirty to forty years. DECADES of ultraconservative decisions.

------

"The U.S. Supreme Court, in a 6-3 decision along ideological lines, ruled that a former president has absolute immunity for his core constitutional powers — and is entitled to a presumption of immunity for his official acts, but lacks immunity for unofficial acts. But at the same time, the court sent the case back to the trial judge to determine which, if any of Trump's actions, were part of his official duties and thus were protected from prosecution.

That part of the court’s decision likely ensures that the case against Trump won’t be tried before the election, and then only if he is not reelected.

If he is reelected, Trump could order the Justice Department to drop the charges against him, or he might try to pardon himself in the two pending federal cases.

[ . . .]

Monday's Supreme Court decision came months after the court agreed to hear the case Feb. 28 and scheduled arguments for two months later. Court critics have noted that the justices could have considered the case as early as in December, when Justice Department special counsel Jack Smith unsuccessfully sought review of the same questions later put forward by Trump."

-----

IF WE DO NOT ELECT BIDEN, THIS COULD SERIOUSLY BE THE END OF DEMOCRACY IN THE UNITED STATES.

Biden is a decent, imperfect man. He's chosen a really spectacular, diverse, qualified team of people surrounding him, including

VP Kamala Harris, Black Asian woman, smart as hell, fiercely pro choice

Transportation Pete Buttigieg, gay father, working on safety, infrastructure, airline compensation when airlines fuck us, and healing neighborhoods slashed by racist highway plans decades ago

Interior Deb Halaand, the first native person to head the department which has relations with indigenous peoples and has massively invested in indigenous communities and protecting the environment

Energy Jennifer Granholm, who is working hard to help green our energy grid and funding billions in carbon capture and renewable energy sources

And on the other side is 34 TIME CONVICTED FELON and his shady ass corrupt cabinet of family members, cronies, and criminals.

How is this even a question?!?!

[impala-dreamer]

Slipping Away

A Short Story

~ In his heart he’s lived a hundred lives, been through hell and back, loved a million souls. The heart is strong but the mind is weak, and in the end, only memory remains as his lives begin to fade.~

Jensen Ackles

954 Words

Bittersweet Angst

Thank you to everyone who read/shared/commented on my stories for @jacklesversebingo and specifically to @deanwinchesterswitch who organized such a fun, inspiring event. This is my final piece for the bingo, using the prompt "All But One Dies”. I hope you enjoy this swan song...

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There’s an old man sitting at the end of the bar. His hair has long ago gone gray but a strand of dark walnut still peaks through now and then. The memory of reddish-brown plays over his jaw, but it’s all gone white. His skin has grown pale over the years, his tan freckles fading with it. He used to be covered in speckles like stars across the universe, but now, only a few remain. His tall frame is bent with a slight forward hunch- the consequence of years of stunts that should have been left for younger, more qualified men. His shoulders are still broad, but now bony, and his arms are weaker yet just as warm. 

His eyes are still the color of the forest, but behind them, not much else remains. 

Long, thin fingers trace the rim of a whiskey glass before gripping it tight and lifting the last sip to his lips. Once so plump and rosy pink, they’re impossibly cracked and pale. 

The whiskey soothes the ache in his bones and he sighs. 

Time has been cruel, but the life he can remember was good. 

Once upon a time, he’d traveled the world, meeting a million smiling faces and dodging hands all reaching out for him. He’d captivated every stage he’d set foot on, microphones twirling in his hand and carrying his laugh through countless auditoriums. He told hundreds of stories, some more than once, some exaggerated, all met with applause. 

How many times had he smiled for the camera or accepted hugs from strangers? How many pen strokes were wasted on his name? It was impossible to tell. He was barely able to remember those events now, let alone count the numbers. He knew he’d made them smile, he knew he’d left some impression. 

Memories were fleeting and sometimes painful. It was getting harder to sort through the flashes of history and make sense of anything. Some days it felt like he’d lived a dozen lifetimes. 

He remembered running through dark, damp tunnels with no more than a headlamp to light his way. He could smell the coal; feel the heft of the pickax in his hands. His breath was thick and heavy as he stalked his way down into the depths of Hell. 

He remembered pining for the girl- a beauty with long dark hair and bright eyes. He could almost smell her sweet perfume and hear her sassy remarks as he tried his best to woo her affection. He tasted oil and vinegar on his fingertips; felt the bacon grease pop from the griddle and sting his arms. 

There were times when he recalled the feeling of wind on his face as he leaped from rooftop to rooftop beneath a full moon. Clad in heavy kevlar, he moved through the shadows of the city, listening for screams or cackles of evil. 

Sometimes, memory inferred that he was the evil one. Striding with purpose through a warzone or locking his long fingers around some delicate throat. Power surged through his veins surely as the drugs he took, and it felt as if he were immune to the rules of life and the laws of man. He could do anything he wanted, be anything, kill anything. He was the epitome of strength, the emblem of America, the most powerful man alive. 

Those lives were disappearing faster these days. When he struggled to remember, he drank. When he cried for lives he’d taken or loves he’d lost, he slept. 

The football fields and shell necklaces, the cowls and capes, the flashes and stages- they were all lost in the fog of his mind. A myriad of lives lived and stolen by age until only one remained. 

He smiles when the bartender works her way back to him. 

Kate is short and curvy, with dyed pink hair that matches her neon tank top. There are silver studs in her ears and a hoop in her nose, and her shoulder is inked with scrollwork wrapped around an image he could never decipher. 

“Can I getcha another drink?” she asks, thickly painted lashes fluttering kindly at him. 

Jensen nods and pushes his glass forward. His voice is shaky as he speaks, but he soon finds a familiar rhythm.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I ganked an entire vamp nest by myself? Took out a dozen blood-suckers before Sammy even knew I was gone.” He laughs and reaches for the refreshed drink. “It was something. I was somethin’. Best hunter there ever was. Well, Sam had his moments, but I was good. Real good…”

The bartender smiles. She’s heard the stories before but doesn’t mind repeats. The old actor is sweet and tips her well, so she never minds watching out for him until his daughter comes to collect him. 

“If you play your cards right, Sweetheart, I may take you for a spin in my car.” He winks over the tumbler at her, green eyes slick with a flirtatious gaze. “Sexiest damn car you’ll ever see. My Baby. One of a kind. You know, I rebuilt her a whole bunch of times…” His voice trails off as he tries desperately to count the occasions, but time is twisted and pale. His brow creases with worry as another memory slips away. There is only one life left and it’s vanishing more every day. Tears well in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Anyway… I uh…” 

Kate gently takes his hand and leans close, catching his gaze. “Hey. It’s OK, Mr. Ackles. You’re OK.” 

The old man sighs and worry leaves him. He smiles and squeezes her hand. 

“Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I killed Hitler?” 

[desidov]

The Structure of a Successful Game Changer pt. 1 - Make Some Noise

An analysis of the stages comprising an entertaining and innovative Game Changer episode, explained by breaking down the episode Make Some Noise.

Stage 1: Our contestants have no idea

With prompt "cow," Josh responds "cow." Sam replies, "I'm sorry, that is not the answer I was looking for."

Often only a turn or two, this first stage is comprised of the players identifying the core mechanic of the episode—getting a basic understanding of what each question will ask of them and how they might earn points or advance further. Other examples: the first forays into navigating the Jeopardy board, or Sam’s opening instructions for “Sam Says” demonstrating an instruction not preceded by “Sam says” should not be followed.

Stage 2: You all understand

With prompt "duck," Zac responds "quack quack" and receives a point. Josh comments "Okay I see, I see what this is about, okay."

Here the players realize the structure of each question, and witness some behaviors receiving points while others do not (excluding non-point-earning episodes.) Sometimes, this is all the players need to understand the fundamental premise (mimic the sound produced by the prompt) while sometimes unraveling the mystery of the premise is the overall conceit of the episode (tell us about yourself, yes or no.)

Stage 3: Escalation of Rules

After Zac's response to "frog," Sam says "I'm gonna toss it up to the other two contestants [to steal the point.] Brennan, give me your best frog."

An expansion to the initial rules is revealed, allowing players to further advance/gain points beyond the initial bounds of the premise. Here, the escalation is that players may steal prompts from each other—others include incorporated phrase bonus points from The Official Cast Recording and the hidden immunity loop-de-loops from Survivor.

Stage π: Departure

Sam says "We are now headed into our first mini game." Each player attempts to recreate a melody on an otamatone.

This optional stage, typically presented as a “mini game,” is thematically connected to the premise but operates on its own rules. Make Some Noise iterations typically include a mini game where contestants are provided a prop and must mimic a given sound with that prop—no spoken entries qualify. Similarly, A Sponsored Episode and its continuations feature a mini game of providing commercial voice-overs for stock footage (where non-commercial interpretations are not rewarded,) and a mini game of identifying brand taglines/logos.

Stage 4: Escalation of Concept

Sam introduces the next prompt, "Your word is jack hammer." Josh makes a jack hammer sound, bouncing with a hand above his head and explaining "that's him keeping the hat on."

While Stage 3 adds on to the rules of the episode, Stage 4 applies the same rules to something new—here transitioning from animal calls to all manner of sound effects. Escalation of concept can be clearly demarcated, as this example is, or more gradual, like the escalations from common animal calls to obscure animal calls or from physical prompts to intangible prompts like “anguish.” What matters is that escalations continue to push the format to new heights and prevent the conceit from stagnating.

Stage 5: Expansion of Concept

The prompt is a stock photo of a smiling young adult white man. Brennan roleplays the man arrogantly describing his improv group, ending with "This date's going well."

Though similar to Stage 4, I characterize this stage as a dramatic alteration to the format of prompts—here from text prompts to image prompts. This can be for several turns, as it is for MSN, or just one, such as “go” from Sam Says or the cockroach union from “Do I hear $1?” This builds a finale that presses the bounds of the format to their limits, capping off the episode.

[reasoningdaily]

[ausetkmt]

Video captures Detroit police officers allegedly roughing up man without any reason

Detroit pulled these two goons off the street immediately because they knew what they were doing was entirely wrong.

this man was doing nothing other than putting his phone in his pocket and walking up to his house. why they vamped on him is going to be a real investigation and I for one want to see it

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Why does JJ freak out in the Grand Prix Final?

(I never thought I'd write a JJ meta, but here we are)

JJ has competed in the Grand Prix Final before. One season ago, he finished in third place, right behind Viktor and Chris. The pressure of competing against only five other skaters in the final round of what has the vibe of a deathmatch, is not new to him.

There's a huge difference to last time, though.

For many seasons, Viktor has dominated the men's field. In Sochi, he won his fifth GPF gold medal. No skater could get past him and this was a well-known fact among male top skaters. It's a bit akin to what the current situation with Ilia Malinin will likely develop into, although comparing him to Viktor is a capital crime. Skaters are starting to accept that this one skater scores so high that they can't surpass him wihout breaking their bodies. In YOI, Viktor has cemented his reign with a sublime combination of technical skill and artistry and every top male skater had to face this reality.

And now he's gone off to coaching.

Suddenly, the field is wide open. Everyone's motivation suddenly spikes up. Everyone wants to be the one who claims Viktor's title. Most of all Yurio, Chris, Yuuri. And JJ.

JJ sees himself as king and the rightful heir to Viktor's throne (watch his monologue in episode 9 and roll your eyes). Of all the skaters, he's the one with the least respect for Viktor, not that he respects the other skaters, and his ego is bigger than all the egos of his rivals combined. And this defines his mindset.

In addition to that, JJ is the only skater who won both qualifying events and thus goes into the final as the top contender for the title. Suddenly, dethroning Viktor has turned from a wet dream into a real and likely possibility. Add his own expectations to the expectations of fans and press and you get crushing pressure. Not even JJ is immune to pressure (I suspect that he covers up his own insecurity with arrogance).

There's another aspect that could affect JJ, but it's based on speculation:

Considering JJ's age, he can't have competed at the GPF too often. Depending on at which age he had his senior debut (not every skater pushed into seniors at the tender age of 15 before the ISU raised the age limit) and his development (growth spurts, skating skills etc.), he competed at the GPF between one and four times before Barcelona.

My personal guess is that Sochi was JJ's first GPF, but my only clue that supports this theory is Viktor struggling with his memory when he introduces the finalists in episode 10. Maybe JJ just isn't that memorable to him. But if my guess is right, JJ likely approached his first GPF with innocent fearlessness. JJ totally is the type who would do that. It's JJ style. However, when he qualified again, he already knows how tough the GPF is and that makes him vulnerable and prone to lose his nerve, especially since he is going into the event as the favourite and he wants Viktor's throne for himself. Ironincally, that's JJ style, too.

The Grand Prix Final is a tough competition. It's tougher than Worlds or the Olympics. The fact that only six skaters per discipline can qualify for the final raises the stakes. Unlike at the end of a big event with six groups or more, the judges have a very keen eye on every skater. That's often reflected in stricter scores and mistakes being punished harder, especially when the skaters are equal in skill. It's nerve-wrecking to watch and I imagine it to be more nerve-wrecking than any other competition for the skaters as well.

[susiephone]

Or, a crash course in checking your sources. Because we've all seen some absolutely bullshit stuff spread around the internet, and Tumblr definitely isn't immune to it.

It can be hard to sort out the fact from the rumor from the propaganda when a story is actively developing, especially one that is fast-moving and has a lot of voices coming in from all sides, but it is vitally important that you check your sources before spreading a claim.

It's easier to verify or disprove a claim about something that's purported to have happened in the past, so, admittedly, checking stuff that's purported to be happening now is a messy, confusing process. All the more reason to err on the side of caution.

I am not a journalist or professional researcher or historian or anything like that, so this is all coming from a layman who does their best to be informed. If I get anything wrong, or anyone more qualified has something they want to add, please let me know in the notes.

Why should I check my sources?

Because you should care whether you're spreading propaganda or not.

Because sometimes in the heat of the moment, when emotions are running high, it's easy to be misled.

Because every time you spread misinformation to help your own cause, even - or especially! - if that cause is righteous, it becomes a ding on your credibility, and the credibility of your cause.

Because when you don't, a journalist loses their wings. Probably. Fact-check me on that.

How do I know when to check my sources?

If you don't recognize the source, check it.

If you hear a claim and think, "Wow, that is so cartoonishly evil," or, "That's so absurd I'd think it was far fetched if it was in a movie," or, "It's weird no mainstream outlets are reporting on this," check it.

Now, a claim sounding too bizarre or evil to be real doesn't always mean it isn't--I mean, half of what I hear about George Santos sounds like an SNL sketch and it always ends up true. But check it.

If the claim sounds like something a Nazi would want you to believe, check it.

If a claim is only being spread by one or two small sources, check it.

How do I check my sources?

The following sites are great resources for fact-checking.

PolitiFact. Ranks claims on a truth-o-meter and provides context for what's true, mostly true, kinda true, and made-up.

Media Bias/Fact Check: Publishes lists of fact checks from other credible sources, and ranks media outlets on their bias and trustworthiness.

Climate Feedback: Verifies claims about science, especially climate change.

Lead Stories: Verifies claims as they develop, especially stuff spreading on social media.

Here is a list of sources Media Bias/Fact Check considers to be the least biased.

What are some red flags to search for? / What are some questions I should ask myself?

Does the claim only come from a handful of small sources?

Do all those sources only cite each other?

It bears repeating: does this claim sound especially sensational or over-the-top? I know it sounds basic, but when you're furious at somebody (be it a person or a government or a system), it can be easy to believe every horrible thing you hear about them. But just because someone is awful doesn't mean every rumor about them doing awful things is true, and you still have a responsibility to keep your criticism accurate.

Who provides funding to the source? Do they work off of grants, reader donations and subscriptions, government backing, private donors? Do they not disclose their funding at all?

Has the source been caught spreading false info before? How long ago was this? Did they issue a correction in a timely manner? Was the journalist who spread the false claim fired or otherwise reprimanded? Does it seem like it was a mistake, or was there an agenda at play? Has the source taken steps to reestablish credibility?

Who benefits from me believing this?

Okay, I did all my fact-checking, and I'm really not sure if this claim is true or not.

Then don't share it.

If more information comes out and it turns out to be true, then go ahead.

But if there's doubt, don't share it.

Okay, sure, but the claim sounds like it could be true, and-

"Could be true" and "is true" are not the same.

Fine, but the person or government it's talking about has already done so many awful things, even if this specific rumor isn't true-

DON'T. SHARE. IT.

I am going to come to your house and bite you.

Further information.

How to fact-check like a pro.

The Psychology of Fact-Checking.

What is fact-checking?

Misinformation (YouTube video)

And there we go! If anyone has anything to add, go ahead, but I will be monitoring the comments and will be blocking any nonsense.

There's enough misinformation spread by bad actors in our current media landscape. Please don't make their job any easier.

[paradise-and-cola]

[Image description: three character profile cards for the Monster of the Week tabletop game system. Each card has a drawing of the character, their first name, their class name, their stats, and some descriptions. The last names are redacted with black ink strikes.

Card 1 shows Pause, of the Mundane class. Pause wears a short sleeved red shirt with blue highlights, beige shorts, as well as a red, white and blue bracelet. He has square glasses, and two small feathers are tucked behind his ear.

Pause’s stats are: Charm +2, Cool +1, Sharp +1, Tough 0 and Weird -1. His description reads:

- works a regular 9 to 5

- had a completely supernatural-free life until a woodland cryptid collided with his car

- now travels with Beef and Etho, solving paranormal mysteries all around Canada

- the designated driver

- is the only one in the group who can pass as a "normal" person. don't let appearances fool you, though, he's just as unhinged as the other two

End of card 1.

Card 2 shows ?????? (six question marks) also known as Etho, of the Monstrous class. Etho wears a green jacket over a grey shirt, grey jeans, black boots, as well as a headband and a scarf over the lower part of his face. The jacket has patches of the Canadian flag, the meme rabies pride flag, and a simplified cryptic creature. There is purple skin discoloration on the left side of his face and his left hand. In his right hand, Etho is holding a wrench.

Etho’s stats are: Charm 0, Cool -1, Sharp +2, Tough -1 and Weird +3. His description reads:

- a literal cryptid from the Canadian wilderness. normally a shapeshifter, Etho's been stuck with this half-human, half-monster appearance ever since Pause hit him with his car

- is weirdly good at car maintenance and engineering in general

- needs to feed on blood to survive. Beef, being a butcher, provides him with enough animal blood to sustain him for now... but ultimately, human blood is a much tastier snack

- immune to garlic, silver bullets etc, but is badly allergic to carbonated drinks

End of card 2.

Card 3 shows Beef, of the Flake class. Beef wears a blue baseball cap, a light brown coat, a black shirt, grey pants and black boots.

Beef’s stats are: Charm 0, Cool +1, Sharp +2, Tough 0 and Weird +1. His description reads:

- a butcher by day, a wannabe paranormal investigator by night

- (he's not very good at either)

- knows a lot about the supernatural in theory, but had little field experience - until an old friend called him about hitting something not quite human

- the others live with him for now, since Pause is from out of town and Etho never had a home to begin with

End of card 3. End description]

Here they are, the three heroes of the Monster of the Week Team Canada AU!  I’ve never played the game myself, but I think these three would make a pretty fun monster-hunting, mystery-solving team. I briefly considered making Beef an Expert class, but if you’ve consumed any Team Canada content, it makes it very hard to call them experts on anything...

This is technically for @shepscapades’ hermit redesign challenge, but I’ve deviated from the original prompt quite a bit (the prompt was DND characters and I’ve boldly chosen a different TTRPG system) so I don’t know if I even qualify for this week. Regardless, I’m very happy with this AU. Check out this little introductory comic I’ve made for it, if you haven’t yet.